Silkpunk and Steam

by Sarina Dorie

“Now?” she asked.

  I groped for her foot on my back. With all my strength, I twisted to tickle the sole. It wasn’t much, but it was the best I had to give. To my surprise, she squealed in a very un-Tomomi-like way and rolled off me. I clung to her foot as she fell onto her behind and attempted to scoot back. I tickled the sole of her foot again. She shrieked and kicked me in the head. Not hard, but enough to throw me off. I dove for her foot again, laughing. Never had I been this close to beating my fighting master.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks and she laughed too. “Stop it, Sumiko-sama. You’re murdering me.”

  Cheering sounded all around me. People smiled and laughed. Hekketek clapped her hands and Opere jumped up and down. Chinatsu kept hugging everyone around her. Strong arms hauled me off Tomomi.

  One of the warriors set me on his feet. “You can stop. You’ve won.”

  “You won!” my friends screamed.

  “Sumiko-sama is the champion!”

  Tomomi dusted herself off and stood. Taishi stared at me open-mouthed.

  Oh no! I had won. Why had Taishi told me her secret weakness?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kamuy are everywhere. They are the spirits in the trees and rivers and mountains. Within the belly of the Chiramantepjin tribe lives the kasha kamuy, a kind of chiramantep spirit of fierceness and strength who protects us. Within the Tanukijin village lives a kamuy who embodies the spirit of the tanuki and exhibits cleverness and cunning. In the gaijin ships, we don’t know what kind of kamuy lives within their hearts.

  —unknown Jomon origin

  I wiped the mud out of my eyes and nose.

  Tomomi raised her hands and drew the attention of the tribe. Voices silenced. My heart lurched. I had won and that meant my brother had lost. My family’s honorable place of rank wouldn’t be restored.

  Faith was safe. That was what mattered, I told myself. At least, I hoped she was safe. I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

  Tomomi grabbed my hand and raised it into the air. “Sumiko Nipa won this fight of wits fairly … more or less.”

  People nodded in agreement. Some laughed.

  She locked eyes with my brother. Her words were slow and easy, like she’d rehearsed them. “This fight is in the style of the Tatsujin and Chiramantepjin traditions.” Her voice boomed like an earthquake. “Yes, this fight is sisam to the Tanukijin, but sometimes outside ways are necessary for progress. Sometimes traditions must be broken to make a path for new and better ways.

  “In the manner of our sisam traditions, it is the champion who must utter what is in his or her heart. Is it not fitting that Shiromainu Nipa’s chosen leader should be the one to now decide our people’s fate? We have witnessed Sumiko Nipa’s wit and skill. We have seen her wisdom. I bow to my leader and her clever tanuki spirit.” Tomomi released my arm and bowed deeply at this. “Tell us, Sumiko Nipa, who will you choose as our new leader of the Tanukijin tribe?”

  People looked to me in confusion. Tomomi’s words slowly registered. I also had assumed Tomomi had won.

  I remembered so little of my childhood. I had assumed the winning of the proxy would mean she won for the one she fought for. Tomomi should have been the winner. I glanced at my brother. He stood tall, waiting with a calm smile on his face.

  I had thought they both meant me to lose, but now I wasn’t so sure. It seemed like this entire scenario had been a ploy. I, the one Shiromainu Nipa had bestowed rank and duty to, had gained the respect of his people through this feat. Through winning, I had proven my shrewdness and ability to outwit an impossible opponent. It had cemented my wisdom and Shiromainu’s wisdom in me.

  At last I understood Taishi’s motivations—and Tomomi’s. They’d wanted a leadership no one would contest. They had never been trying to shame or disgrace me. All along they both had been helping me gain the highest position of honor. They had turned me from a temporarily appointed nipa to one no one could dispute.

  They could have at least warned me what they were up to. They could have made me a player in their plan as opposed to the ball. I wanted to declare that neither of them deserved leadership, but now wasn’t the time to chide them.

  Taishi’s eyebrows rose with expectation. He truly was giving me permission to take the honor of nipa rather than give it to him?

  Tomomi lifted her bowed head. Quietly she prompted, “Who has proven her worth? Say it.”

  Yet with leadership came duty. A nipa couldn’t show weakness. She couldn’t allow her friends to see the ache in her heart. She had to be exactly like everyone else, only stronger. She could never love a woman. Even friendships would be a strain. A nipa didn’t have friends, only subordinates. I remembered this detail from Kiror’s memory that Shiromainu had given me.

  If I accepted the role of leadership, I would be giving up love. Or the potential for love, anyway.

  I stared out at the crowd of my people. All I had to do was say my name. All I had to do was declare myself nipa. The crowd rippled and shifted. Faith elbowed her way to the front with uncharacteristic bad manners, even for a gaijin. Her face lit up when she saw me.

  My heart clenched. She had come.

  I waited for someone to object to Tomomi’s words, but no one did. Not one elder spoke out about my bias or said my vote didn’t count. And no one would. My authority was as great as Shiromainu Nipa’s. I had proven myself to all of them.

  I made my decision.

  I walked to my brother and bowed. “Hail the new nipa, Taishi-sama of the Tanukijin.”

  All bowed to him. Except for Faith in that adorably oblivious way of hers. She hugged me to her side, not even complaining when I smeared mud on her dress. People cheered and congratulated my brother. They crowded around him, blocking him from sight. Michi jumped up and down, trying to catch a glimpse. Ursai lifted her onto one of his shoulders so she could see better. The world around us buzzed with merriment.

  Tomomi strode closer to me. Her voice was almost lost in the roar of people cheering and laughing. She nodded to Taishi. “You have a memory to share with your brother.”

  I paused. Just when I thought everything would be happy and I could have a break from duties, Tomomi had to be her usual practical self.

  “No,” I said. “I have nothing to share with Taishi-sama.” Shiromainu had made his fears clear to me. He was a wise man. I could understand his concerns. I would not perform memory exchange with my brother. That was one taboo I had no intention of breaking. I would keep the secrets of our kasha kamuy to myself, even if it meant breaking with tradition. My brother and Faith had no reason to know about the secret chamber that housed Sikanna or the secrets the gaijin might wish to know.

  Tomomi studied me for a long moment. “Shiromainu trusted your judgment, as do I.” She shrugged. “Do what you see as best.” She strode into the circle around my brother and clapped him on the back.

  In her gaijin tongue Faith whispered, “I’m so proud of you.” She kissed me on the top of my head.

  “I love you,” I said quietly in English. No one else could understand me besides my brother, and he was too busy being hearing people sing his praises. “I did it all for you, to keep you safe. So that we could be… .” I didn’t know what to call what we were, or what I wanted us to be. “Together.”

  “Oh, sweetie!” Faith said. “I love you, too.” She hugged me tighter. “Of course, we’ll be together.”

  I could have died happy at that moment. I hoped the kamuy would allow this to be my happy ending.

  The End

  A Sneak Preview of

  Clockwork Seduction

  BOOK TWO

  A MEMORY THEIF WORLD NOVEL

  Prologue

  The starship’s engine room was as silent as a graveyard. I held my husband’s favorite wrench in my hand—my normal, human hand—poised to strike the invention that had caused me so much anguish. The metal chair was empty now. The helmet was pushed aside, the wires and tubes tangl
ed like eels in mating season. The gears and belts behind the contraption were silent.

  I wouldn’t allow that machine to invade another person’s mind. It was like memory moss, only without the joy and connection. The pirates had used it for stealing memories. I froze when Eli slid out from underneath the engine across the room. His rich brown skin was marred with black grease and his apron more stained than usual. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and his pouty mouth formed into an “o.” I would have laughed at how comically expressive he was, except that I was in no circumstance to do any laughing.

  I swiftly tucked the wrench behind my back and searched my brain for the correct words in English. “So sorry. I didn’t mean to—What is the word?—interrupt.” I smiled as though nothing was amiss, but my insides felt as though they were twisting with eels.

  “Blimey! What in the blazes were you about, Sumiko?” He stomped closer. Eli wasn’t much taller than me, but he managed to hold himself like a giant chiramantep about to attack.

  I could no longer destroy the machine later and use the excuse that it had been the doctor or one of the ship hands who had sabotaged his beloved machine.

  I lifted my chin. “I don’t want that mind-reading machine used on me or anyone else again.”

  Eli’s eyes softened. “I’m not going to let no one steal your memories again. I told you that. Jacque is dead. Those pirates and Frenchies are gone. We’re the captains now.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Hand it over.”

  Reluctantly I held out his tool. “This machine is dangerous if it ever falls into the wrong hands again.” I held onto the wrench, even as he tried to tug it away from me.

  “Aye, I know, but that ain’t about to happen on my watch. Besides, don’t you want me to figure out how to make it give your memories back to you?” He yanked the wrench out of my grip and shoved it into the loop in his belt.

  “No. I want you to destroy it.”

  “Why do you have to distrust machines so blasted much? They aren’t all evil, you know.” That was the sort of thing my husband would say, being an engineer and inventor. He circled the machine, inspecting it for damage.

  I half wished he would have examined me that closely, to see the way I was broken inside after pirates had used it on me to gain knowledge of my planet’s secrets. The other half of me was glad he didn’t.

  “You know why I distrust machines,” I said.

  “No, I don’t.” He crossed his arms and eyed me in that way of his. It was the sort of look that told me this was going to be a long discussion.

  My life would have been so much easier if Elijah Harris had been born on my planet where we could settle just about any dispute with hand to hand combat. All this talking he did was more trouble than it was worth. Besides, I would have won in a physical fight.

  “English is difficult, ne?” I said, going back to my old standby excuse that had worked on other foreigners in the past.

  “Then you’d best teach me Japanese real fast,” Eli said. He tapped his foot and huffed, reminding me of my niece back home when she was being a brat.

  My native tongue from the planet Aynu-Mosir was Jomon not Japanese, but I doubted he cared about the difference at the moment. I stared down at my robotic hand. The leather glove was nearly a match for the tan of my own skin. It was only the slight blue glow that gave away I wasn’t normal anymore. I could thank Eli for making me complete again after my accident.

  I owed him an explanation. “It’s not just machines I distrust. It’s everything. Everyone. If you had lived my life you would understand.”

  “Oi! You distrust everyone. Me, as well?” He nudged me with an elbow, trying to get me to laugh.

  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I didn’t answer. Instead I smiled. He could interpret that as he liked.

  He took me by the shoulders. The warmth of his fingers were grounding. “Sumiko, don’t shut me out. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

  It wasn’t my head that was the problem, it was my heart. I sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly. “I will show you,” I said. He might hate me after he knew, but he would understand.

  I slipped the memory moss from the pouch at my belt. The herb would help me share my memories with him. I wouldn’t allow any machine or man to steal memories from me again, but I would give them freely to one I loved. Even if sharing myself this way would be my undoing.

  To purchase the next book in the series or to find out when future books will be available, please go to: www.sarinadorie.com

  Afterward

  The ideas in the Memory Thief series were percolating in my head for years before I got around to writing the novel. I have always been fascinated by foreign cultures and was inspired by my freshman science teacher, Mr. Tebor, who served in the Peace Corps. I wasn’t able to study abroad while in high school or college, and I knew I didn’t have any valuable skills to offer the Peace Corps since I graduated with a BFA in illustration, so I pursued the dream to go abroad by teaching English in South Korea and then later in Japan. Because I am originally from the Portland, Oregon area and Sapporo is Portland’s sister city, it was a logical location to apply for a teaching job. Plus, I had a friend already in the JET Program in a city nearby. It felt a little less scary to go to the island of Hokkaido where there was someone I knew. I didn’t know much about Japan, aside from pop culture, but I had heard of Sapporo’s snow festival years before when I had a teacher in college who had participated and gave a presentation on it. I soon learned that while Hokkaido was temperate like Oregon from May to September, the rest of the year it snowed. And snowed.

  And snowed.

  While other gaijin (foreigner) English teachers were out buying manga, partying and singing karaoke, I was going to museums and attending tea ceremonies. (Okay, so I also was going to breakdance classes too, but that is a different story.) I loved learning about the ancient culture and history of Japan and the local people who predated the second wave of Japanese who immigrated to the islands. When I went to the Ainu village in Hokkaido as a tourist, I was fascinated by the idea of indigenous Japanese who were Japan’s version of Native Americans. The plight and cultural extinction of these people inspired and influenced my writing.

  The Jomon people in our world immigrated to Japan 14,000 years ago, though some sources suggest they may have done so as far back as 30,000 years ago. The Jomon became the Ainu of Japan, spread to the Pacific Islands and became the indigenous peoples of North America. Today’s Ainu are known for unusual, non-Asian characteristics such as fair skin, being hairier, having bigger noses or other European characteristics—some even having blue eyes. Archeologic evidence of skeletal and facial characteristics have shown the earliest Americans also had more European characteristics, and more recently, genetic evidence has shown the first Americans may have been more European than Asian.

  Anywhere from 2,000-5,000 years ago, the second wave of immigrants called the Yayoi, spread to Japan and the Americas, slowly assimilating and destroying the first wave of peoples, not so different from what the Europeans did to the Native Americas in my own culture.

  Living in Japan has influenced my writing greatly and I often find I am writing about experiences of feeling like an alien in another culture. The Jomon of The Memory Thief series are a mixture of Jomon and Yayoi, a blend of modern Japanese and Korean cultures with the Ainu of Japan and the Inuit of America.

  If you enjoyed The Memory Thief please leave a review on the online retailer where you purchased this collection. You might also enjoy free short stories published by the author on her website: http://sarinadorie.com/writing/short-stories. Readers can hear updates about current writing projects and news about upcoming novels and free short stories as they become available by signing up for Sarina Dorie’s newsletter at:

  http://eepurl.com/4IUhP

  Other novels written by the author can be found at:

  http://sarinadorie.com/writing/novels

  About the
Author

  During her childhood, Sarina Dorie dreamed of becoming an astronaut/archaeologist/fashion designer/illustrator/writer. Later in life, after realizing this might be an unrealistic goal, Sarina went to the Pacific NW College of Art where she earned a degree in illustration. After realizing this might also be an unrealistic goal, she went to Portland State University for a master’s in education to pursue the equally cut-throat career of teaching art in the public school system. After years of dedication to art and writing, most of Sarina’s dreams have come true; in addition to teaching, she is a writer/artist/ fashion designer/ belly dancer. She has shown her art internationally, sold art to Shimmer Magazine for an interior illustration, and another piece is on the April 2011 cover of Bards and Sages.

  Sarina has sold over a hundred short stories to markets like Daily Science Fiction, Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine, and Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show. Sarina’s novel, Silent Moon, won four contests through various chapter of RWA. It is now published by Soulmate Publishing. Her YA fantasy novel, Dawn of the Morning Star has come out with Wolfsinger Publishing and Urban Changeling is available online.

  Now, if only Jack Sparrow asks her to marry him, all her dreams will come true.

  Information about Sarina Dorie’s fantasy novels Silent Moon, Dawn of the Morningstar, Urban Changeling, and short stories can also be found at:

  http://www.sarinadorie.com