Silkpunk and Steam

by Sarina Dorie

  Silkpunk and Steam

  A MEMORY THIEF WORLD NOVEL

  BOOK FIVE

  SARINA DORIE

  Copyright © 2017 Sarina Dorie

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 154869083X

  ISBN-13: 978-1548690830

  DEDICATION

  To Charlie.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The End

  A Sneak Preview of

  Afterward

  The Memory Thief

  Chapter One

  When Ponce de Leon discovered an intact warehouse of ships in the Americas in 1513, the science of spaceflight was reestablished after being lost for thousands of years. When explorers used those ships to leave Earth, no one expected to find planets already colonized by Earth’s original spacefarers, such as the Jomon on Planet 157.

  —The Guidebook of Colonization and Interplanetary Relationships, Fifth Edition, 1882

  The day my village was attacked by off-worlders started out like any other.

  I was five and I couldn’t keep up with my teenage brother’s longer legs as I chased after him. I followed Taishi out of the crowds of visitors in the village and into the jungle. It was hot and humid and the effort of running after him made sweat bead up on my upper lip.

  “Big brother!” I called. “Take me with you.”

  He didn’t answer. He ducked behind a tree. I hurried after him, stepping on fallen twigs that crunched under my feet. When I darted around the tree, he wasn’t there. There was no path. I pushed through the long red leaves of a bush and scrambled over a fallen log, but he wasn’t anywhere.

  “Boo!” he yelled as he leapt down from the branch above.

  I scrambled back and screamed. My heart pounded like a drum in my chest and tears filled my eyes. My brother’s hair was black and his face wide like mine, but his cheeks looked like he’d stuffed too many sugar fruits into his mouth. When he smiled, his eyes reminded me of two crescent moons frowning at the sky.

  He bent over laughing. “You’re such a baby.”

  “I am not.” I bawled up my fists at my sides. “I want to come with you.” Even if he was mean and a trickster.

  “Go back to the village, little sister. You’ll just be in the way.”

  “You never play with me anymore.”

  He picked up the gourd jug he’d stashed in the bushes “Today is the most important gathering of our lifetime. Do you understand that? Nipa gave me duties to perform. Go back and play with the other children.” He mussed up my long hair and pushed it into my eyes.

  Didn’t he understand? I hardly saw him anymore. I missed him so much it made my bones ache. Why couldn’t he let me come with him? I could be his helper. I wanted to tell him this, but I didn’t know how.

  When I didn’t budge, he shoved me toward the Chiramantepjin village. “Go, Sumiko. Now.”

  He must have been mad. He didn’t use a polite honorific after my name.

  I trudged back, wearing my disappointment like a burden on my frame. I passed a group of women visiting from another village who sat in the jungle under a large shady tree. They wove red flowers into crowns and chatted amiably. I overheard them say they had traveled for weeks to get there, which seemed like forever just to come to our Flower Festival. I didn’t know until much later the yearly festival wasn’t the reason for all the visitors.

  Off the path, traveling away from the village was one of the off-worlders. He was different from the rest of them with his orange hair and spotted skin. I’d thought he had some kind of sickness the first time I’d seen him, but Taishi had assured me the man was “normal.” Or as normal as a gaijin, or off-worlder, could be.

  The orange-haired man didn’t see me watching him. He left the path and walked into the jungle with purpose. The visitors from the stars were always getting lost in the jungle and needing our help. I’d met this man several times before, though I couldn’t remember how to say his name. He had been nice to me. He’d given me something chewy to eat that he’d called “candy.” It was sweeter than a sugar fruit. I didn’t want him to get lost. I called after him. He probably couldn’t hear me over all the music and singing coming from my village.

  I ran through the brush and around trees, trying to catch up with him. His legs were even longer than Taishi’s and he walked so fast. Maybe if I helped him not get lost he’s give me more candy. I stopped running when I saw two men in red jackets. They were pale like him, but I’d never seen these gaijin before. I thought I knew all the off-worlders there were on my world—eleven from the starship they called the Santa Maria.

  The strangers spoke to the orange-haired man, but I didn’t understand much of what they said other than my tribe’s name and the names of other tribes. I didn’t like the sour look on the men’s faces and ducked behind a tree. The orange-haired man shook his head adamantly and shouted something. One of the men punched him in the stomach and the other struck him in the face. I flinched back. The orange-haired man doubled over. He moaned as they carried him off.

  One of them spoke into a funny little box made of metal and laughed.

  I didn’t know who these men were or how to help the nice man who had given me candy. My brother would have known what to do, but I didn’t know where he was now. I knew where my mother was, but she wasn’t going to be happy when I interrupted her.

  I ran back to the village, sweat pouring down my face. I leapt over clusters of red flowers that had fallen into the path. I passed a group of men and women wearing the purple and green furs of the tanuki dogs. The thudding of drums and conversation grew louder as I neared the village. Huts built high in the trees came into view. The brown and green of our treehouses and sky bridges were almost hidden in the canopy of the trees.

  My flight into the village was brought to a near standstill as I entered the crowd. I squeezed past clusters of visitors dressed in colorful leaves, feathers and festive flowers. I tried to find someone I knew, but strangers from the other seven tribes swarmed our normally quiet village. Never had I seen so many people in my life.

  Mother stood in the shade underneath the largest pavilion, talking to the group of gaijin. There were ten of them. I’d seen them many times and knew them by sight, but I didn’t know how to say their names. Heat rose in waves from the men’s black hats and coats. Even with only a skirt on like my mother, I sweated profusely. I couldn’t imagine how the gaijin could stand it.

  Two young ladies with yellow hair and eyes as blue as the sky fanned themselves. One of them was the girl my older brother spent time with, but I didn’t know which. Their sleeves were puffy and their collars high. They wouldn’t have had to fan themselves if they’d worn sensible clothes in the heat. The taller girl smiled at me. These people were friends with the orange-haired man.

  I was out of breath and panted like a chiramantep beast after too much play. I shifted from foot to foot in impatience, waiting for my mother to look to me and permit me to speak.

  One of the bearded men said something to her in their tongue and one of the young ladies with yellow hair spoke to
my mother in Jomon. “My father thanks you for your hospitality. We are still waiting for one more in our party to join us. Please don’t allow his absence to delay the proceedings.” The young woman had enough sense to bow and keep her eyes on the ground to show her respect.

  My mother wore her chiramantep eboshi, the hat-like headdress made from the head of one of the blue beasts our people were named after.

  I tugged on the red leaves of her skirt. “I need to tell you something.”

  She greeted me with a frown instead of the warm smile she would have gifted me with if she had been herself. But she was her other self. She was Nipa. She performed her duty as leader. I should have known better than to bother her.

  She barked out words, sounding as sharp as the horns and teeth decorating the animal eboshi on her head. “What are you doing wandering about? Go join the other children.” She waved a hand dismissively toward the children being watched by the grandmothers in a pen like untamed chiramantep.

  “Mama,” I said in a fluster. “I need to—It’s important—tell you something about the gaijin.” Looking at the horns and teeth on her eboshi made it hard to concentrate on the right words.

  “I’m busy with my duties. I must attend to the gaiyojin.” She used the polite word for off-worlders. Her eyes narrowed at me as she said it as if to point out that I hadn’t used the polite word. “If you want to be helpful, don’t shame me with bad manners while I’m serving as our tribe’s nipa. Ne?”

  “You have to listen.” Frustration flared inside me. I had to make her understand, but my words all rushed out in a jumble. “The red men—the bad men—I don’t know them. They hurt the nice gaiyojin man. They dragged him away in the jungle. I saw it. You have to go help him.”

  The young woman with yellow hair asked, “What does she mean by ‘red men’? Who is she talking about.”

  “Nothing. She has an active imagination.” Mama turned to me. “One more word out of you and I will drag you to the center of the village and publicly cane you. Is that what you want? For everyone to see your shame? For you to shame me with your bad behavior?”

  I shook my head. Tears filled my eyes. I was just trying to help.

  Mama returned her attention to a man with a silver beard. He said something and mopped at his brow with fabric that was as white as his skin.

  The young woman translated. “My father asks what you think will be the verdict of the other tribal leaders. Will they wish to establish trade?”

  I backed away from Mama. I was invisible in the crowd of people. Everyone had more important things to do than to pay attention to me. The tantalizing aroma of roasting chiramantep meat rose from a fire pit where a group of young men sat. Women played music and danced. No one noticed me.

  I stayed away from the pen of children, knowing from experience what torture that would be. If I met other children I would have to introduce myself. That always led to problems.

  I made my way toward the center of my village where my family’s treehouse was located, hoping to find my father. He always had time for me. He would listen.

  I saw my father standing on one of the sky bridges between trees and called out to him.

  “Daddy! Down here! Daddy!”

  Drumming started up and drowned out my voice. Father spoke with another man, and the village around me was abuzz with people’s conversations. I wove through the jungle of legs toward the ramp to the sky bridge. A group of people wearing leaf skirts blocked the ramp that led up to our hut. My father spoke to a man from the Tanukijin tribe. I could tell what tribe he was from because of the purple and green furs he wore. Over his face and head was a purple and green eboshi with teeth and horns like my mother’s. That meant he was someone important.

  I stopped pushing through the crowd when I saw a little girl next to the group of adults. She started one way and then the next. Tears were in her eyes.

  I smiled. “Hello. Are you lost?”

  She nodded. “I can’t find my Mama.”

  “I’ll bring you to my father. He can help you.” I took her hand.

  She dried her eyes and smiled at me. From the leathery green skirt she wore I thought she might be from the Isepojin tribe, but I wasn’t sure.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Shipo,” she said. Her name meant “little excrement.” It was a traditional name for a child. She offered me a half smile. “What’s your name?”

  I hesitated. She wouldn’t make fun of me if I lied. “Nanuwen,” I said. That meant “ugly.”

  A loud laugh came from behind me. Ayay, a girl a year older than me, wove through the legs of adults. So much for avoiding the torture of the children’s pen. Other children had found me anyway. My spirit sank.

  I tried to dodge around her, but Ayay stepped to the side and blocked my way.

  Ayay’s parents had named her after the sound of a baby’s crying. She was so lucky. Ayay sneered down at me. “She’s lying. Her name is Sumiko.”

  Shipo’s eyes went wide. “Oh, that’s a pretty name.” Shipo must have been very polite. She didn’t laugh like other children did.

  Ayay pointed at me even though that was considered rude. “Sumiko-chan’s mother didn’t want another child, so she gave her daughter a name to tempt an evil kamuy to steal her away.”

  “That’s not true!” I said. No one would want an evil spirit to steal and eat their child. “My parents wanted me. I already had my naming ceremony. That’s why I have an adult name.”

  “I don’t remember you having a naming ceremony,” Ayay said. “And you’re too small for an adult name. You must be four, ne?”

  “I’m five. Almost six.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “No, I’m not!”

  Her little cousin, Munin stood with her. His name meant “rotten.” They had been named after foul things that would keep the spirits away. My chest ached every time the other children pointed this out, especially since no one in my family wanted me around. They wouldn’t have noticed if kamuy had come to steal me away.

  “Come play with us,” Ayay said to Shipo. “Sumiko-chan is bad luck. Play with her and a kamuy will snatch you both away.” Ayay held out her hand to Shipo.

  Shipo looked from me to them. She bit her lip. “I want to go with Sumiko-chan. We’re going to find my mama.”

  She smiled at me. I was so relieved. She was the one person who had been nice to me all day. She’d talked to me anyway, which was almost the same thing.

  I said, “I’ll prove to you why I have an adult name. My father will tell you they wanted me.”

  Ayay waved a hand toward my father. “Better hurry before he gets away. Ne?”

  My father and the man he had been talking to walked down one of the far ramps, past the crowd. I tugged Shipo after me as I headed in that direction.

  “I had a naming ceremony for a big girl name,” I told Shipo. “My mama said I have to grow up faster when my parents have important jobs.”

  “Yes, big sister.” Shipo bowed to me as though I were her elder.

  I liked her even more. We squeezed around a cluster of young women wearing flowers in their hair and pushed past another group of strangers.

  “I have something important to tell my Daddy,” I said. “He’ll help you find your Mama and help the gaiyojin man who was hurt.”

  “My Mama and Papa don’t like the gaijin,” Shipo said. “They said they’re digging up the mountains in the south and they make our water dirty.”

  “My mama said the gaiyojin have nice things they can give us. Have you had candy?”

  Shipo hadn’t. Not every village had their own off-worlders to give them gifts.

  There were many people blocking my view. I couldn’t see my father anymore, but I’d seen which direction he’d walked. I hurried the best I could in the mob, tugging Shipo along with me. At the edge of the village, I saw him far down the path, making his way deep into the jungle with his friend. I waved
my arms and yelled for him to stop, but he didn’t hear me.

  Father and his friend were almost invisible in the vivid rainbow of the jungle. Father wore a skirt made of red leaves and his body was painted with red dots for the dancing ceremony he’d been part of that morning. Father glanced around. I recognized that sneaky way he moved. It was like my older brother when he snuck out to see his gaijin girl.

  We ran after them, but I lost sight of Father again as we descended the hill. I knew where he headed now, to the forbidden ruins. I wasn’t supposed to go there, but it would be fine if I caught him before he reached the bottom of the hill.

  “Come on,” I said.

  Shipo bowed. “Yes, big sister.”

  I was surprised she listened to me. No one listened to me. I could tell we were going to be the best of friends.

  We followed the path through the jungle. The buzz of talking and music from the village grew distant and was replaced by the chatter of tree snails and the womp-womp-womp of nose birds diving through the canopy in search of nectar. The breeze carried the perfume of the giant yellow flowers hanging from the trees. It was peaceful away from all the people.

  The jungle sloped downward and the trail grew steeper. I had to grab onto vines and shrubs to ease myself down the muddy ledge of steps. Shipo was taller than I was and she was better at navigating the slope.

  “Why are we following your father again?” she asked.

  “So he’ll tell you how much he loves me,” I said.

  “I thought it was because of the gaijin.”

  I’d forgotten about the orange-haired man. I wondered why those strangers had hit him and carried him off. He hadn’t done anything to them.

  Shipo pushed her sweaty hair back from her brow. “Those other children were just being mean. He doesn’t need to tell me. I believe you.” She swatted at a nose bird that must have thought her ear was a flower.

  “I want him to tell you,” I said. I wanted her to see I wasn’t always a liar. “But we need him to help you find your mama too, ne? And I have to tell him something important about what I saw in the jungle.” Father would care about what I’d seen. I wondered if he would make Mama listen to me.