the dry thing that crouched on the floor.
Pincers clacked together and made no sound. A lipless face raised its gaze to the ceiling, mouth gaping.
The image overlay the mummified form, a ghost, indeed.
The Matriarch stepped forward. "I have questions! I—"
"Wait," the doctor said. "Give it time to assemble."
The phantom head swung round to look at the Matri-arch. She found herself gazing into two great dark eyes, lensed like the eyes of the Animus. The similarity made her queasy. They were flat and blank, with no light behind them. The mouth moved. Moments later, a dry whispering emerged.
"I am dead," the thing said in wonder.
"Yes," Yskatarina answered. "You died here a century ago." She glanced at the Matriarch for confirmation. The Matriarch gave a sour nod. "This woman has questions for you," she added.
"First, I wish to ask you something," the Matriarch said to Yskatarina. Then she turned to the doctor.
"Go." The doctor did so, without demur.
Yskatarina suppressed a sigh. "Let me guess. You once more wish for reassurance that this is no trick? You want again to query how it will be that we can attest to the ac-curacy of the information that this being provides?"
"That is easily enough ascertained, or so you have as-sured me," the Matriarch said tartly. "The extraction of particular information, known to none other than this be-ing and myself, will be sufficient.
No, the question I have is different. I want to know how, having raised this thing, we may contain it."
"Its essence will disintegrate once the device is pow-ered down," Yskatarina said.
The Matriarchs moon-face seemed to swell, as if it were being pumped up. "But ghosts are even now roaming the Crater Plain, infesting the city streets of Winterstrike. I do not want this thing to crawl down the walls of the Tower and start babbling critical information to all and sundry"
The spirit turned its head slowly from side to side. Yskatarina wondered how much it really understood.
"This is a pure form, not infected by nanotech, as far as I am aware. Its conjuration will, therefore, not be sus-tained. It is energy, rather than partial matter."
"And you are sure of this?" the Matriarch asked.
"I am certain." Yskatarina looked the Matriarch in the eye. She saw the flicker of doubt and tried not to hold her breath, for she lied to the Matriarch. She intended to keep this old being around for as long as possible. It, and the information that it might still carry. First steps , Yskatarina told herself. Animate the thing, and then apply the means of controlling it.
"Then let us begin," the current Matriarch said. "I must ask you to leave. This thing can provide information that must remain confidential to Memnos. You may return when I have completed my inquiries."
"Of course. I understand," Yskatarina said. She bowed her head, and let the excissieres lead her from the room. The matrix would, she knew, record the session in its en-tirety, and transmit it to Nightshade. It was not necessary for her to be present.
Later that evening, Yskatarina and the Animus slipped from the ship to stand in the shadows.
"Where is it?" the Animus asked.
"There. That fourth window. You can glimpse the blacklight within."
"They will have weir-wards on the windows."
Yskatarina smiled. "There are advantages to being the purveyor of a technology. I have deactivation runes. Just get me up there."
She slid her arms around the Animus's torso and clung to him. The Animus sailed upward, to hover like a bat outside the window of the blacklight chamber. Yskata-rina risked a glance below. There was no one to be seen. A monstrous face swam out of the darkness, hissing. Neon flickered across its jaws.
"Hush," Yskatarina whispered. She leaned forward until her face was close to the visage, and murmured the deactiva-tion sequence. The face, with a comical grimace of dismay, vanished. The window lay before them, unprotected. The Animus drew closer. Yskatarina once more murmured an
Pincers clacked together and made no sound. A lipless face raised its gaze to the ceiling, mouth gaping.
The image overlay the mummified form, a ghost, indeed.
The Matriarch stepped forward. "I have questions! I—"
"Wait," the doctor said. "Give it time to assemble."
The phantom head swung round to look at the Matri-arch. She found herself gazing into two great dark eyes, lensed like the eyes of the Animus. The similarity made her queasy. They were flat and blank, with no light behind them. The mouth moved. Moments later, a dry whispering emerged.
"I am dead," the thing said in wonder.
"Yes," Yskatarina answered. "You died here a century ago." She glanced at the Matriarch for confirmation. The Matriarch gave a sour nod. "This woman has questions for you," she added.
"First, I wish to ask you something," the Matriarch said to Yskatarina. Then she turned to the doctor.
"Go." The doctor did so, without demur.
Yskatarina suppressed a sigh. "Let me guess. You once more wish for reassurance that this is no trick? You want again to query how it will be that we can attest to the ac-curacy of the information that this being provides?"
"That is easily enough ascertained, or so you have as-sured me," the Matriarch said tartly. "The extraction of particular information, known to none other than this be-ing and myself, will be sufficient.
No, the question I have is different. I want to know how, having raised this thing, we may contain it."
"Its essence will disintegrate once the device is pow-ered down," Yskatarina said.
The Matriarchs moon-face seemed to swell, as if it were being pumped up. "But ghosts are even now roaming the Crater Plain, infesting the city streets of Winterstrike. I do not want this thing to crawl down the walls of the Tower and start babbling critical information to all and sundry"
The spirit turned its head slowly from side to side. Yskatarina wondered how much it really understood.
"This is a pure form, not infected by nanotech, as far as I am aware. Its conjuration will, therefore, not be sus-tained. It is energy, rather than partial matter."
"And you are sure of this?" the Matriarch asked.
"I am certain." Yskatarina looked the Matriarch in the eye. She saw the flicker of doubt and tried not to hold her breath, for she lied to the Matriarch. She intended to keep this old being around for as long as possible. It, and the information that it might still carry. First steps , Yskatarina told herself. Animate the thing, and then apply the means of controlling it.
"Then let us begin," the current Matriarch said. "I must ask you to leave. This thing can provide information that must remain confidential to Memnos. You may return when I have completed my inquiries."
"Of course. I understand," Yskatarina said. She bowed her head, and let the excissieres lead her from the room. The matrix would, she knew, record the session in its en-tirety, and transmit it to Nightshade. It was not necessary for her to be present.
Later that evening, Yskatarina and the Animus slipped from the ship to stand in the shadows.
"Where is it?" the Animus asked.
"There. That fourth window. You can glimpse the blacklight within."
"They will have weir-wards on the windows."
Yskatarina smiled. "There are advantages to being the purveyor of a technology. I have deactivation runes. Just get me up there."
She slid her arms around the Animus's torso and clung to him. The Animus sailed upward, to hover like a bat outside the window of the blacklight chamber. Yskata-rina risked a glance below. There was no one to be seen. A monstrous face swam out of the darkness, hissing. Neon flickered across its jaws.
"Hush," Yskatarina whispered. She leaned forward until her face was close to the visage, and murmured the deactiva-tion sequence. The face, with a comical grimace of dismay, vanished. The window lay before them, unprotected. The Animus drew closer. Yskatarina once more murmured an
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