This does not bode well. I follow wordlessly as the Sandsinger leader takes me back through the entrance chasm and across the gap to the larger stone hill. We circle its flanks until Makeba pulls up at a half-cave bitten from the rock. I linger outside. The pillars that make up this formation break off to form the alcove floor and ceiling, and there's nothing to tell me the ceiling ones won't mortar-and-pestle me if they come down like the many broken pillars that litter the top of the fortress.
Makaba points to the cave wall opposite her. I come in and press myself against it. The next moment, I'm pinned to the stone with the iron bar of Makeba's forearm across my throat.
Her signs' eddies brush my face. "I've got questions for you. Are you going to cooperate?"
It takes me several petrifying heartbeats to gulp enough water to confirm that I'm neither dead nor being strangled, though I'm not going anywhere. My hand fumbles for my dagger. An icy chill engulfs me when I find an empty sheath.
"I had Keshko take it off you," signs Makeba, her stony expression unmoved. "Looks like I made a good call."
The shark teenager. I should have known they were dangerous.
Makeba changes the topic. "I see you've teamed up with the drifter."
She's left my hands free to sign, like she's not at all concerned that I could hurt her with them. "Taiki?"
Her eyebrows hike up. "Told you his name, did he?"
"Is that so special?"
"You don't strike me as the type who deserves to know it."
I bristle at the slight, even in my precarious position. "There's something wrong with him anyway. You can take it up with him, then, if you think he's made a poor judgement call."
"That's not what we do here. Especially not with him. Have you been threatening him?"
"So what if I have?"
"Then you had better start talking before I throw you into Karu territory with a rock tied to your tail."
Rashi help me, she's dead serious. My heartbeat multiplies from a single drum to an entire drumming circle, hammering against my lungs. "You can't kill me." I lift my chin with all the haughtiness I can muster when she's a hand's length taller than I am and threatening my death. "I'm the Singer."
"There is no Singer."
The hits me like a punch in the stomach, but I can talk fast when I'm scared. "And a sun-dancer."
"Then I've got news for you." Her face is cold. "So was I."
That slaps all my comebacks out of the water. I stare at her blankly. "What?"
"Have you ever heard of Fotaloa?"
That's an island. Unless I'm very much mistaken, it's the next one in the chain after Tanalogochi: a splash of land less lush than Telu, but several times larger. My village has relatives there, unvisited since the last time someone made it across in a boat.
"You're Fotaloa's sun-dancer?" I sign.
"Was. There are no people left on that island."
Being told as much by a fellow islander manages to carve an even bigger hole in my chest where I thought the prophecy was already done carving. "But... a sun-dancer." I'm searching for distraction—for her, or for me. "Does that mean you're Rashi-blessed?"
"I am."
"But you sing."
She shrugs. "Listen to the water. You can learn."
I can't. I can't sing. I'm not the Singer.
I don't know what I am anymore.
"Twenty years ago," signs Makeba, "a Shalda-Kel met a child on the shores of my island. They convinced her to keep their presence secret until they had taught her the Song. Then they sent her back to tell her village. That girl was my sister. I was the first one she transformed."
The Song is real. I press my head back against the stone to keep the world from spinning. Masae wasn't joking. And she isn't just telling a story. This is happening.
But twenty years? Makeba would have been a child... a preteen at best. How did she survive? I can't help but glance at the scars that web her body.
Makeba gives a mirthless smile. "The only injury I got then was a skinned elbow. A shark found me, and we got curious enough about each other that I followed it out to open water. The diving call caught me there. I hid alone in the Shalda-sana for half a moon before the Song spread and the rest of my village tried to reach the water. Less than half of them made it."
"They didn't transform?"
"They did. The Karu got them."
So many people.
"I started the Sandsingers in memory of that one Shalda-Kel who was brave enough to reach my village," signs Makeba. "I've spent the fifteen years since gathering Kels who are willing to help me. Kels who aren't waiting around for the Singer to come solve all their problems. We're almost at the end of the prophecy. The Singer isn't coming."
I swallow the dry, pasty feeling in my throat. I can tell she's building up to something with this, but I can't tell what it is yet. "You said there is no Singer. Now you're saying they're not coming?"
"Some Shalda-Kels have a version of the prophecy that has no Singer. I'm inclined to believe it was added."
"But you don't have proof."
Makeba bares her teeth. Are mine that sharp? "I lost two-thirds of my village that night. We here have watched for fifteen years while the fish disappear and the Sami and Karu kill our people. We've seen villages remember the Song and try to reach the water without us, only to be mown down the moment they touch the waves. We've lost dear friends while guiding others. I've almost died so many times, the only thing that scares me is what will happen to the people still trapped on the islands when I'm gone. And no Singer has ever come to help."
She's deathly calm, though her eyes are black fire burning into mine. "So don't you dare tell me there's a Singer, or that you're the Singer, until you know what that means to us. Until you know what we've been through. What we went through to get even you into the water. You want to know what happened to your village? We sang them down just over half a moon ago. They tried to kill us, and then they tried to kill each other. In the time it took us to convince them they weren't all cursed, the Karu found us and attacked."
She releases me. I slide down the wall, numb all over.
"And you want to know what's 'wrong' with Taiki?" she continues.
I want her to stop. I don't want to learn any more, when I already know it's going to hurt. I drop my head and cover my eyes.
Makeba drops in front of me. A grip like a trap's vice secures my chin and jerks it up again. "You threatened him. You can deal with the consequences," she signs, a snarl on her face. "Two years after we started the Sandsingers, we found a Shalda child alone in the deep. From what he said, we guessed that he and several other children had been out playing when diving Sami attacked their tribe. Slaughtered them, every last one. This child returned on a simple errand and saw it all happen.
"He went back to the other children and told them that the tribe had left, leaving them behind by accident. Then he kept that up, keeping their hopes alive, while they searched the Shalda-sana for help. They starved to death one by one. He was the oldest. He gave them all the food he found. He told them stories, and smiled to make them feel more at ease. In the end, he was the only one to survive. He was already broken when we found him—so delirious, he had convinced even himself that his village would come back for him. And he couldn't believe that the other children were dead. He never stopped smiling."
I'm crying silently. Makeba's not done.
"So you know what he probably felt when you came along, alone and looking for your village? What you took advantage of? Taiki's a lot kinder than I am, but even I'd forgive him for believing in his village's stupid Singer. You're the third person he's brought here looking for their people. The third. And I get to watch every time as it crushes him all over again when they discover that their people are dead. I'll tell you for his sake that yours aren't, but you can take a heartbeat to think about how you've treated him."
She releases me with a jerk and lets me put my head down.
That's it. That's everything I've ever known about Taiki, wrapped up in cloth and laid to rest. I feel the swish of the water as Makeba leaves. I would suddenly be okay if those giant pillars above me came crashing down, stomping me out so I wouldn't have to feel this anymore. I was just trying to get back to my village. I was lost, and alone, and scared. Is that not enough reason to do what I did?
Only it's not, because Taiki is all of those things, too, and he's been all of those things for much, much longer. Whatever I felt, there's no justification for how I've treated him. All this time, he's shown me nothing but kindness, and it just made me hate him more because it made me feel guilty. I manage a laugh. What did I think I was escaping? It's all caught up to me now. Like some being other than a god decided I should pay for what I've done, and sent me two hundred heartbeats in a cave with Makeba.
Do I even deserve help anymore?
The sinking feeling starts at my tail-tip and spreads all the way up my body, carrying hopelessness with it. Who am I to expect that other people should help me? After this... after everything?
Maybe I should just leave. Get out of Taiki's life and let him go back to his tribe... the tribe. Somewhere—anywhere—that treats him the way he deserves.
I push myself up. The stone forest greets me with open arms as I plunge into it, letting the gloomy water swallow up the stone fortress and the Sandsinger camp and leave them behind. I swim until I'm ready to collapse, then drift to the first crevice I see and wedge myself into it. I haven't rested since we left my island yesterday. I jam my eyes shut and will the nothingness of sleep to make me less miserable.
It complies. When I wake up, it's still daytime. The crevice I'm in is comfortable for a slot in the rock, so I curl up and hug myself, just watching the world outside. Now and then, a school of fish glides by like the most graceful birds I've ever seen. Sometimes they pick at things on the rocks. Other times, they just keep swimming, the image of the callous world continuing on even as my corner of it falls apart.
I've never felt so wretched. Everything's broken... everything's gone. My village got attacked. Some of them are still alive, if I believe Makeba, but I've got a long, slogging journey ahead of me to gain the skills I'll need just to find the survivors. I don't deserve to ask Taiki for help again, let alone any of the Sandsingers. I have to do this alone.
And my people are dying. People died even to get me here, in the water where I belong. Others are still trapped on the islands, and nobody but the Sandsingers is coming to save them.
What if I am the Singer? Makeba said Taiki has brought people here before, but she didn't say he thought the same about them. And even if he has, I'm still unusual. I've been visited by an Alualu, and even sharks and giant octopi shy away when I threaten them. And now Makeba's proven that even a Rashi-blessed can learn to sing. I try a faltering note, but it hits my tail all wrong, and I swallow it again. Am I just embarrassing myself? Deluding myself into thinking I'm special again, when I've got nothing to my name but a basketful of errors and the blessing of a god who can't reach me here?
I never learned the story of the Alualu. Or of Roshaska. There are so many times I could have asked Taiki while we travelled together, but I never did.
Except to suit my own purposes, I've never asked him anything at all.
I stay in the crevice for a long time. When my stomach reminds me that my body exists, I ignore it and hunch down further until it stops rumbling. Coming to terms with my life minus Taiki is proving harder than I thought. Half a moon ago, I would have given a lock of my hair to be rid of him, but now that I'm alone, I miss his chatter and his bright, easy smile. He and my dagger were the only good things I had in this cursed ocean. Now I have neither.
I toy with the idea of apologizing, but even the thought of that overwhelms me with guilt. Better that I just leave. Taiki doesn't deserve me, and I'm not about to heap more pain onto the massive, steaming pile this world has already dealt him. It must cost him a fortune in energy just to keep that smile on, and that smile is the thing I'm missing? Who do I think I am? I bury my head on crossed arms and revise my wishes, again and again, until I realize I've run out of them. Did I not deserve any of it at all?
No. I should be allowed to wish for my village, at least. They can't take that away from me. I'm still lost, and alone, and scared, and for all I've done, I still deserve to go home. I cling to that fact as the impossibility of achieving it now threatens to drown me. I'm useless down here. I could have asked Taiki to teach me so many things, but I never did. I'm paying for that, too.
I know someone else who just wants to go home.
The thought rips a choked sob out of. No. It's better if I stay away. If I never touch his life again.
But is it? What would it give Taiki to see me reunited with my family? Isn't that why he sacrificed so much to help me in the first place?
It all makes too much sense now. Taiki is broken. He sees himself in me, or maybe the other children he once tried to bring to safety. His friends, most likely, though they could also have been siblings, or cousins, if the Shalda-Kels even track such things. They all raise their children together. If a single one of them had survived the attack, Taiki would still have a family.
He told the other children they would find their tribe together. He brought them food. He smiled, the only thing he could do for them as they wasted away. What did I trigger when I told him I wanted to find my people? How did he take my response? Is he even aware of how terribly I've walked all over him, or is the desperate compulsion to find what he lost lodged so deep, it takes over everything?
I don't want to see him broken. I suddenly, desperately want him to find his own family again, and it hits me like a dagger in the chest every time. Diving Sami. Of course it was diving Sami. I should have known.
He saw his whole tribe killed. Watched the other children starve. Nearly starved himself.
I'm crying again. How could the world be so unfair to a single person?
How could I be?
I'll go back to whatever is left of my village, down here in the water. We'll never get back to Telu, but that very wish suddenly feels so selfish, it threatens to make me sick. I'll have my family. Even if it's just cousins, aunts, and uncles who survived. And while I ought to get out of Taiki's life, it twists me up inside to rob him of the very thing he helped me for. He wanted to see me get back home. Of all the people he's brought here to Makeba and the Sandsingers, I'm the only one who's offered that chance.
What will that do for him?
I swallow back the tears. Even leaving him behind is selfishness, isn't it. I feel guilty just thinking about facing him again, though even now, he probably wouldn't reject me. It's me who doesn't want to face what I've done.
I never learn.
I spin through those thoughts for so long, the loop I take in my mind gets worn in like an old footpath. And then, like an old footpath, it begins to erode. I guess that's my fault for building it at the edge of a mental cliff to start with. I don't have answers. I never did. And I never made any effort to learn them from the one person who might know.
The ever-deepening spiral of misery is interrupted by a light touch on my arm. I whip my head up and flail for my dagger, only to freeze as I recognize the person now backed against the wall. Taiki's face is peaked and pale, and his body trembles.
He's actually scared of me. And I made sure of it myself.
"Sorry," I manage. I put my head back down. Please go. I've done nothing but hurt you.
He edges towards me again. When I don't look up, he taps me. I can't bring myself to tell him to leave me alone. He waffles for a long time, then retreats.
I don't actually want to be left alone.
The realization twists another part of me that has somehow remained unwrung. I want to puke. Taiki is the closest thing to a friend I've had since Naina and I split paths. He's treated me the way I always wished she would: as an equal, who can match me besides. He's always matched me. He's as smart as I am, if not smarter, and he's the exact kind of competent I admire. I want to help him. I want to see who he really is, beneath all the pain. I have a feeling I'll like that version of him even better.
I can't help him if I push him away.
Taiki is still here. My forehead begins to go numb against my arms, which tingle painfully. I try to be subtle about adjusting them, but the sun is going down now and I have to move properly sooner or later.
I finally lift my head. "You can go if you want."
I want to give him the option, if he's still here because he thinks I'll retaliate if he leaves. Or if he feels obligated to stay. But of course his immediate reply isn't either of those things.
"Are you hurt?" he signs.
I fight the urge to put my head back down as guilt sweeps down all over again. Why is he still trying to look after me? He needs to look after himself first. Only he's never looked after himself, even when he's hurt or hungry or exhausted. Even when I don't tell him to, he's always ignored his own needs in favor of everyone else's.
He was the oldest. He gave them all the food he found. He told them stories, and smiled to make them feel more at ease.
We're just staring at each other now. I have never felt so helpless. He's still hovering, trying so hard not to rush forward and see if I'm okay. Why does he have to be like this?
Why do I have to be like this? I've been nothing but a burden thus far, but it doesn't have to be that way. I might need to rely on his expertise to get me through the ocean, but I'm not useless. And now I can see where he needs help in return. If he doesn't look after himself, the least I can do is start to return what he's always offered me.
"I'm not hurt. How are you?"
"I—" I think I caught him off guard. His eyes search my face, the briefest flicker that I might have missed any other time. His response drives the guilt wave deeper, but this time, I rebuff it. I can't change what I already did, but I can start to make amends.
"I'm serious," I sign. "You were pretty scraped up from crawling through those tunnels. Did you get something for that?"
How he's doing goes deeper than that: I suddenly want to know if he's eaten, if he's slept, if there's anything else he needs. But I don't think I can start with more than one without sending him spinning. Food and sleep are both too connected to those older memories.
"Devir healed them," signs Taiki, remembering as usual to give me a lip-read on the name. He's tense—too tense—and I know exactly why, but the smallest knot in his body eases as he realizes I'm not attacking. His arms creep around him instead, an almost-hug. He's folding in on himself, I can already tell. "Did... did Makeba tell you anything?"
He's not meeting my eye. He never does, when there's a chance that death will be part of the conversation. It haunts his face and his hands and his body language. He wants this answer just as badly as I do, and he's a whole lot closer to breaking than I am if it turns out to be a dead end.
"They're alive," I sign. "Some of them, anyway."
The way his whole body freezes cracks my heart right in half.
He looks at me, stunned. How many years has he been waiting to see that answer? He looks like he almost can't believe it. Like I might be having him on, taunting him, or straight-up lying. Even as I watch, his hands begin to shake.
You know what?
I hold out a hand to him wordlessly. When he just looks confused, I add, "Come on."
He doesn't move. He's either too in shock to respond, or too scared that I'll lash out if he obeys. Or both. I lean over, grab his hand, and pull him after me out of the crevice. I still recognize which direction I came from, so I go that way, pummeling my brain for memories of rocks and cracks and spots of algae as I retrace my previous day's flight from the Sandsinger camp.
"Where are we going?" Taiki asks, his signs small. Does he not recognize the way?
"To find my village."