Part 7: The Suitcase Trade Fair

Sonetto: Timekeeper? Are these all the things you plan to trade at the Trade Fair?
Vertin: Yes. These were the only books I could find that were still in decent shape.
Sonetto: Advanced Clock Repair, The Beauty of Poetic Cadence, Mastering the Art of Communication ...
Sonetto glances over the titles, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
Sonetto: Have you read all of these, Timekeeper?
Vertin: I've finished them.
Sonetto flips through the books. The pages are crisp, clearly read but well-preserved, almost new.
Vertin: What are you holding there, Sonetto?
Sonetto: Oh, just some collage journals. I decorated the covers.
She seems unsure of how to explain her creations, opening the covers, closing them again, then opening them once more.
Sonetto: You can paste anything on the blank pages inside. There are no rules.
Vertin: I remember you used to make these back in school.
Sonetto: Ah, yes, Timekeeper. It's a—a habit of mine.
Vertin: I'm sure someone at the Trade Fair will like them.
Sonetto: Mm, I hope so.
Sonetto: Timekeeper, Miss Barcarola told me she and Fatutu are preparing some things to trade as well.
Sonetto: This is all thanks to you and Miss Barcarola. I never imagined we'd be hosting a trade fair here.
She looks at the stalls taking shape. Each one is fitted with a Sea Mother's Eye, waiting to be lit under the afternoon sun.
Sonetto: And so many people showed up today.
Sotheby: Oh! Watch out for the potion chest. There are still a few Startle Hoppers in there for my potion ingredients. They'll guarantee that Ms. Sotheby's booth is the highlight of this Jigjog Trade Fair.
Sotheby: Also, also, my Typhon charm! It has to hang right in the center! Little Typhon will bring me tons of customers!
Sonetto: Miss Sotheby, please keep a close eye on your belongings.
Ms. NewBabel: My dear alchemist, you simply must take a look at these newly bred critters—intelligent, docile, and perfect for potion testing.
Ms. NewBabel: Oh, darling, don't worry. Today's trades are just for demonstration. I wouldn't dream of going all out.
A lively voice calls out from the side.
X: Welcome, welcome! With funds presently dwindling, I've been forced to liquidate some of my most beloved inventions!
X: A round-the-clock paperless printer! Critter footprint transfer analyzer! Pixel conversion lenses!
X: Cash accepted, as well as trades for worthy inventions ...
The crowd swells. The place is buzzing.
The first-ever Suitcase Trade Fair officially begins.
A gentle melody floats through the air, opening the day's celebration.
Barcarola plays her Crackling Box. Some stop to listen; others pass by, eager to browse the bustling stalls.
Some hesitate. Some haggle.
And more still are drawn to the stall beside her.
Sea Mother's Eyes from Nukutaeao, shell necklaces, conch whistles, woven walking sticks ...
And the people who brought them from Nukutaeao.
These handmade items from the sea draw eyes from all around. One after another, visitors gather at the stall.
Fatutu: Welcome! Come see what Nukutaeao has to offer!
Nukutai I: These necklaces and sticks are handwoven.
Nukutai II: These shells once kept us safe on the sea.
Barcarola shifts to a cheerful tune, lifting spirits even higher.
Selone: We welcome all trades and traders. Browse as you like!
Little by little, items are taken and more are left behind, filling the Nukutai stall.
As dusk settles, Sea Mother's Eyes pass from hand to hand, lighting every corner of their outdoor site.
Wherever the musician plays, the light burns a little brighter.
A Lumin branch, newly sprouted and finding its roots, stands in a slender-necked vase.
Two Sea Mother's Eyes carved with musical motifs lie near it with special decorations.
Three little Typhon lanterns, traded between Sotheby and Fatutu, sway gently with the music.
Besides ...
Lucy: In bartering, where value is judged on the spot, estimations of a trade's final worth must be assessed through future use.
Lucy: Number of items requiring high-power output: 0.
Lucy: Internal suitcase power supply usage: 20%. Ranking: ... Low.
Lucy: Consider your energy use here adequately compensated.
Vertin: Thank you for your generosity, Madam Lucy.
Lucy: Don't sweat it.
Before midnight, everything the Nukutai had brought to trade is gone.
Vertin: Miss Fatutu.
Fatutu: Timekeeper! We're all out of things to trade. Are those what you got from the fair?
She sees a few books, neatly tucked at Timekeeper's side.
Vertin: Just the ones ... that didn't get traded.
Fatutu: I see!
Fatutu: Timekeeper, I saved a shell necklace for you.
A necklace strung with shells—a dazzling array of shapes and colors—delicate and distinct.
Fatutu: This one follows the traditional Nukutaeao style more closely.
Fatutu: Timekeeper, all of us are truly grateful to you and the Foundation for letting us stay here.
Selone: For Fatutu and all of us to have a new home, we're so thankful.
Nukutai I: Yes, those complicated forms—we never could've filled them out without your help.
Nukutai II: Especially that library registration.
Vertin: Of course. Are any of you interested in these books?
The islanders squint at the titles, trading thoughts and guesses about their meanings.
Selone: "Clock Repair" ... Ah, for the machine they use to tell time ...
Fatutu steps closer, a question shining in her eyes.
Fatutu: Timekeeper, I've been meaning to ask you something.
Fatutu: A long time ago, my brother told me that if a Nukutai were ever to leave their home, their shell would crack.
She runs her fingers along her necklace. Each shell remains intact and unbroken.
Fatutu: I never quite understood if he meant it. We never ventured far enough to see.
She passes the necklace to Timekeeper. Even under the night sky, it gleams under the Sea Mother's Eyes.
A quiet, distant power still flows within, tracing every line, gliding through its grooves.
Vertin: I can feel it.
Vertin: Could it be that your brother was right? It's just that ...
Vertin: You never left your home. That's why it's still whole.
The island girl doesn't seem to have a reply or a reaction ready.
Until a Nukutai voice calls her name.
Selone: Fatutu! Timekeeper! We've decided.
Nukutai I: We're keeping this one—Mastering the Art of Communication!
They walk over to Fatutu, wearing smiles that are as familiar to her as the grooves of her shells.
She's seen them by the bonfire, on the beach, opened wide in song, and riding the ocean wind—they always knew they could go home.
Because it was always beneath their feet, behind them, or just ahead.
Fatutu: Could it be? That's ...
Fatutu: ... That's wonderful.