The guard nodded to the back of the room, where the shadows were thickest. Fell-Mary, Mother Cressin’s assistant and bodyguard, had never spoken more than a handful of words in Agent Lin’s presence, which was something of a relief. Lin suspected that if Fell-Mary had a lot to say to you, you would be in serious trouble.
At the back of the room was an enormous, ornate tank. Sitting within a wrought-iron frame decorated with twisted metal shaped like seaweed, it was filled with what Lin knew to be seawater, and in the gloom she could just about make out a figure, sitting on its floor. Arms crossed, legs folded under her, Mother Cressin’s head was bowed, her face hidden. Lin could make out the pale fronds of her white hair, moving in a ghostly fashion around her head. Every now and then, a silvery bubble of air would escape from her mouth or nose and make its wobbly way to the surface. The water was very still.
Agent Lin took a breath, and held it for a few seconds, before turning back to look at Fell-Mary. The big woman didn’t move.
‘I am to wait here until Mother Cressin is ready to receive me?’
No reply. Agent Lin cleared her throat. She didn’t want to look at the woman in the tank, but her eyes were drawn back there all the same. She could hear the wind howling around the tower, and the sea-salt smell from the tank was thick in her nose. Slowly, slowly the cold was getting into her bones, and all the while she was too aware of her own breathing, strangely loud in the dismal room. It was always the same when you were summoned here; Mother Cressin’s strange ritual never failed to be deeply unnerving, and Agent Lin found herself taking deeper and deeper breaths, as though fighting against the pressure of the water herself. Meanwhile, the figure in the tank was utterly still, her face hidden. Lin didn’t want to think about how cold the water must be.
The Drowned One has the sea in her blood, the fell-witches whispered to each other, when the lights were out. Whatever Tomas and his disciples brought back from their own drowning, Mother Cressin had it still – some dark knowledge sifted from the lightless sands at the bottom of the ocean.
When she had been standing long enough to wonder if perhaps the old woman had finally died, peacefully expelling her last breath into the water, Mother Cressin unfolded her arms. The water swirled around her, a confusion of shadows and dust, and abruptly she pushed off the bottom and kicked to the top with precise, practised movements. Lin heard her break the water but thanks to the shadows saw only a glistening shape in the gloom. The old woman climbed down an unseen ladder and disappeared behind a screen. Fell-Mary crossed the room and retrieved an armful of dry clothes from a trunk, passing them swiftly behind the partition. From the small glance she got, Lin got the impression of black, salt-stained rags. She expected to wait until the Drowned One was dressed, but instead her voice floated up from behind the screen. It was quiet, the voice of someone who knew that those around her would rather strain their hearing than ask her to speak up.
‘They’ve told you of our missing charge?’
‘I have been briefed, Mother Cressin. I’ll have the girl back with us in no time.’
There was a strangled noise, of someone expelling air in disgust, or disbelief perhaps. ‘Not a girl. An abomination. Do not forget what you are, Fell-Lin, just because we let you walk free in the world.’
Lin stared steadily at the screen. It would be very fine, she thought, to pick the scrap of a woman up and tip her back in her bloody tank. See how long she could really hold her breath for. Or throw her out the window of her own damn tower.
Control. Control at all times.
‘I will not forget, Mother Cressin.’
‘The creature Noon is the fracture through which evil enters our world, just as you are. She taints it, poisons it. She must be controlled.’
‘Yes, Mother Cressin.’ Lin’s eyes shifted to Fell-Mary, but the woman was back to impassively staring at nothing. ‘Control is everything.’
‘Do you remember, Fell-Lin, when you were less than controlled?’ The Drowned One emerged from behind the screen, wrapped from head to ankle in hessian, dyed black. A deep hood hid her face, and her feet, as white as the underbelly of a fish, were bare against the freezing flagstones. ‘Do you remember the consequences of that?’
‘I was very young,’ said Lin. ‘And the blame doesn’t rest solely with me.’
Mother Cressin looked up sharply, and Lin caught a brief glimpse of a pale, round chin.
‘You dare? You dare lay the blame at the feet of our priests? You?’
Agent Lin kept her eyes on the tank. It was important to remember that as useful as she was to the Winnowry, there were always plenty of women waiting to take her place.
‘I am sorry, Mother Cressin. Truly, in Tomas’s name. I only meant that the consequence that you spoke of, is as much priest as fell-witch, and I would hope that is remembered, when the future – when future decisions are made.’
Mother Cressin turned away, apparently too disgusted to look at her. ‘It sits ill with me, Fell-Lin, that we must use your type at all. I would rest easier if every fell-witch were locked in a cell, or quietly taken from this world at birth. If there were a way to tell . . .’ She paused by the tank and extended one pale hand to touch the glass. The ends of all her fingertips were deeply wrinkled. ‘That way, we may start to truly cleanse Sarn.’ She turned back. ‘Until then, I am told I must suffer your continued existence. I want this cleared up quietly, the creature brought back. She will spend some time in the lower cells, and then she will begin a cycle of repeated purging.’
Agent Lin nodded. Repeated purging had been known to kill women before. It had the advantage of exhausting them beyond the capacity for thought, and providing a significant crop of the drug akaris.
‘It will not be difficult, Mother Cressin. The . . . creature is young and alone, with no family left to run to.’
Cressin nodded and turned away. She gestured towards the door. ‘Go. The sea calls me back.’
Agent Lin stood and watched the young man, letting the silence draw out between them. The Winnowry had stashed him away in a tiny cell somewhere in the bowels of the furnace, the only light from a pair of small oil lamps, high in the stone walls. He sat in its furthest corner, his head down. This was a punishment, of course, but also, she suspected, a neat way of preventing word of Fell-Noon’s escape from travelling around the prison. She had to smile at that. As if anything were ever kept quiet in a prison. He was young, his body smoothly muscled, and his white-blond hair was plastered to his head with sweat. He was bigger than her, no doubt stronger too, but he made no move to overpower her. The boy knew better than that.
He cleared his throat, and dared himself to look up at her. He clearly couldn’t bear the silence any longer. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’