Free Ghost Talkers by Mary Robinette Kowal Page A

it,” Lady Winchester said.
    â€œAlways?” Ginger concentrated on her aura, watching browns and greens play across it in muddy confusion. “Or did you used to perform them and believe in what you were doing?”
    â€œI—I was very young. So naturally, I thought it was working, but believing in ghosts? It’s too silly.”
    â€œAnd yet, that is precisely why you are here.” Under normal circumstances, Ginger would lead them through some simple training first, but with this group, restoring their faith in their own abilities seemed paramount. “If you’ll follow me, please.”
    *   *   *
    Passing through the tall walls surrounding the yard at Potter’s Field always made Ginger feel a bit like she was entering the grounds of a castle. Though that might be because she was from America, where they did not have such things. She’d visited actual castles since coming to England, and the only comparison to the brick warehouse was in the thickness of the walls.
    Ginger led the small group up the stairs and into the building. The cool leaking from Potter’s Field was a welcome relief after being outside.
    They followed in a tight group down the hall, and she paused outside the door to the main floor of Potter’s Field. “Ladies, I must ask you to keep your voices low, as our sisters are working diligently at the moment.”
    And then she opened the door on the vast warehouse, leading them through to the area cordoned off from the rest by a line of salt.
    Even a person without a sensitive bone in their body would feel an undefined sense of discomfort about Potter’s Field. To the mundane eye, it consisted of nothing but circles of women—and the occasional man, sitting with hands held and heads bowed as if at a prayer meeting. Quiet murmurs blended with the hush of pencils on paper as young women took notes of what the mediums said.
    There was nothing on the surface to inspire unease, save for the unnatural chill. Ginger’s charges had a far different reaction.
    The little blond woman in the pink dress—Miss Ainsley—gave a little shiver. “Oh! Oh, my.”
    Ginger made a note to herself that Miss Ainsley might have more sensitivity than the rest of the group. “Yes. I think you are beginning to understand what your work here will really be.”
    â€œAre they … are they all mediums?” Mrs. McCarty had a hand pressed to her bosom as she watched the circles.
    â€œOnly two per circle. The rest are unsighted people, who act as anchors. You’ll be partnered with an experienced medium after we finish basic training.” Ginger gave them a smile. “You, my dear ladies, are a rare and valuable commodity for the war effort. And spiritualism is very, very real.”
    *   *   *
    Ginger rolled over in bed, blinking. The moon was just visible through the high window of her room, accompanied by the ever-present rolling thunder of distant guns. What had woken her?
    Someone pounded on her door. “Miss Stuyvesant!”
    That was Edna. Ginger sat up, throwing off the covers. Merciful God. Not another surprise push from the Germans. In the hall, she could hear other doors being knocked upon, other mediums being called from their sleep.
    â€œMiss Stuyvesant!”
    â€œJust a moment, Edna.” Ginger staggered out of bed, dizzy for a moment, and had to brace herself against the wall. “What is it?”
    â€œIt’s an all-hands call, ma’am,” the young woman said through the door. “Massive influx of dead.”
    Closing her eyes for a moment, Ginger grimaced. She had already worked two shifts that day. Even with the new recruits in the roster, there just weren’t enough mediums. Steeling herself, she crossed the room and opened the door. “Rouse the—”
    â€œThe circles are already there, ma’am. We waited till the last minute for the