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

(24) Ande: Glauclins

Ruka tells me and Yaz to stop sparring as we move into inner Ashianti territory. We break apart to catch our breaths—in her case—and nurse our bruises—in mine—as our group draws ever so slightly closer together. Ruka signs something about motion in the water making us easier to detect, though she slips into a couple signs I don't recognize, so it might have something to do with heartbeat detection, too. Sharks.

"The shark-singing hasn't worn off yet?" signs Yaz, visibly skeptical.

"It doesn't seem to have." Ruka is paying attention to something in the water. Likely something none of us can see. "Or it's been refreshed again."

I straighten. Sar explained this as the way the city has defended itself against the Alliance, drawing in white-tip sharks that turn territorial and break up incoming Alliance groups. Sar suspected Arcas wouldn't be able to gather significant numbers of the Alliance around the city until that singing wore off.

"It's definitely weaker," signs Ruka. "It's possible someone refreshed it after the coup and prolonged the time it would take to disappear completely. I'll have to ask."

We keep moving. We're only half a day from the seamount Ruka says she sent a message on ahead about, but I can't detect it in the water yet. I think the current might be flowing the wrong way.

That guess proves correct. I'm still pleased that I detect the small sea-pinnacle's existence before it's visible, this time through the motions of a darting fish that passes us along the way, narrowly escaping Casin's snatch. We ate this morning anyway. I can scarcely remember the days when I was accustomed to eating more than once a day, but only in discrete quantities. Like me and Taiki once did, Ruka, Yaz, and Casin forage constantly across the open ocean, nabbing anything from passing fish to floating barnacles. I'm the only one who seems okay with eating seaweed, but that's just fine by me. It means I get everyone else's.

The pinnacle, when we arrive, gives the impression of being empty. I'd be fooled if the silt on its sides wasn't disturbed, too recently for the current to have smoothed it again. I wonder to what degree open-water Kels notice such things, when they're so unaccustomed to interacting with solid surfaces. In fairness, most mid-water Shalda also lack that skill—Taiki is unusual. I guess he picked up a lot of his rock-related tracking tips from Lix'i.

Ruka sings a short song into the water. I recognize the feather-brush vibration of the seeking song, lowered in volume like it's not meant to travel far. There's a pause in which Casin watches the water closely and Yaz jets in small circles to amuse herself. Then a shadow detaches from the rocks ahead. The Glauclin Kel gasps when they see Ruka. In a moment, more have flooded from around the pinnacle's sides. Ruka is seized by a flurry of greetings, cries, and questions, if my read of people's faces is to to judge. Only some of them use hand-language.

Ruka lets people swarm her for a while, then holds up a hand to quiet the mob. Everyone falls silent immediately. Looking around, I get the sense that these are trained and ready fighters, though I'm not exactly sure what I'm noticing. Spending time with fighters seems to have accustomed me to how they move and look and act. Ruka sets Shalda-sign as the language of conversation.

"Thank you for waiting for me," she signs then.

An older female Kel snorts. "You act like we haven't been at your beck and call for fifteen years already. What happened with the group?"

"I left. Circumstances changed, and it wasn't feasible for me to be there anymore."

I take mental notes—Ruka's being evasive about what drove her out of the Sandsingers. I'll have to be careful not to mention them unless I'm following her lead.