The Memory Thief

by Sarina Dorie

  My muscles ached and I would have liked to fall into bed in an exhausted heap, but Tomomi came to me shortly after I retired to my room.

  “Time for a lesson,” she said in her deep, gruff voice.

  “Tomorrow,” I said. “I’m too tired to fight.”

  “Good.” She kneeled behind the low table and beckoned me to sit across from her. “We will work on your mind. You need to understand how to concentrate.”

  “Why? I’m no warrior.” Nor did I have any intention of becoming one.

  Her gruff exterior softened. “You won’t be able to exchange memories unless you work on your concentration. Do you understand that?”

  “I don’t want to perform memory exchange,” I said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I am told you want your memories back. How do you expect to do so if you don’t prepare yourself, mentally and physically?”

  It felt like she’d smacked me in the stomach with one of her sticks. “Nipa told you?” It wasn’t like I’d sworn him to secrecy, but I’d expected him to be discreet.

  “Not exactly. He told me what he wanted me to teach you. Someone else told me about your memories. Are you ready to have another try?”

  “Wait! Who told you? Meriwether?”

  She shook her head. “Concentrate.”

  She made me sit and clear my mind. As if I could easily do so now that I wondered whom Nipa had told. A small, nagging thought tickled my brain that maybe he hadn’t told her. Maybe Taishi was still alive and had confessed what he’d done.

  It was hard to stay still and think of nothing. My mind wandered back to dinner and Charbonneau’s comments and Meriwether’s disapproval. I thought of my sister and wondered how she fared. Every time my mind wandered, Tomomi smacked my arm.

  “Focus,” she said.

  After the third time I asked, “How do you know I’m not focusing?”

  “Your eyes shift. Now focus.”

  After a few more smacks, I wondered if I would have bruises.

  “What is going on in your head that you have so many thoughts cluttering your mind?” Tomomi asked.

  I told her some of the matters plaguing my conscience. She repeated Taishi’s name when I said it.

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  She rubbed at the blue tattoo above her upper lip. “No one knows Taishi.”

  I didn’t know if it was her words or her meaning I didn’t understand. “Does he live here among the Tanukijin? Are there any of the Chiramantepjin left?”

  “The surviving Chiramantepjin were assimilated into our clan. Some went to the sea and joined smaller tribes. If you please our leader, he may help you find the keeper of your memories—if he lives. Have you had your fill of questions? Now focus.”

  “Does that mean Taishi is still alive? Do you know anything about my sister?” She smacked me, and did so again when my mind thought up more questions.

  Wasn’t I relieved when Sumiko came in and dismissed Tomomi?

  Sumiko helped me out of my furs and into my nighttime attush and took me to the onsen, promising there would be fewer people. There were still too many to tempt me back into the water. I scrubbed myself down with a cloth in the corner, doing my best not to expose myself to curious eyes.

  When I returned to my room, Nipa waited on my bed of furs.

  Chapter Nine

  It is my hope that through making my own fortune, and finding my own planet on which to settle, I will be able to impress upon my parents that a woman can support herself without the aid of their blue-blooded, old money. I see no reason a lady must marry for title and fortune when we are perfectly capable of making our own. Is that not what it means to be a citizen of the United Worlds of America? If there is one thing I hope my daughters will learn, it is the tenacity to make their own ways in the galaxy—whether others approve or not.

  —Entry from the journal of Clementine Earnshaw, the Santa Maria

  I must have gasped to see him in my chamber, because he turned away from the fire. He didn’t wear his headdress, though with his face turned from the light, the shifting shadows of the room made it difficult to make out more. I could see he was handsome, though not in the perfect way Meriwether was. His eyes were slightly asymmetrical but nicely shaped. A scar marred his cheek, but even so, it didn’t take away from the square, masculine jaw or high cheekbones.

  “Pardon me, but where’s Sumiko?” I asked.

  “She is seeing to the other guests’ needs. She will be here shortly. In the meantime, I will keep you company.”

  I lingered near the door, uncertain whether it was the best idea to be unchaperoned at night with a man who was practically a stranger. I knew how Meriwether would feel—as well any other British citizen of New Campton Manor Space Station.

  He patted the blankets. “Sit. I will behave.”

  Tentatively, I stepped forward. I kneeled on the blankets, but left an adequate amount of space between us.

  He leaned his back toward the fire and stared into the darkness. “You must think I turn into a different person when the sun goes down.”

  “You don’t think men and women do?”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You gaiyojin and your ways are so different and interesting. I like learning about your customs.” He smoothed a hand over his short shorn hair. “Tell me what else is different.”

  “Oh? Everything. You know our manner of dress is different.”

  “Oh, yes. I hear we dress like savages, while my people think you dress like caged birds.” He grinned.

  I ignored that comment. “Everything on the ship and in space is convenient. We have running water and indoor plumbing. There are water closets in our rooms—not outhouses with holes in the ground. There’s electricity, and nearly everything we want can be designed, made and delivered by automatons. Machines—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. Tell me about the people, about you and what you do with your time.” He reclined and propped himself up on an elbow.

  I considered what he was asking. “Most accomplished young ladies spend their hours at embroidery and sewing, painting and drawing, and singing and music. We are permitted to read books and watch holos if the subject is not too taxing or inappropriate. Young ladies live for balls and spend much of their time in preparation of clothes, hair and dance lessons. They enjoy social engagements and invitations to tea or dining at another household.”

  He covered my lap with a blanket. “Which of those things do you do?”

  “None, if I can help it.” We both laughed. I sat back and untucked my legs from beneath me, making myself more comfortable. He had a way of making me feel at ease even if it wasn’t the way of my people to spend time together like this alone. “I take long walks through the servant tunnels of the station to avoid the company of others.”

  Lord Klark spared no expense when it came to my health and happiness. If I told him I didn’t wish to go to the ballet, he silenced his flustered wife and let me stay home. He allowed me to retire early from balls. He warned me when he thought events would tax me or there would be unsavory characters he wished to shelter me from. I assumed his interest in me was because he pitied me. Or, dare I admit, that he might actually care for me like a daughter. I didn’t know he had guilted my grandparents into giving me an allowance and a future inheritance when they died.

  When I turned twenty, Lord Klark took me aside and said, “My youngest daughter is now sixteen and she is planning her coming out ball. Will you let me throw you a ball soon? Perhaps a small gathering without too big of a crowd?” He patted my cheek. “I simply must be allowed to show off my charge in all her beauty and splendor.”

  I’d reluctantly consented. Of course, next had come his hints at what a good husband his son would make. I didn’t like to argue with Lord Klark after all he’d done for me, but I made it clear I would never marry any man by choice.

  Nipa spoke, bringing me back to the present. “If you do not attend balls, what do you do?”

  “I sit a
nd read, especially about things I’m not supposed to.” A smile curled to my lips when I thought of the many volumes on science, medicine, and engineering that I’d stolen out of Meriwether’s room. He had purchased many books printed on babbage cards pertaining to psychology and memory loss. He never questioned me when the copies went missing. “During the hours I must join the company of Meriwether’s sisters, I often sew or try to fill my hours with something practical. But much of the time I sit at the windows and stare at the stars.”

  “What do you wish to find there?”

  “My past. My future. Answers. A home. Mostly I think I make myself miserable thinking about things I have no power to change.”

  He took my hand in his. The warmth of his palm pressed against my ungloved hand was reassuring. I found I didn’t want to pull away. “I told you I would help you with your memories. I have spoken to Grandmother Ami and the other elders about your situation—”

  I recoiled. “You told more people? How many know?” Lord Klark had always impressed upon me the importance of silence.

  “I needed to seek counsel from those wiser than myself. You must prepare mentally and physically. The stronger you feel, the more you will be ready for what comes. It is good that you learn to fight with Tomomi Sensei, ne? You must feel that you are stronger than any man.”

  “You make no sense. What do you refer to? Is the man who stole them alive—Taishi? Is he here? There’s a way to get my memories back?”

  He sandwiched my hands between his once again, encasing me in his calm. He spoke slowly, impressing upon me the importance of his words, though I didn’t completely understand them. “I cannot answer all your questions at this time. What I do want to impress upon you is this: if you want memories, you must not be afraid of memory exchange. The elders suggested that if Tomomi Sensei trains you, you will not be afraid of being alone with a man, and that is the first step.”

  I threw up my hands in exasperation. “I don’t want memories. I want my memories and there’s no point in training if the man who has them is dead.”

  “There may be another way to retrieve parts of memories, only you must be able to perform memory exchange. It is important not to feel fear. You must be able to defend yourself physical and mentally. Do you understand?”

  “There’s no point. I am smaller and weaker. Gaiyojin ladies do not—”

  He held up a hand. “Felicity-san, I am sorry about your past. And sorrier still for what I am about to do.” He sat up. In one fluid motion, he pushed me back into the furs and pinned my hands above my head. I let out a startled shriek. I tried to pull my arms away but he held fast.

  “Use your mind. Outwit me,” he said.

  My heart raced and my vision blurred with the hot sting of tears. It took a moment to realize he wasn’t pressing himself against me. He wasn’t undressing me or making any attempt to injure me. He stared into my face, remaining perfectly still as he waited.

  I blinked away the tears and reminded myself not to panic. He nodded. My heart calmed. I assessed what I could control. My legs. Before he could make a move to stop me, I lifted a knee as fast and hard as I could. It impacted with his inner thigh, not quite as high as I’d hope. Nonetheless, he released his grip on my wrists and I easily pushed him onto his side.

  A few unintelligible grunts escaped his lips before he said, “See, I knew you could do it.”

  “How dare you scare me like that to make a point!”

  The gasp at the door made me turn. Sumiko stared in wide-eyed horror. She turned to go and then came back. She hovered, undecided. I had no idea how much she had seen.

  Nipa crawled to his feet and left of his own accord. He had, indeed, pressed upon my greatest problem. I wanted my memories and I had promised myself I would do whatever it took to get them back.

  Chapter Ten

  In the Tanukijin legends, the Jomon say they arrived here from the stars by dragons. Incidentally, the word for dragon, “tatsu,” also means “to build.” It’s a pity they lost all that technology and now don’t even know how to build a proper outhouse.

  —Faith Earnshaw’s private diaries

  On the morrow, I ate breakfast with Nipa in his room. Sumiko joined us on this morning. I wasn’t sure if this was at her request or his. It was just as well, for I scarcely said two words to him and conversed with her instead. I was still mad at him about the night before.

  “How long do you intend to be angry with me?” Nipa asked in English.

  “You have given me cause to distrust you. More than once.”

  Sumiko glanced from one of us to the other. “Excuse me, older brother,” she said. She crossed to the other side of the room and busied herself with folding blankets near the hearth.

  Nipa said, “If I had simply told you that you are capable of being clever, do you think you would have believed me? You already hold my words with so little esteem that you don’t believe me when I tell you the truth.”

  I didn’t answer. It was hard to argue when you couldn’t disagree with someone. He took my hand and held it in his. “I promise to save further deception for the training arena. Yes?”

  I nodded.

  After the first meal, I trained with Tomomi Sensei until noon. Where her charge had gone off to I didn’t know until Meriwether and Charbonneau helped Captain Ford hobble out to the snowy grounds.

  “Really, where’s the harm in a woman dressing like these savages if she’s completely covered?” the captain said. I was so bundled up I doubted he would have even known it was me except that my long, blonde braid fell out from under my tanuki-style head covering.

  I glanced over at them.

  Tomomi Sensei poked me in the ribs with a stick. “Pay attention.”

  “Master Meriwether, I truly don’t know why you allow this behavior,” Charbonneau chided.

  “If you ask me, I like a feisty woman who can hold her own—between the covers.” Captain Ford was the only one who laughed at his own joke.

  I endured listening to them until they wandered on. By that time, I ached all over and begged for Tomomi to let me rest.

  “Go soak in the onsen,” she commanded. “It is time for me to attend to that husband of mine anyway.”

  I went to the onsen, hoping I might find it empty. It wasn’t. I thought I heard a badly pronounced version of my name but conversations stopped when I entered. I passed the moss-covered wall, considering whether I could get over the taboo of nudity. I placed a hand on the wall as I eased myself onto a stool. My fingers went numb, feeling asleep yet simultaneously awake. I wiped my hand against my robe. The friction flared like fire in my fingers. It wasn’t just the one wall covered in green. Memory moss grew on nearly all the walls and the ceiling of the bathhouse.

  I used a cloth to bathe myself and left without soaking. On the table in my room were laid a set of clean furs. I reached for them, but paused. Next to those rested my gaijin clothes. I preferred the warm and comfortable Tanukijin style of dress. Even so, I was not Jomon. I knew what was expected of me. I did my best to fasten my corset over my chemise. I rebraided my hair and pinned it up. When Sumiko came in, I beseeched her to tie my corset tighter.

  “Iya, you really are wearing a cage. Why do you do this to yourself?” Sumiko asked.

  “Geari,” I said, using a word that had no translation in my language. It was something between social obligation, guilt and a gift you had to give others.

  “Ah,” she said.

  “Have you ever heard of a man named Taishi?” I asked. “I knew him from the first time I was on Planet 157—er—on Aynu-Mosir.”

  “Taishi no longer exists. He lives as a ghost.” Her voice was soft and she stopped lacing my corset and placed her hands on my shoulders.

  I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. My memories were gone then. Taishi was gone. On days like this, when I could remember his crescent eyes and chubby cheeks, it was hard to imagine he would have stolen them.

  “Faith-chan once told me he has your memorie
s.”

  I turned to face her. “Faith? You know my sister?” Surely she knew her well if she managed to pronounce my sister’s name. That and the use of “chan” lead me to believe she either knew her well or considered her like a child.

  She turned her gaze downward. “I apologize. It isn’t my place to speak on such matters. You must put all questions to my brother.”

  “Not at all. I just want to know if she’s alive—if she’s well. I want to see her.”

  Sumiko smiled, though her expression didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, you must miss her. She will be so . . . happy to see you.”

  The great hall where Sumiko led me was drafty and cold. I was glad I had my cloak to throw over my traveling dress. Daylight spilled in from the windows along with a few flurries. I admired the spiral patterns and stylized tanuki painted in blue and black dyes decorating the tapestries on the walls. Dried fish hanging from the ceiling swayed when a gust of wind blew in.

  The men of my party sat together. Children gathered around as Meriwether animatedly told a story. He gestured wildly with his hands and occasionally Tomomi translated a word she understood. She didn’t understand many.

  I stood to the side, not wishing to interrupt. I ruminated on Sumiko and what she might be hiding. Was it that Faith wouldn’t be happy to see me? That was ridiculous. Were they lying that she was alive? Perhaps someone had stolen her memories as well.

  Meriwether said, “‘Let me in, let me in,’ said the big, bad wolf.

  “But the three little pigs said, ‘Not by the hair of our chinny chin-chin.’”

  The children screeched with laughter. Sumiko turned away and covered her mouth. Tomomi laughed so hard, tears spilled down her cheeks. Even some of the adults glanced at each other and smiled. Charbonneau and the captain both looked puzzled.

  The old toothless woman from the day before looked from me to Meriwether and pointed at him. “Chinny, chin-chin man.”