Empress of Dorsa (The Chronicles of Dorsa)

“Simply because you were born out of marriage?” Megs wanted to know. “I thought Adessians were more relaxed about that sort of thing.”

“Relaxed, well…” Akella searched for words, then came upon an analogy she thought Megs would understand. “Are the way things are done in the East the same as, say, the Central Steppes?”

“I’ve never been to the Central Steppes,” said Megs. “So I don’t know.”

“But based on what you do know of the Steppes?”

Megs shrugged. “I know they dress differently. That they’re still clannish, and that blood feuds between families can last for generations. And every soldier I’ve met from the Steppes has been prickly around the topic of his honor – insult his honor and he’s likely to draw on you.”

“That’s my point,” Akella said. “The East is different from the Steppes, even though they’re both part of the Empire. Not all the islands are the same, even if we all share certain things, like the same language and the same goddess. On Perrintot, it might have been alright if I’d been born out of marriage to a different woman, but I wasn’t – I was born to the daughter of the village priest, which made me a stain on my family’s reputation before I ever knew what a reputation was.”

Megs crossed her arms across her chest. “Please don’t tell me you’re using that as an excuse for becoming a pirate.”

Akella laughed. “Excuse? Why would anyone need an excuse for piracy?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Megs said, tone sardonic. “Perhaps due to its criminality?”

“Piracy isn’t nearly as terrible as your village Wise Man probably taught you.”

“Druet Village doesn’t have its own Wise Man; we shared him between three villages,” Megs said. “He served as magistrate, doctor, and veterinarian, which made teaching low on his list of priorities.”

“Regardless of what your Wise Man taught you,” Akella said. “Most piracy is simply smuggling. We trade things like meravin mushrooms for Adessian silks at a much lower price than most merchants demand, mainly because we manage to, let’s say, avoid tariffs.”

“So you’re saying you never killed Imperial sailors or took them as slaves.”

“I didn’t say that,” Akella said. “I said most piracy is smuggling.”

“And you became a pirate because it made more business sense.” Each of Megs’s words still wore a heavy coat of sarcasm.

“Well, if you really need a reason, I became a pirate because I would’ve had a premature death due to boredom if I’d stayed on Perrintot,” said Akella. “The two vocations available to me there would’ve been fishing or sailing merchant ships between Perrintot and Essa’tre. Being a pirate was the only way to avoid those fates.” She paused. “Sometimes I wish I was more like my brother. He never had an itch to leave, married the girl he’d been following around like a puppy since they were five the moment they were both eighteen summers. They have three children now. Two girls and a boy. But what about you? Perhaps you can understand taking on a job full of dangers for the sake of getting away from a sleepy little village.”

“I didn’t join the army for adventure. I joined because my family needed the money. The golden regal they give you when you sign up is enough to feed a family like ours for a year, year and a half.” A beat passed, her gaze growing distant. “And my older brother was joining. Prices were higher than ever because of the war getting worse, which meant two regals would go further than one. But more than that, I didn’t trust him to stay out of trouble on his own.”

“Does he serve in the Third Division, too?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” Akella said.

Megs shrugged. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Still.” Silence hung between them for a long few seconds. “What was his name?”

“Milton.”

“Megstra and Milton,” Akella mused. “I suppose your parents liked names that started with M.”

“They did. Once,” said Megs, but the way she said it suggested something dark within the memory. Anger, even. An anger that masked a deeper grief, perhaps.

“Do you…” Akella began, about to ask Do you have other siblings? But she decided halfway through that the expression on Megs’s face meant she was done talking about family, and any additional questions would push her away again – the last thing Akella wanted, considering this was probably the longest conversation they’d managed to have so far. And considering Megs had actually agreed to let Akella court her.

“Do I … ?”

“Do you want more tea? Or are you finished?”

“Finished,” Megs said, pushing the mug away from her.

Akella scooped it up, placing it upon her own tray. “I’ll take it. I was thinking that I should go, anyway. Make myself useful.”

She stood to go, but then hesitated, studying Megs. The other woman’s eyes were still distant, her face heavy. The absence of her brother Milton was so palpable that Akella felt she could reach out and touch it. She thought about what it would be like to lose her own brother, Ryer, who was also the closest thing she had to a best friend. Akella wondered if she would ever see him again, or if the seer was right and she would be lost in the Kingdom of Persopos, never to return. Word would eventually make its way back to Perrintot that Akella was snatched by Imperial soldiers from a brothel, but when she didn’t make it home for her annual visit, Ryer would assume she’d been sentenced to death.

Akella imagined him standing on the pier outside their village, gazing at Preyla’s blue expanse, waiting for her ship to appear on the horizon day after day. When summer passed without Akella returning, the same kind of grief that saturated Megs’s expression would saturate his. And just like Megs, Ryer’s grief would be mixed with anger. Akella conjured him in her mind’s eye, face wet with tears, brow furrowed, fists clenched at his sides.

I told you,he would say to the empty sea. I told you to give up that foolishness of piracy, to come home and be with your family. But you wouldn’t listen. You never listened.

Megs’s grief became Akella’s. Akella’s death was coming soon, coming in a white city that spiraled like the tip of a conch shell up the side of a mountain. But even as she passed to Ryer a sadness that would last the rest of his life, she would relieve other families of their own grief. Her crew would finally go home. And didn’t the pain of one family weigh less than the pain of two or three dozen families?

Akella reached out and touched the back of Megs’s hand – gently, with only the pads of her first two fingers. The touch seemed to jolt Megs back into the present reality. Her dark eyes snapped into focus on Akella as though processing her presence for the first time. The pain was still on her face, but it was muted now, like a once-bright color faded over time by the sun. Akella recognized this faded pain as being Megs’s normal expression.

Ah. Now she understood.

“I’ll see you soon,” Akella said. She walked towards the back of the tent with her empty tray and Megs’s empty mug, the memory of Megs’s skin lingering on her fingertips.