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

(14) Taiki: Summons

I had my revelation about getting people to work together three days ago, and I haven't stopped pacing for all three days. My people catch me occasionally to ask questions or favors, but for the most part, the islanders among them help them first. Ande's village and their Karu-allied counterparts integrated almost immediately with Hentea's people, and the four generations Hentea's people have already spent in the ocean only seem to solidify that bond. They're teaching all the other islanders about the ways of both Follow the Moon and the deep ocean in general, and Ande's village passes it on to my people by default.

Which leaves me time to think.

I think I'm on the brink of something, but the pieces floating around inside my mind haven't fit together yet. There are so many Kel peoples in the ocean who can help each other, but the challenge will always be connecting them to one another, and managing relationships once that connection takes place. Connecting comes first, though. Which is the piece that keeps blocking me, because every time I picture a connection, it's someone else making it. Someone else who knows the people on both sides better. Someone who isn't here—and isn't me.

I've been feeling like this for two of the three days already. Like I'm almost at a breakthrough, but no matter how many laps I swim around Follow the Moon's corner of Roshaska, that lightning-strike isn't coming. I want to tear my hair out, but that won't do anything, so I just pace farther, all the way to where my people have collected about half our Risi shoals as they drift down into Roshaska along the current that flows through its central roads.

I hang out and eavesdrop for a while here. The conversation has changed since I last listened sometime yesterday. People have stopped talking about leaving immediately when we have all our tiny squid back, which is an improvement that sets a little of my stress at ease. I think the islanders' enthusiasm for being here might be wearing off on my people. Or maybe it's the circulating conversation about the Unity Song. I think Satomi has been working at that one; she's always been more willing to go on the offensive than the rest of the tribe, so the idea of a song that powerful is appealing to her. Or maybe it's just been sinking in that Andalua isn't on our side.

When the conversation of the Risi-watchers meanders into Risi-singing again, I start to turn away. I'm ready to keep pacing, but I only get halfway back to the city center before something stalls my tail. I've talked to almost no one in the last three days, and that's one of the things I decided I wanted to change. These may be my people here, but I haven't really talked to them much, either. Not outside orienting them to Roshaska, or burning all my energy on conversations about Karu-Kels that swim on the current's edge of turning into arguments.

Before habit can catch me, I turn around and return to the Risi-watchers. I let myself be seen this time, and they hail me cheerfully. It's been a good day for their tiny-squid collection. I return their greetings with as much cheerfulness as I can muster, and try to pull my mind back from its insistent whirling enough to focus on actually talking to people.

"You're just in time," signs Itta, grinning. "We were wondering about something."

I perk up, and the noise inside my head quiets a little. "Wondering what?"

"How many Shalda tribes come through this way? Do the people here know?"

"About a dozen. But that was last year, and they say they lose one almost every year. It used to be a lot more."

"Do they know how many have been by already?"

"I haven't asked. Why?"

"How comfortable would Follow the Moon be if we intercepted other Shalda tribes?"

I freeze completely. In all the time since my people arrived here, the stress of getting even them to stay has completely wiped consideration of other Shalda people from my mind. But of course my people would be thinking of it. They spend half their time searching for other Shalda tribes. All this time, I've associated that with venturing out into the cold, dark water and singing those songs, hoping nobody hears them who would want to cause us harm. But this is a migration route. It's migration season. We could just wait for other Shalda tribes to join us here.