Memory of Morning (2 page)

"Does he ever lose?" Dr. Swan asked reassuringly. His cool confidence steadied everyone in the room.

I returned my attention to the man on my table. He needed stitching up now that I'd taken a splintered ebony bullet from him and made sure his insides were clear of debris. A doctor would rather deal with lead shot any time than face the far more infectious danger of wooden bullets. But the pirates were not only vicious criminals, they also lacked the greater access to stores of metal than the Imperial Navy.

Truly, the last thing in the world I expected was for the battle to come tumbling riotously through the surgery door.

But that is what happened.

Suddenly there were bodies everywhere. I recall the stink of sweat and gunpowder, and the room filled with smoke as weapons were raised and fired. Some damned fool was waving a torch. He dropped it on my work table as he was stabbed, and I had to scramble to keep my patient's clothes from catching fire. Bodies shoved against me. Shouts - of anger, of orders, of warning - buffeted my ears. I grabbed up my longest surgical knife, finely tempered meteorite steel, or perhaps I already had it in my hand - all I know is that suddenly I was using it as a weapon rather than an aid to healing. Spend two years on a ship of the line and you learn how to fight. Believe me, how I reacted had been drilled into me. I needed to forget my patients and defend my own life, and that is what I did.

I recall slashing my blade across the face of an invader who aimed a blow at one of my helpless patients. I recall Dr. Swan pulling a pistol from his belt and firing into someone's chest. Clean through the heart, knowing Dr. Swan's skills. I saw a sword slashing toward a broad back in a green coat and realized that Captain Copper was in danger. I was close enough to ram a shoulder into the enemy swordsman. Then I caught the flash of another blade coming toward me. I parried as best I could, but knife against sword doesn't make for the best of odds.

There was a loud shout in my ear. A shove. Horrible pain and hot spurt of blood. Then my head hit the deck. My sight filled with explosions of light, and then the world went dark.

Chapter Two

I lost a lot of blood, more from cutting my head on the corner of my operating table as I fell than from the sword cut that bit deeply into my right arm.

I lost about as much time as I did blood, and there were lives I could have saved instead of being a casualty myself. The knock on my head kept me unconscious for a long time, then semi-conscious with head pain for which I refused poppy extract. They mixed some into the water they gave me anyway - which is exactly what I would have done with a stupidly stubborn patient - which didn't stop me from being angry at such high-handed treatment. It is an indisputable fact that doctors make the worst patients. I didn't lose my arm. Dr. Swan did a very good job of sewing me up and fighting off infection - I'd won him over to the use of honeyherb - and I ended up with a scar and the use of it. Thank the All and Dr. Swan. A one-armed surgeon is a retired surgeon. There was stiffness that I was sure plenty of exercise would work out, and, thankfully, I'm left-handed anyway.

I missed the official celebrations of the great victory.

I suppose I should formally state that the invading pirates were defeated. Not just those who boarded the
'Runner,
but all the ships that came against the fleet at this Battle of the Arum Sea, as it came to be called. Most were killed during the battle, but the rest were hanged or flung into the sea. I am glad I missed seeing any of the necessary and deserved executions. Many of the pirate ships were sunk, burned down to the waterline. The five vessels declared as prizes were claimed by the Fleet Admiral for his own disposition, but the captains had no cause to complain of lost prizes, as there was plenty of seized property to share out as lawful booty.

Serving with Captain Copper was a prosperous berth, even for us civilian contractors. The
Moonrunner
had taken many prize ships during my time onboard. Until now I had taken my civilian shares as written markers to be claimed for crowns, plumes, and pins when we at last returned to the homeport of Seyemouth. But as the ship finally approached Seyemouth during my twenty-seventh month on board, Captain Copper invited all officers and contractors to a dinner party. Of course, we frequently shared meals in the captain's dining room, which was also the war room and his personal quarters depending on the need of the moment, but this was an occasion for formality. I gratefully unpacked the silver-gray evening dress I wore so infrequently, and shook out the lavender sprinkled in the folds to keep it fresh. No doubt it was now hopelessly out of fashion back on Ang, but I was still delighted to have a chance to dress-up. I am vain about clothes, I admit it. I was so glad the dress has long sleeves, since I didn't want to show off the fresh scar all red and tender on my upper right arm. As I told you, vain. But, also, I felt wrong putting myself in the company of heroes, such as Second Officer Gate, who'd lost an eye to a bullet in the conflict with the Framin - The Damned Fram as he always called them. Or Lieutenant Eel - I'd removed two fingers of her smashed left hand myself. The loss was the result of her saving her gun crew from a cannon explosion. At any rate, I was able to hide my scar and enjoy the evening in company of people I had become fond of. I knew I would soon be missing them.

Not that I loved everyone on board, of course. Nor did everyone love me. But we all managed to live in relative harmony, as we had no choice. Captain Copper ran a disciplined ship and constantly stressed our working as a team. If he noticed tension between any two people he made sure they served hard drills together until the personality kinks were worked out. I'd never had to submit to this sort of discipline, but I came from a huge, close family and already knew how to get on the good side or keep out of the way of anyone I had no say in spending time with. I pity only children, I really do.

It was a group very comfortable with each other that settled down to dinner that night at the Captain's table. There were no strangers among us, and I will admit a bit of disappointment - but only the barest hint - at this. Not that I hadn't known for some days that the man who'd kissed me was no longer on board. The Fleet Admiral's orphaned staff had been gathered together once more on one of the pirate prizes the admiral claimed for his own. This happened while I was indisposed in the sickbay. And, frankly, I was a bit too shy and embarrassed by the incident to enquire just who the man was. I drew enough teasing for my lack of romantic interest among the
Moonrunner's
eligible crew. I'd even heard rumors that I was a devotee of the celibate Gray Moon Goddess sect and was joining a temple of the Gray Women when we reached port. I could only imagine how my mother would howl with laughter, and give me a stern theology lecture just in case, when she heard that one.

We drank excellent wine that night, the bottles captured from the private stock of a pirate captain with very fine taste. The food was - well, it was plentiful and it wasn't poisonous, and I will say no more on the subject.

I was disgustingly nostalgic that evening - I'll blame it on the wine. But it was a bittersweet affair and I was all too aware that this was the last time I'd share this company, in this place, beneath the warm glow of the gold glass moss lanterns that did wonders for obscuring the chips and cracks of the blue and white porcelain dishes and the stains and mends of the tablecloth and napkins. Captains of the Imperial Navy set fine tables, but not without the settings getting plenty of wear and tear. A bit of tarnish to the formal grandeur gave the whole a homey atmosphere in my opinion.

A home I'd soon be leaving. Sigh.

So, if I happened to sneak a few too many sad looks at Captain Copper and Dr. Swan - well, I said I blame it on the wine.

They are a hard pair to choose between, let me be honest about that. My head had been turned one way and then another between the two of them since the day I came onboard. One my teacher and intellectual equal. One my dashing hero. I could only hope that neither of them had ever noticed.

Dane Copper is a big, broad man with so much sheer animal force of will, charm, and self-confidence he fills every little space of anywhere he occupies. And that space includes the hearts and minds of most everyone who comes in contact with him. Samel Swan is about the only person who can fight his way through Copper's charisma when he sees the need. His will is as indomitable as the Captain's. When they clash - well - it isn't pretty.

It can be entertaining as dramatic theater, but also hard on the nerves. The whole crew is very good at pretending deafness at such times. That, and we have a choir that can almost sing loud enough to drown out their racket. Many a psalm and hymn has been raised to the All and the god of the sea in hope of peace flowing down onto the decks of the
Moonrunner
.

Dr. Swan is a long, lean, ginger-haired, freckled, soft-spoken man. Soft-spoken, that is, unless his voice is raised in the effort to make Copper see sense when Swan thinks the hot-tempered captain in the wrong. It is the ship's doctor's duty to be the voice of caution and reason among the ship's command staff. On board a ship the captain is god, and the doctor is god's conscience.

With Dane Copper that is not a position I would want for the world. I'd be an utter failure trying to be that captain's conscience. If he wanted to fly to the furthest moon of the trio, treacherous Red Glory, I'd follow him without counting the cost. Samel Swan would be more likely to shout and argue him out of such madness even if it took him a month to do it. Things would be thrown, voices and fists would be raised, threats would be made. In the end the two of them would come to an agreement and be perfectly happy in each other's company again. The two of them belong together, and that's the truth of it. Captain Copper had a wife at home, and if Dr. Swan had an outside relationship of any kind he never talked about it. They were not lovers, but on the
Moonrunner
they were as joined as any pair Blessed by the god of their devotion.

I envied them their closeness.

Enough of that. It was a lovely evening that the ship's officers, midshipmen, and contractors spent together. A night for cherishing in memory.

After all the dishes were cleared away, after a few rounds of song, I thought it was time our host would bid us good night, but instead he gestured to his yeoman. Mr. Clay brought a square gilded wooden box and set it on the table before Captain Copper, just over the most recent wine stain. The captain opened the flat lid of the box and brought out a gold velvet bag that was bulging at the seams. He weighed it in his hand and smiled all around the table.

I assumed the bag contained a quantity of Crown pieces, but I was mistaken. When he tipped over the open top of the bag, color spilled out over the pale linen cloth. Jewels. Wondrous, beautiful, rich and rare as the stars in the night sky. My mouth hung open, I'll admit it, and watered a bit with longing for all that splendor. I didn't even think about how valuable the stones were for a moment. I appreciated the jewels for their beauty rather than their value, and if you knew my fondness for wealth you would find this reaction surprising.

Captain Copper smiled enigmatically as he stirred the jewel pile with a finger. The movement was as seductive as if he'd been slowly caressing some girl's hardened nipple. He touched rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, a huge pearl, moonstones, opals - every jewel you can think of in every shape, size, and shade, some cut, some cabochon, some pretty lumps of color. Dazzling.

The captain laughed, and because his laugh was always infectious, we laughed with him. Except Dr. Swan who continued looking at him with steely-eyed curiosity, but he did smile.

"What I have for you," Captain Copper finally said, his gaze raking us all, "is a gift. I wish I could say this generous gift was from myself, but I am as much a beneficiary of our commander's generosity as you are."

The Admiral of the Fleets, Southern and Northern's full name, rank, and title was Lord Adrew Osprey, Lord of the North. Or simply, Lord North. Not that long ago the hereditary title was Prince of the North, but with the ascendency of Ang as the central power within the Empire, the claims and titles of the greatest of the Great Houses had shifted and toned down.

There was a ripple of tension between Copper and Swan. I'm not sure anyone noticed it but me, as everyone's attention was riveted by the treasure set out before us.

"You have accepted this gift from Lord North?"

"I have."

"And intend to distribute it among the officers of the
Moonrunner?"

"I do."

Dr. Swan and I exchanged looks. Swan is a member of the third rank of nobility. I am a daughter of the first rank of a gentry family. That makes us fairly close in social position, both high enough in society to be aware of the political maneuverings of our betters. And smart enough to keep our heads down and turned away from the games of courtiers. Somewhere the Dowager Empress was likely vaguely disappointed at the fact that Lord North's flagship had not gone down in the storm and smiling with gritted teeth at the news of his splendid victory over the southern pirates. Lord North was delighted with that victory, and passing out largesse to Fleet captains who had aided him in the task.

No one in this room was going to say that Lord North was offering a bribe for future loyalty, but Dr. Samel Swan was intent on making sure the word was not only not said, but obviously not even thought of by his captain. Let us all be publicly clear about that. As I have pointed out, I think, it is a ship's surgeon's duty to give a higher form of loyalty to his captain than the rest of the crew owed.