Black Bottle by Anthony Huso Page B

had been away handling affairs in Morturm. One hundred eighty hours in an ice-cold room without food or water, perched on a stool without a back? Was it even possible? The servants said they often found her in the dark with the lamps gone out. They said she didn’t move, but stared at the books, as if she was reading them.
    Caliph’s thoughts lifted as a message arrived that Sena’s airship was coming in from the west, over Octul Box. He strode quickly through the statued opulence of a hallway overlooking the east courtyard, toward the castle’s zeppelin deck.
    When he arrived, the evening was gray and dripping, not quite cold enough to sting. Caliph’s stomach felt loose, like it was lying on the blocks beneath him. He insisted on standing alone. The small army of servants in charge of the arrival had organized themselves half a dozen yards away.
    Caliph kept waiting and watching … and waiting as the clouds churned.
    Finally, the Odalisque materialized like something conjured out of magic smoke. It slid into position above the zeppelin deck and immediately, a terrifying chill coursed through him.
    Sena had been gone nearly a year. It had been months since he had heard from her and, for him, the hiatus had metastasized into irrational unfamiliarity. He couldn’t wait to put his arms around her. Feel her. Smell her. Hear her voice.
    The craft’s wicked mulberry skin might have shown traces of purple under direct sunlight but currently it looked black, dangling from a claw of cloud. The Odalisque ’s silver filigreed fins and spines marked her as an exclusive pleasure ship and though they tantalized the air with their femininity, they were also vaguely threatening.
    Caliph shifted from one foot to the other. He watched the lights flash, signaling that the ship had successfully docked. People began to move.
    The airship’s cargo doors opened and casket-shaped boxes began sliding out, pulled by rope handles, maneuvered by giant men. A small, fierce woman, clearly in charge, barked at the unloaders. The men adjusted their grips, used tarps to shield the containers from the rain and lugged the heavy loads toward the castle without complaint.
    Caliph took a flight of cement steps up to the parapet that would conduct Sena from the Odalisque to the castle’s warm interior. There were already servants moving back and forth along the narrow pathway hedged with crenels. He made his way toward the airship and spotted the captain. A big man with blond thickets on his forearms stepped out and addressed him with a quizzical smile. “Your majesty? Did she forget something?”
    “What?”
    The captain kept grinning. “Did she leave something behind? I’ll help you look.” He turned toward the ship.
    Caliph stopped him. “She’s already left? She’s already gone inside?”
    The captain turned back around, lips puckered, eyes wide. “Well … yes.”
    “And she came this way?” Caliph hooked a thumb toward the narrow parapet.
    Now the captain showed traces of concern. “Yes, she did. Is something wrong?”
    Caliph looked back through the rain in the direction he had come, feeling dizzy. It was impossible. He couldn’t have missed her. He didn’t know whether to board the Odalisque and search for her or return to the castle. Finally he forced a grin and waved his hand dismissively. “No. Nothing’s wrong. I must have gotten here late.”
    The captain saluted as Caliph turned and ducked back over the busy walkway, rain pounding him. By the time he entered the castle, he was soaking.
    A short, thick maid with breasts like gun stones nearly walked into him before declaring that he was drenched. She insisted on getting a towel.
    “Where is Sena?” Caliph followed her to a nearby linen closet.
    The woman didn’t know. People milled near the doors; some glanced at him curiously.
    “Did you see her come in?”
    “Yes, I did. But I don’t know where’s she’s gone. Let’s get you dried off.”
    Caliph took the towel