Memory of Morning Read Free Page A

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