Listen to the Water | FULL SERIES | Wattys 2022 Shortlist | ✔

(32) Anyone Who Knows

I don't fully remember what happens then. I remember my tail not working, and drifting to the side of the pool to sag against the sharp wall. I remember resting my head where the thin rims of the waves trickle over the rock, just cool and clear enough to keep me conscious. I remember Taiki appearing at some point, then the tunnel again. He puts me right back on the uncomfortable rock ledge and sings over me. I curl up against the wall and close my eyes.

The seabirds don't spread out like that when my people are on the south shore. They congregate in hope of food, and scatter where teenagers sling rocks at them, trying to catch one to roast over the fires that night.

How long does it take to make enough boats for my whole village? Could they have taken to the sea and made it to another island? No, the Sami and Karu are at war over Telu's waters. The boats would never have made it. Which leaves me with the option I'm most afraid of.

My village isn't on Telu anymore. They're not even on land. My goal has fractured like a split stone: here around me is my island: land and safety, food that isn't fish, and an absence of predators. If I ask for Rashi's help here, I can be rid of this fish tail and go home. I can dance for the sun and roll in the sand and sleep on a proper bed again. But there are no people. If I go home now, I'll be alone, left on my island to fend for myself and slowly go insane, if the prophecy doesn't get me first. If the prophecy is real.

Or I can find my people. If they escaped in boats, they'll be on a nearby island. If they have fish tails like I do, they'll be in the sea.

There's not even a question about which I'll choose.

Every part of me begs to go back to land, but this isn't about my island anymore. This is about much, much more than Telu, or the prophecy, or how I ended up in the sea. This is about my family, my kin-by-village, my village itself. I may not like all of them, but that doesn't mean they're not my people.

Only the Kels can tell me what happened here. Taiki jets back faster than a fleeing grasshopper when I turn towards him. I don't remember drawing my dagger, but it's in my hand.

"Where are they?"

Fear battles his nervous smile. Why won't he stop smiling? It seems involuntary, slipping through the cracks of his expression and clashing with the desperation in his eyes. "I—I don't know," he signs.

"Then who does?" An echo of the conversation stirs in my memory. I've asked this before. And he's given an answer. "You said you knew someone who might have been there if they went into the water. Who are they?"

"The Sandsingers. But they're dan—"

"I don't care." I slip off the rock. Taiki backs away as I advance on him, but he's clumsy when swimming in any direction but a backwards jet. I circle until I've trapped him against the wall. "Do you know where they are?"

He nods, pressed against the rock like that will get him any further from my dagger.

"Take me there."

"We can't. It's—"

"It's what? Too dangerous? That's your job. Too far? I don't care."

"It's day! We can't leave here yet."

The slope outside really isn't a place I want to face in the daytime. It was bad enough at night. I have a sneaking suspicion he's right, and if this is some kind of stalling tactic, at least he knows the consequences. "There isn't a deeper way out of here?"

Taiki shakes his head miserably. I leave him and pace like a fish in a rock pool, first around our close confines, then up and down the shaft. Having our next destination to cling to helps keep my hands steady and my head mostly clear. So long as we'll find my village at the end of all this, I can cope. So long as Taiki continues to obey me and guide us through the ocean, I'll be fine.