Melody Llwellyn's Arc

Chapter 11 of 14

The crowd hushed as the head judge lowered her claw. Melody's win stood, but the prize did not. The organizer, a crab who had fought her all day, pushed to the front of the stage. He waved a scrap of dried seaweed like a warrant. "My challenge," he said. "She trades with animals. Barks and gull cries. That is not singing. Let her sing alone, no tricks, or the cay is mine." Melody's stomach dropped. She looked to the head judge. "Is that the challenge?" she asked. The judge nodded. "Sing one song, start to finish, with no help from any creature. Then we decide." So that was it. She had to prove her voice needed no one else. But every recent song had leaned on the pup, the gull, the moment. Her old song, her true one, her opponent had memorized note for note. The parrot dropped to her shoulder. "Sing the tide song," it whispered. "The one you wrote yourself." The starfish waved four arms in protest. "He knows it! He'll say it's stale!" Melody shook her head slowly. "He knows the notes," she said. "He doesn't know why I wrote it." The baby land shark whined at her feet, wanting to trade barks. Gently, Melody pressed a flipper to its rainbow snout. "Not this time," she murmured. "This one is just mine." The pup sat, ears low. Beside it, the cobalt salamander watched with orange eyes, silver markings bright in the last of the sun. It had led her to the spring that saved her voice. Now it only waited, still, like the crowd. Melody stepped to the center of the exposed stage. No bell. No pup. No borrowed notes. She thought of the water where she used to sing alone, sure no one listened. She opened her mouth and sang the song about sinking under, where the world goes quiet. She sang it soft. The crowd leaned in without being asked. She did not stop mid-note or trade a line. She let each word land the way she first meant it, alone at the water's edge. The organizer's raised claw sank slowly to his side. When she reached the last low note, she held it until it faded on its own. Silence. Then the crowd roared, louder than for the tiebreaker. The parrot spun. The starfish threw up all five arms. The head judge raised her voice over the noise. "That was singing. No help. No tricks." She turned to the crab. "Your challenge is answered." The organizer opened his mouth, then shut it. He gave one stiff nod and stepped back. The head judge faced Melody. "The challenge is met," she said. "But the prize is not a trophy. To take the cay, you must first accept what it asks of its keeper." She held out a folded shell. "Read it, turtle. Then choose."