Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [82]
Hu made a dismissive gesture. ‘Come now, there’s no need for unpleasantness on such a beautiful day. If it’s really so important to you, I’ll grant you an audience.’ He even managed to look magnanimous. ‘May I ask what the interview is about?’
‘No,’ Briana said. ‘You may not.’ She had all but lost patience with him. Hu had pushed her as far as he could, but even a fool such as him could not risk endangering his campaigns or his empire by removing Haurstaf psychics from his armies and cities. Nevertheless she felt inclined to end his contract with the Guild there and then. But she stopped herself from speaking. Hu’s pride might irk her, but it was still better to have him as a client than a foe.
Administrator Grech chose this moment to slide forward. He gave a low bow. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said in his sing-song voice. ‘We are so deeply, deeply honoured.’ He beckoned towards the waiting crowds of his peers. ‘You will be pleased to know that the, eh, corral has been constructed to your specifications. Might I presume that the . . . eh . . .’
‘Aboard the Excelsior.’ Emperor Hu followed him without so much as another glance at Briana.
Granger watched the celebrations from his cell window. The Haurstaf vessel had been in port for three days now, and yet, for all his pacing and hand-wringing, the visit he’d been hoping for had not materialized. What exactly was the Guild playing at?
The emperor’s ship had arrived with all the pomp and ceremony typical of Hu, although Granger had not been able to see their glorious leader himself from this vantage point. The flags in the rigging blocked his view. However, it seemed that the crowds down there were finally dissipating. Silver and gold sparkles floated in the harbour, slowly turning brown. Would the emperor come to his cell to gloat?
Granger hoped so. Hu was notorious for underestimating his enemies.
When he heard footsteps in the corridor outside, he stood up, his heart thumping.
A man’s voice came from outside the cell. ‘The corridor door is locked, Colonel, and I don’t have the key to it. It ain’t opening for nobody who they can’t see first. And it certainly ain’t opening to save my old skin, or hers. You stand well back now.’
A key clinked in the lock. The door opened.
Sister Briana Marks stood there, accompanied by an old jailer Granger had not seen before.
‘Five minutes,’ the jailer said.
She glared at him. ‘I’ll take as long as I please.’
The old man sighed. ‘Aye, I suppose you will.’ He let her into the cell and closed the door behind her, muttering to himself all the while.
Sister Marks had aged noticeably in the six years since Granger had last seen her. Her face and hair had lost their youthful shine, and frown lines now etched her brow. She regarded him with weary, cynical eyes. ‘The jailer wasn’t lying, Colonel,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t make a very good hostage. The emperor would love nothing more than to see me killed, especially by you.’
Granger grunted. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’
The witch glanced around the cell. ‘My men checked your home,’ she said. ‘We didn’t find anyone alive.’
‘She was taken.’
‘Taken? By whom? Where?’
Granger said nothing.
‘Gilders aren’t going to be much use to you now, Mr Granger,’ she said. ‘But I might be able to get you out of here, if you help me find this woman.’
Granger shook his head. ‘Get me out first.’
‘You’re not in a position to make demands. I’ll find her eventually, even without your help.’
‘No you won’t.’
‘A sensitive can’t go undetected forever. She’s bound to give herself away.’
He wasn’t sure how much he should tell her. Too much might risk Ianthe’s life. Too little, and he didn’t have much to bargain with. The witch was right – any normal psychic would eventually give herself away. But he didn’t trust this woman. If she found out what she needed to know, she’d leave him to the emperor. Politics.
‘She’s in danger,’ he said.
The witch raised her eyebrows. ‘Then your silence is risking her life. That doesn’t sound like the man I’ve heard so much about.’ Her expression softened.