Free Memory of Morning by Susan Sizemore Page A

arms crossed rather than standing at rest as did the other officer. His whole attitude was a sneer. Since he was closer to the window I was able to make out that he wore a short, sharp beard and that he had close cropped hair. This told me that his locks were freshly shorn from coming off sea duty to take up a land-based post.
    "There are questions you need to answer, Dr. Cliff," the cleric said.
    The lamps showed the cleric's features clearly enough. He was a cold-eyed young man, pale of hair and skin. But for the fanatic air about him, he looked completely unremarkable. I've spent my life around clerics, but I could not make out what god he served from the red badge prominently displayed on his black tabard.
    I did recognize the worn leather ship's journal resting on the desk before him. I wasn't quite angry yet, or nervous, but a tingle of warning went through me. "That is naval property," I said. "You are not wearing a chaplain's uniform, sir."
    The cleric's pale brows lifted. Behind him, the larger officer grew more alert, and smiled faintly. I wondered if there was a naval justice insignia on his coat lapel. The admiral - I had been able to count the number of gold stripes on his cuff - continued to lean and sneer.
    "It is a matter of chaplain's duties that you need to explain, Dr. Cliff," the cleric said. "You stated in your journal that you assumed religious duties you are not qualified to perform during your time aboard the AIN Moonrunner . Why did you do this, Dr. Cliff?"
    Because I was asked to, was the simplest answer. Captain Copper is not a religious man and didn't feel right about doing the task himself, but I refrained from saying this. "The ship's chaplain took a lead ball in the throat," I replied. "Dr. Swan was able to remove the bullet because we needed the metal, but there was no saving Cleric Grass."
    "You are a proponent of the All blasphemy, are you not Dr. Cliff?"
    There was a certain amount of controversy over the concept that all the gods were aspects of a single divinity, but belief in the All was hardly considered a blasphemy. At least when I'd left home.
    "I made no mention of my personal beliefs in my ship's journal," I told the cleric.
    "You did not teach about the All to your captive audience among the crew?"
    "I did not preach at all," I answered. "Nor did I give religious counsel. I have no training in either aspect of clerical duties."
    He sneered. He didn't do it as well as the admiral. "You are the daughter of a notorious heretic. No doubt, she trained you to pass on her insidious beliefs."
    Since he hadn't asked a question, I didn't say anything in response. If he was trying to provoke some sort of impulsive behavior, he was trying to climb the wrong Cliff, as the family saying goes. This didn't mean that I wasn't provoked, and furious, on my mother's behalf. My mother is one of the most respected theologians in the Empire!
    "What did you preach to the ship's crew?" he demanded after a considerable silence. He tapped the journal cover hard with a forefinger. "Why did you leave the details out of your official report?"
    "I led the songs for each season and festival," I said. "I recited from the epics and precepts. That is the extent of my religious contribution to life on board the Moonrunner. This is noted in my journal." I sang for the dead a few times, but that was something personal I had no intention of sharing with this hostile man.
    "You also took it upon yourself to teach the ship's gun urchins to read. Why did you lower yourself to not only consort with, but instruct, the lowest of the low unacknowledged creatures of society?"
    "Precisely," I answered.
    "A meritocrat."
    It is very hard to hiss a word spelled with those letters, but the cleric somehow managed it.
    "You are a meritocrat?"
    "Of course I am."
    If there was one thing I had no intention of being evasive about, it was my belief in helping others to rise by providing the chance for education and opportunity. The baker and