Smoke and Iron-Legends of Silva-Book 1

Chapter 18-The Face of a Ghost

Andreas

The first thing I see as I open my eyes, is a large drooling greyhound above me. Startled, I push myself away from the dog only to fall off the side of the sette I was laying on. The carpet below, cushions the impact but it doesn't stop my shoulders and back from protesting.

"Careful there lad, I believe you've fallen enough for one day," the unmistakable voice of the Captain sounds from behind me.

"I'll say," the cheeky voice of Orion cuts in, making me cant my head upward to find the mischievous scamp dangling from the rafters overhead.

"You looked like a flailing bird before the Ghost saved your ass."

"Oy, you little wretch!" Vincent hisses, emerging from the shadows near the roaring fireplace across from the sette.

"How many times do I have to tell you, mind your mouth in front of the captain."

"All right," Orion huffs, dropping onto the ground with silent ease.

"I admit it, possibly a thousand times. By the way Hunter, your lady friend left this."

From the folds of his oversized black shirt, he pulls out a single silver glove and tosses it to me. Upon this discovery, I hear Talber's slight inhale of strangled breath.

"Andreas," he hisses, making me jerk up from the floor and into a defensive stance.

Only then do I find where I am. The private library of Talber's mansion. The walls of dark paneled wood, and the stone floor riddled with a slight icy chill. Bookshelves line the walls, heaped with volumes both old and new. Thick woolen carpets line the floor, where Talber's five other greyhounds lie sleeping.

"You told me the Ghost was a man," he utters, his hand slowly lowering to the dagger at his belt.

"Why, why deceive me? Deceive your brothers in arms no less. I know you have a reason for it, and you better tell me now or I will have no other choice but to report this matter to the king himself."

I debate my choices in my head, keeping an eye on Talber still in his uniform, and my friends. Confusion showing behind the leather of their masks, as the hounds start to stir at their master's raised voice.

"The Ghost is barely my age," I begin, putting up both my hands, bare of the gloves that are no longer there, while the thief's glove still lies in my grasp.

"I've learned enough to know that she is not a threat, and that she believes what she's doing is the right thing. You have always told us that, more than anything."

"Indeed Captain," Vincent adds, pulling back his cowl and letting his long dark hair free.

"There are things that are right according to the law, but they are not always so. True right and true wrong are different, but both can break a set of rules. Except one is far nobler to choose, regardless of the risk."

The flames cast shadows across his deep tanned flesh. Highlighting the harshness of his high cheekbones and sharp chin. Illuminating the brown and gold flecks of his eyes, reminding me of a tiger's unwavering gaze. Calculating, patient, only striking when prey is close at hand, but for Vincent it's waiting for his words to hit their mark. Of which they do, forcing Talber to halt his hand, his fingers just shy of touching the firm hilt of his blade.

He sighs, the wrinkles on his forehead growing in abundance on his pale skin. Exhaustion evident in the dark circles and hollow cheeks, shrouded by days of unshaven stubble.

"You boys are getting too smart for your own good," he says, holding back a grin just as a single blob of mud falls from above and lands by his boot.

The smile fades, and we watch as he holds back a grimace while pinching the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand.