Memory and Madness

By Alicia Peterson

Of all the unlikely places Kytt had traveled with Captain Gearlock—Sebastian Malstrum to polite society—Liminalis was the first impossible one.

Since arriving in this realm outside of time, they had passed mud huts, a town of chrome and glass, and a lake of mermaids waving greetings. It was a wondrous place—their greatest adventure yet. Too bad she wasn’t speaking to him.

They passed through a meadow in awkward silence broken only by occasional birdsong.

Sebastian cracked first. “I wanted to tell you, Ghost.”

She bristled at the nickname she usually loved. “Tell me what, Captain? That Ptolemy’s Astrolabe actually leads here?” She flung her arms wide, and Sebastian dodged sideways to avoid the back of her hand. “That we’ve been searching for your mother all this time? That you didn’t trust me with that detail?” She pinned him with a glare. “That there’s no treasure?”

She immediately regretted the last outburst. She didn’t care about the treasure. But she was too angry and hurt to take it back.

His jaw clenched. “Don’t worry, Miss Windthorn. I’ll see you home and well-compensated soon.”

“I apologize for being such a burden, Mister Malstrum.”

His eyes rolled heavenward. “I didn’t mean—”

“I can’t blame you for casting me off.” She ignored the twist in her gut. “I obviously would never have helped without the lure of a rich prize. I am a thief, after all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being a secretive ass!” She strode ahead, ignoring his growl of frustration.

As they crested a rise, strains of a high, clear melody met them.

They’d come to a crossroads. A stone’s throw to the right, a young woman perched on a tree stump, strumming a ukulele and singing to an audience of rabbits, squirrels, and what appeared to be a potbellied pig-dragon, all sporting bandages.

To the left, horses, bicycles, and a hovering motorcar with no wheels clustered in the yard around a busy inn.

The girl stopped strumming and waved. “Good morning, friends!” she called. “Are you here for a song?”

“Stay here,” Sebastian grumbled. “I’ll inquire at the inn.” He left without awaiting Kytt’s reply.

“Yes sir, Captain, sir.”

She approached the girl. “Hello, I’m Kytt. I’m new here.”

“My name is Harmony, and I’m new too! I’ve only just begun my sanctuary for creatures in need.” The girl gestured to a rough-hewn hut and barn.

“Call me a creature in need,” Kytt said. “My friend and I are searching for his mother. Have you met a woman named Sophia Malstrum?”

Harmony smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I haven’t. But don’t worry, we’ll find her. I’ll help!”

She skipped into the hut and emerged a moment later wearing a traveling cloak. When she saw Kytt, she smiled brightly. “Good morning, friend! Are you here for a song?”

Kytt’s brow knit in confusion. “You were going to help me find someone?”

Harmony’s smile didn’t falter. “Of course! Let’s ask Mrs. Kumari just past the inn. She knows everyone.”

“Thanks.” Something wasn’t right here, but at least the girl didn’t seem dangerous.

As they walked, Harmony greeted every bird that fluttered by with a whistle and a smile.

She turned to Kytt. “Your friend must love his mother very much. Do you mind if I write a song about your quest?”

“How can I refuse?” When was the last time Kytt had felt uncomplicated happiness like that?

“Wonderful!” Harmony unslung her ukulele. “You’re Kytt. What’s his name?”

“You can call him the fearsome Pirate Gearlock.”

Harmony’s smile slipped. “Gearlock? I…”

“What’s wrong?”

Just then, Sebastian emerged from the inn as they passed. “You didn’t wait.”

“Well spotted, Captain.”

He sighed. “Who’s your friend?”

Harmony’s odd mood vanished like vapor. “Good morning! I’m Harmony Star.”

Sebastian’s polite curiosity morphed into disbelief. “No. You can’t be.”

“You’ve heard of me?” The girl seemed pleased.

“How…?” Sebastian’s face was white as mist.

Kytt pulled him aside. “Captain, are you well?”

“She’s lost so many years.” He swallowed hard. “She’s lost herself.”

The truth fell into place like the final tumbler in a safe. “Is that… your mother?” He nodded. “Why is she calling herself Harmony?”

“It’s a story she told when I was young.” He glanced over with an embarrassed wince. “The adventures of Pirate Gearlock and his first mate, Harmony Star. Her real memories are gone. Only the story is left. And it’s my fault.”

Kytt frowned. “How?”

When he remained silent, her frustration spiked. “You still don’t trust me with the truth.”

Sebastian raked his hands through his hair. “Ghost, I only trust you. Why do you think I dragged you along on this fool’s errand?”

“Then tell me! Please.”

“This isn’t my first time in Liminalis. I passed through the doorway as a child, against my parents’ warnings. My father followed to save me. I got back. He didn’t. Mother went after him.”

“Sebastian, I’m so sorry.” Kytt wished she could comfort him. One look said he didn’t want it. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m staying.”

“Here? Why not bring her home?”

He shook his head. “Stolen memories don’t magically reappear. Forcing her to be Sophia Malstrum again will only cause her pain.”

He straightened, and the unflappable Captain Gearlock returned. “About that king’s ransom I promised—I’ve left documents bequeathing the whole of my fortune to you.”

Kytt’s mouth gaped. “You’ve done what?”

“But I encourage you to keep thieving—I hate to see such talent wasted.”

He wasn’t coming back. A future together, something Kytt had barely allowed herself to consider, shrank into the distance. “You don’t need to do this.” She took his hand. “I don’t want you to do this.”

His mouth quirked. “I’m sorry, Ghost. Please know that you are the memory I will hold tightest.” After a brief squeeze, he let her go.

As she returned to her world, Kytt’s grief crystallized into resolve. Someone had stolen Sophia’s memories and Sebastian’s future. But Kytt Windthorn was a thief, too.

She would steal them back.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alicia Peterson is a former librarian and lifelong nerd. She writes genre-blending flash and YA fiction with strong character voices and quirky humor. She’s drawn to stories at the crossroads between worlds, where the lines between reality and fantasy, sacred and profane get a little wibbly-wobbly. She lives in Northern Minnesota with her husband, two young sons, one old dog, and two dozen accidental chickens.

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