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

(26) Nightcatcher

Taiki doesn't say a word all the way back up the canyon. We stay close—closer than I would like—with my dagger drawn and him humming some covert version of the sounding song. I asked him once what the difference was between it and the seeking song, given the similar purposes they seem to serve. I learned they're quite distinct. The seeking song is sensitive to Kels and only Kels, which on first thought is exactly what we need here. But the sounding song is only felt by its singer and those immediately around them.

Seeing Taiki here, I'm reminded of my conversation with Satomi, about the songs and how long it takes to master them. How few of them most Kels know. Taiki doesn't seem bound by those limits. It's one more strike against the shattered trust I once had in him. Nobody that smart spirals this far by accident. Either he's spun out on some trauma that he's never recovered from, or he's in this with an ulterior motive in mind. Either way, he's not in his right mind.

We reach the top of the canyon after a far longer swim than I remember. Either Taiki has taken us farther up it, or some combination of the current and my whirling thoughts is warping my sense of distance. We drift to a halt on our stomachs just below the canyon rim. Taiki gestures for me to wait and creeps up to peek over the edge. He stiffens. Rather than jerk back, he eases downwards, already humming a different song than when he left.

I've never felt this one before. I scratch one hand as it starts to go numb, then twist my head sharply. Is my vision blurring? I can't taste the water properly. Taiki lights one hand the barest amount.

"That's normal," he signs. "Lie still."

I try, though my whole body now feels padded against any sensation from the water or the rocks. It's a horrifying experience. My vision has dimmed, and none of my other senses are working properly.

And then something moves up on the canyon rim. My problems with lying still evaporate as the silhouette of a Kel glides overhead, two arm-spans away. It's big. Bulky and broad-shouldered, with a muscular body and a thick fish's tail. Its tail-fin dips back and forth with a tight efficiency that makes me shudder to think what its owner's top speed is. The Kel is already fast, and it's barely trying.

The Kel swims a short ways out over the canyon, where its silhouette is lost from sight. I feel the pulse of the water a split heartbeat before it whizzes overhead again. Taiki stops singing and trains his attention on the faint vibration of voices somewhere up on the plain. They grow fainter as the Kels move away.

Only as the song's effects wear off do I realize Taiki is gripping my hand. I shake him off violently. Rashi help me. He blinks and murmurs something that looks apologetic, like he didn't realize. I don't know what his impression of this alliance is, but it clearly differs from mine.

I don't think I've ever seen Taiki embarrassed, and this is no exception. He rouses himself and drifts back to the canyon rim. This time, he's there for so long without a twitch of motion that I begin to wonder if he's fallen asleep. I cast about for something long enough to jab him with. Before I can find it, he gives a small head-shake and signs the all-clear. Rather than swim up onto the plain, though, he retreats and strikes out horizontally along the rocks of the canyon wall. I take a moment to scrub my free hand with sand before I trail after him at as much of a distance as I safely can.

We can only go so far before the canyon runs out and the plain greets us with a mocking lack of cover. I'd like to think we're past the Saru-Kels and into some kind of safe zone, but Taiki is more tense than ever. It runs up and down the lights of his tail in little shivers, scarcely visible with the stars already so dim I can barely see them. When I drift up beside him, he starts, and a nasty shudder extinguishes his outline altogether. The stars return slowly.