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

(1) Ande: Follow the Water

The thing nobody ever tells you about jellyfish is that they don't seem to have a brain.

In my people's stories, the bowl-shaped sea creatures are spirits of the sea: the ghosts of Kels who die while still missing a loved one. The problem is, the Kels don't think the same way, and I've yet to see a jellyfish live up to the reputation we give them.

Taiki looks on wearily as I poke the jelly-like bell again. I'm not being entirely idiotic; the jellyfish is a small one, missing the long, stinging tentacles so many of its kind have. I don't know that it can't still sting me somehow, so I'm taking precautions, keeping my hands far from the edge of its bell and making sure to stay on the side it's facing towards. But the more I tease the thing, the more confident I am it's not going to hurt me.

I always wondered where jellyfish kept their brains. The ones that got caught in Telu's rock pools never seemed to stop swimming even as seabirds tore them apart, and when they washed up on our beaches, they dried out like fish slime left to cure on a rock. Like there was nothing to them at all. I poked over their flat, papery carcasses, but never found any sign of the wrinkled organ that made all other fish and birds act funny when it got damaged or speared.

Unable to find their brains, I eventually came to the conclusion that jellyfish didn't have one. Which was incredible, really. I'd always thought, given their prevalence among the creatures we caught and ate, that they were something of a necessity.

"Are you done yet?" signs Taiki.

I prod the bell again and dance around to the jellyfish's other side as it tips away from me. It hardly responds to my touches, and though I've been at this for a good few hundred heartbeats, it hasn't shown signs of fear or anger yet. It's fascinating. So is the novelty of getting to do this away from the people of my village. Goma Tashagi would probably take a switch to my backside if she caught me prodding a drifting spirit, but Taiki doesn't care. Well, he does care, but he cares that I've been here poking a jellyfish for the last few hundred heartbeats when we've been swimming for eight days and still have places to be. As far as his people are concerned, these are the bugs of the sea: sometimes pretty, often dangerous, and always absolutely everywhere.

A draft of a current at my elbow alerts me to the arrival of a second jellyfish, making for the surface as determinedly as the first. Mine's bigger, but the new one is the same variety, with a cute, flower-shaped pattern embedded in its clear topside. Its arrival distracts me enough to lose track of the one I was poking, and the next moment, a vicious sting shoots up my hand. I yelp and whip it back.

Taiki doesn't even look smug, though one of his eyebrows goes up the slightest amount and I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch. I make a rude sign at him and stick out my tongue for good measure. He never warned me off this particular jellyfish, so I doubt it's toxic enough to cause me any real harm, but Rashi help me, my hand stings.

"Now are you done?" signs Taiki.

I leave the jellyfish to resume its upward journey. We're half a day's travel from the roots of the islands now. Taiki isn't nervous enough yet for us to be in full Karu territory, so I'm taking my chance to relax. We'll have danger in abundance soon enough.

At least the open water has given me another chance to practice deep-sea navigation, and I have to give Taiki points on that front. His skills continue to impress me, and he's patiently fielded my questions about how he does pretty much everything. The jellyfish-poking wasn't entirely for fun. He taught me today that certain species will turn with the current when righting themselves after a disturbance, even if that current is too faint for a Kel to feel. He was right. I've tested.

I swim to catch up with him, to find him humming into the water. I fix my attention immediately on the currents. He says the water changes when we're nearing an island, and this makes twice now that he's caught the change and gauged the island's distance before I've even clued in. He's also refused to tell me just what the change is, giving me a highly effective puzzle to focus on anytime we're near an island. He gets more points for that. Keeping me occupied is a smart move, and I love puzzles, so everyone wins.