***
The other children gathered around Taba, but kept a respectful distance. She was no longer one of them. Whatever happened tomorrow, she was allowed to drink sea-grape wine now. It was more bitter and salty than she’d expected, but she didn’t make a face as the jug met her lips. After all, she was a woman.
The new young men came forward shyly, flirting and offering her their congratulations. Tal stepped forward, but excused himself quickly, attending to the children. She tried not to look at the disappointment on his face, or feel bad. At least he had been polite, even though they had both known his suit was pointless.
Some of the young women and ur-women approached, too, bolder and louder than the boys. Taba was polite, but didn’t offer them much—after all, marriage and courting were pointless, given that she might be gone tomorrow. She tried not to be disappointed or frightened, or feel even more alone at the strangeness of being the only one in the ceremony. Her arm twinged with the stress, and she let it fall to her side, resting.
Disappointment was foolish. They were here to make her feel special. It might be strange, but it was still a unique day, and her day. The thought of not having to share something was oddly pleasurable.
She picked at the pink flesh of the guldoon idly, munching on the lemfruit and kinamon cake (only a bit stale) and popping kelp crackers into her mouth. It was delicious, but she could barely taste it. She wandered across the sand and tried to get used to her new clothes, the loose white pants and shirt open to the waist. They were so bright and pale that anyone could see her from shore, like another moon.
Her first night as an adult would be spent alone, under the stars, on the special bed. Normally a few other new adults would be with her, laughing and talking before they all went to sleep, but not tonight. Corr and her parents bid her a good night’s rest.
She heard people cleaning as she tossed and turned in the soft sheets, and had an impulse to go help them, just for something to do. She reminded herself that this was her night, and that she was supposed to rest as much as possible. She’d have to wake early tomorrow to meet the seawoman.
Taba tossed and turned, the weight of the black pearl heavier than it had seemed at first. It was the size of her thumbnail, no minor find, but its meaning made it a hundred times more weighty. The sky above her gleamed with milk and the eyes of the ancestors, but offered no answers.
Taba woke before she was supposed to. She almost forgot she was an adult at first, feeling wobbly and a little headachy after the night’s celebrations. She wasn’t even sure where she was. Then she saw her white clothes and the soft sheets on the thick mattress, bamboo holding her up, and she let out a whoop. She jumped out of bed and ran for the caves.
A hungover but smiling Corr waited for her and offered a hug. “Now, you may be waiting a while, Taba,” she said. She rubbed bleary eyes and coughed. Taba could smell the remains of the palm wine on her breath, and grinned a little.
“I’ll wait all day and all night if I have to.”
“Hopefully, you won’t have to. Don’t be foolish,” said Corr. “Here’s your packet of offerings and wine, wrapped tight and sealed in a sea-cat’s bladder. That’ll keep the air and water out until you arrive safely on the merpeople’s island, or down in their kingdom, whichever it really is.”
“What if she doesn’t come today?”
“Then we’ll send you out until she does,” said Corr. “Or at least, for the next moon cycle. If she doesn’t come within that time…” Corr sighed. “Then we won’t have lost anything, I suppose.”
Taba nodded and held the parcels carefully, trying not to clutch them like a child seeking comfort from a toy. She tried not to clutch them to her chest with her good arm, but her bad arm twitched.
“Get going,” said Corr. “It may be a while. Now, if she accepts the offering…you’ll have to go immediately.”
Taba’s voice was small as she replied. “Can I say goodbye to everyone?”
Corr paused, and shook her head. “That’s what last night was for. But you’ll see us again. Even if she returns and takes you…you’ll see us again. You’re no prisoner, girl.”
Taba set down the parcels and threw her arms around Corr. “Thank you, grandmother. Give everyone my love.”
Corr sniffed and hid it by tucking her chin into the scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face. “We’ll see you again. Now go. No time to waste on foolishness.”