Silkpunk and Steam

by Sarina Dorie

  I didn’t find them rude, not compared to the grandmothers. The girls my age were far more deferential. They asked because they liked me, not because they judged me.

  “If Nipa accepts the Chiramantep and invites us to join the Tanukijin, I will stay,” I said.

  “And if he doesn’t, you will go home?” Pana bit her lip.

  “Isn’t that the way it works with tsuma no koukan? My union with Shiromainu Nipa is temporary?”

  “Grandma Pirka said it is the woman’s choice. You get to decide if you want to stay,” Opere said.

  My choice? I had to choose between my people and getting fed every day? I had to choose between safety from the gaijin airships and being with the gaijin I loved? The idea of choosing to be a traitor to my family was too much. I shook my head.

  My friends stared at me confused. I changed the subject. “Shall we practice with sticks today? That’s new for me.”

  Shiromainu barked out a command to the young men who stood with a group of boys. His shout drew my attention. Two of the young men hung their head in shame, but his grandnephew held up his chin in defiance. Petennouk clenched his fists at his sides. His posture was rigid and defiant. I was embarrassed to see his open anger in public. He acted like a spoiled child.

  Shiromainu’s reedy voice rose. “Good teachers don’t hit their students for the sport of it. A true master of the fighting arts doesn’t need to show off to prove himself. Control and discipline is a greater skill, ne?”

  Opere shook my arm. “Stick fighting, yes?”

  Eventually Shiromainu came around to join us again.

  “Good, Sumiko-san,” he said. “You are a small fighter, so you have to be quick. What one lacks in strength she can make up for in skill, ne? Remember that when you are in a true fight.”

  Iya! He was encouraging me rather than criticizing, just like he did with the children. I was considered one of the best fighters in my tribe, surpassing even the older boys. But here, there were many who exceeded my skills. I didn’t know stick fighting or the styles of defense they used. I suspected Shiromainu thought I was very bad.

  Petennouk wandered over. He made an insolent half bow in greeting. “How is your little bride coming along? I haven’t had a chance to give her a lesson.” He smirked. The way he ogled me made my skin crawl.

  Shiromainu grunted. “These young women have had enough practice for the day. Look how hard they’ve been working. Sweating despite the cold weather. Hmm, how can I reward these girls?” He turned to me. “Sumiko-san, do you think you deserve a reward?”

  I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise that he should put such a question to me.

  Chinatsu and Opere looked to me hopefully. Hekketek and Pananpne kept their gazes down, their postures polite and respectful. Even so, I saw the excitement in the way they squeezed each other’s hands. Any child would be honored to receive Nipa’s attention.

  I stammered, “Well, we have practiced very hard. But I am not worthy of any reward. I’m sure your praise and attention are reward enough.”

  Petennouk laughed. “See, she knows she hasn’t done anything worthy. They haven’t been out here as long as I have.”

  The girls’ shoulders sagged in disappointment. Shiromainu looked me in the eye, not acknowledging Petennouk’s words. “Don’t be modest, anata.”

  Shiromainu was asking me to do something I was unaccustomed to, and if I spoke too boldly I would come across just as arrogant as Petennouk. If I was too meek, Petennouk was the one who would be rewarded, and I didn’t think anyone here wanted that except him. I had to be as cunning and brutal as the grandmother who had chastised Petennouk the first day I’d met him when he’d entered the women’s chamber without invitation. I had to chastise through a compliment.

  “I cannot compare myself to Petennouk. Not all are born with such natural talent as your grandnephew,” I said. “He is so fortunate to be graced with such endurance and skill. He makes fighting look easy.”

  Petennouk puffed himself up, the compliment going to his head. He was so predictable.

  Pana’s eyes were sharp with understanding. “Petennouk-san is so fortunate to be able to practice for hours without tiring or growing winded.”

  “Yes, I don’t think he even broke into a sweat,” I agreed. “Petennouk is so much more skilled that a group of thirteen-year-old girls.” Pana was actually fourteen, but I didn’t bring that up. “Despite our labors and diligence, we cannot complete with his size and strength. I envy the day I will be able to work as long and hard as him with so little effort.”

  Petennouk’s smile grew uneasy.

  It was possible I could have ended the compliment there, but I was determined to drive the point home. “If I continue to work hard, perhaps I can someday win in a fight with those who are younger and smaller than me just like he does.”

  His face flushed red.

  I turned to Shiromainu. “But if it pleases Nipa, perhaps he will reward our modest skills with the reward he offered.”

  Nipa’s lips twitched like he was trying very hard not to smile. “And what kind of reward should I grant such humble little warriors?”

  I looked over my friends, considering their strengths and what would draw that out to bring them honor. “Refreshments in the tanuki statue courtyard, accompanied by our revered nipa. Hekketek-chan, will you fetch your tonkori and play? Who else will play music and sing with sweet voices to bring peace and tranquility to our nipa’s ears?”

  “Me!” Opere said.

  Chinatsu clapped her hands. “I will!”

  I snuck a glance at Petennouk. A vein bulged in his forehead. From his huffing and puffing, it looked like he might breathe fire like a tatsu. I covered my mouth so no one would see my smile.

  I had won one small battle. I should have known it wouldn’t help me in the long run.

  Chapter Nine

  I am very fortunate Lord Klark found me and rescued me back on Aynu-Mosir. Only, I can’t conceive how I came to be alone in a hut with no memories of the past. At first I was suspicious of Lord Klark, what with all the questions he asked about why his geologists couldn’t find diamonds in the mountains. Enough time has passed that I’m grateful he has taken me in as one of his children. Though, he does still bring up those diamonds from time to time.

  —From the diaries of Felicity Earnshaw

  That night I was excited to perform memory exchange again.

  “Will you help me see more of my mother?” I asked.

  Shiromainu hugged me to his side and patted my shoulder. “It brings me joy to see you smile like you did this morning.” He sighed, sadly. “I am happy to please you in this way since I am too old to perform husbandly duties and you are too young to do so. But, it’s best to postpone memory exchange for the purpose of pleasure until we have had more time for politics first, ne? What do you think of this?”

  “Oh, yes, that is wise.” I forced my mouth into a polite smile so that my disappointment might not show. “What memories shall I show you? More of Faith-chan? I have been thinking about the perfect one to show you her character. That is what you want, ne?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Show me more of the gaijin woman.”

  I helped him prepare the memory moss and he complimented me on my skill and improved grace. I frowned, thinking of his compliments earlier with the children who were the most unskilled.

  “What’s wrong, anata?” he asked. “Have I said something wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Ei. It is nothing. Forgive my lack of discipline.”

  He took the mortar and pestle from me and set it aside on the table. He held my hands in his, smoothing his wrinkled fingers over my smooth ones. “I’ve asked you to be forthright with me. There’s no need for formalities when it’s only the two of us here together.”

  Embarrassment crept over my face like beetle flies sneaking upon a feast. “I just have silly thoughts sometimes. I was thinking how poor my skills must be in prepa
ring the memory moss if you compliment me. If you instead offered criticism like you do to the warriors on the practice field, then I would know I actually did well.”

  He barked out a laugh and shook his head. I discretely wiped a spray of spit from my face.

  “I forget what it is like to be young and new to everything. You are so perceptive, and yet there’s so much more you’ll see with age. Here is a secret I will confide in you, so that you might know this for the future. A good husband does his best not to criticize his spouse. Especially not in public. Offer advice, yes. Give counsel, yes. Request different behavior at times, yes. But complain or criticize, no. And with a good wife it is the same. I have had three wives, gaining more wisdom with each one. Remember this when I praise you. And remember it when you fall in love someday, ne?”

  I already was in love, or I thought I was, not that I would ever be able to tell her. Especially not if I became Shiromainu’s permanent wife.

  I blurted out, “One of the girls asked me today if I would stay if you got me with child.”

  He sat back, “Ah, I said to be forthright. This is what I get. You do realize this isn’t a concern since you aren’t a woman yet?”

  “Yes, but they don’t know that. What should I say when people ask me such things?”

  He snorted. “Tell them to mind their own business.”

  “You can tell them that. You are Nipa and older than everyone. I am thirteen.” I quickly added, “And a half. What am I to say to the grandmothers?”

  “Ah, those pesky grandmothers are up to their antics again? Well, let me handle them.” He patted my head. “Now, anata, are you ready for memory exchange?”

  I closed my eyes and pressed my palms to Shiromainu’s back. I concentrated, trying to allow the memory to pour from my mind into his. I focused on the time I was ten and living in the plains. That was the year the sickness hit. I didn’t want to give up this memory. Once it was gone, I would no longer have my last moments with Shipo. Yet, with it inside me, it haunted me. Like a blood moth drawn to the sick and dying, this memory hatched open and plagued me when I was weakest. It came, unbidden at the moments I needed to be strongest.

  For so many reasons, this was the memory I needed to give him. That meant I had to relive it again, though.

  The year of the sickness, the Chiramantepjin were unprepared for the first true winter we experienced. The other years had gotten cold, but not like this one. We watched the big ships leveling mountains from a distance. They sent up great plumes of black smoke that blocked out the warmth and light from the sun.

  Faith alone understood what the white fluffs were that fell from the sky.

  Everything around me became vivid and clear as though I were reliving it again. I sank into my body, this younger version of myself. I stretched out my arms, letting the cold flakes drift down onto me. I stuck out my tongue to catch one.

  “Don’t eat it, Sumiko,” Faith warned. “If the rain is too dirty to drink and hurts your skin, this will be the same. You make sure to tell the other children that too.”

  The adults gathered around our campfire to discuss the strange substance falling from the sky.

  “It’s called snow,” Faith told them. As she went on to explain the growing cold we might expect, the other adults laughed.

  “It will pile up and make it hard to find food,” Faith said.

  Rina stuck up her nose in the air. “It’s just ash. And there isn’t enough ash in all the world to bury us.”

  Taishi locked eyes with Faith. “We need to build shelters.”

  He directed us to the woods where we built a hut that we tried to hide in the thickets. The children gathered roots and berries to dry for the winter to come. I collected firewood with Shipo. With the cold came sore throats. Shipo developed a cough.

  Each day the snow deepened and our fingers froze, even with the mittens Faith sewed for us. Shipo’s cough sounded like a barking tanuki. Her face was swollen and she didn’t look right. Blood moths followed us wherever we went.

  She wasn’t the only one with a cough. Some of the elderly had grown too weak to go out to scavenge. They stayed in the hut my brother made.

  We were far from our camp when Shipo fell to her knees and coughed up blood. Terror lodged itself in my throat. I tugged on her manto. My voice came out as a rasp. “Get up. We need to go back.”

  She shook her head. “I’m too tired. Let me sleep, Sumiko-chan.”

  “You are dragon. Show me your Tatsujin strength,” I whispered.

  “I’m Chiramantepjin now,” she said softly. She lay there. I tugged on her manto.

  The fear in my throat loosened. I screamed for help.

  “Stop it. You’re too loud and will call the gaijin to us,” Shipo said. “Just let me rest.”

  I paid her no mind. I screamed until an adult from the village came shuffling along. It was Grandmother Ami.

  Blood dotted the snow where my friend continued to cough.

  “Shipo-chan can’t walk. She’s sick,” I said. I tried to push down the panic. “My brother. I need my brother to carry her back.”

  Grandmother Ami’s brow crinkled up in concern. “You go run back to the hut, Sumiko-chan. Fetch whoever is free to come.”

  Grandmother Ami was a frail old woman, but she heaved Shipo up like she was nothing and shuffled along. Eventually I came upon Ursai setting snares to catch prey. He came with me to relieve Grandmother Ami of her burden.

  “She has the same sickness as the others?” he asked.

  Grandmother Ami nodded solemnly.

  I ran ahead to warn my brother. Kyosuke, a young male warrior who had joined us, assisted Midori and Faith as they reinforced our hut where the wind had damaged it on the north side. Rina stood by watching. She heard me tell Taishi about Shipo. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She’d been crying again.

  Taishi stood there, bundled up against the cold, looking like a chiramantep on two legs. His face was haggard and arms hung uselessly at his sides. “Another sick.”

  Rina pointed at Faith even though this was a rude gesture and we usually only pointed at animals, not people. “It’s her fault. She brings her gaijin kamuy to attack us.”

  Faith crossed her arms.

  “This has nothing to do with Faith-san,” Taishi said. “The Chiramantepjin were healthy before we found those blankets and brought them to our village.”

  Kyosuke bowed in apology. “Sumimasen. I thought I was doing right by stealing them and bringing them here. I realize now they were too easy to find. I should have seen it was a trick to—”

  Taishi raised a hand. “Stop blaming yourself.”

  “It wasn’t the blankets.” Rina’s voice rose. She jabbed a finger at Faith. “It’s her fault. It’s her kamuy!”

  I shifted from foot to foot in agitation. No one was listening. What were we going to do for Shipo?

  “It isn’t evil spirits,” Faith lifted her chin. “It’s disease. I’ve explained how this works. The sick need to stay away from the healthy.”

  Faith had warned Rina to keep her baby away from her when she’d been coughing. Faith had even offered to help care for the child, but Rina hadn’t listened. Now her baby was dead.

  Rina shrieked and dove for Faith, her fingers curling like claws. Taishi dodged between them and grabbed Rina. He looked to Kyosuke, who came to my brother’s aid. He hauled Rina off.

  I fidgeted in impatience, waiting for Taishi to turn back to me and tell me everything would be all right. He stood next to Midori, talking quietly about seeing if she could help console Rina. I tugged on his sleeve, but he ignored me.

  “Why are only the original Chiramantepjin safe from kamuy? Not the Hebijin or the Cepjin or Isepojin?” Rina shrieked. “It’s her gaijin magic, granting favors to those she wishes while punishing the rest.”

  Faith lifted her chin. “The Chiramantepjin had the benefit of vaccines before the meeting of the tribes. If we could trade with some
of the settlers, I might be able to acquire more medicine for everyone, so no one would die.” She looked to Taishi imploringly. She had spoken about the magic of vaccines before.

  Taishi shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I can no longer tell friendly traders from Lord Klark’s men.”

  There was that name again. Lord Klark. I didn’t know who he was exactly, only that he was to be feared.

  “We have to find a way to acquire vaccines,” Faith insisted.

  “I’ve heard enough about your so-called medicines.” Rina tried to rise, but Kyosuke pushed her back down.

  Faith started to speak, but Taishi shook his head at her and cut her off. “Hold your tongue. You are only upsetting her more.”

  I tugged on his manto. He pushed me back from Rina. “Go make yourself useful, Sumiko-chan.”

  Faith stomped off, away from our hut. Since my brother wouldn’t listen, I tugged on Faith’s sleeve. “Shipo-chan.” Tears filled my eyes. “Please, Faith-san, use your gaijin magic to help her.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder at my brother and frowned.

  “Make her leave!” Rina screamed. “Remove her from our hut before she infects us all with bad kamuy.”

  By the time Shipo was settled in her blankets inside, the elders had cast their verdict, contrary to what my brother said: Faith was to go. It wasn’t unanimous. At least Grandmother Ami and Grandmother Annosuke didn’t think an off-worlder would starve with us if she had magic for casting spells. Taishi was our nipa. I wanted him to explain to them Faith had nowhere else to go. Her tribe had been killed. She only had us. He needed to order them to stop being so foolish and to stop contradicting him.

  But even nipas didn’t disobey the council of elders.

  Taishi put on his eboshi. “I will build a separate hut for my geari wife so that she doesn’t have to put up with these insults.”

  He went outside and dragged a fallen tree closer to our hut. Faith followed him, and I, in turn, followed her.

  “Taishi, you must listen to me,” she said. “I know about disease. Remember the time Felicity got you sick when you were fifteen?”