I looked at the remaining figures. “My work?”
She nodded, perfectly straight-faced, and zinged me. “At the rate you’re giving these out, you’ll be an old, old man before you’re done.”
I laughed then, for what must have been the first time in weeks, maybe a stanyer. The warmth of it accelerated the thawing inside me that the daily sessions of tai chi with Chief Stevens had started.
She looked pleased with herself, and that felt good, too.
“What’s all this jocularity?” Ms. Maloney asked from the doorway. She wore a smartly tailored business suit, and had just returned from a business meeting ashore.
“Ms. Arellone has been pointing out how old I’m getting,” I told her.
“Seasoned, Captain. Not old,” Ms. Maloney told me with a grin of her own. She saw the spread of whelkies on the desk and she gasped. “Great merciful Maude! How many of those do you have?”
I shrugged. “Well, that’s my entire collection not counting this one.” I pulled the dolphin from my pocket. My eye snagged on the seabird that had belonged to Greta. I picked that one up from where it rested beside my console. “And this one.”
She snickered but crossed to lean down and look at the figures. “You’ve got more whelkies in one place than I’ve ever seen before.” She frowned as she examined them. “This might be the largest private collection in existence outside of St. Cloud.”
She looked up at me with a speculative grin. “Wanna sell ’em?”
I shook my head. “No, these aren’t for sale.”
“Pity,” she said and resumed her study, carefully looking at each one. When she finished her examination, she stood and raised a hand to her mouth with a pensive frown. “There are at least two if not three different artists’ work there. Do you know who they were?”
I shook my head. “I thought they were all by the same guy.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She pointed to the seabird and the dolphin that I held. “Those two are obviously different from each other, but look at the details around the eyes for these.” She pointed out two on the desk.
I leaned down and looked closely. “Some don’t have eyes.”
She shrugged. “That’s my point. The details are different even though they all have a similar kind of overall technique with a smooth flowing line.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, I’m pretty sure that there are at least three artists here, and a fourth counting your seabird there.”
I looked at the whelkies in my hands—the dolphin’s smooth wood burnished to a high sheen from my constant handling of it over the stanyers, the seabird’s stylized feathers giving the piece unique texture in the carving. I looked up to see Ms. Maloney looking at the dolphin, a slight frown of concentration on her face. I held it out to her. “Would you like to see it?”
She nodded, and I handed it to her. She did what every other person who ever held it had done. She held it in her hand, and stroked the smooth back with the ball of one finger tip. She then held it up turning her hand back and forth to watch the light shine on the wood and across the shell.
“This is a spectacular piece, Captain.”
Ms. Arellone watched curiously from the side, and I could see her looking at the dolphin, and then at Ms. Maloney’s face.
“Would you like to have it?” I asked, surprised by the question as much as she was.
Her eyes went wide in shock. “Captain?”
I nodded at the dolphin. “That whelkie? Would you like to have it?” I nodded at the collection on the desk. “You can have any of them you want, if there’s one there you’d like.”
She glanced at the collection again even as her fingers curled around the dolphin and she turned back to look at me. “But, Captain, this is yours!”
I shook my head and held up the seabird. “This is mine now. You can have the dolphin, if you like.”
“You can’t be serious, Captain. This is priceless!”
I thought about that for a few heartbeats, watching her face, seeing the dolphin already cupped protectively in her fingers. It had been with me for twenty stanyers, seen me through the academy, and all through my career up through the ranks. Somehow, it seemed fitting to leave it with her.
Something in that moment—letting go of the past, accepting a future where I might spread my wings and fly where I wanted to go instead of being maneuvered and manipulated into taking the actions that would define my life—something in that moment clicked into place with a nearly audible snap. I felt my lips curling into a smile. The warmth of it helped to melt the ice inside me and the light of it lifted me in a way I couldn’t explain.
“Yes, I am, and it is,” I said. “But since I’m no longer your captain? Please. Call me Ishmael.”
Other Works
Books in the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper Series
Trader Tales
Quarter Share
Half Share
Full Share
Double Share
Captain’s Share
Owner’s Share
Shaman Tales
South Coast*
Cape Grace**
Fantasy Books by Nathan Lowell
Ravenwood
Zypheria’s Call
The Hermit of Lammas Wood * Available in audio (itunes and podiobooks.com), print and ebooks coming soon
**Forthcoming
If you enjoyed this novel, you will be happy to learn…
While Owner’s Share is the final volume in the six book Trader’s Tales from The Golden Age of the Solar Clipper, there are more stories from the Deep Dark on the way. Watch for Seeker’s Tales and Smuggler’s Tales coming soon to an ebook vendor near you.
This series was originally released as Podcasts, an audio format distributed for free (donations accepted and appreciated) where episodes are released serially. All six of the podiobooks in the series are currently available at www.podiobooks.com and through the iTunes Music Store.
About The Author
Nathan Lowell has been a writer for more than forty years, and first entered the literary world by podcasting his novels. His science-fiction series, Trader’s Tales From The Golden Age of the Solar Clipper, grew from his long time fascination with space opera and his own experiences shipboard in the United States Coast Guard. Unlike most works which focus on a larger-than-life hero (prophesied savior, charismatic captain, or exiled prince), Nathan centers on the people behind the scenes—ordinary men and women trying to make a living in the depths of space. In his novels, there are no bug-eyed monsters, or galactic space battles, instead he paints a richly vivid and realistic world where the “hero.” uses hard work and his own innate talents to improve his station and the lives of those of his community.
Dr. Nathan Lowell holds a Ph.D. in Educational Technology with specializations in Distance Education and Instructional Design. He also holds an M.A. in Educational Technology and a BS in Business Administration with a minor in marketing. He grew up on the south coast of Maine and is strongly rooted in the maritime heritage of the sea-farer. He served in the USCG from 1970 to 1975, seeing duty aboard a cutter on hurricane patrol in the North Atlantic and at a communications station in Kodiak, Alaska.
He currently lives in the plains east of the Rocky Mountains with his wife and two daughters.
Awards for Nathan’s Books
2011 Parsec Award Winner for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Owner’s Share
2011 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (short form) for The Astonishing Amulet of Amenartas
2010 Parsec Award Winner for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Captain’s Share
2009 Podiobooks Founder’s Choice Award for Captain’s Share
2009 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form)for Double Share
2008 Podiobooks Founder’s Choice Award for Double Share
2008 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Full Share
2008 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for South Coast
Learn More At:
The Solar Clipper Diary
NathanLowell.com
Twitter: @nlowell
Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) Page 63
