by Joanna Orwin
His voice was heavy with sarcasm, but the Wise One didn’t respond. Taka heard someone nearby murmur, ‘Tanga protect us.’
Kai’s father spoke next, pausing between each sentence as he clarified his thoughts. ‘All these generations, we’ve paid tribute to Tanga for his generosity.’ Puweto drummed his fingers on the talking stick several times, a frown on his face. ‘All these generations, we’ve taken measures to protect his swamplands.’ He gazed around him at the sombre expressions. ‘Once it became clear we had to rely on the water-god’s generosity, we gave up so much. We gave up cultivation, because it disturbed the soil and muddied the water. We destroyed our pigs. We sent our young men away.’ He lifted his head and looked directly at the Wise One. ‘Are you now saying we were wrong to make these sacrifices?’
This time, the Wise One had to wait some time for the restless murmurs to subside. ‘Not at all. Such sacrifices have served us well.’
‘Despite them, we’ve now gone hungry for many years.’ Another anonymous voice challenged from the shadows at the back of the circle.
The atmosphere thickened as unease grew, but when the Wise One rose again her words were still considered and unhurried. ‘We can but weigh what evidence and portents the gods reveal and make decisions accordingly. The decisions made by our forebears were sound at the time they were made. But our world is changing.’
The Ra-Hou headman took the talking stick. ‘Our world is changing, indeed. How can you be so sure these portents come from Tanga?’ He hesitated, then his next words came in a defiant rush. ‘It’s more likely these signs come from the sky-gods. If we should look to cultivating food plants once more, maybe Tanga is no longer the appropriate god for our allegiance.’
Uproar broke out as several headmen spoke at once, not waiting for the talking stick but trying to shout each other down. The listeners, too, were loud in their dismay and anger. As accusations and blame filled the air, Taka listened open-mouthed, his toes clenched so tight they started to ache. In one corner, two normally austere elders came close to blows. The world was not merely changing, it was falling apart. If the most respected among them could resort to such tactics right here in the presence of the Council of Wise Ones, what hope was there of future harmony? Taka felt Kai stir beside him.
His cousin said quietly in his ear, ‘See what happens when people rely on the gods instead of taking responsibility for themselves?’ Although his voice was light, Taka heard it tremble. Kai was gripping his shoulder with a strength that betrayed his own consternation.
Taka looked anxiously at the senior Wise One. He didn’t think it possible that even she could regain control. To his amazement, she was standing there, her face serene. Behind her the other Wise Ones sat equally unmoved. Slowly, ever so slowly, their very stillness made itself felt. One by one, the angry voices faltered and fists were lowered. The Wise Ones waited as the now shame-faced combatants took their seats once more.
Only when there was no sound did the senior Wise One speak. ‘Difficult times are indeed ahead of us. All we have to offer is this ancient story and the pattern it reveals. The Great Ocean is Tanga’s domain, just as much as the swamplands. This is not the time to turn away from the water-god.’
The Ra-Hou headman said soberly, ‘You ask us to trust in this old story — that is asking for a great deal of faith.’
‘Don’t underestimate the power of stories,’ said the Wise One.
The To-Repo headman spoke then, his voice quiet. ‘We are survivors, and it was the old stories that taught us the way to survive. This is our strength. These young men are the true descendants of those first survivors. They are the inheritors of their courage.’
Chapter 7
Even if we agree to this, we don’t have canoes or any vessel large enough for an extended voyage, let alone one across the Great Ocean.’ Before Puweto spoke, Taka saw him seek out Kai among the Travellers. But the Ra-Repo headman’s voice was steady. ‘How could these young men possibly achieve such an epic return voyage?’
His question silenced them all. It was the second night of drawn-out discussions. The headmen and the elders were avoiding any contentious talk of allegiance to different gods, focusing instead on practicalities. Taka sensed they were tiptoeing around the subject and each other, none of them willing to risk again coming so close to losing control of their emotions. But no sooner was one problem resolved than another, seemingly insurmountable, filled its place.
Taka’s initial enthusiasm was wavering. He pushed the matter of Kahu and the feather to the back of his mind, telling himself Kai would certainly consider he was making far too much of a coincidence. Having to return with this sacred food plant would burden those chosen with enormous responsibility, far from the freedom he’d imagined would be his as a Traveller. He’d seen himself departing from the known world as the sun rose the day after the Choosing, slipping away without a backwards glance, a few possessions slung in a bag over his shoulder, leaving what came next in the hands of the gods.
Now, Tarapu was cutting across the growing murmurs of agreement with Puweto. His voice was confident as he raised the talking stick. ‘We can construct a suitable ocean-going craft by linking two large moki together with some sort of platform.’
Such a thing was unheard of. Taka wondered whether the headman was more like Matu than he seemed, and this was a form of Hara boasting.
The meeting concluded after several more hours of discussion, mostly about the feasibility of building such a moki and still without any mention of which five Travellers would cross the Great Ocean. As the weary youths trailed off to their quarters, Taka pulled Kai back, thinking his cousin’s sharp brain might help to clarify his own increasingly confused thoughts. ‘What do you make of all this? I’d rather head south in the traditional way.’
His cousin nodded. ‘Me, too.’ His voice was flat.
Taka tried a light touch. ‘Being sent to fetch plants? Where’s the adventure in that?’
‘Aren’t you missing the point?’ Kai stopped and looked at him. ‘Paddling a moki of some sort across the Great Ocean? I don’t like the chances of surviving such a voyage, let alone returning.’
Taka thought it was Kai who was missing the point. ‘The Wise One did say the voyage would have the protection of the gods, as in the old story.’
‘The protection of the gods?’ Kai snorted. ‘The gods are fickle. That crew’s fate is more likely to depend on this moki — and whoever happens to be on board.’
Taka was relieved none of the others was close enough to hear. His own head buzzed from too much listening, and he couldn’t find the energy or the heart to respond. They walked on along the river bank in a despondent silence, slowing when they reached the landing place.
After they’d stared thoughtfully at the fleet drawn up on the shore for a few moments, Kai nodded towards the largest of the reed craft, the one that had come from Hara. ‘This giant moki Tarapu talks about: what do you reckon the chances are of even building such a thing?’
Taka reluctantly supported the Hara headman’s stance. ‘What he said did end up sounding reasonable.’
They were idly discussing the merits of different moki when Matu caught them up. Overhearing, he laughed harshly. ‘So, Repo scum, you see yourselves as experts on moki now? What would you know about moki building?’
Before Taka could react, Kai said equably, ‘Not as much as you, obviously. everyone knows Hara people have the edge when it comes to moki.’ Hara territory was bounded by the largest river in the swamplands, which was why their moki were bigger and more robust.
Matu’s tone lost some of its aggression. ‘You got that right. No one has more expertise than us.’
To Taka’s dismay, he then fell in beside them, a hulking, uncomfortable presence. After they’d walked on a bit further, Kai repeated the question he’d asked Taka. ‘What’s your opinion on Tarapu’s proposed giant moki, then?’
Taka could see that the Hara youth was debating whether to answer, a suspi
cious frown darkening his face. Eventually, Matu shrugged. ‘We know an old story about a giant moki, more of a raft really, that once crossed the Great Ocean. I reckon we can do better than that.’
Kai asked for details. Before long, Matu forgot himself sufficiently to talk about length and width ratios, flotation requirements and different strengthening materials. As he talked, he used his hands to demonstrate. Forced to accept that his evident grasp of such things was impressive, Taka soon joined in with his own questions. The three of them arrived back at the Travellers’ quarters, still engrossed in the topic. But when they stooped to enter the low doorway, Matu abruptly reverted to his usual jeering self. He shoved past Taka and raised his voice. ‘Why am I expecting ignorant eel-catchers to Understand moki building? Stop wasting my time with your stupid questions!’
He swaggered across to his sleeping mat. Disconcerted, Taka stared after him. ‘What’s that all about?’
Kai shrugged. ‘Who knows?’
‘Anyone would think we intended catching him out in some way.’ Taka could not Understand such touchiness.
‘He’ll have his reasons,’ said Kai.
Taka watched the Hara youth insist his two neighbours move their sleeping mats further away to give him more room. ‘Who does he think he is? I don’t know why you try treating him like a normal human being.’
Kai raised one eyebrow, then grinned. ‘The thought of being stuck on a moki with him in the middle of the ocean.’
Taka shuddered. ‘Tanga forbid!’
The next evening, as soon as they gathered in the headman’s house, the senior Wise One rose to her feet and waited for silence to fall. ‘The council has now selected the youths whose qualities we think best equip them for the challenge of such a journey. These are the names of those we have chosen.’
No matter how much Taka told himself he was unlikely to have any of these unspecified qualities, he couldn’t control the nervous anticipation that was knotting his stomach muscles. His breath held, he listened for his own name.
‘Piko.’ Taka let out his breath. One down. This would be long-faced Piko, from here at Ra-Hou, a youth about the same age as Matu, seventeen or eighteen. He’d made some impression on Taka since the Choosing. Quiet most of the time, the tall, lanky youth could raise a startled laugh with some pithy observation. Taka thought he might prove to be clever, like Kai. Was he a convert to sky-talker worship like so many Hou people? But surely after the mayhem the other night, the Wise Ones wouldn’t risk selecting a dissenter? He pushed the uneasy thought aside, his heart beating faster as he waited for the next name.
‘Kota.’ This youth was from Roto, the hidden depths of the inner swamplands. Taka knew next to nothing about him. Dark-skinned and small like all his kinship group, he always seemed to have a smile on his face.
Two down. Taka’s tension was rising.
‘Kai.’ He felt his cousin stiffen beside him, then heard his breath expelled in a long sigh. Taka gritted his teeth in his effort not to cry out in protest, knowing that this was the last thing Kai wanted. But he should have guessed his cousin was bound to be chosen. The Wise Ones would know he was totally reliable and would prove steadfast in any crisis. He kept his eyes forward, not daring to look sideways. He was trying hard to breathe normally. His instincts were saying he should be with his cousin. At the same time, he was finding it hard to relinquish thoughts of the freedom that would be his on heading south into Aotea. He swallowed as the sour bile rose up and scorched his throat.
‘Matu.’ Matu? Surely he’d not heard correctly? Why would anyone in their right mind choose such a bully? He searched his mind for positives. At least the Hara youth was physically strong, and he probably knew more about moki than any of the others. That had to be the reason the Wise Ones had included him. The silence brought him back sharply to the present. One to go. He closed his eyes. His legs were trembling now with the effort of holding himself still. What was the Wise One waiting for? He clenched his toes hard and held his breath. There was no point praying to Tanga. He no longer knew what he wanted.
At last the Wise One spoke. ‘Taka.’
His eyes flew open. Had she said his name? It seemed so unlikely that for a moment he doubted his ears. Then Kai squeezed his shoulder, and he knew he was not mistaken. She’d named him. Taka. He was one of the five who would cross the Great Ocean.
There were no conversations that night as the Travellers made their way back to their quarters. Without a word being spoken, the others shifted their mats further away from the five chosen to cross the Great Ocean, a voyage that had every chance of leading them to their deaths. As Taka lay staring into the dark, he felt the restless stirrings of his fellow voyagers, also unable to sleep.
At dawn the next morning, despite Kai’s warnings having stripped some of the shine off his lifelong dream, Taka couldn’t curb a pang of envy as the other five donned their travelling cloaks and took up the heavy bags that contained a week’s provisions. He watched as the Wise Ones blessed them for the last time with Tanga’s protection, then sent them on their way to walk the little-used trail through the last of the swamplands to the narrow sea passage they would cross to the southern ancestral lands of Aotea. Without a backwards glance, the Travellers set off, one by one. Taka watched as they disappeared into the dense clumps of flax lining the path. It was all he could do not to run after them, calling, ‘Wait for me!’
‘Get yourselves down to the landing place.’ The Hara headman’s tone was brisk. ‘We’ve a lot to teach you, let alone build this moki before the kua depart at the beginning of next autumn.’
Tarapu’s down-to-earth words were reassuring. Taka followed the others, his regret at not being one of the Travellers who’d left that morning beginning to ebb. Never prone to brooding for long, he was soon distracted by the challenge of building this moki. When they gathered around the largest of the Hara craft drawn up on the shore, he listened intently while Tarapu explained its potential as the blueprint for an ocean-going moki.
‘Even on its own, this size moki is buoyant enough to support five adults. With the stability provided by a platform, two linked hulls should withstand the rigours of an ocean voyage.’
As he talked, Taka was remembering the way the moki led the fleet when the Hara people arrived for the Choosing. That seemed a long time ago, although only two weeks had passed. His interest quickened as it became clear that considerable innovation and experimentation would be involved. Tarapu was outlining the problems of weight distribution created by adding a platform and sleeping shelter. ‘It’s all about balancing structural strength against buoyancy. Then we have to consider whether our basic reed construction would survive a long voyage.’
Although Taka didn’t fully Understand these technicalities, it was flattering being spoken to as if they were equals, being treated with the respect afforded fully grown men. He felt the stirrings of pride and renewed anticipation. Despite its hazards, this voyage was more significant than normal Travelling.
Some of what the headman was saying echoed the points Matu had made earlier, and Taka looked at the big Hara youth with reluctant respect. Slouching as usual, Matu had his thumbs hooked under his waist belt. But he was studying his feet, not thrusting his head forward in that typically aggressive way of his. For some reason, he’d taken up a position slightly behind Piko. Taka’s curiosity was pricked. Hadn’t someone said Tarapu was Matu’s uncle? Why wasn’t he standing beside the headman, claiming his Hara status as a moki builder instead of hovering on the edge of the group like a lowly hanger-on? When Tarapu invited questions, Matu made no attempt to flaunt his knowledge, offer some technical observation that was beyond the rest of them. After answering their few, hesitant questions, the headman continued talking. His words cemented Taka’s change of heart. ‘Don’t underestimate this task. People haven’t crossed the Great Ocean since before the Dark. In those days they could build great ships, using metals and technology far beyond what we have now. We’ll be attempting Something not
achieved before, breaking new ground.’
For that reason, the Wise Ones were sending the Travellers to Hara, where they could take full advantage of the assistance and expertise of the moki builders. Once Matu was back in his own territory, he’d be bound to reassert his claim to the role of leader. That prospect was bad enough when all ten Travellers were involved; the thought of Matu lording it over their small group made Taka shudder.
‘Enough talk, it’s time to see what you’re made of.’ But Tarapu didn’t send them out onto the lagoon to assess their paddling skills, as Taka expected. Instead, he had them lift a smaller moki astride two others hauled up onto level ground. Once the headman was satisfied that the moki’s weight was fully supported, he got them to demonstrate their prowess on dry land, explaining that he wanted to adjust any major faults in their technique before they took to the water. Pleased to be doing something active at last, Taka swallowed his resentment that Tarapu apparently thought their skills might prove inadequate for such a basic task.
To start with, Tarapu checked them one by one, then in pairs. ‘You’ll need to work hard on your co-ordinated paddling skills. Teamwork will be vital in manoeuvring a double-hulled craft.’
The headman paid attention to small details. He shortened the length of Kai’s stroke, he pressed down on Piko’s raised shoulders until he relaxed the muscles, and told Kota not to lift the paddle so high with each stroke. He even altered the way Taka held the paddle, shifting his grip slightly. ‘You’ll be surprised how much difference such things make when you’re paddling day after day.’
Tarapu kept repeating his advice, patiently realigning their bodies until they started to get it right. The only time he raised his voice was with Matu. It didn’t seem to matter how hard the Hara youth tried, he was never good enough. Yet Taka could see Matu’s technique was already far ahead of his or any of the others. As the afternoon wore on and Tarapu continued to criticize everything his nephew did, the Hara youth grew more and more sullen. Taka suspected it was taking all his willpower not to shout back at his uncle or fling the paddle away in disgust and stalk off. He knew that’s what he would do. The tension between the two Hara men was almost visible, a tight cord thrumming close to breaking point. It was a relief when Tarapu at last decided they’d done enough for one day.
