Hidden Talents

By Hannah Muldery

“Connor, are you awake?”

I crept to the edge of Auntie’s boat, grasping an unfinished bag of woven eelgrass and kelp. Kiri’s face widened in a grin, revealing the gap from her missing tooth. A chilly breeze tugged her mass of dark curls as I joined her on the dock. She leaned forward. Avoiding her gaze, I mimicked her with a gulp, our foreheads and noses touching in her village’s greeting. After two months, my face still warmed a bit.

I stepped back and rubbed my nose. “What is it, Kiri?”

“Pāpā and the elders are hovering around the generator.” She grabbed my hand and I let her pull me along. “I think it’s broken.”

While most floating villages used sun-heated slats to separate the salt and water, Kiri’s float had a generator-powered desalination hut. If it was broken, Auntie Catriona would sail to the next one, dragging me along.

Kiri squeezed my hand. “You can fix it.”

I stopped.

Auntie’s voice echoed in my mind. “Hide your gift, boy. People are selfish. They’ll use you for your talents until you can’t move your worn fingers.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Kiri’s hand slipped from mine, but her mouth quirked. “You mended the bilge pump in Pāpā’s boat.”

“Because we weren’t supposed to play in it.” I made a face. “Do you want your pāpā mad at me?”

Her eyes twinkled. “We wouldn’t have gotten in trouble. Come on.”

She tugged me across the village, the wooden dock gently swaying under us. We wove through whalebone huts stretched with seagull leather, homes of woven eelgrass and bamboo, and water gardens full of cabbage, carrots, and wheat. Our bare feet pattered on the dock as we skirted around the large red Marae building where Auntie and I were welcomed to the village.

The windmill stood on the edge of the float, steady morning wind turning its blades, with the elders and Kiri’s pāpā clustered around it. Kiri brought me over.

The largest man turned. “You two are up already?” He wasn’t only Kiri’s pāpā. He was the Ariki. Blotting out the rising sun, he towered over me, dark curls like Kiri’s braided up in an elaborate style. White feathers and a bone comb poked out.

I shrank back. It wasn’t his size or the sprawling tattoos across his tan face that made me feel small. The Ariki could kick me out of the village.

Away from Kiri.

She stepped up to him. “Connor is going to fix the generator, Pāpā.”

He smiled at me, but impatience kept it from reaching his eyes. “Best stay out of the way, poi. Let the adults work.” He turned back to the grass cape–clad elders and they resumed their talk.

“The wind is only constant in the morning.”

“The Coral Sea’s wind is steady.”

“We can’t return there. Numerous villages have made fishing poor.”

I’d repaired generators. But they needed something new—continual power. The ocean rocked against the float. A larger wave splashed my pale feet. Further out, kelp brushed the surface as the ocean swayed. Days ago, I’d swum in the kelp forests, fish watching me… their fins using the same back and forth motion.

My eyes rested on the windmill’s blades. Like giant fins. Fueled by my new idea I stepped toward the leaders.

And stopped.

Auntie claimed she’d been controlled, forced into harsh, constant work whenever people discovered her “gift.” But in the two years I’d traveled with her, only my inventions had been completed. And she’d let none leave our boat.

Over my shoulder, Kiri smiled, her eyes large and hopeful as a seal. She knew I had skills and no trouble had come from it. Kiri was my friend.

“Ariki, sir?” My throat was as dry as the eelgrass in my hand. A dozen eyes stared down at me. “What if you put a propeller in the ocean? It never stops moving.”

As if on cue, the wind died.

He stifled a sigh, annoyance in his eyes.

My throat tightened. I wasn’t just some kid.

“You’re with Catriona Douglas, one of our regular roamers?”

I nodded.

He lowered to one knee. “The ocean ebbs and flows, but our generator only works in one direction.”

I shuffled my toes against rough bamboo joints.  “I can change that.”

His eyebrows raised, the tattoo lines following. “You’ve had ten summers?”

“Eleven.”

Kiri joined me. I gripped my bag. And the last piece clicked in place. Brushing aside Auntie’s warnings, I held out my half-finished backpack. “Weave propellers out of grass and bamboo poles. I’ll remake the generator.”

Whispers sifted through the group.

I glanced at my hands. “I helped once on another float,” I lied.

He rubbed his chin. The others murmured.

The Ariki’s eyes peered into me, but this time I saw trust in them.

“A wise suggestion, poi. Koraka.” A younger man straightened. “Take him to the Marae for whatever tools he needs.”

Several hours passed while I worked.

Gears and magnets turned in my mind, guiding my hands. I detached the copper wound piece and fixed it to move with the waves. Its motion through the magnet ring would generate the energy we needed.

Kiri and the others returned from weaving blades as I made my last adjustment.

“I hope this works,” I said.

She grinned. “It will.”

I waited, standing as tall as my thin frame allowed, while the Ariki examined my work. With a nod and command, he and several elders lowered the propeller into the ocean and secured it to the float.

I connected the generator.

Koraka jogged off to check the desalination huts.

Constant waves rocked the blades.

Kiri grabbed my hand.

“It works!” came the cry.

“I knew you could do it, Connor.” Kiri hugged me tight.

I grinned, hiding the relief fighting to weaken my head. The elders guided us to the Marae for the noon meal, Kiri’s pāpā beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Muldery grew up reading as many books as she could get her hands on. Nowadays, she spends most of her time running her art business, cosplaying, and writing her YA series set in a 1940’s waterworld. In her free time, Hannah watches the latest Star Wars shows, snaps photos of her two cats, plays D&D, and hangs out with the people she loves.

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