Liem hasn’t exactly been trying to forget about the people he’s known in Taldor. He still mourned his friends and grieved over the loss of his countrymen. But it’s also true that part of him has been reluctant to give his own sense of loss too much weight, worried that his longing for the past will make him unable to move on to new opportunities.

“There is much to remember,” he says, at the same moment that a tall, olive skinned woman looms out of the darkness to throw a burly arm around his shoulders. The sharp scent of liquor blooms in the air as she grins at him, showcasing short tusks, and raises the mug in her other hand.

“I’ll say it, m’Lord: You threw a damn good party. We haven’t had a Taxfest like this since I was a girl.”

Liem seems abruptly to remember something and tries to extricate himself from her grip, saying, “That’s humbling to hear,” but she doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re all right, for being upper-class,” she says. “Here, for luck.”

And she slides her arm down to give him a firm pinch through his robes, making him flinch out of her grasp as she gives a short cackle. The woman wheels away in search of another drinking partner, leaving Liem to brush ineffectually at his clothing and wonder if memories can leave marks.