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

(23) Sar: Calm Before the Storm

For all the time Vibi spends needling El about sea-goddess tails, we reach the region around Alaga without a single encounter with them. I wonder sometimes whether the creatures can detect when someone has the ability to speak to them, or whether El has actually been sneaking out when Vibi and her other Kels are asleep. They always post guards, but Rapal's top hunters don't get that title for nothing. I'd trust El to slip past them and find a place in private to make friends with the local sea-goddess tails.

I've never seen El in action, but I've heard enough stories to picture how sea-goddess tail singing works. Apparently El's the only hunter in Rapal who can bring in fish the size of Kels within a matter of days. I've heard he strikes deals with the local sea-goddess tails—the ones around Rapal all know him—to herd large schools of fish together, splitting the hunting spoils. I'd love to see it sometime. I guess I'll see the fighting version. But that's a lot more nerve-wracking when I know all too well from stories how that works, too.

We settle on an island a day's swim from Alaga. The Alliance has been and gone through this area, but they didn't drive out the local Kels like they did with seamounts and atolls further up the Gods' Teeth. Vibi makes contact with the local people, who hide in dens from us at first, then emerge with grateful faces when they find out who we are.

I eavesdrop on the conversations. The people here won't recognize me—I've never been to this island in particular—but it still helps the negotiation to have Kels on hand with Ashianti tails. Bit by bit, the local story emerges. The people here have lived under the Alliance's thumb for years already, allowed to keep their seamounts so long as a portion of the food they produce goes to the Alliance. The only reprieve they get is when Alliance forces are called away to other raids and activities. People here can't leave their islands, and couldn't possibly get far enough to escape before their oppressors returned. Most don't want to anyway. Unable to swim between the seamounts, they're as confined to their traditional homes as Ande's people, and their attachment to those places is equally strong.

I listen in for as long as the negotiations and information trading lasts, then slip away. I track down Innis first, to find him sitting halfway down the seamount, just watching the water.

"Is El out there?" I sign.

He nods, but doesn't elaborate.

"We should see if we can find the local Saru people." I circle around in front of him, focusing his split attention. "You know this area better than I do."

Innis grimaces. Rather than answer, he clenches and unclenches his fists for a while, then throws a glance over his shoulder and lowers his voice.

«El and I were talking» he says. «Neither of us likes the idea of bringing in too many other people for this raid.»

"The diversion won't work if we don't have support. The group in Rapal is counting on us."

«I know. I just...» He trails off, then drags both hands down his face. Stressed again. Or still. He hasn't really shed that stress in all the time we've been traveling. «Can we wait for El to get back first? He's looking into something.»

I relent, if only because I want to know what El is up to as well. He's been telling Vibi all along that he won't be singing for sea-goddess tails except on the raid or in an emergency, but the way that Innis talks about it makes me think there's something more. Innis doesn't look about to move from his post, so I find myself food, then rejoin him when I spot El's shadow returning from the lower water. He pulls up alongside us, close enough that I know he wants secrecy.

«I know the ones here» he says. «Sar, don't tell Vibi. I guessed already that the ranges of the ones I know around Rapal extend this far, and I was right.»