Shadow Road: Book 1 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy

22. Surprisingly Well

25th of Uirra, Continued

The Loftman's Gallery turned out to be a fancy name for the officer's mess: a long room situated along one side of the quarterdeck, with a bank of windows looking out at the sea.

The Angpixen didn't have anything like it. There had been an absurdly luxurious dining hall for the officers, but it wasn't used for anything else. On the Stryka, the whole Gallery was designed to be dismantled and stowed out of the way, with a table that could be raised into the ceiling and walls that could be folded back. Four light cannons sat hunched along the two outside walls, only a swivel away from being put into action through removable windows. The sight and smell of them - oiled iron and spent powder - was yet another reminder that the Stryka was meant for war, not civilian comfort.

The marine on guard duty opened the door when he saw me and leaned into the room to announce me before gesturing inside.

The Captain was sitting at the head of a long metal dining table, six of his officers ranging down either side, and from the abrupt silence that fell as I came in, it was clear that I was interrupting a rather intense conversation. All of the men turned to look at me, their expressions a mixture of reserve, weariness, distrust, annoyance... and interest.

Slowly, the Captain got to his feet, the other men following suit a half-second later.

"Miss Westerby," the Captain said, his tone brusque. "I believe you've already met Commander Kyrro. This is Lieutenant Commander Gorson, Lieutenant Hedwidge-Farrow, Lieutenant Chalb, Lineman Arkney, and Lineman Mannemarra."

I gave them all a wary nod, managing to use the motion to cover my surprise at the Captain's use of my false name. Then I stood there, hesitating in the doorway, unsure what I was supposed to do next. None of my social etiquette lessons had included this particular scenario. As a rule, single women weren't supposed to dine alone with groups of men. In fact, it was rather assumed they would avoid such things or risk ruining their reputation. So... Did I just walk up and pull out a chair, or...

Lineman Mannemarra - the interested one, who stood up quite a bit faster than the others - came to my rescue, eagerly indicating the empty chair next to his at the near end of the table. "Please! Join us, Miss Westerby," he blurted. Then he added an enthusiastic, "Mr. Des'Cready has promised his pork jerk. You won't want to miss it. It's positively sublime."

I didn't look away from the Captain. He nodded slightly, and a cabin boy pulled out the chair for me. I dipped my head in acknowledgement, then moved as gracefully as I could to take my place, using every ounce of control I had to keep from turning on my heel and making for the door. Confrontation was never my favorite pastime, and there was a storm brewing. The Commander was practically fuming at the ears, and Lieutenant Chalb refused to look directly at me. I got the distinct impression that neither of them wanted me there, which made me wonder just what the Captain had told them about me. Not my real name, it would seem.

All the men sat back down, then, but there was no return to their discussion. It was Lineman Mannemarra who broke the silence, apparently oblivious to the tension and animosity hanging thick over the other end of the table.

"Where do you hail from originally, Miss Westerby?" he asked, his clean-shaven face gone quite pink.

He was the lone man among them willing to be civil, it seemed, so I gave him a polite smile. "Garding, in Edon."

He beamed. "Really? I'm from up Phennyrre way, myself. Do you know the Smythe-Brassings?"

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," I said evenly, unable to keep from glancing at the Captain. He was watching me, his lean face impassive, those pale eyes missing nothing.