35
~ AKELLA ~
Akella watched the little seagull fly back home towards her mistress’s nest, smiling to herself. She’d told Linna that she was more interesting than the Commander, and that had been true, but she couldn’t say exactly why she had such a soft spot for the girl. Perhaps it was because, even if Linna would never be able to admit it, she had all the natural instincts of a pirate. She watched and listened to everything without being noticed, she had a chameleon’s ability to shift her mannerisms according to the needs of the situation, and she had the kind of agility and reaction speed that would make her perfect aboard a ship. And she did all those things without even realizing she was doing them.
Not that Akella had designs on recruiting her. The girl was far too enamored with the Empress and the Empress’s concubine to ever join a crew. But still. Maybe Akella could teach her a thing or two while the concubine was on the northern front. Maybe Akella could prevent Linna from becoming as stiff and boring as a slab of wood like her mentor.
It would be a small but very satisfying victory over the obnoxious concubine if Akella could nurture the girl’s natural instincts and turn her half-pirate.
Akella grinned to herself as she headed to the mess hall, stomach growling in anticipation of the sludge that passed as food within the Imperial Army’s camp. She desperately missed Adessian food – fresh baked fish seasoned with salt and citrus, rice fried with chilis and mushrooms, and mangos or papayas for dessert. Imperial food – at least, Imperial food outside Terinto – was excruciatingly bland by comparison, and Imperial Army rations were even worse: Stew every day. Always the same shade of brown. Always the same vague flavors of unidentifiable meat and overcooked vegetables. Akella had spent an hour at the latrine every day for nearly a month before her stomach had finally adjusted to it. Now, her traitor stomach actually asked for it. But she supposed the sludge served every afternoon and every evening was better than not eating at all.
Prisoner in all but name to the Empress of the House of Dorsa, landlocked, and adapting to terrible food to the point of being hungry for it.
A sad state of affairs she was in.
Akella had put off the noontide meal because she’d been waiting for a chance to ask Linna about training sessions, which meant that by the time she headed to the mess hall, most of the camp’s soldiers had already eaten. That suited her just fine. She preferred avoiding the soldiers. It wasn’t that their constant muttered aspersions in her direction particularly upset her. They could call her “Adessian pirate scum” under their breath like the cowards they were all they wanted. What concerned her was that, while surrounded by all their fellow soldiers, one idiot would try to put on a show by challenging her. Then she’d have to kill him, because if she didn’t, it would encourage all the others, and then once she killed him, there’d be hell to pay from the Empress. Akella might be the Empress’s prisoner, but she enjoyed relative freedom in the camp and she wanted to keep it that way.
Only a few tired faces glanced up when she pushed her way into the mess tent. At its peak, the tent held two hundred at meal times. Currently, there were about a dozen inhabitants scattered amongst the tables and benches. Two groups played cards. Everyone else sat by themselves in morose silence.
Akella got her bowl of sludge and stale bread heel from the sullen cook at the back of the mess hall. She’d intended to carry her tray back to her boulder and enjoy a peaceful meal by herself, but her gaze snagged on a soldier sitting alone at the far end of a table.
A female soldier.
An attractive female soldier.
Akella changed directions, stopping in front of the soldier. “Mind if I join you?”
The soldier looked up. Her expression was weary, but she didn’t give Akella the double-take most soldiers did when they realized there was an islander in front of them. The woman waved a hand at the bench across from her, and Akella sat down.
Akella made a show of shivering. “Wind has a bite to it today, doesn’t it?”
“Aye.”
“I’ve heard the Wise Men are predicting an early winter. And harsh.”
The soldier only grunted.
Akella took a bite of her stale bread to hide the grin spreading across her face. She did like a challenge.
“I don’t know much about winters,” Akella said around a mouthful of bread. “Don’t really have ’em in the Islands. It’s always a version of summer there. You think the Wise Men are right?”
The soldier shrugged and ripped off a hunk of her own bread, using it to mop up the sludge at the bottom of her empty bowl. “I try not to have opinions about the opinions of Wise Men.”
“But you look like an Easterner to me,” Akella said. “Am I right? I want to hear an Easterner’s opinion on the weather.”
The woman glanced up, dark eyes studying Akella for a moment. She was young, Akella realized, probably a good six or eight years younger than Akella. Freckles dusted an olive-skinned complexion, and the freckles somehow made her look even younger. But those eyes. Big and brown and haunted. Those eyes had seen a lot. Enough to make the soldier older than her years.
“I think,” the woman said slowly, “that there’s snow coming. Two days from now. Maybe three. A big storm. But since we haven’t had a hard freeze yet, I doubt it will stick longer than a day.”
Now Akella didn’t hide her grin. “I was right. You are an Easterner.”
“I am.”
“Ah – I’m being rude,” Akella said. “Rizalt Akella ock Hanyon. Or Akella of the Island of Perrintot, to use your Imperial place names.” She extended a hand across the table.
The soldier looked at the hand for a moment, then shook it. “First Sergeant Megstra of Druet Village. Most people call me Megs.”
“Megs,” Akella repeated. She held the soldier’s hand a little longer than was strictly necessary. “Pleased to meet you.”
Megs studied Akella again, a question in her eyes this time. “Rizalt … isn’t that the Adessian word for ship’s captain?”
“It is.”
“Does that make you the Adessian captain they say saved the Empress’s fleet south of Negusto?”
“Well, I can’t take credit for saving the whole fleet. And the Balus was fortunate to have a very competent sailing master.” Akella decided it was best to leave out how she’d spent the final few days of the voyage sharing a hammock with said sailing master. She shrugged. “So yes. Your Empress might well owe me her life. But –” she lifted a finger “– I didn’t do it all by myself.”
Something approaching a smirk twitched into place on Megs’s face. It gave her a dimple.
“Humble of you.”
Akella mimicked Megs’s smirk. “I’ve been told my humility is one of my best traits.”
Megs lifted an eyebrow. “Hmm,” was all she said. She brushed the crumbs from her hands and pushed up from the table. “Time for me to go.”
Akella wanted to ask why it was time to go – did Megs actually have somewhere to be, or did she always walk away when a woman tried to flirt with her?
But Megs was already several paces away.
“Nice to meet you, First Sergeant Megs,” Akella called at her back.
The Easterner with the older-than-her-years brown eyes and the single dimple when she smiled didn’t so much as turn around and wave.
Akella sighed and turned her attention back to eating the noontime sludge.
#
“You’re late.” Akella got up from the tree stump where she’d been sitting, inspecting the little seagull up and down.
“I told you it wasn’t going to be easy getting past the patrol. I had to time it just right and then distract the guard watching the entrance.” Linna sounded almost breathless as she spoke, like she’d run the whole way from the camp.
“You used the actual entrance?”
“How else was I supposed to get out?”
“Over the wall,” Akella said. “You climb like a monkey.”
“If I’d climbed, someone would’ve seen me.”
“Then you should’ve taken the tunnel.”
Linna looked confused. “Tunnel? What tunnel?”
“The tunnel I dug under the wall the first week we set up camp.”
The girl’s expression changed from confusion to anger. “You dug a tunnel under the camp wall?”
“Yes.”
“Tribesmen could find that and enter the camp that way!”