"Taiki?" signs Naina, concerned. "Is everything okay?"
My face must be showing my revelation. I shake my head to clear it, realize that looks like I'm saying I'm not okay, and sign, "I'm fine. Just... realized something. Sorry. Can I ask you two something?" I gesture to her and Satomi, then the other two. "And then I have another question for you two, if that's okay."
Everyone nods. Naina and Satomi join me in a little side huddle, where I deliver the proposition to come see Ande with me. Satomi agrees immediately. Naina looks down.
"You don't have to," I sign, but I don't think she sees it. Satomi nudges her.
"I don't know if she'll want to see me," Naina signs at last.
I tilt my head. "Didn't you used to be friends?"
It's the most I know about the two of them, but Ande doesn't talk much about it, and dodges the question when I ask. I now wonder if there's more to the story.
"You don't know that," Satomi is signing. "You already said she's changed. Have you talked to her since then?"
"Since when?"
"I don't know. Since you left the islands? Since you noticed she'd changed? How long as it been?"
Five moons, I know; the last time Ande and Naina would have seen each other was when we left Ande's people with my tribe. Ande's changed so much even since then.
"I think she may want to see you," I sign cautiously. I actually have no idea, but I do know Ande misses her village. And distance can make even people you didn't get along with feel better than they are.
Naina fidgets for a while longer, then signs, "Then I'll come. But she may still not want to talk to me."
There's nothing I can say to that, so I wrap up the conversation and we rejoin to the other two. This time, I turn to both and sign, "Do either of you remember an islander in your village named Makeba?"
Their brows both furrow, and they glance at one another.
"Isn't that the one who disappeared?" the girl signs to her companion, who nods slowly.
"I think so?" he signs. "I'd have to check with goma Bibi."
"But she was in your village?" I sign. "She came from Fotaloa."
"We were the only village on the island, I think."
That's the first answer I need. These are Makeba's people. The one who disappeared, though, is a lead I want to follow. "Can you take me to that goma? I need to talk to her."
Both confirm that Satomi and Naina have nothing more to talk to them about, and promise to be back once they've taken me where I need to go. It takes a lot of weaving through the tunnels of Roshaska, and a lot of asking other people, to find the old islander they're talking about. Goma Bibi is even older than most of the gomas in Ande's village: so old, her hair has gone completely white, making a cloud like deep-sea coral about her head. The two younger Kels who brought me confirm that I don't need anything else from them, and dash off again.
"What can I help you with, love?" signs goma Bibi. "You're from the tribe that the Telu village lives with now, are you not?"
"Yes. I wanted to ask you something. What was the last you knew about a Kel named Makeba?"
The goma stills. Her smile falls, and her eyes search my face. "It's been a long time since I saw that name," she signs in a murmur.
"I heard she disappeared."
A slow nod. "She was with us for four years after we reached the ocean. She was... young, at the time. Maybe a year or two younger than you are when she left."
"Left?"
"She wanted to help other islanders. We were trying to stay alive, and she... didn't think it was enough. She wanted us all to go back and help others. Only one went with her. Neither ever returned."
"What was the one's name?"
"Calirana."
Dead, then. Or at least no longer with the Sandsingers. I've never known a Calirana among them, and I've known them for years.
"What about you?" asks the goma. "How did you learn that name? Did those other two tell you?"
"No. I've met her. Makeba, I mean. She's still alive."
Goma Bibi's hand goes to her mouth and stays there.
"She's still helping the islanders," I continue. "She has a whole group now, though it's not doing as well as it used to. I know where she is... well, where their camp is, when they spend time there. It's by the islands."
"How close?"
"Three days?"
Goma Bibi's hand moves to her chest, over her heart, like this is almost too much to bear for her. After a long moment, she removes it again to sign, "We lost contact with her. She made one visit, after starting that group... she did not have enough people yet, so she asked for more. None joined her. We all apologized. She left again, but then a storm displaced us, and something we don't know displaced her. I do not know if she has come looking for us, but we have looked for her. We've never seen her again."
I don't know what might have displaced the early Sandsingers from wherever they camped first, but moving to the stone forest would have sealed her village's inability to find them. Chura's Skull is well protected, not just by the forest itself, but by Chura's Curse. Anyone who swam in that direction in an attempt to find Makeba would simply get turned around until they gave up again. It would be a fair assumption that she would not be hiding in there, if the searchers could not get through.
"I can take someone to see her," I sign. "I want to connect with her again; the area she's in shelters at least one other Shalda tribe, and I want to bring them here if they're still there and want to come. And I have questions for Makeba. If someone from your village wants to talk to her, too, they can come."
"There is someone who would dearly want to talk to her. Come. I know where she is."
I follow. Goma Bibi leads us through this corner of Roshaska with the precision of someone who's already memorized her way around, an impressive accomplishment for how little time her village has been here. At the room we finally stop outside, she pokes her head through the door and flickers what appears to be a light-name. Someone startles at the sight of it and comes to join us outside the door.
It's a woman about Makeba's age. She's let her hair out like Ande likes to, and is still threading fingers through it when she joins us, combing for nonexistent knots like she's been at this for a while already. She only drops her hands to sign, "You need me?"
Goma Bibi beckons her to the nearest unoccupied room. Once there, she simply signs, "Makeba is alive."
The sequence of expressions that passes over the woman's face at that news tells me one thing: Makeba meant a lot to her. A former partner, maybe, or at least a friend.
"Where?" she asks, hands nearly tripping over each other in her haste to make the signs. "Who found out? How do they know? Is she—"
She seems to notice me and cuts short.
"It was me," I sign. "She's alive and still helping islanders; her group has their base near the island of the yellow fish. I've known her for years already. I didn't know her village was still alive."
I never really thought about it. Understandably, I know, given my mental state for most of my years of knowing Makeba, but even if I'd thought about it, there wouldn't really have been anything I could do. It's been hard enough for my tribe to find any others for generations already. Finding a specific one just isn't something we can contemplate.
"I'm going to go visit her after a different meeting I'm leaving for tomorrow," I continue. "I can take you there."
"Please." Her eyes are begging. "I'll come."
Goma Bibi has retreated surreptitiously. I talk with the woman—her name is Luli—for a while longer, but it's mostly her asking questions: what Makeba is doing now, who she's with, how long the journey will be. I have to break the news that the other Kel she left her village with isn't around anymore. I've never even seen or heard her name among the Sandsingers. By the pain on both these island Kels' faces, that means she's probably dead. Apparently she was too committed to Makeba's cause to have backed out in anything short of an absolutely terrible fight. Which Makeba has had with people before, I know, but to my knowledge, few to none of those people have been other islanders.
The question now is whether Luli will come with us to our meeting with Ande. I've already pushed Keshko's person-limit, and I don't want to impose. I arrange with Luli to wait at Roshaska's edge for when I return, so we can leave from there immediately. With less than eleven moons left in the islanders' prophecy now, we don't have time to waste. I'll just have to arrange with Satomi and Naina and maybe the Risi-singers I spoke to already today to keep the tribe here if there's any question of leaving that seems like it might succeed.
It's easy enough to arrange this by the next day. When I track down the Risi-singers, Neem has already come and spoken to them, giving them permission to intercept other mid-water Shalda tribes. Qi'u has given the same warning about those tribes only being able to stay if they play nice, but the last I see the Risi-singers, they've recruited at least one of the other people they confirmed to share their cause, and have set about campaigning with an energy that makes me smile.
I check in with Itta and Sachi one last time, then find my way through Roshaska to join the group gathering in the conch room. Ande's parents are there; I talked to them, too. We're waiting on Naina and Satomi, who show up shortly after with their daggers at their belts. I notice Keshko noticing. I hope they approve, but they've always been almost impossible to read. They just get everyone's confirmation that we're ready to leave, then lead the way out of Roshaska.
We swim low. I think that's just Keshko's natural state, but they also watch the sky and water all around us incessantly, and tell those of us with lights to dim them. Their own tail is dark after however long they've been out of reach of the sun. We only maintain enough light to keep from crashing into things as we weave between the ruins of Roshaska, then follow its chasm downslope to the open, deep-sea plain. Here, we strike out sideways. My people have never come this way. We always swim straight out onto the plain.
Keshko knows where they're going, and Neem also seems to. That makes me feel a little better about the unfamiliar territory, though I keep thinking I hear Gutu, and Keshko's constant shoulder-checks aren't helping. The water never vibrates, so I know the sound is an illusion, but that doesn't stop it from putting me on edge. We follow the drop-off until the sky overhead loses the faint blue tint of daytime. Then Keshko stops. We all wait against the stones while they and Neem both run a long series of checks on the water, and I notice Satomi making some of her own. When they've confirmed at least the lack of immediate danger—I wouldn't call it safety—we break away from the wall and strike out into the open water.
I'm struck immediately by the similarity to me, Ande, and Sar's journey to find the Seers. The feeling of leaving the rocks behind—of having the nothingness of the ocean floor stretch out to every side—engulfs me, and for a moment, I panic. Sar isn't here. This was the moment back then when I realized my lack of direction sense. I run a mental inventory of my companions, but half of them are island Kels, and both Neem and Satomi are mid-water Shalda like me. Then my gaze lands on Keshko, and I feel silly. They're a shark. Sharks have directional senses.
Do all sharks have directional senses?
I edge my way up through the group to Keshko's side. They're obviously navigating, but I can't tell how. I ask.
"Current-smell, mostly," they sign back without looking over. "Some sea-trails." They point towards the faintly visible tracks of deep-sea Nekta that cross our paths here with much greater regularity than they did on our search for the Seers. "Only some of them will move very far from the rocks, so the rest disappear over time."
No directional sense. Several new ways of navigating, though. I want to ask Keshko to show me how they're doing this, but they don't seem to appreciate my intrusion, and go back to what they're doing the moment they're not talking to me. I retreat again.
We reach a seamount early in the night, surprisingly close to Roshaska. It's a pinnacle, I think, with sheer sides and a base that rises from the seafloor with very little warning. We swim up. My heart starts to beat harder as the pressure of the ocean's waters eases its grip around my body. I could convince myself that I'm only making my people's nightly migration up through the water, but then the rock beneath us begins to curve, and our paths curve with it. By the time we're swimming horizontally, the ground beneath us is worn smooth by the constant washing of the water over ancient stone. Keshko murmurs something to Neem, who flashes his lights into the darkness. Lights flash back from up ahead.
I want to jet back. I want to sprint all the way to the pinnacle's edge and dive there, out of sight of every having to have this conversation. I want to hide behind the others, knowing that the moment Ande sees her parents, she will be distracted, and I can make my escape. But I don't do any of those things, because while I might be a coward, I'm not that much of one. And so I clench both fists and put on my bravest face as we join the lights and brighten ours to come face to face with Ruka, Casin, Yaz, and Ande.