Sister of the Sun (39 page)

Kiore flushed with anger, and Tepua feared that he might lose his temper and use his fists again, but he seemed to remember why he was here. Carefully he began to speak.
 

He explained that the huge winged boats came from several different lands, and that the people of these lands often warred against each other. There were also raiders who stole cargoes from honest men.
 

"It is good that the foreigners fight among themselves," said Ata-katinga with satisfaction. "But someday they will tire of fighting each other and come after us."
 

"I see no reason for these people to disturb you," said Kiore. "There are rich ports on each side of the ocean, but nothing between."
 

Ata-katinga looked in puzzlement at Tepua, then back at the sailor. "Rich ports? Where?"

"Far to the east, but not so far as my country, sits a huge land that rises to the sky."

"A high island?" asked the Pu-tahi.

"Yes. Very rich and very large. There is a heavy kind of stone there that my people find pleasing. More pleasing...than fine feathers. It shimmers like sunlight on water. People make beautiful things from this stone."
 

Ata-katinga laughed. "I have seen the disks that foreigners treasure," he said. "They are useful only for children's games."

"My people think otherwise," Kiore insisted.

"Can the loud weapons be made of that same stone?"

"No. There is another kind, less rare, and far more useful for tools and weapons. I see nothing like it on this atoll."

Tepua bit her lip as the questioning continued. "Tell me about the weapons you brought with you," Ata-katinga demanded.

Kiore hesitated, glancing toward Tepua. In preparing for this meeting, she had urged him to describe the incident with the thunder-club. She knew now that Kiore's ill-fated companion had aimed his weapon at the sky, intending to harm no one.
 

Ata-katinga might accept this as a sign that Tepua's visitors were less aggressive than the foreigners he had seen. But if Kiore denied having any thunder weapons, the Pu-tahi would not believe him.
 

"We
had
a weapon," Kiore began cautiously. "Its purpose was to make noise—to frighten people so they would not attack us." When he finished describing the death of his friend, Ata-katinga's eyes showed a glimmer of sympathy.
 

But the Pu-tahi grew curious about the fate of the dropped thunder-club, asking Tepua several questions about it. She answered truthfully, describing the failed search, and was relieved when Ata-katinga's attention finally returned to Kiore.
 

The sailor went on, describing the chief's of the distant lands, the women, the foods, the animals. At last the conversation shifted to the events at Cloud Island.
 

"Are the evil foreigners who stopped there your countrymen?" Ata-katinga asked.

Tepua glanced nervously at Kiore. They had both hoped that Ata-katinga would not be so blunt. What could the sailor say now that would not anger the Pu-tahi?
 

"Perhaps you can help me learn the answer," replied Kiore cautiously. He spoke of the colored flags that identified the homelands of foreign vessels. Tepua saw sweat gathering on his brow as he waited to hear Ata-katinga's response. Beside her, Umia leaned forward in eagerness to hear.
 

Ata-katinga scowled, creasing the tattoos that covered his cheeks and brow. "You leave me with a puzzle, Narrow-nose. The vessel I saw remained for two days. I was able to examine it from sea as well as from land. Yet I observed no colors flying over its stern."
 

"That is troubling news," Kiore said, and Tepua could not tell if his expression showed relief or disappointment. "Honest men fly flags, to tell what chief they serve. If you saw none, then the foreigners you met were raiders, outlawed by my land and all others. It is no surprise that such men would attack you."
 

"Perhaps they were raiders," said the Pu-tahi chief. "They took everything that they wanted and gave nothing."

"They were not my countrymen," declared Kiore. "But perhaps other boats have been seen off Cloud Island, some that did show colors."
 

Ata-katinga shouted a question to one of his men. Someone brought an old canoe-master, who crouched at the feet of his chief.

"I heard of such a thing from a Cloud Islander," the canoe-master related. "In one corner it had stripes of red and blue and white, some straight and some crossed like this." He showed with his fingers.
 

Tepua turned to see Kiore gazing steadily at Ata-katinga, his face hiding whatever he felt. Last night he had described to her the emblem of his country, and this seemed to match. Yet she knew that Kiore did not trust Ata-katinga.
 

"That is not my flag," the outsider said quietly. "Perhaps your people have never seen my countrymen. If you ever do, I am sure they will give you a good welcome."
 

 

 

 

TWENTY-ONE

 

Tepua slept well that night, wanned by the hope that Kiore might find some of his own people, fulfill his obligation, and return to her. But that would come later, after the Pu-tahi were gone. The alliance she wanted had yet to be worked out.
 

When she heard Ata-katinga's bellow again, Tepua thought for a moment that she was still asleep, dreaming of the uproar that Kiore had started on the previous night.
 

"Where is that narrow-nosed demon?" came a cry. "I will use his guts to bind my canoe! Where is that treacherous woman-chief?"

In darkness she sat bolt upright, her heart jumping. When she came out of her house into the pale, dawn light, she saw warriors on all sides, a crowd of angry men. Her own guards had formed a bristling wall to defend her. Ata-katinga and his warriors were trying to get closer, shouting fiercely and waving their spears.
 

"Stop this!" Tepua cried. "No weapons!"

The commotion halted for a moment, men breathing hard through flared nostrils. The sullen looks on their faces showed how they resented her intrusion. It was clear to her that both sides were spoiling for a fight. "Go back to your mat weaving, woman!" called one of the Pu-tahi. "Making war or peace is a task for men."
 

"Ata-katinga, does this filth speak for you?" she demanded.

The visiting chief pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He seemed twice as big as before; anger had inflated him. His tattoos appeared darker and more grotesque than ever, and his frown deeper. Behind him a thicket of Pu-tahi spears pointed directly at her.
 

"Mistress of treachery," said Ata-katinga. "This time your foreigner's offense cannot be excused."

"His offense?" Her knees felt weak. Kiore again? He had no further reason to trouble the Pu-tahi. He had assured her that he would stay away.
 

"Was it not you who sent the fair-haired thief to steal my headdress?" Ata-katinga narrowed his eyes. "Now I know why you gave me the other one. I am not stupid. I saw that the hair in the tassel was the same as the hair on that man's head. If I catch him, I will have two trophies!"
 

"I gave you my father's headdress in good faith. And yes, if you must know, I found yours offensive."

"Ah, so you admit— "

She interrupted, feeling her face grow hot. "Only that I found the sight of your war trophy distasteful. You came here to renounce war! I did not wish to insult you, so I offered another, hoping that you would put yours aside."
 

"So that it could be stolen and burned?"

Tepua's mouth dropped open. "Burned!"

With a growl, Ata-katinga thrust out a fist. He opened his hand, showing her a mass of soot-blackened feathers and shells. In the midst of the tangle lay the charred fringe of golden hair.
 

"Someone took this headdress from my guesthouse. I said nothing at first, because I did not wish to accuse you wrongly. Then my warriors found this at a campfire in the woods." He shoved the remains at her, so close that she could smell the singed feathers. "They found something else as well!" In his other hand he held up the leg coverings that Kiore often wore.
 

For a moment she could not breathe. Glancing around in confusion and disbelief, she saw looks of fury on every Pu-tahi face. "I had no part in this," she protested.
 

"Am I to believe that the outsiders did this on their own? Good. Then I will deal with them myself. But you must find those men and deliver them to me."
 

Her heartbeat went wild. The Pu-tahi had found the headdress but not the men. Kiore had escaped, at least for the moment.

In fury, she stared at the Pu-tahi chief. She wanted to shout that his accusations were false, but misgivings kept her silent. Could Kiore have gone to Ata-katinga's guesthouse, stolen the thing, and then flung it into his campfire? Perhaps he was capable of such a foolish act.
 

"I will find the foreigners," she offered in a tight voice. "If either is guilty, then I will deal out the punishment."

"No, Tepua-mua-ariki. If you value my friendship, you will bring
me
the foreigners." Without waiting for an answer, he gestured to his warriors, ordering them back to his compound. Several paused to shake spears at her, grimace, and shout threats before they departed. It was all she could do to keep her own men from replying.
 

She turned, and was glad to find Sea-snake behind her. It did not surprise her that the
kaito-nui
was absent at this crucial moment. "Find Paruru," she whispered as she drew Sea-snake aside. "Bring him to me if you can."
 

"And what of the outsiders? Should we do as Ata-katinga demanded?"

She sighed. "Yes, search for them. But if you succeed, keep the sailors hidden. I will talk with them first."

And then what? Turn them over to the Pu-tahi? She could not decide that now. She found Maukiri in the crowd, put her arm around her cousin, and staggered back inside her house.
 

 

The sun had barely risen and the shadows were still long. No breeze reached the humid interior of the island, where Paruru led the foreigners along a seldom-used trail. Sweat trickled down his nape and forehead and dampened the palms of his hands. The warrior shifted the heavy shark-toothed sword in his grip.
 

Paruru kept stopping, listening to every leaf that rustled, every bird that cried. No one was going to creep up on him. If a Pu-tahi spy found him now, he would slash open his belly and leave him for the crabs. If one of Paruru's own men appeared, he was prepared to do the same.
 

His warriors were taking Sea-snake's orders. Paruru remained
kaito-nui
in name only. Yet he had not forgotten his obligations. He intended to save the high chief from her folly, even at the cost of his own life.
 

Ahead along the trail he saw a place where the forest thinned. Confident that they could not be surprised here, he beckoned Nika and Kiore to catch up with him. When he reached a certain palm tree, recognizable by the double bend in its trunk, he paused. Yesterday he had pointed this tree out to Cone-shell.
 

Just above Paruru's head was a wrapping of sennit, barely visible against the rough surface of the trunk.
Three times around. Good
. Cone-shell had fulfilled his promise. Varoa's chief had sent for his warriors, and they had come during the night. Now he was ready to strike.
 

Paruru saw the sailors glance at the marking and frown with puzzlement. They knew nothing of his plans. When they saw Varoa's men, he would have some quick explaining to do.
 

Paruru heard a rustle in the undergrowth.
Only a rat
, he told himself, and wondered if he should take its presence as a sign. Why was he so uneasy? His actions today, he thought, would protect his people. The gods should be pleased.
 

He turned, carefully studying every low bush, but saw nothing out of place. Then he looked at Nika, who carried the foreign weapon in its mat wrapping. The thunder-club was prepared now, its load of stones tightly packed into its hollow. How Paruru's palms itched to hold it.
But not yet
.
 

Paruru had gained Nika's cooperation with a ruse. After hearing that Ata-katinga was asking about the missing thunder-dub, Paruru embellished the news, adding that the Pu-tahi was planning to mount their own search for the weapon.
 

When the sailors doubted Paruru's report, he convinced them to leave their campsite awhile, then led them to where they could hide and watch while Pu-tahi crept up on it. The eels obligingly came. The foreigners did not guess that the Pu-tahi were seeking a missing headdress. After seeing savages tear their camp apart, Nika decided to flee with Paruru. Kiore, reluctant to lose sight of the weapon, agreed to follow. Since last night, the three men had been constantly moving from one hiding place to another.
 

"How much longer?" asked Kiore irritably as the
kaito-nui
led the way through dappled sunlight. "When will these Pu-tahi give up looking for us?"
 

Paruru gestured for silence. He pointed toward the path ahead, where marshy soil, littered with ferns, gave way to denser forest. As the men left wet ground behind, a Varoa warrior stepped silently onto the trail ahead. Kiore gave a cry of alarm.
 

"He is our friend!" Paruru hissed.

The
kaito-nui
turned, saw the look of mistrust in Kiore's eyes. Another Varoa warrior slipped behind the two foreigners.
 

"Nika—" Kiore shouted. Paruru heard a note of warning in his foreign words, and an angry rebuke from his companion. "What are we doing here?" Kiore demanded of Paruru. "Is it the Pu-tahi who want the weapon...or someone else?"