Child of the Dawn (20 page)

 

 

 

TEN

 

Tepua returned to the Arioi encampment, her skin still tingling from Matopahu's touch. The grass was wet with dew and soothing under her feet. She approached her shelter quietly, expecting her companions to be asleep after the previous night's late dancing.
 

To her surprise she saw yawning women crawling from under the coconut palm lean-tos. The stout figure of Pehu-pehu passed by, her voice calling cheerfully as she roused the ones still drowsing. "Canoes are waiting," the Blackleg kept announcing. "Everyone out!"
 

Canoes
? Tepua did not understand. Then the Blackleg noticed her. "You look wide-awake," Pehu-pehu said, grabbing her arm firmly, almost painfully. "Good. You can make sure the others don't dawdle. Get them down to the beach. Hurry!"
 

Tepua blinked and watched the Blackleg hustle off to the next cluster of shelters. "Is someone eager to get rid of us?" she asked of no one in particular. "I thought we were to stay a few days."
 

"We are off to Tahiti," answered one of the younger Arioi.

"Tahiti!" Tepua's mouth fell open in surprise and dismay. "We just left not long ago."

"We have an invitation to go back," someone else explained. 'To entertain another chief. Someone friendlier than Tutaha."

"But...Land-crab..."

"We will stay away from our old district," said the first girl. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "No one knows what Head-lifted is planning. Do not be surprised if he sends a banana shoot to Land-crab."
 

A token of peace.
Tepua groaned at the thought that her troupe might reconcile its differences with the usurper. But there was a chance that the new chief they were visiting might take her side, and help drive Land-crab out....
 

The sudden change in plans made her thoughts swim. Matopahu was expecting to see her later in the day. What would he think when he discovered that she had vanished without a parting word?
 

The other women were heading for the beach. Tepua glanced about wildly, hoping she might somehow delay the departure or find a way to send Matopahu a message. At last, she saw Curling-leaf.
 

"Tepua," said her friend, "I watched you dance with Uhi last night. Did you and Matopahu quarrel? I was not sure."

Tepua answered happily. "I think that all is well between us. But now..." She took a deep breath. "I need your help."

Curling-leaf's smile lit up her plain features as she walked beside her friend. "Yes. Anything."

"We thought we would have a few days together. When he looks for me, I'll be gone." She sighed regretfully, seeing that the pebbled shore lay just ahead. Other members of the troupe were already wading out to the large double-hulls, their tapa garments tucked up above their knees.
 

Why such haste
? Tepua asked herself again. If only she could stay a short while longer.
 

"I know what to do," Curling-leaf said with a sly smile. She halted suddenly, clutching her stomach. Then she doubled up in apparent agony. "
Aue
! The fish I ate last night is trying to jump out of my belly."
 

The ruse had its effect. People clustered around Curling-leaf. In a moment, Tepua knew, Pehu-pehu would arrive and begin to shout orders.
 

"Go find him!" Curling-leaf whispered to Tepua, pushing her away before they were both surrounded by curious onlookers. "I will be here awhile, until this pain leaves me. One canoe will have to wait."
 

 

As Tepua neared Fat-moon's fenced compound she saw servants coming and going through the gate. She caught up with a young woman who was carrying a section of giant bamboo filled with water. "Will you take a message to Matopahu?" Tepua pleaded.
 

The serving woman eyed her with curiosity. "The archery champion is not inside," she said with a toss of her head. "You will find him at the stream."
 

Tepua rushed off, caring nothing now about who might see her. Why should she care if people took her for the champion's plaything? The gods had given her a single night with Matopahu, and now they were sending her away.
 

She found him sitting on the streambank, his feet trailing in the slow-moving water. Droplets beaded on the sunlit copper of his skin. He looked as fresh and new as the young grass sprouting above the bank. Damp black curls tumbled down the back of his neck, inviting playful fingers to twine in them.
 

As Matopahu caught sight of her, the dark brown of his eyes lit up, revealing flecks of amber and gold. The remembered glow of
hanihani
filled Tepua again.
 

"I thought you would sleep late," he said amiably. His words were casual, but the resonant undertone in his voice and the look in his eyes were definitely not. "I was not planning to search for you until the
tiare
blossoms opened."
 

He pulled her close to him, wrapped her in strong, warm arms. His skin was moist and silky from his bath. She shivered with delight as he pressed his nose to her cheek, and wished she could slip away with him again to the secluded nest beside the waterfall.
 

"I will be gone long before that," she said, her voice thick with misery. "My troupe is going back to Tahiti."

He stiffened. 'To which district?"

"I haven't heard. But Pehu-pehu seems happy about it."

Matopahu raised his eyebrows, showing his suspicions.

"I think I know what's coming," she told him hotly. "Head-lifted will take us on tour. Meanwhile he'll be sending gifts and flattering words to Land-crab."

She broke off as growing bitterness sharpened her voice. This was not the right time for such anger. She paused, looking up into Matopahu's face. "What will happen to you?"
 

"If I have any hope of reclaiming what my brother lost, I must stay here in Eimeo. Putu-nui now owes me a lot. If I can get help anywhere, it will be here."
 

"Is there no one in Tahiti who might support you?"

Matopahu sighed. "So far, I have been turned away by everyone I approached. Putu-nui is my best hope."

Tepua felt her spirits sink. She laid her head against Matopahu's chest as his fingers gently stroked her shoulder and back.

"Then that is all...."

"Do not be angry," he chided.

"I am not angry at you. The Arioi pull me one way and my feelings for you another."

His arms tightened about her. "Would you leave the troupe?" he asked incredulously.

She took a deep breath. "You know I cannot. My influence counts for something. If I can keep us from returning to Land-crab, his position will weaken. But if the troupe returns to him, who will doubt that he is the rightful chief?"
 

"Is that your only reason for staying with the Arioi?" He looked at her sharply.

She knew what he wanted her to say—that if Matopahu destroyed the usurper, she would give up the Arioi to become his wife and bear his children. "I serve Oro-of-the-laid-down-spear," she whispered.
 

"Do not forget that there are Arioi
fanaunau
."
 

Tepua looked away and did not reply. Of course there were members who left the troupe and had families— suffering ever afterward the scorn of the others. Never again could they take part in Arioi rites. Never again could they serve Oro-of-the-laid-down-spear.
 

He touched her gently. "Let us not talk about this now. There are too many other troubles ahead of us."

She closed her eyes and pressed her face to the moist, fragrant warmth of his chest, not wanting to leave his embrace. She did not want to pull away. "The canoe is waiting," she said. "You stay here. I must go."
 

His arms loosened. "We will find each other again, soon. Then we will not be torn apart so easily."

"Yes," Tepua whispered, letting her fingers trail down his chest as she drew away. She heard doubt in his voice that all his charm could not hide.
 

Then she was hurrying down the trail, seeing everything through a blur. When she was safely away, she paused and wiped her eyes. Now was no time for weeping. Hurriedly she glanced around, studying the small vines and saplings sprouting at the edge of a sunny clearing. Curling-leaf's charade would be more convincing if someone had gone to gather curing herbs. Trying not to think about Matopahu, Tepua snatched up a handful of leaves.
 

When she arrived at the shore, Pehu-pehu was standing over Curling-leaf, who had managed to sustain her grimaces and groans. Tepua's friend sat on a log with her hands still pressed to her stomach. "I brought a remedy," shouted Tepua, holding up her leaves.
 

Pehu-pehu tore Tepua's collection from her hands and threw it to the ground. "There you are again, never where you're supposed to be," she said harshly. "What do you know of cures? I have a healer coming. Get into the canoe and wait."
 

Curling-leaf let out a gut-rending moan that sounded more than convincing. Tepua knew that her friend would have to go through with the performance. She could not stage a sudden recovery now, or Pehu-pehu would catch on to the trick. Curling-leaf would have to swallow whatever foul potion the healer brought her.
 

I know why she is groaning so loudly, Tepua thought.
The healer's dose will probably really make her sick. I could not have a better friend.

 

By late afternoon the players had settled into new quarters, in a Tahitian district that lay south of their own. From the shore, Eimeo was visible on the horizon, a brooding mass of dark peaks topped by clouds. Gazing at the sight did not help Tepua's sense of loss. She wondered how long Matopahu would have to remain there. When he did return to Tahiti, he might not be able find her.
 

"Walk with me," came a voice from behind.

Tepua turned and saw Aitofa standing deep within a grove of breadfruit trees. The Arioi chiefess beckoned. Tepua tried to bring her thoughts back to the problems at hand.
 

"You are my eyes and ears," Aitofa said in a low voice as they continued through the grove.

"Yes." With a sigh, Tepua recalled her earlier discussions with Aitofa. The Blackleg had explained her difficulties in preserving the troupe. Only Chipped-rock Lodge had offered assistance. Aitofa had accepted the plan to exchange members as a way to establish the needed bond of friendship, but she had not been told in advance that a rival female Blackleg would be sent to her own troupe.
 

"I see the worst side of Pehu-pehu," Tepua said. "She always singles me out for criticism. With everyone else, she is patient and good-natured."
 

"Then she is gathering her strength," said Aitofa grimly.

"She cannot take your position."

"In time, maybe she can. I think that is what Head-lifted wants. Then he can say he has rid himself of the troublemaker, the one who tried to shame Land-crab."
 

"It was not just you!" Tepua answered indignantly.

'The others may give up their opposition to Land-crab. Life in exile wears us all down."

"And Pehu-pehu is always working against us, undermining our resolve. She cares nothing about the people of our district."

"Do not speak too quickly, Tepua. Neither of us understands her yet."

"I know why she was glad to leave her own troupe. Too many Blacklegs. She had no chance of becoming a lodge chief. Now she wants what is yours."
 

"Perhaps ambition is not all that drives her."

"Not all?" Tepua stared at the Arioi chiefess.

"The other lodges think that we are harming the good name of the Arioi. I have heard this opinion from several people."

"Pehu-pehu is doing nothing about that."

Aitofa frowned. "You may not think she is helping. I know that she wants to preserve the reputation of Arioi as loyal supporters of the tribal chiefs. She will try to push us back to Land-crab even if she gains nothing for herself."
 

"Then we are both in her way," Tepua replied hotly, "and there are others." She walked on, clenching her fist in anger, as she named Arioi whose sentiments against the usurper had not softened. Yet she had seen too many of these women clustered eagerly about Pehu-pehu, courting her friendship....
 

 

That night, Tepua had difficulty falling asleep. The guest house was warm and dry, a pleasant improvement from what she had known on Eimeo, yet too many worries kept her awake. She kept tossing, feeling every lump in the cushion of grass between her mat and the dirt floor.
 

She tried to soothe herself by remembering the night with Matopahu. How odd, she thought, that images of Uhi kept pushing the pleasant ones aside. In truth, she had cared nothing for that arrogant dancer. She had been drawn to him for one reason alone—curiosity about his unusual sunshade.
 

Matopahu...Uhi...Aitofa. The night on Taharaa Hill. Images swirled, bringing foreign faces and the ship with wings. She remembered the weapons that spat stones and spoke thunder. She saw again the wreckage of canoes that had been struck.
 

Now she felt herself carried on a great dark tide, to a place she did not want to see, to a time distant from her own. She tried to resist, to bring herself back to wakefulness, but the current would not relent. Darkness turned to brilliant blue as she came to the surface and looked out across Matavai Bay.
 

The vision had carried her off again, and this time it was even more vivid than before. All her senses came alive. She breathed the salty tang of the air and felt its refreshing chill. Long, heavy hair brushed against her neck as the wind stirred. Her body felt firm and strong as she shifted, her weight balancing the buck and roll of a seagoing canoe. But this was not her own body!