The Sail Weaver

The Sail Weaver by Muffy Morrigan

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Authors: Muffy Morrigan
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Constellation and her very pro-Weaver captain were a little too coincidental for comfort.
    “He was my friend.” Riggan looked up, his eyes sad. “Your uniform is ready for dinner, sir, though the gunroom isn’t as formal as the captain’s table.”
    “I know,” Tristan said, with a smile.
    “I know you know, sir.” Riggan answered his smile with a knowing grin. It was as close to an open insult as Tristan dared on his first day on board.
    “We’re going to get along fine, Riggan.”
    “Yes, sir.”

    Several hours later, Tristan was sitting at the desk on the portside of his cabin when there was a soft scratching at the Stern gallery door. Riggan glanced at him for permission before opening the portal. Fenfyr stuck his nose in and the small man stumbled back a step.
    “ Riggan , this is Lokey Fenfyr of the Guild Dragons. This is Riggan, my assistant,” Tristan said.
    “I’m his servant, sir,” Riggan said, speaking to Fenfyr.
    The dragon let out a puff of laughter that was enough to blow the man into the side of the desk. “Sorry,” Fenfyr said, a smile in his voice. Tristan was glad to hear it, Fen must have “flown” himself free of the earlier incident.
    “Assistant,” Tristan corrected for the fourth time in an hour. They had been arguing about it since one of the crew had brought a message from the captain.
    “Servant. I’ll just nip off and see about that information on Theresa Aether you wanted. I’ll be back. It is a pleasure to serve with you,” Riggan said, bowing to Fenfyr. “Sir.” He sketched a salute and scuttled out the door.
    “Servant?” Fenfyr chuckled, easing further into the room.
    “He was the captain’s.”
    “Oh.” The dragon’s head tufts quivered. Fenfyr was laughing at him. “I went to speak with Darius after I flew.” Fenfyr moved a little further so the entire starboard side of the room was filled with dragon.
    “Yes, he is concerned. We are keeping word of the explosion quiet, but we are also taking measures to protect you and this ship more than we had originally planned.”
    Tristan didn’t like the sound of that. “Oh?”
    “Yes, and you will accept with good grace. When do you leave to dine with the captain?”
    “I was not invited to his table.”
    Fenfyr fluffed up like an angry kitten “What?” he demanded, the question coming out in a hiss of shock.
    “The captain has not invited me.” Tristan straightened the papers on his desk, most of his notes were in Latin, it prevented people from reading them, even if they got a hold of them. He also enjoyed the process of writing in the ancie nt language. He felt that using it for notes and things other than spells kept the language “alive” somehow. “I informed the Guild of his oversight.” Tristan smiled, remembering Rhoads’ reaction to the news. It was an outright snub of both his rank and position and the Guild. Brian was making a formal protest to the Navy, so Tristan was half-expecting an invitation to arrive at any moment.
    “I am shocked, Tris, that is a breach of protocol that is almost unforgivable.”
    “For you or me?”              
    “Well, I sure as the Winds move won’t leave him one single grapefruit within easy reach.”
    A soft tap, and the door opened. “Theresa Aether is recovering very well, sir. She will not need a Healer at all. Dr. Webber assured me of that. You should get ready for dinner, sir. Seven bells just went.”
    “Thank you, Riggan.” Tristan stood and walked around the desk. “What?” He could tell Fenfyr was amused.
    “Just remember to use the right fork,” the dragon said with a snort. “I’m staying here, you won’t get me in one of those death-trap uniforms.”
    “Death traps?” Riggan asked.
    “He thinks it looks like the uniforms are strangling the wearer,” the dragon said.
    “They are, I have heard you say it more than once.”
    Tristan sighed. “I said

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