I wake up with a headache and a face full of sand. Coughing and spluttering, I sit up slowly. It’s dark, but there’s a soft light coming from somewhere on my left and I can tell I’m in some kind of cave. There’s water running close by. I look up, but the ground must have closed up after I fell because all I see is a high, solid ceiling. I’m stuck underground.

What do I do? I look around me, taking deep breaths to keep the panic away. First of all I need to think, retrace my steps and figure out how I ended up here. I fell. I remember that, but don’t remember what happened next. I must have hit my head on something and blacked out, but I didn’t suffocate, and I find it easy to breathe down here. There must be an opening nearby, or I would have run out of air already. That’s good news.

My head is pounding, but when I touch my scalp I realise there’s no tender spot. So maybe I didn’t hit my head. Maybe there’s another reason I blacked out. I get to my feet and stand upright, then lean my head back to look at the ceiling. It’s not tightly packed sand. It’s rock. Dizziness strikes and I reach out to lean my hand on the stone wall. This is a big cave and there’s no way I fell through that ceiling. I’d be dead if I had, or at least I’d have hurt myself. So how did I get here? Did someone move me?

That’s when I get around to wondering where the others are and whether they’re OK. Maybe it was Ranger who moved me, or Socca. Maybe they fell, too. But where are they? I don’t hear any voices.
Something tells me not to call out until I have a handle on the situation. After all, maybe my friends are far away and someone else moved me. Someone dangerous. Or something.

I swallow my fear. That’s not a great line of thought for someone trapped underground, especially someone who tends to freak out. I need to stay focused and positive. Where’s the Rain Stick? Not here. I must have dropped it in the sand when I fell. There’s only one thing to do. Follow the light.

The floor is smooth, as if the rough stone edges have been worn down from regular use. The light comes from a tunnel and is too soft to be electric, so I’d say it’s probably a candle. That rules out weird Desert monsters. I inch along the wall as quietly as possible and step into the tunnel. It’s short and narrow, more like a gap between two rocks, and opens up into another cave.

This cave is different. It’s huge, about the size of the throne room in the palace. Stalactites hang from the ceiling (or are they stalagmites? I never know the difference), glowing in the faint light. I don’t see any candles. What I see is a stream of water trickling down the far wall and into a pool of water. The light comes from inside the water. I move closer to investigate, but it’s hard to see past the dark ripples.

It has to be man-made. Maybe someone wanted to turn this place into a tourist attraction and put a bulb down there. I kneel down next to the water and peer inside.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I leap to my feet and spin around. Bad idea; I’m still dizzy and it turns out there’s no one there, anyway. A few blinks later, there’s still no one there. I frown. Maybe my headache is worse than I thought. I’m sure I heard a voice. A deep, grownup voice.

Then I hear a soft splash and my whole body goes rigid with fear. Damn! It’s in the water! Wait; that’s impossible. You can’t talk underwater. I turn around slowly…and scream. Not one of those shrill horror movie screams that could break glass, though, just so we’re clear. A proper dignified one-second scream, like “Yaaaah!”

There’s a woman in the water. I can only see her head, neck and shoulders. She’s dark, and not just because we’re underground. Her skin is literally black, and she has big, knotted hair that’s half-dreadlocks, half-afro. She looks at me with wide eyes and grins. It’s a friendly grin. If she wasn’t coming up out of a pool in an underground cave, I might not be so worried.

“Don’t be scared, Taunyana,” she says warmly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She glides over to me and folds her arms on the rock near the water, like she’s chilling in a hotel swimming pool. Behind her, her legs splash in the water. A closer look tells me those are not actually legs. They’re… it’s….

I back away, terrified. “Y-y-you have a tail!”

“I know. Nice, eh? It comes in handy. So much more powerful than legs.” She twists her body to the side and the tail comes up out of the water.

It’s exactly like the tail of the bream Socca’s dad catches upriver near the Islands.

“Bream,” she says, nodding. “I’ve experimented with others. Tentacles are good, but this pool is too small for that and I didn’t like to be a show-off.”

“So you’re…a mermaid?”

“Eh? Do I look like a mermaid?”

Uh, yes, she does. I must still be unconscious. That must be it. I’m out like a light and this is all just a dream. That explains everything.

“I’m not a mermaid. Whoever heard of such nonsense? I’m a water spirit.”

I nod. What else can I do? She grins again. She’s got nice teeth, in spite of the whole not being real thing. My mother says a nice smile makes up for a lot.

“You have an interesting group of friends, Taunyana. A reluctant Rainmaker, a gentle giant, a feisty foreigner and an exiled guard. How did you pick them?”

I blink and open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Am I seriously expected to have a normal conversation with a mermaid, or water spirit, or whatever? How does that work?

I take a deep breath.

“Where are we?”

“A holy space. One of the places where the ancestors meet. They’re not here now,” she adds, as I turn to look over my shoulder. “They sent me to have a little talk with you about… you know…the future.”

“What future?”

“This new time we’re entering into. I know the old man has told you a few things, but not enough to prepare you.”

Ah. Maybe this isn’t a dream, then. Maybe it’s an ancestor vision. Or maybe it’s real. If it’s real, I’m not behaving properly. There are things I’m supposed to do, like wash my hands and feet and sit in front of the messenger with my arms outstretched to receive her wisdom. I would have done that, if she had followed the rules and sent me a little warning first.

“Relax,” she says gently, as if she’s reading my mind. “You people worry too much about the little things. Sit down, Taunyana. We have a lot to talk about and I don’t want to take up too much time. Your friends will worry.”

“Where are they? Are they –”

“They’re fine. They’re on the surface, trying to dig you up. That will keep them busy for a while.”

“Dig me up?” I look up at the ceiling. “They can’t!”

“Not yet, anyway. Sit down, please. I’m getting a stiff neck from looking up at you.”

I sit. “How did I get down here? And why did I black out?”

“How should I know?”

I blink at her, confused. “Aren’t you the one who made it happen?”

“Not exactly. The ancestors wanted me to summon you, so I had to come up to the pool and ask – You know what? Never mind. It’s a long process and I don’t know exactly how it works. The sand spirits don’t like to share their secrets. Anyway, you’re here and we don’t have much time before your people find you, so let’s get to it.”

I have questions. Lots of questions. Like since when do spirits have bodies? And why is summoning me a long process? And why didn’t the ancestors just send me a vision? And how are my “people” going to find me if I’m in some secret ancestor cave?

“Did the man tell you how the power of the skies came to be locked in the Rain Stick?”

“Yes.” My eyes flicker to the floor for a second before I remember that I don’t have the Stick. After carrying it around for two days I guess I’m used to it. I feel strange without it. Vulnerable, even though it was absolutely useless when trouble came.

“Remember the water spirit who locked up the rain?”

“Yes.”

“That was me.” She laughs. “I know. I don’t look anything like what you imagined. I’m sure you expected some nubile young thing, or a ghostly apparition that howls at the moon. Well, I don’t howl and I haven’t been nubile for a long, long time. This is what you get.”

I nod and force a smile so she doesn’t think I’m disappointed. What do I care about the looks of water spirits? As far as I’m concerned, spirits aren’t supposed to look like anything. They’re supposed to be invisible.

“The ancestors had a disagreement. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does…” She shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “This disagreement started small. It was time for a new age – that happens after a while, it’s normal – and the ancestors were preparing. Everyone agreed that this new age called for more power in the hands of the people, more order. The disagreement was over exactly how much control the people should have.

“Lower spirits aren’t supposed to interfere with the decisions of the ancestors. We just stick to hail, sandstorms and making the praying mantis dance. We deal with what happens on the ground.”

I nod. I know that much, at least.

“But the effect the war had on the rain was bad, Taunyana, and there was no sign that the ancestors would resolve things soon. So the spirits agreed to stage a minor rebellion.” She lets out a long, wistful sigh, an old woman remembering her youth. “Only a water spirit could tamper with the rain. I was the youngest and the most rebellious. In other words, if the ancestors decided to turn me into ash, no one would miss me.”

I lean forward. My fear is gone and now I’m curious. “How did you do it?”

“With a lot of help. Tree spirits made the Rain Stick. Water spirits put their mark on it. Air spirits carried me into the clouds, and the spirit that guarded the source of the river of the skies agreed to leave his post long enough to let me do what I had to.” She laughed. “It was ambitious, let me tell you, a plot the ancestors could never imagine. The other water spirits made it sound so simple. ‘Just go to the source and gather the power,’ they said. I got there, thinking it would be the easiest thing in the world. But gathering power is no joke, especially in the middle of a storm. The energy was scattered all over the place. I had to go chasing it through the sky like a fool and throwing every little piece I found into the Stick.

“Eventually I managed to gather it all. I hurried back down to the earth and all the spirits came together to help lock the power inside the Stick. The minute it was done, the rain stopped. The war stopped, too. The ancestors knew something was up and it didn’t take them long to figure out what it was. When they came down, all blustering winds and thunder, demanding to know who the thief was, I stepped forward.”

I let out a little gasp, impressed by her courage. “Did they punish you?”

“Of course. What kind of story do you think this is? The ancestors don’t play games. They can forgive human failings because they know too well that humans are blind and deaf and generally have no clue about anything. Spirits know better. Spirits don’t get to apologise and make offerings and promise to do better next time. No, we take what we’re given. I was young. I wasn’t anyone important, so they banished me. They sent me down.”

“Down here?”

She laughs. “No, Taunyana. This isn’t down. In spirit terms we’re still on the surface, in sand spirit territory. When I say down, I mean down.” She lifted one hand and pointed into the water. “Below the place where the water springs up from the earth. It’s a long, long trip, and I don’t get to come up. This is my first visit to the surface since that day.” She pauses to think about that. “Hm. It seems like yesterday.”

I swallow hard, trying to imagine living that far underground. “But you’re a water spirit. Don’t you have to be near water?”

“Oh, there’s water. Scalding, and protected by rock spirits with a lousy attitude, but it still counts. Rock spirits are not a friendly bunch, let me tell you. All that heat and molten rock means they’re always in a bad mood. They were definitely not happy when I turned up, and since they couldn’t take it up with the ancestors, they took it up with me. Not that I’m complaining. I knew what was coming.”

“It doesn’t seem fair,” I murmur. “You didn’t plan the whole thing on your own. You were just doing what all the spirits wanted.”

“Ja, but what are they going to do? Punish everybody? Of course not. There had to be a scapegoat. An example.” She wags her finger at me. “You’re making me digress. I’m not here to talk about my long, agonising years of exile. It’s all in the past now. Once the new age begins, I’ll be allowed to join the others on the surface if I want to. I get to go home. And speaking of going home, you have a difficult time ahead of you, Taunyana.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. Things are more complicated than you realise.” She sighs. “The ancestors aren’t doing this to punish you. You were born at the time of a great change, and you have to bear the burden. That’s what it means to be Kgosi.”

I’m quiet for a while. I don’t want to whine, but this might be my only chance to get some answers. “I don’t understand why there has to be a new age. What’s wrong with the way things are?”

“Nothing lasts forever. The world changes. People change. Traditions must change, too. It’s the only way to keep them from becoming dysfunctional.”

“But they’re not dysfunctional! Everything works perfectly!”

“Really?” She gives me a sceptical look that reminds me of Sam. “You can’t think of anything wrong with the system?”

I shake my head.

“You’re not being honest. What about that new Rainmaker? You don’t like the way she does whatever you say. It makes you uncomfortable.”

I squirm. “I’m not Kgosi yet.”

“That’s not why it bothers you.”

She’s right. It bothers me because I don’t think anyone should be treated like that. Not the Council, not the royal family. “I just think people forget that the royals are people, not gods.”

“You’re right.” Her tail swishes through the water, making gentle ripples on the surface. “But that’s how people are. Everything goes well for a century or so, and then people forget why things changed and they fall back into their old patterns. The new idealistic king becomes the selfish, greedy monster he fought so hard to overthrow. The queen who used to defer to those who were older and wiser now thinks she knows everything, and rules her kingdom like a child playing with dolls. And so things must change again.”
I know she’s right. Our kingdom isn’t beyond help like some others, not yet, but there are things that happen which shouldn’t. There were times I would hear Papa agree to sign some new bill into law just so the Councillors would stop shouting in his ears. So far he hasn’t made any terrible mistakes that have cost the people dearly, but still. A decision that affects so many people shouldn’t be made in a hurry. It shouldn’t be made under pressure, or to make our allies happy, or to appease some big company we have an agreement with. But isn’t that how the world works?

“It was a beautiful thing at first,” the water spirit says softly. “For so long the people had been at the mercy of the elements, moving where the water led them, scattered and weak. A Kgosi brought them together and unity made them strong. They were no longer vulnerable to attack from bigger, more organised tribes. Through the Kgosi and Rainmaker they built something wonderful. A kingdom. A nation.

“But now it has become a twisted thing, tainted with pride and choked by expectations. The Kgosi has too much power and the people are too dependent on that power. The system is broken. The rules are too rigid. You have moved with the times in many ways, but in the process you lost something. The ability to think for yourselves. For too long the fate of the kingdom was in the hands of the men of the Sedibeng clan. Tell me, Taunyana, what makes the men of your line worthy of such power?”

I swallow hard. “Nothing.”

“Nothing. The truth is that there is no one person worthy of the honour. A nation can only be led by one person if that person defers to the people. The time for that has come.”

“It will never be perfect.” I look into her big eyes. “No matter how many new ages come and go. People aren’t perfect!”

“Believe me, I know. But you have to keep trying. What else is there?”

I don’t answer. I sit quietly for a while, letting all these things turn over and over in my head.

“New age or not, the people will never accept Dudu as Rainmaker,” I whisper. “I might be able to convince them that it’s too much work for the Kgosi to be Rainmaker as well, and they might accept it if the task is given to another royal. But Dudu’s not a royal. She’s not even from Delta. And she’s a girl!”

“So? I’m a girl, and I’m the reason they have a Rainmaker at all!”

“They don’t know that.”

“So you’ll tell them.”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Nothing is simple, Taunyana.” She sighs again. “You have one thing working in your favour. You are the next Kgosi. That means the people will follow your lead. Their instinct is to follow tradition, and tradition dictates that the Kgosi knows best.”

“It also dictates that if the Kgosi messes up they can kill him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs. “No one’s going to kill you! Have you ever heard of Lion people killing their ruler?”

“No, but they killed the queen and the Kgosi’s cousin a few centuries back. For treason.”

“You haven’t committed treason.”

“But I can’t prove anything except the fact that Dudu makes rain and I don’t. If the person who had the singing pot dream would come forward, that would solve everything. No one would doubt an ancestor dream.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

I stare at her, and my pulse starts to race. “Do you know who it is?”

“Of course. But he’s not going to say anything.”

“Why not? Is he afraid? I can promise him protection!”

“He’s not afraid, Taunyana. He doesn’t remember.” There’s a funny expression on her face. It looks like pity.

“I don’t understand. How can he forget something like that?”

She rolls her eyes and sighs once more. “They always give me the unpleasant jobs. I don’t want to be the one to tell you, but no one else will and you don’t seem like you’re going to figure it out yourself. The dreamer didn’t forget the dream, not exactly. He’s just not in the right mental state to remember that he dreamed it. How can I put this delicately? The dream drove him mad.”

“But there must be a way to get through to him.”

The water spirit shakes her head at me. “You’re not getting it, Taunyana. You know this man. You know him well, and you know there’s no way to get through to him.”

And then…well, there’s no other way to describe it. The knowledge drops on me. That’s it; it drops, like a jacket falling on my shoulders. I feel a funny prickle at the top of my head, then all over my body. Not fear. Something else. Shock, maybe. Disbelief.

“Papa,” I whisper.

She nods. “Sorry. This wasn’t the best way for you to find out, but I don’t make the rules. Your father had the dream. He has a lot of dreams, so he ignored it. He’s Kgosi; he’s got more important things to worry about than a singing pot. But it wouldn’t go away, and he got scared. Which is the point of these dreams. People get scared, run to the nearest healer and find out what in the world is going on before it gets out of hand.

“But usually the person having the dream is a normal person with normal concerns, not a man trying to balance a kingdom on the head of a pin. There was a lot going on at the time. I hate to be the one to break the news, but your kingdom is not as stable as you think. It’s a pot about to boil over. Your father was trying to prevent chaos when the dream came.

“So when he got scared, instead of going to a healer, he went to a chemist and got some sleeping tablets. You see, your father didn’t know it was an ancestor dream, and he was too wound up to sit down and think things through. He was in crisis, the kingdom was in crisis and he was afraid that he was losing his mind. He couldn’t afford to lose his mind, so he kept quiet. If he had told the Council about the dream, they would have advised him to seek advice from a healer. But he couldn’t afford to appear weak at such a critical time. That was his mistake.

“The dream continued to plague him, until finally what he feared most is exactly what happened. He lost his mind. But life is funny. His condition became the most important thing in the kingdom, and all the problems he had been trying to fix were buried while the Council tried to keep the kingdom running. But he’s not Kgosi anymore. Now they can leave him alone with his guards and nurses. All those problems are creeping to the surface again, and now they’re your responsibility.”

I lean forward, my hands pressing against the floor, trying to keep my breath steady. My father had the dream. My father could have helped us find out the truth long before now. We could have been prepared. My father! I always thought it was the pressures of the job that got to him. In a way it was. I wish he had talked to someone. Why the hell didn’t he talk to someone? Not a Councillor. Someone he could trust, who wouldn’t judge him or think he was weak. Someone like Mama. Mama would have told him to go to a healer. Mama is devout.

But of course he wouldn’t have told her. My parents are traditional. Papa always thought it was his job to bear the burdens. He wouldn’t have wanted to worry her. I raise my head slowly to look at the water spirit.

“Are you all right, Taunyana?”

I nod, but of course I’m not all right. I’m the exact opposite of all right. “The problems. The ones he was trying to solve. What are they?”

“Ah, that’s a story the Council should tell you,” she says, and I’m sure I hear a trace of regret in her voice. “Lie down, Taunyana. On your back. It will help.”

I take her advice because I’m too worked up to argue, and to my surprise it does make me feel a little better. I close my eyes, breathing deeply. This is too much. I’m too young to deal with all this stuff! Why couldn’t the ancestors have waited a few more years?

“You’ll be fine,” says the spirit.

“I’m not… so sure.”

“It’s not an accident that this happened during your time. Remember, you were born to be Kgosi. You’re stronger than you think.”

Her voice echoes in the cave. I take a few more deep breaths, listening to the echo. I want to believe her, but it’s not easy. I don’t feel strong right now. I feel confused and scared and…weightless. Like I’m lying on air. My eyes won’t open. I try to sit up, but I can’t move. I can’t speak, either.

Suddenly I’m struggling to breathe and my body feels like it’s stuck in a tight, narrow space. Sand pours onto my face. I cough and spit, and taste dirt on my tongue. My eyes are still closed. There’s something heavy under me, and on top of me, and on both sides. Sand. I’m buried in it, but I can feel the weight on top of me lifting slowly.

There are voices. Anxious, almost frantic.

“I can see his face!”

“Thank the ancestors!”

“Keep digging! He’s been under a long time.”

“Is he alive? K? Can you hear me? Please don’t be dead!”

My eyelids flutter. I can move again! My lips part and sand rushes between them. Arms come down and move me, first to one side, then the other, working me out of the sand, then lift me up and carry me a few steps. The arms set me down on the soft sand. I spit and then inhale deep greedy mouthfuls of fresh night air.

“He’s breathing!”

“Taunyana! Are you all right?”

I open my eyes. Four faces look down at me. I look past them at the starry sky. I’m back on the surface. The cave and the water spirit are gone.