Black Recluse

by Anna Bowman

  Tristan. I might have known.

  “Ah.”

  Sol was beginning to feel stupid for being so frantic. They traipsed back down the hall, being careful to finish smoking before they reached Tristan’s room.

  “So.” Will hooked thumb in his belt. “Any particular reason you wanted to see me?” He glanced from Solomand to Tristan.

  Tristan’s brow furrowed as he leaned back on his pillow. Dr. Highcourt’s book, and an open notebook laid in front of him.

  “Will, I would never doubt your character after all these years, but there is something I need to know. Do you have any dreams of before?”

  Will’s shoulders tensed, but he remained otherwise the picture of calm.

  “A few,” he finally said.

  Solomand’s shoulder slumped as he massaged his temple.

  “You might have said something, Will.”

  Will looked amused as he ran a hand under his eyepatch along the white scar.

  “If I’d have thought there was any danger, I would have.”

  “I know you would.” Tristan thumbed through his book and scribbled in the notebook. He seemed nothing if not certain Will told the truth. “Can you tell me about them?”

  “Not much to tell.” Will shrugged. “It was never anything I longed to return to if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. You don’t have them anymore?”

  Tristan coughed into his elbow and continued to write.

  “Not really.” Will’s face grew somber. “The only memory I have that matters is being shot with that dart by my platoon leader and being left on that burning field with my eye cut out, waiting to die. As far as I’m concerned, whoever I was before died.”

  Solomand studied him with a probing gaze. It had always been hard to read Will. But they had all come to accept him as one of their own: calm, collected, even when no one else was. There was never any question as to where his loyalties lay. In the end, Solomand knew he would trust Tristan’s judgment ahead of his own.

  Then why don’t you listen to him about Rayn?

  He shook his head, dismissing the voice. That was different.

  Tristan pulled on his chin.

  “I believe you, Will. I only needed to know. It helps to have all the pieces when fitting a puzzle together.”

  Will nodded.

  “Anything else?”

  “Not with you.” Solomand turned an accusatory gaze on Tristan. “Why the hell did you tell him to give Ivan the passcode? I’m surprised he didn’t stab me to death with a spoon last night.”

  Tristan started to laugh.

  Chapter 30

  Rayn

  Rayn stomped her way down the winding sidewalk, her furious gaze fixed down into the valley. White streaks of clouds turned from pink to orange as the sun rose higher. Right when she was beginning to feel Solomand wasn’t so bad, she found another skeleton in his closet, or basement, as it were. The hair on her neck pricked up thinking about the menacing looking Slav. Who the hell was he, anyway? The tattoo on his neck reminded her of the mechanical spider the shifty-eyed peddler in Trader’s Cove had in his wares, making her skin crawl.

  This was an excellent time to bury herself in work, away from everyone. She strode up to the airship and flipped the toggle to the cargo bay. The door groaned open, and she stepped inside as the automatic lights flickered on with a crackling hum. Rayn breathed in the familiar smell of tobacco and her eyes narrowed as they searched around the crates and wooden boxes, eventually resting on the girl in the corner.

  Zee sat on a crate, one hand clutching the frayed wooden lid, the other holding a cigarette. On seeing Rayn, she gave a start, dropping the cigarette in a hurry and stomping it out as she slid to her feet.

  “Don’t tell, Sol,” she said in a small voice.

  Rayn crossed her arms, looking down at the girl.

  “Why? What do you think he’ll do to you?”

  She was doubtful he would do much of anything.

  Zee hung her head, rubbing one arm.

  “Nothing. It’s just that…he’ll be disappointed is all.”

  Rayn softened, her shoulders relaxing as she let out a sigh. Part of her wanted to march back up to the Castle and tell Solomand—point out one more thing he was doing wrong. While he was busy hiding a dangerous axe-man, the child under his care was off doing things she shouldn’t be. But, at the same time, she didn’t want to talk to Solomand at all. Besides, she thought, what the hell did she know about filling in as a parent?

  “I won’t tell,” she said. “Provided you don’t do it anymore.”

  Zee’s lips pursed together, and her head tilted to the side.

  “For how long?

  “Until you’re eighteen, at least.”

  The girl nodded. “Alright.” She thrust out her hand.

  Rayn grasped it, giving Zee a somber smile before walking past her and toward the spiral stairs to the airship’s armory. Plunking sound of boots on metal followed her as the girl clambered up at her heels.

  “What are you doing in here, anyway?”

  Rayn leaned to the side, catching one of the rivets on the wall with her shoulder.

  “Well, I decided it was a good time to do some gunsmithing, since Solomand’s prisoner wandered out.”

  She muttered the last part.

  “Prisoner?” Zee heard. “Oh, you mean Ivan. He’s not a prisoner. He’s an Ice Wolf—they’re Slavik assassins. Some people hire them to fight in wars or to be bodyguards—stuff like that.”

  They were at the landing at the top of the stairs now.

  “What’s he doing here, then?” Rayn asked, gripping the wheel-lock of the round door and placing her whole body weight on it.

  “He’s Sol’s friend.”

  Zee pulled at the door, using all her weight to help pull it open. It gave way with a slow grinding noise, letting out the smell of gunpowder and dust.

  “Friend, huh?”

  Rayn stepped inside, eyeing the crate of springs and tools Jank had delivered to the armory.

  Didn’t look like anybody’s friend.

  She hoisted the cannon components to the center of the room.

  “Sol doesn’t like to talk about him. He was sick when we brought him here.”

  Zee shoved the box of supplies alongside the gun pieces. She hopped atop the black ammo boxes and stood on her tiptoes as she peered out the porthole.

  “You shouldn’t be afraid of him,” she added, glancing back. “He wouldn’t hurt you. I met him a long time ago. Sol thought I wouldn’t remember, but I do.”

  She hopped back to the floor.

  “Oh yeah?” Rayn was curious. “What do you remember about him?”

  “It was on the island. Sol was sick or something, and the other men in green coats were talking about killing me.”

  Rayn gave a start at the nonchalant way the girl talked.

  “Ivan knocked them all on their…er, knocked them out.” Zee scratched her nose with the back of her hand. “Then he told them he’d teach them something if they ever tried to touch me again. He left after that. Sol was asleep. I don’t think he saw what happened.” She squatted down. “Can I help?”

  Rayn sat back on her heels and caught the girl’s eager gaze. Zee showed no signs of being distressed by the idea of men in green coats trying to kill her. Then again, with someone like Ivan taking up for her, it made sense not to be bothered. Tucking hair from her messy braid behind her ear, Rayn’s shoulders relaxed—as did her thoughts towards the Slav.

  “Sure, hand me that.” She nodded to a tube of oil.

  The first thing to do was clean probably a decade’s worth of grime and gunk from the barrel. Zee scrambled to hand her the oil, and Rayn realized, it was kind of nice having her to help.

  She lost track of how long they sat in the armory, her cleaning and Zee handing her tools or helping to run patches through the barrel.

  Her stomach had begun to grumble when a voice said, “Mind if
I join you?”

  She gave a start, then relaxed when she realized it was Will.

  “No.” Rayn pushed hair out of her eyes, watching as the girl jumped up.

  “Hey, Will,” Zee said. “Rayn’s teaching me how to be a gunsmith.”

  “Hardly.” Rayn laughed.

  Will fished a cigarette out of his jacket pocket. “Oh? Maybe you can fix the engine down there with Jank.”

  Zee scoffed.

  “Not a chance.” She wiped black hands on her pants, leaving greasy smears. “Is lunch ready?”

  Will nodded, and the girl dashed away. Rayn stood up, cleaning her own hands on a rag.

  “Sol wanted me to ask you to come to the observatory after lunch?”

  Figures he wouldn’t tell me himself.

  “Have something to do with the mess he talked about getting into?”

  “Somethin’ like that.”

  He held the cigarette to his lips. If he knew anything, he wasn’t going to tell, but his mild-mannered smile made it hard to hold anything against him.

  Rayn let out a sigh, wondering if Ivan would be there.

  “Please tell me vodka is on the menu.”

  Will let out a low chuckle as he tilted his head back.

  “Anytime you want it to be.”

  He turned and followed Zee.

  Rayn lingered in the armory, putting her tools away and cleaning up the dirty patches of cloth. She bit her lip as she looked down at the cleaned components. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the cannon that would keep it from firing. All the springs and mechanisms were in functioning order. Did Solomand go to all this trouble to hire a gunsmith to fix a cannon that was dirty as hell? Then again, most problems with guns could be fixed with a good cleaning. The number of people that didn’t clean their weapons drove her mad. She shrugged and left the armory. What did she care if Solomand had made a mistake thinking the cannon wasn’t functional when it was? She would be paid for her work regardless of whether or not it was needed.

  When she got back to the Castle, Ivan was nowhere to be seen. Her stomach churned, and her appetite could only stomach a crisp slice of melon left on the kitchen table. The coffee was too cold at this point, and she decided to make her way to the observatory. This time she made sure to bring her gun, in spite of what Zee had said about Ivan.

  She paused for a moment outside the open sliding doors. Sunlight streamed in from a domed glass ceiling, which combined with the back wall of thick window panes. There was a coating of dust over the few pieces of furniture: a tall, antique looking cabinet, a coffee table, and some dark-cherry wooden chairs. A patched-up sofa of drab brown sat against the back wall, facing the window panes. Solomand had been lying on the couch. He sat up, startling her at first.

  “Sorry." He stood and a cloud of dust mixed with the streams of sunlight. He looked like he was trying to gauge if she was still mad or not. “Care to have a seat?”

  Rayn walked over and sat down. Hesitating, Solomand eased himself next to her. He cleared his throat.

  “Look Rayn…I’m sorry…about earlier.” He rubbed his hands on his knees. “I should have told you about Ivan before.”

  Rayn sighed, sinking further into the scratchy cushions.

  “It’s alright.” Although it wasn’t. She leaned her head back, staring at the clouds drifting by overhead. “I’m tired of people keeping secrets from me.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk—you even manage to keep secrets from yourself.”

  Rayn pursed her lips together, not wanting him to know his idle attempts to appease her mood was working.

  Sol edged further away as he continued, “You could have been trying to kill me years ago and not even know about it.

  “Still could be.” She leaned toward him, keeping a straight face.

  The worried look in his eyes caused her to laugh. He looked more at ease then, and she liked that for some reason. Though he deserved to walk on glass for a while!

  “Who is Ivan, then? A hired assassin?”

  “He’s not for hire.” Solomand’s grin faded to a distant expression. “He was an Ice Wolf that showed up in Corcyra looking for work. They’re specialized assassins in the North from what I understand. He never talked about his past, and we didn’t ask. He’s a friend. Only…he got himself hooked on Furi a while back.”

  Rayn had only heard stories about the Furi. It was far too heavy a drug for the likes of Port Ashbury. Sol’s voice dropped.

  “He got carried away with it trying to forget.”

  Rayn’s fingers drummed on her knees. She was torn between wanting to know and being afraid to hear.

  “Forget what?”

  Solomand worked a finger into his collar and pulled on it, shifting in his seat.

  “We were all together, in the war. Me, Jank, Will, Ivan…Tristan.” His eyes glazed over, and he tilted his head back to gaze out the dome window. “I guess we all came away wounded. Everyone does in some way.”

  The wind rustled trees outside, lending some comfort to the silence that fell. Solomand’s gaze caught hers and she forced herself to ask.

  “The war…is that what happened to Tristan?”

  Solomand paled, his shoulders tensing as his eyes stared at something far away. He didn’t have to answer. Rayn realized that talking about Ivan was one thing, but Tristan was another matter. Solomand seemed incapable of even thinking about whatever had happened to Tristan. Without thinking she scooted closer to Solomand.

  “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean.” Her hand reached toward him, but she stopped and drew it back.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Voices and footsteps coming up the stairs let them both breathe out a sigh of relief. Jank walked in, looking annoyed, as usual. Zee was trailing behind Will, biting into an apple, her fingers still stained black. And finally, Ivan lumbered in, fixing a dark, solemn, stare on Rayn. Sol gave him a warning look, and he moved to the corner, folding his arms and glaring at Solomand instead.

  Sol pulled a cord by the wall, and black drapes closed out the sunlight.

  “We’re going to go over a few things, for those of you who don’t already know.”

  He took the sphere from his pocket and placed it in the center of the coffee table, disrupting the layer of dust. His fingers fumbled for a moment as he turned the gears and buttons in an ordered fashion.

  “Our next order of business will be…”

  With a series of clicks the device received the right combination. In a flurry of lights, the compass needle began to spin, and the projection of an elaborate map formed on the black curtain.

  Rayn’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward to get a better look. Tiny flocks of birds flew in forms over a cluster of hills; wispy white clouds drifted over bright cities. Solomand pushed another button and one town in particular came into focus. It was like a glittering jewel against a backdrop of the desert.

  “We’re breaking into Corcyra.”

  Her eyes transfixed on the airships that flew out of the city port across the black background, Rayn asked, “Why do you need to break into a city?”

  Sol scratched the back of his neck, and he cleared his throat.

  “Rayn…you may as well know." He made it out like he was confessing a dark secret. “We’re not exactly what you would call, ‘upstanding citizens.’” He made air quotes with his fingers.

  Rayn rolled her eyes.

  “No?” She tossed her braid over her shoulder.

  “I know it’s hard to believe.” Solomand waved a hand, pretending to look ashamed. The twinkle in his eye vanished now as his somberness became real. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

  Grishtanburg.

  She knew what he was alluding to and swallowed, maintaining a collected appearance in spite of the storm welling up inside.

  “Why are you going if it’s so dangerous?”

  This meeting felt like it was for the two of them now.

  “A personal matter. One that I’d rather you
not get mixed up in.”

  So, he was going to send her away. She could tell he didn’t want to say it. Her heart sank lower, even though she knew her mind was already made up.

  She took a steady breath, and exhaled, managing a matter-of-fact voice.

  “Well then…Captain Black. I suppose maybe it’s time we parted ways.” Her words rang hollow; it sounded like someone else was speaking them against her will.

  There was that look in his eye she couldn’t place like a distant storm was brewing. He grinned.

  “My friends call me Sol. And I don’t let anyone on my crew that is less than a friend.”

  Rayn glanced around the room. The others were smiling at her, in a mysterious, stoic fashion. Except for Zee, who looked curious, and Ivan, whose grim expression grew ever more displeased. Rayn assumed it was his natural state of being and nothing to do with her. For all their idiotic stunts, and Solomand’s pig-headedness at times, she realized she could have had worse friends. She gave him a genuine, warm smile.

  “Alright. Sol, it is.”

  Friends.

  Rayn stared at the birds flitting about the parapets of Corcyra, not hearing a word Solomand or the others said. She wished he’d told her to go without insisting they be on good terms. It would have made leaving so much easier. Distancing herself from Port Ashbury, where she had no connections hadn’t been all that difficult. But leaving friends…this pain was new to her.

  Or so she thought.

  Chapter 31

  Solomand

  The whole time Solomand went over the plan he felt Ivan’s glare burning into him. Not long after Rayn left, the Slav had crossed his arms and stalked away—to his quarters no doubt. Sol stared at his door now, rubbing the back of his neck. Ivan knew he was holding back, and his brooding nature would not allow him to listen to lies. Sol was glad he had decided to leave, rather than forcing him to admit the truth. He breathed out and warily opened the door.

  Ivan sat upright on the edge of his bunk, rigid. He did not look to see Solomand, but then, he rarely was surprised.

  “He needs doctor, Captain." His voice was a low growl as he turned an icy glare on Sol.

  Solomand’s throat tightened.