When Water Burns

by Lani Wendt Young

  Tavake looked ill at ease. “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t say I understand your pain, but I’m sure it was very … difficult.”

  Salamasina wasn’t used to compassion from the woman who had given birth to her. It was rather unsettling to see it now. “I have my son. We have each other. We are fine.” She rushed to change the subject. She didn’t want Tavake dwelling on Daniel. She didn’t want this woman lingering here for a minute longer than was necessary. “Why are you here?”

  Tavake looked relieved to be off the topic of dead husbands. Back to more meaningful subjects. “Nafanua is dead and there is a power vacuum here. What happened to her Sisterhood?”

  “From what I hear, they turned against her. Her second – Sarona – cast the death strike.”

  “But how was that possible? What of their Covenant?”

  “Nafanua chose her daughter over the Sisterhood and broke the Covenant to protect her.”

  Tavake’s indrawn breath was a whiplash of shock. Nothing is more sacred to telesā than their Covenants, and for a Keeper to break her vow with her sisters was unheard of. More than that, it was sacrilegious. “Why? Why would she do that?”

  “For reasons you would never understand.” Recrimination hung in the air between them. Bitterness pooling like the ooze of breadfruit sap.

  Tavake ignored the undertones and asked another question. “What of the others in Nafanua’s Covenant? Have they taken vows with Sarona?”

  “They’ve disappeared. Evaporated into thin air. I suspect Sarona invoked the right of Covenant, siphoned their power and eliminated them. So much for sisterhood. But you would know all about that.”

  “I did not come here to fight with you, Salamasina. I came here for information. And to warn you. And your son.”

  “Warn me of what?”

  “Sarona has been spending time in my territory. And I think she is recruiting ocean telesā.”

  “But she is telesā matagi. Of what use are vasa loloa to her? She cannot Covenant with them so how can their gifts strengthen hers?”

  Tavake ignored her interruption. “A truce of sorts existed between Nafanua and I. We had an understanding of territory and responsibility. She did not trespass on my authority, nor I on hers. We worked together on various endeavors over the years and helped each other seek out new sisters. When I found a Tongan telesā matagi, I would send her here to Nafanua. And whenever Nafanua came across a telesā vasa loloa, she would return the favor. For example, your son’s mother, Moanasina. As you well know, she was Samoan and once her gifts came to light, Nafanua sent her to me for training. Which was very generous of her because Moanasina was unusually powerful. Even at the young age of only six years her power nearly equaled my own. I’m surprised Nafanua didn’t just take a knife to her throat. You understand enough about telesā to know that the stronger the members of a Keeper’s Covenant are, the more powerful she becomes. In these modern times, it has become increasingly difficult to find gifted young women. Our Mother Earth wearies of sharing her power with us and so many of our daughters are born Ungifted.”

  “Like me.”

  “Yes, like you. Nafanua knew that by sending Moanasina to me, I would then be able to add her power to mine within our Covenant. A massive boost for me. And one I sorely needed. Nafanua was an ally. I am not happy about her death. And I’m even more disturbed about Sarona’s activities in Tonga.”

  “What exactly is she doing?”

  “I’m not sure.” Frustration. “She has attached herself to a science team from America that is carrying out exploratory expeditions in the Trench. The official story is that they are studying geological deposits but we know what they are really looking for. The RTG.”

  “The what?”

  “The radioisotope thermoelectric generator that lies deep in the Tonga Trench. In 1970, America launched Apollo 13, the seventh manned mission in the Apollo space program and the third intended to land on the moon. Something went wrong with the mission and the lunar landing was aborted. The power source for Apollo 13 re-entered the atmosphere over the Pacific Ocean and ended up deep in the Trench. The RTG contains plutonium.”

  Salamasina paled at this news. “There’s plutonium in our waters? Why wasn’t it recovered and removed? Why was this allowed? How can it be acceptable for America to dump plutonium in our ocean?”

  “It’s a non-weapons grade isotope, Pu-238 that provided power for space shuttles through natural radioactive decay rather than through fission or fusion processes. So it’s relatively safe.” A grimace. “As safe as plutonium can ever be anyway. Not only that, the actual plutonium is encased in graphite and iridium, which has been doing a good job of keeping it contained. We vasa loloa have been keeping a check on the RTG and the surrounding marine life and so far, we don’t think there has been any significant leakage. Of course we would prefer that the Americans remove such a dangerous thing from our ocean but they don’t know exactly where it is in the Trench. And even if they did, it was always too deep for them to recover. Too expensive. Typical of them. I’m sure if they had plutonium sitting in their back yard, no expense would have been spared to remove it. We could have tried to remove it ourselves but there are limits to the reach of our Gifts and if we did recover it, what would we do with it? Where could we safely dispose of it? If we brought the RTG up to the surface, I would never hand it over to the Americans. They would only re-use it. So, the RTG has been left to rest in our Trench for more than forty years. Until now. Until this privately funded team showed up with their fancy equipment. And Sarona is with them.”

  “Why?”

  “I believe she is searching for the Covenant Bone.”

  Salamasina scoffed. “The Covenant Bone is a legend, a foolish myth.”

  “If you were as old as I am, you would know that all legend is founded on truth. The Covenant Bone is real. Very real.”

  “Even if it were real, the purpose of the Bone was to unite all telesā in a common Covenant. Somehow, I can’t reconcile what I know of Sarona with that purpose.”

  Tavake nodded. “Yes, that was the original purpose of the Bone, but in the hands of the wrong telesā, it becomes a weapon. Ancient telesā history tells of the Dark Time when the Bone was wielded as a weapon against telesā themselves, with devastating consequences. So many deaths. So much suffering. People and telesā alike lived in fear of the Bone Bearer. And when the Dark Time was ended, the Bone was separated by ocean, fire, and air into three distinct pieces and there were compelling reasons why. If the pieces are found and restored, then no telesā is safe. Not even the strongest of us.”

  Her words trailed away and in a sudden flash of clarity, Salamasina realized, She’s afraid. My mother, the Covenant Keeper is actually afraid. This realization, more than anything else about Tavake’s visit, was an ice lance of fear to her heart. If the most powerful telesā vasa loloa was afraid, then what hope was there for anyone else?

  “I don’t understand. You said you had come to warn me. What does this have to do with me? Or Daniel?”

  “Your son is Gifted, possibly as much as his mother was.”

  Salamasina stood, her chair grating harshly against the cement floor. “No, he isn’t. I have been watching him closely and there has been nothing. No signs of vasa loloa at all. He doesn’t even like spending time in the ocean. He goes out of his way to avoid it.”

  Tavake looked impatient. “Don’t be a fool. No daughter of mine, not even an Ungifted one is a fool. Refusing to accept something will not make it disappear. No matter how hard you wish it away. I only had to see your son once as a child to know that the voice of vasa loloa spoke with strength and power in him. Perhaps his Gift has not encountered the catalyst it needs to unleash. But when it does manifest, his Gift will make him a target for people in search of power. And Sarona is a telesā in search of power.”

  Still, Salamasina tried to dissent. “Daniel will be twenty years old soon, I highly doubt his Gift is going to show up now. He even had a pe’a tattoo earli
er this year, against my wishes I might add, and even that has not triggered any vasa loloa powers. Sarona knows nothing of his birthright and even if she did, his power can only be taken if he belongs to a vasa loloa Covenant. And he’s clearly not getting any invitations to join any Sisterhoods.”

  Tavake shook her head. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. If Sarona finds all three pieces of the Covenant Bone then she can take the Gifts of any telesā, whether they be Air, Water, or Earth. Such is its power. Legend tells that one Bone piece was placed for safekeeping deep in the Tonga Trench. I believe that Sarona is using the RTG recovery team to also search for that one piece. My sources tell me that she has recruited two telesā matagi already. And two of my vasa loloa.”

  “I find that difficult to believe. I’ve seen your Gift in action and no telesā would dare to oppose you, their Covenant Keeper.”

  “There are always those able to be lured by the promise of great power.” Tavake’s curled lip was an expression of derision. “Especially amongst the young and foolish who look at their elders as a far-off weak and distant generation. They think they can defeat me? They will be sorely disappointed for I am not without my own reserves.”

  An icy hand of realization clenched at Salamasina’s heart. “You are not here because you care about me and my son, are you? You want the power that you think he might have. You want my son.”

  Tavake did not deny it. “If not for me, you would have no son. He would have been put to death at birth according to telesā law. I allowed you to have him, against my better judgment, I might add. And now, it seems that decision is going to pay its dividends.”

  Salamasina’s eyes blazed with a fierce intensity. “I will not let you harm my son. I will die first.”

  “I do not want to take his life, you foolish child. When the time is right, I will merely offer him the chance to covenant his gift to me.”

  “You expect me to believe that? Men are forbidden to have telesā power. You would never allow a man to covenant with you.”

  “You know nothing. There have been no new vasa loloa in Tonga or here in Samoa in all the years since you left Niuatoputapu. Do you know how many sisters I have left in my Covenant that are loyal to me? Four. Against Sarona and her gathering of five thus far. She is searching for still more to recruit. I do not like those numbers. Desperate times call for desperate measures and I am more than willing to covenant with a boy if I must. I will do whatever it takes to stop Sarona. Mark my words well, if she succeeds in whatever plans she has made for acquiring the Covenant Bone, then none of us will be safe. Not you. Or your son.” Tavake was stern in the quiet house. “There is a war coming and wise leaders gather their forces in preparation. Make sure you are on the right side when the time comes. As soon as your son’s Gift manifests, you will send him to me.” She paused abruptly. “No, that was not said correctly. I’m asking you to please consider allowing your son to join my Covenant.”

  Salamasina’s jaw gaped. Tavake had never asked her for anything. But then, Salamasina had never had anything that Tavake needed. “Are you asking me because I’m your daughter?”

  “No. I’m asking you because you know what telesā are capable of. I’m asking you because for twelve years you lived and walked among us, you know what our purpose is, why we were born with earth’s Gifts. We are protectors, guardians of our mother earth. Sarona only seeks power and control over her sisters in all their forms. I’m asking you to do this because you know it’s the right thing to do.”

  Tavake walked with her stilted gait to the door and then paused, “This daughter of Nafanua, is she still in Samoa? Is she Gifted?”

  The room was painfully quiet as Salamasina struggled with the truth. But Leila’s secret was not hers to share. “She is a student at National University this year with my son. And no, she is not telesā matagi.”

  Tavake’s disappointment was heavy in the air. “A pity. We vasa loloa are limited by our need for a proximity to water before we can draw on our Gifts. It would have been useful to have an ally who could face Sarona on her own territory.”

  Dread in Salamasina was clammy, cold, and slimy. Like fisting a sea cucumber in your bare hands. And watching the stranded innards spurt through your fingers. What would happen if Tavake found out Leila was fanua afi? What would she do if she ever knew that Salamasina had lied to her?

  SIX

  Leila

  Thanks to my late night, I didn’t wake up until past ten the morning after the house fire. Matile and Tuala had long left the house for work and I was alone when the phone rang. Daniel?

  No. “Is this Leila Folger?” a strange woman asked. I sagged in my seat. Disappointment tasted like over-ripe papaya. Bleugh.

  It was the Director of the Women’s Center, the one that Thompson had warned me would be calling. She was very glad that I was back in the country. They had been waiting for me so they could discuss some urgent project they had put on hold. Could I please come in today to see her, very urgent, blah, blah, blah.

  No, I can’t come see you today because there’s a vengeful telesā who wants to kill me and she’s already burned down my dead mother’s house. And my boyfriend’s mother wants us to break up and she’s willing to take me out if necessary. Oh and yeah, did I mention that my boyfriend can talk to sharks? And he hasn’t called me. Maybe he’s really busy off talking to marine life.

  Those are all the things I wanted to say. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t want another person accusing me of being selfish. Everything’s not about you, Leila. So yeah, I told the Director I would be there. Right away.

  How can you be too busy to help a Women’s Refuge Center, right?

  “Leila Folger?” A woman in a flowery dress came forward from behind a desk to greet me. “I’m Folole. Thank you for making the time to come and see our Center. The Director is teaching a class right now but she asked me to take you to her as soon as you arrived. We know you have a busy schedule. Please, come with me.”

  I walked with Folole as she made her way down a corridor and out a glass door into a courtyard. I had always imagined women’s refuges to be gloomy places, peopled by depressed, frightened women but so far I was met by only the opposite. The courtyard was a haven of light and color, and the telesā in me took extra delight in the carefully tended collection of ferns, orchids, and hibiscus bushes. Children played on a swing set at the far end and the sound of their laughter followed us.We came to the open door of a classroom where a short, plump woman stood addressing a class of about a dozen teenagers who all turned curious eyes at our entrance.

  “Mrs. Amani, Leila Folger is here to see you.”

  A huge smile greeted me. “Ahh, thank you for coming to see me.” She turned to the students. “Class, this is Miss Folger, the new owner of the Center. This is her first time visiting us. Please make her feel welcome.”

  The students all chimed in with a perfunctory greeting. “Good morning Miss Folger.” I was conscious of a sea of smiling warm faces, studying me from head to toe. All except for one young woman sitting in the back row who only glared at me and then resumed staring out the window. She looked to be about thirteen or fourteen. Thick, wiry brown hair barely restrained in a braid, with matching thick brows – and a sulky frown was the cherry on top. The brooding attitude looked vaguely familiar. Before I could try to place it though, Mrs. Amani was gesturing me to join her in the corridor.

  “Come Leila, let’s find somewhere private to talk. Folole will supervise the class for me.” She gave the students a stern parting warning. “Everyone behave or Wednesday night ice cream will be cancelled!”

  The students pretended to groan and Mrs. Amani laughed as we left the room. “We have ice cream once a week. Even us old ones look forward to the treat.”

  We walked down the open corridor, passing more classrooms with more students at work, this time adults. All female. All varying ages.

  Noting my gaze, Mrs. Amani explained. “We run workshops for our women, to help them up-skill. So
metimes it’s not safe for their children to attend regular school for a while, which is why we offer them classes following the basic national curriculum. It’s more a way to stop them from getting bored. It can be stifling for them to be stuck in the Center, especially for the teenagers.”

  She proceeded to give me a lightning-quick tour of the Center, explaining a hundred and one details in a few minutes. By the time we came to her crowded little office, I felt like I was a walking talking expert on the Samoa Women’s Refuge Center. Headache imminent. “Have a seat please. Excuse the mess. I’m always drowning in police and medical reports in this place. I was surprised to hear that Nafanua had named her daughter as the trustee and controlling Principal for the Center. None of us even knew that she had a daughter. But then, there’s a lot about Nafanua that we weren’t party to. I am very sorry for your loss, Leila. And to have all your mother’s sisters go missing at the same time, it must be very traumatic for you.”

  She gave me an impenetrable look and in that instant, it hit me. This woman knew Nafanua and her sisters were not ordinary women. And she was trying to suss out whether I was like them.

  “I’ve called you because we’re having issues with security here at the Center. As I’m sure you can imagine, it’s difficult to keep the Refuge location a secret in such a small island community. Ideally, women and their children could stay here and know that their partners can’t hunt them down, but that’s impossible here in Samoa. The next best thing that we can offer them is peace of mind, the security of knowing that they are safe here. Since your mother’s death, we have had a wave of break-ins and assault incidents at the Center. We’ve always had to deal with angry partners looking for their wives, demanding their children, but a warning from our security guard and we never heard from them again. Not anymore. I’m not one to beat around the bush, Miss Folger. Your mother and her sisters had particular talents. These talents meant they had an impressive reputation in this country, even if it was only ever whispered about. People were afraid of them and knew better than to cross them. This worked very well for our Center. Violent partners never troubled the women who took refuge here. And the few who did? They were always taken care of. An accident here. An illness there.”