by Joanna Orwin
Taka watched him go. ‘He’s just a bag of wind without his mates to back him up.’
Kai shook his head. ‘That one’s bound to cause trouble.’
Taka soon thought he’d discovered the real reason for Kai’s lack of enthusiasm about being chosen as a Traveller. While he was making the most of the attentions of three attractive girls, one leaning against each knee and the third bringing him special tidbits from the feast tables, his cousin seemed to be spending all his time with a dull, inconspicuous girl from Hara. He kept catching glimpses of the two of them, secluded in some quiet corner deep in solemn conversation, their heads bent close together. Trust Kai to single out someone serious when he should be having fun. The Travellers were being honoured with three days of feasting, and their names were already incorporated into songs that would be sung for generations. Taka was enjoying being so popular. His admirers laughed at every wisecrack he made and hung on his every word. He preened, then made outrageous claims of prowess, knowing none of it mattered. When these girls drifted off, others just as pretty took their places. He felt sorry for his cousin. There was time enough to take their future seriously when the celebrations were over.
Each night, the Travellers were escorted to their special compound while the feasting continued without them. Taka didn’t mind that nothing could come of his flirtations. The draught given them each night by the Wise Ones ensured a sound sleep undisturbed by the stirrings of desire. That night, just as he drifted into sleep, he sensed that Kai was lying wide awake beside him. He lifted himself onto one elbow, forcing himself into alertness. ‘Want to talk about it?’
He saw his cousin’s eyes gleam as he turned his face towards him. ‘You’ve guessed?’
‘Even I’m not that unobservant. What’s so special about her?’
Kai sat up to slow the effect of the sleeping draught. Once he started, he couldn’t stop extolling the Hara girl’s virtues. Then his voice filled with despair. ‘I can’t bear knowing that after tomorrow Poa will be allocated to someone else. That someone else will marry her.’
Everything mattered too much to Kai, even this girl he would never see again.
‘That might’ve happened anyway.’ Taka was struggling to stop his heavy eyelids from closing. ‘Hardly anyone gets to marry who they like.’ Each year at the spring festival, suitable matches with girls of marrying age were arranged for all eligible young men. Moho had explained that mixing bloodlines among the few original families that went to make up the different swampland peoples ensured co-operation and healthy descent lines — another of Tanga’s edicts.
Kai groaned. ‘That doesn’t stop me wanting Poa to be mine.’
Taka’s jaw cracked as he yawned uncontrollably. ‘I know you wanted marriage and an ordinary life. I’m sorry …’ He slid down onto his mat and was asleep before he could think of any words of comfort.
Almost before they were awake, Matu was looming over them, his eyes reddened with rage. He hauled them off their mats, easily lifting one slightly built Repo youth in each brawny fist. Then, shoving Taka away without sparing him a second glance, Matu thrust his face into Kai’s. ‘Little smart arse. I knew you were trouble the minute I set eyes on you. That’s my sister you’re messing with.’
‘Back off!’ Taka interjected. ‘He’s done nothing but talk to her.’ Matu was just looking for trouble. The precautions imposed by the Wise Ones prevented any of the Travellers taking contact with a young woman any further.
Matu sneered. ‘No manhood — why doesn’t that surprise me?’ His voice filled with menace. ‘What’ve you got to say for yourself?’
Kai shook his head, ignoring the insult. ‘I intend her no harm.’
The other youth stared at him for a long moment. ‘You break Poa’s heart, you’ll have me to answer to.’ He turned back to finish rolling his sleeping mat.
Taka said ruefully, ‘Well done, Kai — did you know who she was?’
His cousin watched Matu push through the other Travellers on his way out the door. ‘Of course I knew, but it’s hardly relevant. He’s entirely within his rights. He’s just being protective.’
The revelries were over. The evening before the ceremony that would dedicate the chosen Travellers to Tanga and so remove them from the ordinary world, the Wise Ones sent them to spend one last hour with their families. Taka’s grandfather seemed unmoved by the heightened atmosphere, apparently not noticing Whi’s tears or Moho’s grim face. When Taka squatted beside him to say his farewells, Pare brushed his hesitant words aside. He mumbled querulously about the time it was taking before they could return home. Taka gave up. He tried not to feel slighted by his grandfather’s indifference. Perhaps the old man had lived too long to be bothered by anything much; perhaps his wandering mind couldn’t grasp the significance of what was happening.
His grandmother, though, hugged him, then tucked a finely worked waist belt with a hidden pouch into his hands and closed his fingers over it. ‘Promise me you’ll wear this every day of your life. It will protect you.’
Tete pressed her face against his, her soft, old skin the fine texture of beaten fibre against his cheek. He held her close, his eyes squeezed shut, breathing in her familiar smell of dust and dried flax overlaid with the faint sourness of old age, until she pushed him away gently. She murmured, ‘Don’t forget your family and all we’ve taught you.’
Then she spoke out loud so the others could hear. ‘You’ll make us proud, Taka.’
He felt tears well as it sank in that his family would never know whether her words came true. He brushed the moisture away with the back of his hand and smiled bravely at her.
All too soon it was time to return to the Wise Ones. His mother clung to him for a brief moment, but said nothing. As he stooped to leave the shelter, Whi turned away, unable to hide an outbreak of weeping. Moho accompanied him to the edge of the encampment, then spoke the words of farewell. ‘You leave us as a Traveller with my blessing, though I would wish it otherwise. I’ve no doubt your grandmother’s right. Whatever lies in your future, you’ll face it with honour.’
Unable to respond because of the ache in his throat, all Taka could do was nod as his heart swelled with pride. His father hugged him briefly, then turned away. Taka watched him go, the familiar figure blurring as his own tears now fell unrestrained.
Saying farewell to Hina was even harder. His sister seemed so adult, so grave, as though she now had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Awkwardly, he closed her hand over the hawk’s flight feather he’d found that morning, at the last minute wishing he had Something more to give her. As she delicately smoothed each stiff segment into place, he described its warm colours of brown and speckled cream. Maybe, after all, this simple gift was perfect.
It seemed Hina thought so, too. ‘It’s fitting that you’ve given me a feather from Kahu, a feather from the king of the sky. I see Kahu in your future.’
Taka’s toes clenched, but as always she was unable to explain what her words meant. She smiled. ‘I’ll keep your feather with me to remind me of my brother, roaming free as a bird.’
The dawn ceremony took place on the broad terrace above Ra-Hou, with all the people present to witness proceedings. Taka could see his parents and grandparents near the front of the crowd. Hot tears threatened and he blinked them away fiercely. As the Wise Ones started the ceremony that would place the Travellers under the protection of Tanga, he drew himself up tall and squared his shoulders. He vowed silently that he would prove worthy of his family’s love and faith in him, no matter what lay ahead. He was wearing Tete’s belt, and he could feel the faint pressure of the white pebble from the Choosing he’d placed with the amulets and dried herbs his grandmother had sewn into the pouch. It was time to put his sadness at leaving his family behind him. He was beginning to Understand that this was the true sacrifice required of a Traveller.
The senior Wise One told how the Travellers would cross the sea separating the swamplands from the southern land of Aotea. There,
as heroes, they would confront Mahui’s fires as Tanga’s human underlings, face her fire-demons, and fight whatever battles were needed to lull the earthquake-god where he slept in the Under-World. At the same time, they would search for any sign that Aotea was once more suitable for human habitation. No matter what the outcome of their searches, their efforts would not be forgotten. They would be honoured for carrying out such deeds.
Taka’s thoughts drifted for a moment, then his attention was reeled back by the concerted hiss of the crowd’s sucked-in breath. What was the senior Wise One saying? He listened, dumbfounded. Only five Travellers would make the journey south to Aotea. Five, not ten.
What did that mean for the other five?
His bemusement increased. The Wise One was now telling a story Taka had not heard before. A story that at first seemed to bear no relationship to Travellers until she said a name that alerted all his senses. He listened intently. ‘Under Kahu’s guidance, and with incantations that imprisoned the winds and calmed Tanga’s waves, the chosen heroes paddled a canoe far across the Great Ocean to the land of the gods.’
Kahu? Was his choice of gift indeed god-directed, as his sister’s words had implied? The Wise One was ending the story: ‘After many adventures, the heroes successfully returned home. We consider that Tanga is telling us to undertake such a return voyage across the Great Ocean, following the pattern established by Kahu and those far-off ancestors.’
After a brief, stunned silence, voices were raised in consternation and speculation. Taka scarcely registered the confusion. His own thoughts were in turmoil. A voyage across the Great Ocean under the auspices of Tanga? Could that feather — Kahu’s feather — mean that his own destiny was tied to such a voyage?
The Wise One lifted her hand to still the voices, then waited. When at last everyone subsided, she explained in measured words what had brought the Council of Wise Ones to such a radical conclusion. She said nothing about the sky-talkers. It was Hina’s words back in the autumn that had started it all — her mysterious words about the north-flying kua — coupled with the clearance of the sky, the new face of the moon, and the appearance of the stars that signalled the end of the long years when their world suffered from the aftermath of the Dark.
‘All these are portents of change that can’t be ignored. Portents of change sent us by the gods.’ The Wise One then spoke of that ancient canoe the two Repo cousins had seen emerging from the sand dunes, its prow pointing to the north across the Great Ocean. Taka’s senses quickened as she repeated what she had said to them at the time. Each word was slow and distinct. ‘We know the appearance of that ancient canoe is a sign of profound change. Both Hina’s words and the canoe’s appearance direct us towards the north. The kua’s departure and return each year tell us that life-sustaining land must still exist somewhere across the Great Ocean. The old stories tell of islands a few weeks north of here. Indeed, long, long ago, some of our distant ancestors came from those very islands. Tanga is sending us clear signals of what we must do now. What’s more, he has set the stars in the night sky to guide our Travellers.’
It was a few moments before Taka absorbed what she was saying. When the kua next flew north, five of the Travellers would go with them, following the flocks northwards across the Great Ocean. He registered some of her final words. Islands. Old Huaho had mentioned islands. Islands created by the fire-goddess, tiny specks in the boundless ocean he had glimpsed from the summit of Hou. The Travellers were to set out across that daunting, vast expanse in search of such islands? His thoughts whirled. Would he and Kai be among them?
That evening, the Council of Wise Ones met with the headmen and the elders from each kinship group so they could continue to discuss such an unprecedented proposal. Invited to attend, the ten Travellers filed into the local headman’s house, where they were directed to places on the piled mats that lined the walls. Taka took his seat, then looked about him covertly. Although the youths were to have full speaking rights, he didn’t need Kai’s hissed advice to keep his mouth shut. He had no intention of speaking out foolishly in this company.
The Wise Ones were already seated at the head of the circle. Most of them were old, like their own Wise One, and sat with bony hands folded over the rounded tops of their staffs, their age-crumpled faces cast into strong contrasts of shade and light by the wavering torches set in sconces on the walls. Only a few were younger, but even they were mature women, for it was decades since anyone other than Hina had been born blind. His sister sat with them as their most recent acolyte. Taka wished his parents could see her now: it would ease their heartache. Despite her youth and smooth skin, she already looked at home among the Wise Ones, wearing their simple robe. Hina seemed to have regained her serenity. He’d always known she was exceptional. No one would doubt it now. As he watched her, the rustle of people finding their seats subsided and an expectant silence took over, disturbed only by the guttering flare of a torch flame. After a few moments, the senior Wise One took them through the short prayer asking Tanga’s protection for this bold new venture. Then she opened the discussion.
To-Repo’s headman was the first to take up the talking stick. Although he was only a distant relative, he shared Moho’s lithe Repo grace, his high cheekbones and aquiline nose, and Taka felt a fleeting sense of loss. His parents and grandparents might still be camped outside Ra-Hou, but he wouldn’t see them again. They suddenly seemed far away.
The headman was taking polite and wordy issue with the senior Wise One. ‘I accept what you say about change being needed. Yes. I accept your recognition of these portents we’ve seen in the changing sky. Yes. But I’m far from convinced why you would interpret these as a need to change the tradition of sending our Travellers south.’
He handed the talking stick on to the Ra-Hou headman, who was already standing to speak, his long face all angles in the torchlight. ‘I also need convincing. At least in the southern lands our Travellers have some chance of surviving, of finding a new life. But to send some of them into the Great Ocean …’
Taka surreptitiously made the demon-averting sign, and felt the movement among the seated listeners that indicated others did likewise. There was a brief pause while everyone absorbed these comments, then the Hara headman asked for the talking stick. Tarapu was a big man with fleshy jowls, but the thickset torso he shared with Matu and most Hara people was powerfully muscled under his short cloak. Where Matu slouched, his head thrust forward, this man held his shoulders back and his bearing was proud. He had the measured, resonant voice of someone used to being taken seriously. ‘It is clear from your story that you intend these young men to return. I have two questions. First, I ask why you propose that we should overturn the very premise that underlies Travelling? Second, I ask what is your purpose in sending Travellers into the Great Ocean?’
The senior Wise One held up her hand for silence as the listeners stirred, realizing that Tarapu had cut to the heart of the matter. Once she regained their attention, she spoke of the hunger they had experienced that winter, the poor seasons that had beset them for nearly two decades. ‘Almost all our food sources are becoming depleted. Despite the controls we place on our numbers, we’ve reached the limit of how many people can be supported by our swamplands. We need to find a new source of food to secure our future. That is why the young men must return with their findings.’
‘But surely it makes more sense to go south to Aotea?’ said Ra-Repo’s headman. ‘There must be remnant food sources somewhere in all that land.’
‘You forget there may also be people protecting any such food sources.’ Taka couldn’t see who spoke.
‘No one from Aotea has ever travelled north.’ Ra-Hou’s headman took the talking stick again. ‘After all these years, if people were still living there, surely someone would’ve come our way by now?’
Taka waited for one of the speakers to note that no Traveller had ever returned from Aotea, bringing welcome news of people and restored lands of plenty. But nobody referred to
this, and he shifted uneasily. Kai’s insistence that the Travellers went to their deaths was echoing in his head.
When no one had more to say, the senior Wise One spoke again. ‘This is why I told you Something of the story of Kahu and his voyage across the Great Ocean. His story contains the true purpose of such a voyage. Let me elaborate.’
Instead, she first talked of how, before the Dark, agriculture had dominated Aotea. Taka listened, barely able to conceal his impatience. Agriculture? What was the relevance of all this? She was talking about a particular food crop known as kuma, sacred to the indigenous people of Aotea. At the time of the Dark, Raranga brought them the knowledge of its cultivation in her basket. Although they still retained that knowledge as part of the lore passed down by the first Wise One, kuma seed tubers had not survived the prolonged winter cold of the Dark.
Taka was letting his mind drift when she told them that Kahu was the god of cultivated foods, a god neglected for many generations ever since the swampland people abandoned their first ill-fated attempts at cultivating the soil. Taka felt a pang of disappointment. Since they no longer paid homage to such a redundant god, the name itself couldn’t have any significance after all. But the Wise One was continuing. It was Kahu who had first brought the sacred food to Aotea. That had been the purpose of his voyage across the Great Ocean — to fetch kuma from the tropical lands of the gods.
The old woman brought her long speech to its end. ‘We would argue that if we couldn’t keep many cultivated food plants alive through the Dark here in the warmer north, it’s unlikely any survivors in the colder regions of Aotea were more successful. On this voyage across the Great Ocean these Travellers would seek out seed tubers of kuma and return with them so that we can once again cultivate the sacred food lost to us during the Dark.’
The Hara headman rose ponderously to his feet once more. ‘You continue to astound me. You intend us to cultivate food? You intend us to reverse yet another major decision made by our forebears?’
