“And children are so strong, so adaptable. Not like us. We hold onto things. Old feelings, old memories. Things that no longer serve us. Things that hurt us even. For no reason other than sentimentality.”
“Isn’t it important to remember the past?”
“Not if it’s to the detriment of your present.”
“But we remember our ancestors.”
Tokai nodded. “We remember them for their wise words. Wise words that help us live our lives, help us move forward. We don’t remember them so that we can spend our lives looking backwards.”
I stared at my food. I hadn’t come here to be scolded like a child.
“Why is there a merchant wagon outside your house?” I asked.
Tokai shrugged. “Just business.”
“What business could merchants possibly have in a colony?”
“We’re all doing the same thing, Senetsu. It makes little sense to be fighting against one another all the time. Life is a lot easier for everyone if we collaborate instead. It’s common sense, really.”
“And what about the carriers they leave behind?”
Tokai shook her head slightly. “What carriers?”
“I’ve heard them, calling out in the night. It sounds like the shivers. What do you want with smudgers?”
Tokai smiled and patted my hand which was fisted around my knife. “I don’t have any smudgers. I never have. The merchants don’t leave any carriers here. What would I possibly want with them?”
I frowned. “I don’t know.”
“It’s just the stress of everything. Last week you were hearing Kioto’s name on the wind.”
“Something is not right here,” I hissed. I scraped back my chair, stood, and walked out.
I turned towards our house, but I found myself striding past it, out into the hills. I stood and faced the wind, held my breath, and listened.
36
KIOTO
I frowned. “What?”
“You’re free to go.”
I stood up quickly, afraid that they might change their minds. I looked at the officer as I passed him. His eyes gave nothing away. I wondered what it might be like being married to someone like that. Someone that didn’t open up, someone that kept themselves so hidden.
“I suggest you cut your stay in Kumonayo as short as you can,” he said. “I don’t want to see you again.”
I stepped into the corridor beyond, and the air seemed impossibly fresh. The light, offered up by the same fizzing electric lights as inside the interrogation room, seemed softer, friendlier, more welcoming.
“Where’s Malia?” I asked.
“She’s being released with you.” He pointed down the corridor. “They’ll sign you out at reception.”
I could hear the sharpness in his voice. Whoever had decided that we could leave, it wasn’t him.
I glanced back as I walked the way he had pointed. Something wasn’t right, but whatever had happened, I was going to take advantage of it. I glanced upwards and whispered “thank you” to the High.
The reception was large, light, and busy. It looked more like a shopping centre than a police station. There were even a couple of convenience stores along one side, in case you were stuck here long enough to need a magazine and a chocolate fix.
We hadn’t been brought in this way. They didn’t want the common criminals mixing with the general public. But I was a free woman now, apparently cleared of all suspicions of wrongdoing.
I looked around for Malia. She was stood at the counter, talking to a warden behind the desk. I hurried over.
As I stepped up next to her, I shot her a smile. She smiled back, her eyes sharply focussed on me.
I turned to the warden. “I’m told I need to sign out here?”
The warden sighed and, with his tongue pushed into his cheek, tapped a screen already drawn out on the counter. It flickered slightly as he touched it.
“Sign here.”
I touched the screen, but my finger passed straight through it.
He sighed again. “No implants. Use that.” He gestured to a screen pen that dangled from the desk at the end of a short chain.
The screen had a substance under the pen’s nib, albeit a little jelly-like. I attempted my signature, but it came out wonky and illegible.
The warden touched the screen again. “Sign here as receipt of your belongings.”
“I didn’t have any belongings.”
He sighed once more and spun the screen to face him. “They collected your things from your given home address. Hyle Road Safehouse. It was confiscated and searched as evidence.”
“Oh right. Thanks.”
He spun the screen back around and I signed my name again. He ran a cyber card over the screen, and it disappeared.
“Take this to evidence dispatch to collect your belongings.” He lazily pointed across the reception, his arm barely rising above the desk.
I linked my arm into Malia’s and followed his vague direction.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
“Fine. You?”
“That was horrible. I had the throw through most of it, really bad too. I’m not entirely certain of what I said, but definitely some things I hadn’t intended to. But...” I shrugged, “we’re in the clear, so it can’t have been that bad.”
“Doesn’t it seem a bit suspicious? Them suddenly letting us go like that?”
“Hugely so, but I’m not going to stand around questioning it until we’re a long way from here.”
“Good plan.”
We arrived at the evidence dispatch desk and I handed my cyber card to a warden who looked as bored and fed up as the one we’d just spoken to. Maybe it was a condition of employment.
She hefted my bag up onto the counter, and I took it from her.
“Thank you,” I said, but received nothing more than a grunt in reply.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said to Malia.
We stepped out into the cool air of sunset, the lights of the city bleeding an acrid orange into the sky. There might have been a beautiful sunset, offering an alternative display of pinks and purples, but you’d never know.
“Where to?” Malia asked.
“Well, I guess we can’t go back to the safehouse, and we’re certainly not welcome back at the colony, and we’d better avoid Omori’s home for a while. In fact, laying low for a few days isn’t too bad an idea.”
“So, somewhere we can squat?”
I nodded. “I guess so. Hopefully before it gets too cold and dark. How are you feeling now?”
“Better. Lighter.”
“Good.”
“But what about you?”
I waved a dismissive hand at her. “Don’t worry about me, this is what I’m trained to do. My choice. You never had that luxury. Maybe we can do this every now and again. Gently pull some of your memories out. Until you’re all empty of them.”
“We need to get rid of those first,” Malia said, pointing at my head.
“Yep, and smudges aren’t always easy to find a buyer for.”
“I can’t understand why anyone would ever want to buy a bad memory.”
“Well, there are lots of reasons. And a memory that’s sad for one person, isn’t necessarily sad for someone else. Like, sometimes, it’s better to have a memory of a painful break up, rather than living with the truth that no one’s ever loved you. I once sold a bunch of failed business memories to someone who was setting up in business for the first time, because they wanted to have some experiences to learn from. Then there are people who enjoy bad memories. ‘Smudge rubbers’ we call them.”
“What do you mean, they enjoy them?”
“Because they can live out their fantasies. Like someone who’s weak might like to have a memory of beating someone up, so that they can pretend to themselves that they really did it. Or someone who’s timid might like a memory of having a blazing row in public, or doing something very risqué, or breaking the law. Things like that.”
&
nbsp; Malia grimaced. She’d spent years subjected to such violent and unhappy memories.
“I know,” I said. “It’s weird and twisted, but that’s how the world is. And if it lets us get rid of these smudges, then so be it.”
“I guess.”
I spun round as someone called out my name. A man was striding towards us, his hand raised as if he might be waving. But it wasn’t a friendly wave. His clothes, his close-cropped hair, the feather tied to his shirt. I knew straight away what he was. He was a rogue.
37
KIOTO
I grabbed Malia’s wrist and, without explanation, set off at a run, dragging her behind me.
She stumbled, falling against me, but I managed to keep us both upright.
“What’s happening?” she gasped.
I stopped, almost tripping over my own feet, as another two rogues appeared ahead. I turned, but there were more behind us. I twisted, pulling Malia with me, tried to find a gap, but there were hands all over us, and those hands were strong, and the arms that followed were strong, and their legs pressed into the backs of our knees to force us to the ground.
An auto car pulled up, a real automated drive one, not a filthy petrol hybrid like they usually drove. We were pushed into the back seat, and other bodies piled in behind us, pinning us in. The engine hummed, and the car started to move.
I squeezed Malia’s hand and leaned in close to her. “I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.”
She nodded quickly.
We didn’t travel for long, placing us well within the city limits still. We were dragged from the car, pulled down some steps, and pushed through a door. And then we were left there, alone.
We were stood in a basement room. The walls were bare brick, the low ceiling exposed the beams that supported the floor above. Bare light bulbs quivered at the ends of their wires as feet tramped about upstairs. The door behind us had been closed, and an open archway offered a view of nothing but darkness ahead. Besides a small stack of chairs in one corner, the room was empty.
“You ok?” I asked Malia.
She nodded once, and her hand tightened in mine.
“Who are they?” she said.
“Rogues.”
“Are they going to kill us?”
“Not if I can help it.”
A rogue entered the room through the archway. He walked straight towards us, purposefully, and I stepped forward, putting myself between him and Malia. He stopped in front of me and held out his hand.
I stared at it.
“It’s traditional to shake it,” he said.
I looked up at him. “It’s also traditional for your kind to kill my kind, so excuse me if I’m a little standoffish.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.” He withdrew his offered hand. “I’m Dai, the leader of this bunch of losers and outcasts. And you are Kioto.”
“Well done.”
“But I don’t know who this is.” He peered past me at Malia.
“She is none of your business,” I said.
He shrugged. “Ok. But you are. As is your sister.”
“My sister’s dead.”
“Don’t play that game. I know she’s alive, and I know that you know she’s alive. And that you’re looking for her. You see, I don’t need to crawl around inside people’s heads to know everything that goes on in this city. I knew the moment you arrived, and we’ve been watching you ever since.”
“So, if you know everything, why don’t you have my sister already? Why grab me? I’m nothing to you.”
“Because this isn’t my operation.”
I eyed him. “So who’s pulling your strings?”
“Someone you might know.”
He stepped to one side to reveal a figure stood in the archway. I blinked. It couldn’t be true. I walked forward several steps.
“You’re dead,” I said.
Narata shook her head. “Apparently not.”
“How did you get out of Okaporo?”
She stepped forward and took hold of my hands. “After I sent your parents away with Omori, I got myself out.”
I tore my hands from hers. “And you left everyone behind to die? You were our brood mother, you were meant to protect us.”
“There was just no time, Kioto. The rogues were upon us. I didn’t have time to get anyone else out.”
“So you just walked out and left them? You only thought about saving yourself.” I looked back at Dai. “And what are you doing here? With them?”
Narata walked past me to stand with the rogue. “I’ve known Dai since I was a child. We grew up together. You know that, when I was eight, I was taken from my colony as part of the Liberation Scheme. But, as I had already had my trader scars, no family wanted to adopt me, so I spent the rest of my childhood in one of their orphanages. Not that that’s really what it was. All of those children had parents who loved and missed us desperately. I met Dai there, and we grew so close. We were inseparable. He’s like a brother to me.”
“A rogue?”
“He wasn’t a rogue then. He was just another child stolen from the colonies.”
“But he’s a rogue now.”
“He is.”
“And he’s still like a brother to you. Despite everything. Despite what his people—”
“They weren’t my people,” Dai said.
I didn’t even look at him. I kept my eyes locked on Narata’s. “Did...” I swallowed. “Did you tell the rogues what Omori was? Did you tell them that the vessel was in Okaporo?”
Narata gripped me hard by the shoulders. “No. Absolutely not.”
“How can I trust anything you say now? You walked out of your own colony and left your own people to die. And then you stayed hidden for eleven years, pretending that you were dead. Have you got any idea what I’ve been through? How much I needed you?” I couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. They flowed hot and fast over my cheeks. I wiped them away angrily.
“I’m sorry, Kioto. But you have to believe me, I did not cause what happened in Okaporo. If I could have saved everyone, of course I would. Every single life that was lost that night, I’ve carried that weight in my heart ever since. I’m so sorry. And it was only because of Dai that I managed to get your parents and Omori out. If he hadn’t… They would have died there too.”
“They’re dead anyway.”
She nodded slowly. “I heard. And I’m so sorry.” Her hand rose to her chest.
I grabbed hold of her wrist and threw her arm aside. “No. Don’t,” I said. “Don’t you dare do that. Don’t you dare pretend you give a shit.”
“Omori is still alive. And that’s because of everything we’ve done to protect her. I got her out of Okaporo in time. I went into hiding, let everyone believe that I was dead, all to protect her whereabouts. And Tokai, whose trust I put her into, she protected her too.”
“If you can call tearing her away from everything she belonged to ‘protecting her’. And what about me? For eleven years I’ve thought that my whole family were dead. Thought that you were dead. I found out by accident. Were you ever going to reappear to tell me the truth?”
“You had your own life to lead, and a new home in Kagosaka. I knew that you would be safe. Looked after. And look at you, you’ve flourished.”
“I wasn’t looked after at all. None of us were. We were treated like outsiders every single day we were there. They also refused to train us properly. We had to have secret lessons every evening with the Okaporo rooks. It was never a home. They hated us. That’s what you left us to. We were children.”
“I thought you’d be happy there. I didn’t know I was leaving you to that.”
“You left us. Regardless of what you thought you were leaving us to, you still left us.”
“But you’ve done alright.” Her voice was barely more than a whimper.
“I left Kagosaka on the morning of my 16th birthday. I haven’t been back since. I did alright by myself. All alone.”
“Have you been back to…?”
She left the question unfinished.
“No. I haven’t been back to the coast at all. I’ve not seen the ocean in years. I lost everything,” I said coldly.
“I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You couldn’t have been more wrong.”
Dai cleared his throat. “It’s been a long, confusing day. I think we all need to get some sleep, and see how things look in the morning.”
Only then did I realise how exhausted I was. The only thing that had been keeping me going was anger, and that was quickly fading into a shadowy sense of regret. This woman, my brood mother, I’d respected and admired her while she was alive, and I’d practically deified her since her assumed death. The reality was a very poor second to my memories of her.
“My whole life has been a lie,” I said, “and I don’t see how one night is going to change any of that.”
38
SENETSU
I was in the middle of cooking when Tokai arrived. The kitchen was filled with steam that clung to the walls like sweat. My sleeves were rolled up, my face flushed.
Saji had barely opened the front door to her before she marched into the kitchen. She gripped the back of one of the dining chairs and stared straight at me.
“Good evening, Tokai,” I said without a smile. “You’ve caught us in the middle of family time.”
“We keep an open door policy here, no matter what time of day.”
“Of course. And it’s always open to you. Would you like to join us?” I gestured towards the bubbling pans. “It won’t be too long now.”
“No, thank you. I take my meals in the hut, surrounded by my friends.” Everything she said was laced with half-submerged hostility.
“Then, what can we do for you?”
“I came to discuss Omori’s training. I’ve found a suitable rook for her, and she’ll be starting her lessons next week.”
“But she’s only just turned five.”
“I’m sure that you can understand that Omori is a very special girl. Her training will be far more complex, more challenging. It’s also far more vital. We decided that it would be in everyone’s best interests to start training her early.”
The Smudger Page 13
