But she says you are the only one she will answer to. Gaunt, I’ve performed my ministry long enough to recognise an opening. I could… extricate the secrets I seek in any number of ways, but the most painless – to me and her both – would be to use you. Are you up to it?’
Gaunt looked round at Defay. His stern yet avuncular manner reminded him of someone. Oktar – no, Uncle Dercius.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Go in there and talk to her. Nothing more. There are no wires to record you, no vista-grams to watch you. I just want you to talk to her. If she says what she wants to say to you, it may provide an opening I can use.’
GAUNT ENTERED THE room and the door shut behind him. The small chamber was bare except for a table with a stool on either side. The girl sat on one. A sodium lamp fluttered on the wall.
Gaunt sat down on the other stool, facing her.
Her eyes were as black as her hair. Her dress was as white as her skin. She was beautiful.
‘Ibram! At last! There are so many things I need to tell you!’ Her voice was soft yet firm, her High Gothic perfect. Gaunt backed away from her direct stare.
She leaned across the table urgently, gazing into his eyes.
‘Don’t be afraid, Ibram Gaunt.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Oh, you are. I don’t have to be a mind reader to see that. Though, of course, I am a mind reader.’
Gaunt breathed deeply. ‘Then tell me what I want to know.’
‘Clever, clever,’ she chuckled, sitting back.
Gaunt leaned forward, insistent. ‘Look, I don’t want to be here either. Let’s get this over with. You’re a psyker – astound me with your visions or shut the hell up. I have other things I would rather be doing.’
‘Drinking with your men. Fruit.’
‘What?’
‘You crave more of the sweet fruit. You long for it. Sweet, juicy fruit…’
Gaunt shuddered. ‘How did you know?’
She grinned impishly. ‘The juice is all down your chin and the front of your coat.’
Gaunt couldn’t hide his smile. ‘Now who’s being clever? That was no psyker trick. That was observation.’
‘But true enough, wasn’t it? Is there a whole lot of difference?’
Gaunt nodded. ‘Yes… yes there is. What you said to me earlier. It made no sense, but it had nothing to do with the stains on my coat either. Why did you ask for me?’
She sighed, lowering her head. There was a long pause.
The voice that finally replied to him wasn’t hers any more. It was a scratchy, wispy thing that made him start backwards. By the Emperor, but it was suddenly so cold in here!
He saw his own breath steam and realised it wasn’t his imagination.
The whisper-dry voice said: ‘I don’t want to see things, Ibram, but still I do. In my head. Sometimes wonderful things. Sometimes awful things. I see what people show me. Minds are like books.’
Gaunt stammered, sliding back on his seat. ‘I… I… like books.’
‘I know you do. I read that. You liked Boniface’s books. He had so many of them.’
Gaunt froze, tremors of worry plucking at his spine. He felt an ice cold droplet of sweat chase down his brow from his hairline. He felt trapped.
‘How could you know about that?’
‘You know how.’
The temperature in the room had dropped to freezing. Gaunt saw the ice crystals form across the table top, crackling and causing the wood to creak. Gooseflesh pimpled his body.
He leapt up and backed to the door. ‘That’s enough! This interview is over!’
He tried the door, making to leave. It was locked. Or at least, it would not open for him. Something held it shut. Gaunt hammered on it. ‘Inquisitor! Inquisitor Defay! Let me out!’
His voice sounded blunt and hollow in the tiny confines of the freezing room. He was more terrified than he had ever been in his life.
He looked round. The girl was crawling across the floor towards him, her eyes blank and filmed. Spittle welled out of her lolling mouth. She smiled. It was the most dreadful thing young Ibram Gaunt had ever seen.
When she spoke, her voice did not match her mouth. The utterances came from some other, horrid place. Her lips were just keeping bad time with them.
Cowering in a corner, watching her slow, animalistic approach across the icy floor, Gaunt managed to whisper: ‘What do you want from me? What?’
‘Your life.’ A feathery, inhuman voice.
‘Get away from me!’ Gaunt murmured, struggling with the door handle, to no