Sister of the Sun

by Coleman, Clare;

  He shaded his eyes, gazing over the water. Nika had been warned of the local dangers—the stonefish, the shifting currents, the sharp-edged coral—but perhaps he had been careless. Paruru felt uneasy as he began a long circuit of the islet, facing a stiff breeze as he turned toward the seaward side.

  The shore had no covering of sand here, only heaps of smoothed coral chunks that clinked against each other as he crossed them. Suddenly he heard a cry and the splashing of feet in shallow water. He saw Nika pelting toward him, his arms flung wide. The sailor shouted something, but his words were lost in the wind. The kaito-nui was alarmed until he saw a grin of delight on Nika's ruddy face.

  "I caught one!" Nika yelled. The sailor slid to a stop in front of Paruru, breathless, red hair tangled by wind and spray. He was wearing his own garment again. The rags of his shirt bore a dark stain. Paruru was close enough to smell the blood of a sea creature, a scent disturbingly familiar.

  "What is it?"

  Nika did not seem to know the word in Paruru's tongue. He used his own language and made signs. "A big one!" he said proudly. "I speared him."

  Paruru felt a chill as he stared at Nika, for he thought it possible that the man had caught a sea turtle. "Honu?" he asked Nika, dreading the answer. When the sailor did not respond, the warrior realized that he had never taught Nika that word. Having no turtle at hand, Paruru had carelessly neglected to tell him about the animal—or the tapu surrounding it.

  "Show me," the warrior demanded. Nika sprinted off and he followed, trying to make himself believe that Nika had caught a ray or some other bottom-dwelling flatfish. Nika led him to a stretch of sand, and Paruru was relieved to find the area deserted. At least he would be the first to see what his new brother had done.

  Strutting like a cock fowl, Nika led Paruru toward the scrubby trees above the beach. A moment later the warrior knew that Nika had done his worst. He glanced with horror at the gray-green shell, the pointed tail....

  Paruru wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, hoping that the gods would relent and take the scene away. But he could not hide from the smell, the terrible, dank smell from the sea's depths.

  Sennit cord was wrapped about the turtle's two rear legs, tethering the creature to a coconut stump. It lay, churning sand with its winglike front flippers, straining its neck back, opening and shutting its powerful beak. A fish spear was jammed deep into a gap in the shell, piercing the soft wrinkled flesh between the turtle's neck and the left foreleg. Blood welled up around the spear shaft every time the turtle heaved at its bindings.

  Paruru felt engulfed by a feeling of despair. How had he neglected to explain the importance of the turtle?

  "You are speechless." The sailor's voice startled him. "What a big one!"

  It was all Paruru could do to keep from seizing the fish spear, jerking it from the turtle, and burying it deep into human flesh. If this man had not been made his brother...

  Paruru watched the turtle trying to escape, snapping at the cords that tethered it. Nika picked up a shell-bladed knife and bent to cut the beast's throat. For a moment Paruru could only gaze numbly at the sight of the blade moving closer. Then he reacted, shooting out his hand to catch Nika's arm.

  "No!" Paruru shouted. While the turtle still lived he might find a way to salvage the situation. If the foreigner slaughtered the animal, all would be lost.

  "What is the matter?" Nika's voice sounded petulant as he dropped the knife."Why is this not pleasing? Here is my gift to you and the rest of the family."

  Paruru listened sadly as he began to grasp Nika's reasoning. The foreigner was not truly to blame. He had wanted to prove that he was worthy of adoption, a man who could provide meat for his new family. Now Paruru looked at Nika's expression and saw feelings of puzzlement, anger, and pride. The warrior found himself groping for words.

  "You were adopted as a younger brother,'' he said at last, "so I will speak as your elder. This act is tapu."

  Nika shook his head as if unwilling to hear.

  "It is forbidden," Paruru continued, biting off each word. "The turtle is sacred food. There must be ceremonies before the hunt and after, or the gods will be offended. Only important men, such as chief's and priests, may eat the flesh."

  Nika's face reddened and the veins in his temples were swelling. "There is no meat for me all the time I am here," he answered angrily. "All I get is fish and coconuts." He gestured impatiently with the knife. "You are an important man, so you can eat it. Now I am your brother, so why cannot I eat it, too?"

  Paruru wanted to laugh at Nika's ignorance. Only after sacred rituals was a man allowed to share the feast. For Nika's act there could be no reward, only punishment.

  The warrior tried to explain again, telling how turtles were descended from the god Tu-who-dwells-in-the-sea. The god would be angered by Nika's affront No one could say what the result might be—famine, storms, sickness.

  "And do not forget the ghosts of our ancestors," Paruru continued. "They, too, will avenge this insult. They will come for you at night, with their long sharp fingernails and teeth." Paruru saw Nika pale beneath the red bronze of his face. His hands began to clench and unclench nervously.

  "All just for honu?'

  "If I had not adopted you into my family," Paruru said, "the punishment would fall on you alone. Now it may fall on me as well, and on all of Piho Clan."

  At last the sailor put his knife aside and slumped down onto the sand. "It is nearly dead now. Why keep talking about it?" he asked angrily.

  "Because I am still looking for a way to save us!" Paruru crouched beside the wounded turtle. If its injuries were not severe, then perhaps it could be released into the sea and the incident forgotten. But the turtle's smell, damp with seawa-ter and heavy with approaching death, ended that hope. From the length of shaft remaining, Paruru knew that the spear had gone deep. Removing it would only hasten the animal's end.

  If he cut off the protruding shaft, turned the turtle loose, and it died at sea, no one else would know. But the gods would see, and their wrath would be swift. The entire atoll might suffer for the crime.

  Paruru watched the movement of the flippers growing weaker. The turtle was dying....

  He had one hope. He could take the creature to a chief while it still lived. If the chief accepted it, then the required rituals would be followed and the gods might relent, despite the improper hunt.

  But which chief? Tepua was too far away, even if he were willing to tell her what had happened. And Heka? He had urged her to accept the outsider in hope of keeping him out of trouble. Now she would see how her brother had failed.

  No, it would have to be someone else, someone unlikely to question too deeply. Then he thought of Cone-shell, whose own clan's islet lay just across the channel. After his recent troubles Cone-shell might welcome such an offering. A turtle feast on his marae could help him regain prestige among his wavering followers.

  Paruru wondered how to explain such a gift from Tepua's kaito-nui, after Cone-shell had treated her so harshly. Suddenly he saw how to explain it. But everything depended on his delivering the turtle alive. Quickly he told Nika the first part of his plan. "You must help me bring the creature across the channel."

  Nika stared at him, his hostile mood returning. "You say I cannot keep my turtle. Now you want help to give it away."

  "It is not yours. It is stolen from the gods," Paruru reminded him. "What do you think will happen if Tepua learns about this? She will put you back in your vaka and set you adrift." He pinched the flesh of Nika's thigh. "The Pu-tahi will catch you and have a good meal."

  Sweat beaded on the sailor's upper lip and forehead. He glanced once more at the dying turtle. "Then do it. Get rid of this thing."

  Shortly Paruru brought a small vaka around the point and anchored it in shallow water. He carried a roll of strong cordage ashore and looped it around the turtle's shell. Then Nika cut the bonds on the creature's legs. Despite its wounds and weakness, the turtle began to thrash its way toward t
he water, the new cord trailing behind.

  Once afloat, the heavy creature was far easier to handle than on land. Paruru tied his end of the cord to the stem of the canoe. With Nika's help paddling they headed into the lagoon, towing the struggling animal across the current.

  By now the sun was high, beating down fiercely on Parana's face and hair. He had lost his plaited sunshade and had no choice but to endure his discomfort. The distance was short, yet the journey seemed endless. Each time the turtle's head stopped waving or its flippers sagged, he feared that death had stolen his chance to make amends. He prayed to his guardian spirit, and somehow the beast always began moving again.

  At last he saw Cone-shell's beach, with tall palms and a cluster of thatched houses above the shore. The men paddled in; Paruru felt the vaka ground on sand. Cone-shell's attendants came to greet him and ask the purpose of his visit. When they saw what he was towing, some ran to tell their chief, others to get help in dragging the prize onto the beach.

  "You must be silent while I speak to him," Paruru told Nika in a low voice. "He must believe that I was the one who captured the turtle. Otherwise he will guess that it was not done properly." Grudgingly the sailor agreed.

  Soon Varoa's chief appeared, wearing a simple hip wrap and his tall headdress. "What is this?" Cone-shell asked, his expression a mixture of puzzlement and delight. "Why does the eminent Paruru bring me such a gift? Surely Tepua is not behind this."

  Paruru had already planned his response. "Let this be a token from Tepua-ariki. To show that she is not angry with you for testing her. Let this turtle help keep peace between the clans."

  "That is a...generous offer on her part." Cone-shell fell silent, as if trying to explain this surprising development to himself. "She will expect something in return," he said in a hard voice.

  "A token of your friendship will be enough," answered the warrior.

  Cone-shell grunted. "Several large albacore, perhaps?"

  Paruru knew what he was thinking. Even such prized fish as albacore would not make an adequate return gift. "Perhaps something more," said the kaito-nui.

  When Cone-shell scowled, Paruru hastily made a suggestion. "I heard that you have some high-island trees growing here."

  "Carefully tended!"

  "Tepua longs for the food of Tahiti. If you send her a few breadfruit—"

  "It will be done," replied Cone-shell, seemingly relieved that this would suffice. He drew himself up. "You may convey to Tepua that I am pleased to accept her gift," he declared loudly. Then his keen gaze turned to Nika, "But what of this outsider with hair like fire? Tell me his role in this."

  "He is now my brother," Paruru said casually.

  "Brother!" Cone-shell contemplated the news and his eyes narrowed again. "Yes, that was a clever move for you." He scowled and fingered the necklace of dolphin teeth about his throat. Paruru could guess that he was thinking about the sailors' goods, aware that now half might be claimed by Piho Clan.

  "Tepua approves of this?" Cone-shell asked angrily. When Paruru raised his eyebrows in assent, he ground his heel into the sand, then turned to where the turtle lay. "Then perhaps that explains this gift. She hopes to keep me from voicing my discontent."

  Paruru did not know how to answer him, and was afraid of wasting any more time. The turtle was nearly dead."You must begin the ceremonies—''

  "Yes," said Cone-shell. "I have accepted the gift and now everything must be done quickly. But do not think I will forget this other matter. I should have been told about Nika." He clapped his hands, summoning servants. Some went to inform the priests. Others brought refreshments for the guests. "Paruru, it is your right as hunter to join us at the feast," said Cone-shell. "And since this man Nika is your brother ..."He paused, biting the words off in distaste. "I invite him to come as well."

  Nika leaned forward eagerly, but Paruru jerked him back. He answered, "Your offer is well-spoken, chief, but in this case I give up my rights to the meat. Let my share go to men of your clan."

  Cone-shell stated in astonishment at this refusal. It was now, Paruru knew, that his whole plan might run aground. "It is because of a dream," the warrior improvised. "I saw myself bringing a turtle to a great chief, but I did not eat of the flesh. The dream puzzles me, but I mink I must follow it."

  "That is a strange dream," Cone-shell replied with a frown. Paruru could see, however, that he had not missed the flattering phrase. "Rare is the hunter who gives up his portion," Cone-shell added, "but I will not press you to go against your dream. You may stay here. My servants will look after your needs. I leave now to prepare myself for the rituals." As Cone-shell strode out of sight Paruru mouthed silent praises to his guardian spirit.

  When the chief was gone, Nika began to complain again. "I am not entitled to a share," Paruru hissed. "And neither are you. Be glad that Cone-shell accepted my story."

  Nika fell silent. The servants brought a meal of fish, coconut, and taro, but he ate little. He toyed with the placemats of plaited leaves. "What are all these ceremonies that you keep talking about?" the sailor asked at last.

  "If you wish," Paruru answered when he was done with his meal, "we can sit outside the marae and listen. Maybe you will learn something that way. Maybe you will understand how careful we must be with the turtle."

  When he heard the sound of chanting, Paruru followed the path to the sacred place by the shore. The two men sat nearby, their backs against coconut trees. The priests' chants made the warrior think of days long before, when he had sung and danced in the rituals for catching turtles. Now the remembered words filled his thoughts.

  Come! Come to the shore, great turtle.

  Rise up to the white waves of the sea

  Ride the waves to the shore.

  May you come here, come straight here

  To where your navel cord is buried

  To where your marae stone is set up....

  Beside him, Nika shifted restlessly. "I wish to see what they are doing."

  "We must stay here, but I will tell you," Paruru said. "I have watched many times." He explained each step, the invocations, the offerings, the preparation for the first oven.

  "The first? How many times is the turtle cooked?"

  "Twice. First to melt the turtle's fat and make the flesh easier to divide. The portions are then baked in a second oven, dug nearby."

  Nika grinned. "I know why you cook it twice. Because your knives are not sharp enough to cut it up. You should try one of my knives."

  Stolidly, Paruru answered, "We cook it twice because that is the way the ceremony is done."

  "I do not like your answer," Nika replied. And soon he was complaining again as the aromas of the first cooking wafted to him from the marae. Paruru heard the sailor's belly growl and saw how his mouth watered at the smell.

  "The men of Varoa will eat heartily," Paruru said.

  Nika buried his head in his arms and groaned. "Enough of ceremonies. Let us go home."

  "No. I want you to listen to the rest of the ceremony."

  "I am suffering!"

  "Then let it be your punishment." Paruru sat back against the coconut tree and wondered if he was safe now. Cone-shell's priests had accepted the offering without question. Perhaps there would be no reprisal from the gods if the wrongdoers got no benefit from their acts.

  But what other mistakes might this outsider commit? Paruru remained quiet for a long time as he contemplated what had happened. The smell of roasting meat filled his nostrils. Nika's soft moans sounded in his ears, but the suffering brought Paruru no pleasure.

  His thoughts returned to that bright afternoon when the foreign vessel had appeared on the sea. Now he wondered gloomily if he had made the wrong decision. Perhaps he should have kept his men back and let the sailors crash into the reef.

  THIRTEEN

  After her last encounter with Kiore, Tepua decided that someone else must take over instructing him—at least until his temper cooled. She charged a young man named White-sea with th
e task, and for days she did not see her sailor. Paruru came back from his visit to Piho Clan, leaving Nika behind, and still Tepua avoided Kiore. One morning, however, she saw White-sea when she was returning from her freshwater bathing place, a small inland pool filled with rainwater.

  "Maeva ariki!" called the young teacher. He was carrying a hooped flying-fish net, its long pole handle dragging behind him.

  "I will talk to his man alone," she told her attendants, sending them on ahead.

  This was not a good time to be lingering, she knew. Kohekapu was once more close to death, and now she doubted that the deep-voiced drum in the marae or the prayers of the priests would induce the gods to relent. Yet her thoughts were constantly on Kiore. She stopped for a moment to ask about his progress.

  "He is doing well, ariki," answered White-sea, a slender sinewy young man, with crisp curly hair and bright black eyes that looked large in his triangular face. Tepua saw a glitter of excitement in those eyes, a sign of his pride in being chosen as the teacher. "I have borrowed this net from my cousin," he said. "Kiore will study it, and then we will make one for ourselves."

  "Good work," said Tepua, wishing she could watch. It would give her pleasure, she thought, to see Kiore's hands holding an implement, or his intent expression as he worked.

  "And the outsider is also finding new things to eat, ariki. Yesterday he tried the slate-spined sea urchin, fresh from the lagoon."

  Tepua recalled hearing how Kiore had once hesitated to eat raw clams. This, too, had changed for the better. As Kiore came to appreciate the foods of the land, she thought, he would be happier here, perhaps less eager to depart. "You are doing well, White-sea."

  "There is more, ariki. He wished to learn how to sail a vaka. Now he can handle a small one on his own—so long as the wind is steady."

  Tepua felt disheartened by this news, but tried not to show it. "Where will he go? To some other islet?"