Memory of Morning

by Susan Sizemore

  She gave me a hard hug and then I hurtled down the stairs in search of every scrap of food I could find. Star bounded at my heels. Mrs. Lilac didn't allow dogs in her dining room, so I put Star's leash on her and handed her over to a servant for a morning walk.

  My parents were seated at the dining table, a large stack of mail between them. Mother looked up from reading one of the letters as I came in. I paused and she gave me a thorough looking over, followed by a satisfied nod. Then I hurried to the sideboard for a plate of food.

  Once I raided the chafing dishes and settled at my place, I asked, "Why are you leaving?"

  "A letter from your Aunt Gwin," Father answered. "And now all is chaos."

  Mother's sister-in-law was even more of a force of nature than Mother. Father avoided her whenever possible. So did Mother, come to think of it. The women were friends and kept up a busy correspondence. But tension grew between them when they spent much time together, as each was used to having things done her own way.

  "Yes, the next few months of our being together will be interesting," Mother said for me. "But Gwin and I are united in giving our children the best Season possible."

  "No fighting in front of the children?" Father asked. Pleaded.

  "We children are all adults now. We can take their bickering as a type of entertainment."

  "As long as you stay out of it," Father said. "I have scars..."

  I laughed. Mother frowned.

  I asked, "Why are you leaving because of a letter from Aunt Gwin? Is she in Loudon?"

  Mother nodded. "She claims to have found the perfect house to hold us all, and that it is large enough for us to entertain as well as pack in the whole Cliff and Owl menagerie. She needs us there to help with furnishings, decorating, and finding servants. So our quiet holiday is over. Bell is going to be so happy to get back to her Dwie," she added.

  Which explained Bell's eagerness at the packing.

  "You know I can't come to Loudon just yet. And Alix isn't home." And I have more important things on my mind today, why am I chattering about this? Because the family is more important than the individual, I suppose, even today.

  "You needn't worry that we'll miss your certificate examination," Father said. "Not for the world. We are very proud of you, Megere."

  Part of the examinations involved defending the actions and lessons noted in the medical journal I kept during the voyage. Dr. Swan would be among a group of doctors involved in the questioning. This part of the test was open to the public in a viewing gallery above the examination room. I had watched one such exam of a total stranger when I was a recruit awaiting my own ship assignment. I hoped I could be as calm and lucid as the woman I had observed.

  "I am glad to hear it," I told father.

  He and Mother gave me looks that made me glow with pleasure at their pride in me.

  Well, I'd better not disappoint them today. I stuffed down my plateful of toast and eggs before I said, "Excuse me for hurrying out, but I have to go dissect a body now."

  I could hardly wait.

  "On a full stomach?" Mother asked. "Child, you amaze me. And in such a pretty dress?"

  After the autopsy I would be performing surgery before those judging me, probably on one of the patients I'd been treating at the War Casualties Home. I might even be performing a necessary surgery I had scheduled myself.

  "I will change before entering the operating theater."

  "Thank goodness for that." She and Father got up to hug and kiss me.

  I left almost floating on the cloud of their goodwill. I do so love my family.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was a crowd of Cliffs overhead, filling most of the seats in the gallery above, along with Dr. Heron and a pair of young doctors taking notes as I had two years before. Frankly, I was more relaxed about all this than I thought I would be. Not actually relaxed of course, but the nervousness had faded as the day went on. The best part of the day for me was that I had barely noticed being closely observed when I amputated a man's arm and the surgery itself went very well for him. As for the test part, I had concentrated on setting up the operating theater to my satisfaction, making sure that I and my assistants were as clean as possible, that the instruments and bandages were sterile. I concentrated on keeping my patient alive, in as little pain as possible, and as safe from fresh infection as could be managed. None of the other parts of the day really mattered compared to being a surgeon, whether I walked away with the certificate today or not.

  But I really did want it.

  Seven men sat at a long table. I recalled that only four had been at the test I'd attended two years ago. I stood behind a lectern in the center of the room. I resented this as I'd been working much of the day, and my feet still hurt from last night's long walk. I didn't see any reason why I should have to remain standing for however long this was to go on. I didn't allow myself to pout about this injustice for very long.

  Dr. Swan was there, as expected. We exchanged a slight nod, but his cool expression showed nothing. Three other surgeons were also attending. Admiral Glass was also seated at the table, old, frail, the lenses of his eyeglasses as thick as bottle bottoms. I wanted to offer him a pillow and a warm posset, the poor old dear. I was not happy to see the cleric that had already questioned me seated with a pen and large pad of paper before him. He seemed prepared to take copious notes. There was yet another admiral at the table, the lean, bearded man who had been sneering in the shadows of the cleric's office. At least he wasn't sneering at the moment, but he did look bored.

  There was far too much gold braid in the room for the likes of me. This was all very worrying.

  When the exam got under way, the questions came from the doctors, and concentrated on what I had learned over the last two years. It became a back and forth professional conversation. Even when my mistakes were brought up, I wasn't ashamed to admit to them, and to explain what I had learned from them. Not that there weren't a few instances of embarrassed wincing and guilt at a truly stupid choice or two.

  I tried not to look at the cleric, but from the corner of my eye I could tell my guess about his taking notes was correct.

  Other than this annoyance, I thought things were going rather well until Admiral Glass spoke up.

  "Young lady, why under all the moons do you want to be a surgeon?"

  I think I gaped open-mouthed, while my mind went momentarily blank.

  He went on before I could answer. "I have never been comfortable with the notion of allowing women to enter the surgical profession. The more I think about the Navy's medical policy of late, the more reservations I have."

  He glanced toward the cleric. The cleric had stopped writing and started smirking. He nodded encouragingly at the old admiral.

  "Do the gods really approve of women moving away from their traditional places? Is it right for ladies to be exposed to the gruesomeness of battle? This policy is most worrisome. The idea of it troubles me more every day." He finally actually looked at me. "You seem to be an excellent doctor. I read your case notes on treating an officer's diabetes. Good job, Dr. Cliff. That is the sort of work a woman doctor should pursue."

  I said, "Thank you, sir." But that is all I did say.

  No one else said anything, either. After a considerable uncomfortable silence the medical questioning continued. I cannot say how long this went on, it certainly seemed like days to me.

  At last, Dr. Swan said, "Thank you, Dr. Cliff. That will be all."

  "One moment," the bearded admiral spoke up. "There is one more item which needs to be addressed."

  I knew that northern-accented voice!

  My gaze whipped to the man. I really looked at him - at the man, not the uniform. Impossible. It couldn't be him.

  I barely managed to keep from touching my lips as they tingled with the memory of a kiss.

  "Go ahead, Lord North," Dr. Swan said.

  Admiral Lord North's blue eyes met mine, cold as arctic ice, with no recognition in them at all.
I grabbed hold of the lectern to support myself at this point. If I looked as shocked as I felt the room was going to erupt in laughter at any moment.

  "Please answer the question, Dr. Cliff," someone said.

  I tried to remember what had been said by Lord North in that rich, lilting voice of his while I reeled in shock. Something about honey? Surely he hadn't called me honey, had he? I did my best to focus. "Sir?"

  "You are a strong advocate of the use of honeyherb, are you not?" North repeated the question.

  "Of course," I answered, not taking the time to consider my words for once.

  "Your father profits by the development and production of honeyherb, does he not? You personally profit by honeyherb, do you not?"

  "Honeyherb is a proven medication in limiting infections," Dr. Swan spoke up.

  The admiral ignored Swan. "Please answer the questions, Dr. Cliff."

  I hated North. I absolutely hated him.

  I fought the urge to walk out of the room. I had to answer him.

  "My father is a professor of botany at the College of Kallak, the school dedicated to the goddess of nature, at the University of Avan. His research has been useful in developing the latest and most powerful formula for honeyherb. The combination of herbs with honey as an aid to healing has been used for generations, Admiral. Does my father profit from the formula he has developed? Yes. He receives a fifth of the profits of the sale of his formulation of honeyherb. The other four-fifths of the profits go to the College of Kallak, funding continued medical research and a scholarship program. I do not see how my use of honeyherb - from two cases of the drug my father donated for use on the ship - has any relevance, sir."

  I didn't glance up at my father, but I could feel him seething from here. Mother and Bell were likely holding him by the arms to keep him from jumping up and shouting angrily at the admiral. Rassi was probably trying to keep Tennit from exploding as well. My face burned and my fingers were digging into the edges of the lectern. I was very close to being the family member who gave in to the urge to shout at the admiral.

  "Are you familiar with the word profiteering?" North asked. "The Navy takes a dim view of tradespeople who engage in the practice."

  There was a muffled sound from overhead.

  North probably thought calling my father a tradesman was an insult. Or, even worse, he considered anyone below the noble ranks only useful for providing services to his kind. And what is dishonorable about providing services, I ask you?

  "I do not understand, sir. How can donating medicine be considered profiteering?" And what does anything you say have to do with a certificate exam? I looked hard at Samel Swan, and each of the other examiners in turn, hoping someone would bring this fiasco under control, bring my world back in to focus.

  It was Admiral Glass who slapped his hand onto the table. "Enough. I'm exhausted, as is the young lady, I am sure. This gathering has gone on quite long enough."

  The old man rose creakily to his feet. The others followed slowly after him. The tension in the room began to relax.

  "Thank you, Dr. Cliff," he said with a nod to me. "You are dismissed."

  I didn't wait for anyone to say another word. I didn't run, but I would not say I moved at a dignified pace to get out of the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The spectators came rumbling down from the gallery as I passed the stairway. I wanted to reach the outside, to breathe open air away from the threat and hypocrisy choking me from the examination room. I lifted my skirts to run for the main door, but a hand landed on my shoulder before I could take another step. I whirled, expecting to face Dr. Heron.

  I found myself looking into the concerned face of Captain Dane Copper.

  He let me go immediately. "You did well," he said.

  His gaze was steady and reassuring. And it meant everything to me.

  By now my entire family was around me. They watched us impatiently.

  What would we do without the training of polite society? I wanted to throw myself into Captain Copper's arms. Instead, I managed a shaky curtsy. "Thank you for coming, Captain." My voice was barely above a strained whisper, but I got the words out. "I did not realize you were in the gallery."

  I automatically began to introduce my family to my captain, but my father said, "Excuse us, sir, but I need to speak privately with my daughter just now."

  Captain Copper bowed slightly. "Of course, sir." He glanced briefly back at me. "Let us watch each other's backs."

  "Always, captain," I answered.

  The wall of Cliffs surrounding me parted to let the captain through. My gaze followed him to the building entrance and watched him pause a moment to salute a superior officer. Admiral North was standing by the exit.

  Well, I wasn't going out that way.

  I gestured toward a hallway leading to a side door.

  "What did Captain Copper mean?" Father asked as he and I walked ahead of the others. "About watching each other's backs?"

  "It is only a saying we use on board the Moonrunner."

  "Um." He took my hand.

  Nothing else was said until we were outside. "I heard you up in the gallery," I said as we walked away from the medical buildings.

  "That wasn't me," he answered. "Your Dr. Heron is quite a passionate fellow. He might have made quite a scene if your Captain Copper hadn't been rather firm with him."

  I'd been trying to break the tension, but it was Father who made me smile.

  We came to the wide, curving street that led from the naval section of the port town into the civilian area. Mother moved up to walk beside me. Behind us, a buzz of indignant conversation finally rose among the others.

  "We have a celebratory feast laid on at that inn across the way," Mother said, pointing out a three-story building covered in trellises full of climbing roses. The plants were green, but no blossoms were showing yet.

  "It looks like a very nice place," I said. I wanted very much to get inside, to get away from the necessity of public normality.

  "Why don't you and the others go inside, my dear? I'd like some time alone with my youngest child," Father said. Mother frowned, but nodded at Father's firm look.

  She gathered up the others and led them toward the inn. Father and I continued on until we found a small, fenced park in the center of a residential square. We settled onto a bench, away from any possible listening ears. That we both felt the need for some security without even a glance or a word was sad, and disheartening.

  I turned to him, and spoke softly. "What is going on? Is this an attack on the family? Does Uncle Eadum know? Has he offended someone important who is now digging to find some scandal to bring the whole family down?"

  "We will have a long discussion about all this when the entire family is together in Loudon. In private. With all of our resources in place."

  "Thank goodness."

  Of course I thought of the family first, since both my parents had been attacked through me. But I also recalled Captain Copper's warning. And Miss Apple and Dr. Heron's explanation of these Gracers hunting out sedition.

  Father stroked my hair. "I do not know why you are being singled out for persecution, but you did do well when you were questioned. I have no fear that you will be awarded your surgical certificate."

  "May the All agree with you," I said, and sighed. "But I should not feel sorry for myself. I am so angry I could spit, though."

  "That is hardly ladylike, Dr. Cliff."

  Father has always been an excellent mimic, his impression of Admiral Glass was spot on.

  I laughed. "I am a sailor, sir. We can spit with the best."

  Whether or not I was granted the certificate, whether or not I signed on for ship duty, I still owed the Navy reserve duty for the next five years.

  "Well, no spitting in front of me," he said.

  "Keep a calm face before the world, then go have a good scream out in the woods," I quoted grandmother Cliff's advice.

  Father nodded, then he said, "I have a secre
t to share with you. You alone. You deserve to know why the Cliffs are under such scrutiny. Your Uncle Eadum has been informed that his name has been submitted to the heraldry lists and forwarded to the Rights and Honors committee."

  "He's to become Esquire Cliff?"

  This was the next step in the plan for the family we had been working on for so many generations, but I wasn't instantly delighted at the news. My reaction was far more complicated and needed to be thought through. I should want this almost-a-noble connection, but...

  Father shook his head. "Not for elevation to esquire rank. He is being considered for a knighthood."

  Skip a step in the long climb up in the world? "Why?" I asked.

  "Service to the Empire. That is all that is ever said, isn't it?"

  A great many cynical comments came to mind. The Cliffs had worked long and hard to obtain wealth and property without any help from the nobility. In fact, the nobility tried to make it ever harder to own the land that was so necessary to join their ranks. We were wealthier than many noble families. The growing wealth of the gentry certainly did not please the nobles that noticed such things - although a growing number of the minor nobility were making marriage alliances with our kind without putting up too much fuss over lowering their standards. Service to the Empire? Well, many Cliffs entered the military. We were proud to defend Ang. Service? We supported a Cliff colony far away in the New Islands. The Cliffs financed schools and charity homes, taught and healed in those places, as well. We set up scholarships. We certainly served the people of the Ang Empire. But were these the reasons Uncle Eadum was suddenly being considered for a knighthood, from which the entire Cliff corporate family would benefit?