No. She refused to believe that Kiore could carry out such acts of cruelty. Regardless of what evil she heard about foreigners, she would not change her feelings toward him. Yet it did not matter that one man was different.
The Pu-tahi's story rang true. It fit perfectly with her own vision of terror. Now she knew how she must answer Ata-katinga's request. The outsiders were a danger that she dared not ignore. She must persuade her people to accept an alliance with their ancient enemy.
By the next morning, the chief's and elders of all the clans had arrived. Even Rongo's arrogant young leader, the only chief who had not formally acknowledged Tepua's rule, came to offer his advice. They gathered at the assembly ground, under gray and threatening skies.
Meanwhile the Pu-tahi had been left to amuse themselves beside the shore. From her seat, Tepua glanced toward the choppy lagoon and saw young men racing each other in their fleet canoes or diving into the water. A few brave Ahiku youngsters stood watching, but no one dared join the visitors' games.
She turned her attention to the assembly. Never before had she presided over such a large gathering. As-she studied the glaring eyes and down-turned mouths, she felt a knot growing in her belly. There seemed to be little sympathy here for making peace with the raiders.
Her voice wavered as she began to relate Ata-katinga's message, adding details she had learned from him in their private discussions. She described a foreign weapon that was even more terrible than the thunder-club. It was thick as a tree and poked out from the sides of their vessels. It spat huge stones that could smash canoes or even houses along the shore.
When she had finished, she saw many wide eyes and gaping mouths in the crowd. Several old men were trembling out of fear and rage.
"Do not accept these lies!" Cone-shell shouted in reply. "The Pu-tahi want to frighten us and make us weak so we will agree to whatever they ask."
"Are these reports lies?" asked Heka, turning angrily toward him. "I have heard some of them before—from different travelers at different times. Would so many men invent the same tales?"
"Everyone knows there are foreign vessels on the sea," Cone-shell answered. "But the power of their weapons grows with every telling of the tales."
The chief of Rongo clan turned and eyed him. "Not so, my friend Cone-shell. I am certain that the weapons are as dangerous as Ata-katinga tells us." He turned back to address Tepua. "Yet these foreign vessels are few. I think it unlikely that they would trouble us here."
"The Rongo ariki speaks well," said a Piho elder. "A stray boat might arrive by accident, but why would anyone seek us out? The foreigners possess lands of their own, where they build great wonders. We have nothing they want."
"Their vessels must be provisioned," Tepua interjected. "The crews are large and they are at sea for many months. One vessel could swallow up all the food we have."
"Then let us prepare to defend ourselves," said Cone-shell, "We can build weapons like theirs." He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. "We have men who can teach us."
No! The thought of more foreign weapons made Tepua shudder. "We cannot make these things," she said to Cone-shell. "We do not have the kind of stone they need."
"Does this stone fall from the sky?" asked Cone-shell, grimacing contemptuously. "Is it something that only the foreign gods give their people?" He looked from one face to the next, but no one answered him.
Finally a Rongo elder spoke. "If outsiders come to us for provisions, we must ask for this precious stone in return. That is how we will get what we need to build the weapons."
Tepua heard this suggestion with dismay, then thought of a new argument. The gods had forbidden her people to shoot arrows at each other. What would they say about using these thunder makers? "Let me hear a priest's view." She turned to Faka-ora.
The high priest took a deep breath. "We dare not use such weapons against our own people. The gods would punish us severely. But I see nothing wrong with turning these spewers-of-smoke against the foreigners who made them."
Tepua felt stunned by his answer. The idea of these weapons in the hands of her own people repelled her, regardless of how they were used. "What could we offer in trade for the stone?" she asked, hoping to discourage this talk. "We have nothing but food, and little enough of that."
"Plant more coconut trees!" said one of Varoa's men. The reply brought an uproar of agreement.
"That is no answer!" Tepua protested. The meeting became so unruly that she was ready to call an end to it. But nothing had been decided. The others seemed content with blustering and making vague plans. "Umia," she said, when the voices had finally quieted. "Tell us your thoughts."
She watched the young man turn to Cone-shell and meet his hostile gaze. "I wish to remind you, Uncle, of how our lives used to be. In the past we were always fighting among ourselves. Now our clans support each other. Yet an atoll is still a small place."
"Small!" said Cone-shell. "Everything a man needs is here. If we lack something, we find ways to get it."
"Until the outsiders came, I believed so," answered Umia. "Now I see that there are people and places we know nothing about. Out of malice or carelessness these foreigners may do us harm." He paused, and no voice rose against him. "We are fortunate," continued Umia. "The gods wisely spread our atolls in a wide swath across the sea. There are so many islands that the outsiders cannot descend on them all. That is where our hope lies. And why we must settle our differences with other islanders."
"He speaks well,'' said Tepua. She looked about and saw that Umia's words had made an impression. People glanced at each other in surprise. Such wisdom from the young man they had once dismissed as unready for the chiefhood!
"Yes, he has made a good point," said Heka. "The foreigners may be dangerous, but I do not think they can destroy all the atoll people. With alliances we will have places of refuge, and food when ours is gone."
"Alliances, yes," Cone-shell shouted. "But not with Pu-tahi eels."
"They are the strongest friends anyone could have!" replied Umia.
Some voices joined Umia's. Others still argued against Ata-katinga. "How do we know the Pu-tahi will not betray us later?" shouted someone. "They will act like friends for a time, then turn on us."
Tepua kept silent awhile. Umia was doing well enough on his own. Cone-shell persisted with the opposing view, slowly losing supporters. Yet many people remained adamant against making an agreement with the old enemy.
One man had not spoken—Paruru. Knowing his true feelings toward the Pu-tahi, she had not objected to his silence. Now he began to speak, in a firm voice that made everyone turn to him. "I have listened to these arguments and I have not been swayed. Those of you who have faced the Pu-tahi in battle understand. We can never trust them. We can never feel comfortable with them around us. Get rid of the man-eaters, I say, before they take advantage of our hospitality. Do not allow them to stay another night."
Tepua rose to her feet. "We have a meeting of peace here, sanctioned by the gods," she answered hotly. "I will not have it ruined by talk of distrust." She waved her hand at the assembly. "Discuss this all you want. Light fires, and stay up all night if you must. Then we will meet again and see who still clings to Cone-shell and Paruru."
The kaito-nui was not surprised when Cone-shell approached him a short time later. "There is too much bad air about," said Varoa's chief, making a fanning motion in front of his face.
"I know a place where the air is fresh," answered Paruru, "and where a man can speak freely." He led Cone-shell onto a little-used path across the island.
The men walked in silence. There was no telling who might be listening, hidden under the sweeping branches of hibiscus or behind the aerial roots of fara palms. Paruru felt an obligation toward Cone-shell now, and the thought made him uncomfortable.
Varoa's chief had never spoken a word to Paruru about the turtle incident. He had let his brother, the high priest, handle the problem at his marae. After the ceremony was done, and the spirit
s appeased, Cone-shell had treated the offenders as honored guests.
Now Paruru found himself together with Cone-shell on the same side. It was a partnership that he did not welcome, yet he saw no alternative.
"This is the way down," said Paruru, descending a short slope toward the seaward beach. A brisk sea wind was blowing, spray from the breakers leaping high. The water beyond was gray under the clouded sky.
The warrior looked around with satisfaction at the barren shore, where only a few scrubby bushes grew amid exposed and weather-blackened coral. There was no place here for an eavesdropper to hide.
Cone-shell found a stone perch and motioned for Paruru to take a lower seat in front of him. "I admire your little island," said Varoa's chief. "Do you know that it once belonged to my clan? That was before Ahiku people lived on this atoll."
"We did not come here to talk of ancient wars," said Paruru, annoyed.
"That is true. We came to talk of helping each other."
"I have heard your opinions and you have heard mine," said Paruru. "They are much the same, though for different reasons. It is my duty to protect Tepua. And I will not have stinking Pu-tahi on our shores."
"Then we two must work together."
The warrior studied Cone-shell's eager expression. He looked like a spear fisherman at the moment of his thrust, but Paruru was not ready to be his prey. "I do not think our goals are exactly the same," Paruru cautioned. "You wish to challenge Tepua's rule. It does not matter if the issue is Pu-tahi or spoils or an argument over a coconut tree."
"I wish what is best for all the clans," replied Cone-shell, slapping his chest. "This chief is not afraid of battles. I will fight Pu-tahi. I will fight foreigners."
"What if we win?" asked Paruru. "What if sentiment grows so strong that Tepua is forced to send Ata-katinga away? Then her power to rule will be weakened."
"Is that not for the best? Do you truly believe a woman should lead us?"
Paruru's mouth felt dry and he had difficulty bringing an answer to his lips. "My opinion means nothing. She will continue to do so—until the gods place the sacred power with someone else."
"That day is not far off."
"Perhaps." But you will not be the chosen one.
"We certainly have differences," said Cone-shell in a friendly tone. "Yet there is something we both want. Let us work together to prevent an agreement with the Pu-tahi.''
"And Tepua? What will happen to her if we succeed?"
"She is no fool. She will not make this a test of her authority. When the wind blows, the palm tree bends."
NINETEEN
Soon after leaving Cone-shell, Paruru found the outsiders at their secluded forest campsite. They had been told to remain here, out of sight of the Pu-tahi. He hoped that they would not grow restless too quickly.
The day's shadows had lengthened. In the center of a clearing a fire burned above ground, and the cooking odors made Paruru widen his nostrils. Meat. But of what sort? None he had ever smelled before.
"Come. Join us." Nika shouted, waving a charred lump at the warrior. His words were oddly slurred; his usually dour face bore a wild grin.
Paruru felt a lurch in his stomach. What new form of mischief had the men discovered? On the ground he saw the battered bodies of two coconut rats. The bloodied skins of others lay in a heap beside them.
"Good meat!" Nika said, his food muffling his words. His chin was greasy. When he took another bite, dark juices dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
"We...do not eat...rats," Paruru said, fighting the nausea that began to rise.
"Another tapu! I will eat them anyway!"
"The rats are our friends," Paruru muttered, but he saw that the men were not listening. Some strangeness, perhaps an evil spirit, had entered them. Their faces were glazed with sweat and displayed a childish kind of happiness.
"Try one," said Kiore, removing a stick that had hung over the fire. He offered the charred end to the warrior.
Paruru nearly gagged. Fending it off with one hand, he said, "I cannot eat that. But you are outsiders. Perhaps no harm will come to you."
"If you do not eat, then drink with us," Nika bellowed. He clapped his hand on Paruru's shoulder. "You are my brother. I share everything with you."
"I came to tell you about the Pu-tahi," the warrior said, his voice rising with his frustration. He smelled the rank odor of the men and knew that they had not washed themselves recently. With dismay he realized that the sailors, left alone, were reverting to their old habits.
"We know about those sharp-toothed fellows," Kiore assured him in tones of slurred joviality. He, too, clapped his arm about Paruru. "We spied on them from the bushes."
"You might have been seen!" said Paruru with alarm. "Those men are dangerous!"
"Fierce!" said Kiore, moving his forefinger across his face as if tracing tattoos. "Very fierce. If they catch us, they will eat us. Like this." With his teeth, he tore off another mouthful of meat. "After they eat us, they will be sick. Fall down. Unh! Dead." He clutched at his stomach, toppled over, then lay still while Nika heaved with laughter.
"This is no time for joking," Paruru hissed. "The visitors are deceivers. They will talk quietly for a time and then they will start a fight."
"No, my brother," said Nika. "These visitors will not harm anyone. We will not let them." He stood up and spread his legs, imitating the stance of a warrior. He held an imaginary spear, as if ready to throw it."I am too strong for them. They will not get past me."
Paruru stared with narrowed eyes. He had never seen the men like this, beyond reasoning. A feeling of helplessness came over him.
Kiore staggered to his feet and tried to embrace Paruru again. "You are my friend's brother. Come and drink with us. We are lonely here."
"Bring us women," Nika suggested. "Then we can be happy." He pushed a coconut cup toward Paruru and the warrior reluctantly took it. If he kept refusing their hospitality, he thought, then the sailors would soon scorn him.
The sharp odor rising from the cup was familiar. Paruru's eyebrows rose as he remembered the foreign drink. Another whiff convinced him that this was the stinging potion that Cone-shell had tasted and spat out. But what was the drink doing here? He had last seen its container when the foreign goods were moved.
"Take some," said Kiore. "Why are you waiting?"
Paruru remembered Nika's insistence that he try the smoke of his "pipa." Now he realized that he would have to swallow this unpleasant brew, though it burned his mouth and throat. Eager to get the chore done, he took a quick swallow....
"Aue!" Paruru forced himself to take another gulp. He had not asked how the men obtained this, for he knew the answer. One of them had flaunted the priests' sanctions. Someone had committed a new offense against the gods. And now Paruru felt the punishment falling swiftly on himself. His insides were afire, from his throat down to his belly. "Aue!"
As Paruru sat looking at the grease-smeared faces of the foreigners, he knew that he could only blame himself for this newest offense. He was the one who had disclosed the hiding place of the goods, in order to gain Nika's trust.
But somehow, as he sat there, Paruru began to feel less disturbed about his mistake. He glanced down at the cup in his hands and thought that the drink was actually better man he had expected. He tried another swallow.
In some ways it was like kava, and in other ways different. Kava made men quickly turn silent, but these sailors had been imbibing with no such effect. Now they began singing loudly, a foreign song. He felt an urge to join them. Kiore began to dance with his knees deeply bent, as he had at the feast. Paruru had been furious with him then, but now he found the antics amusing.
"We are making too much noise," Paruru said. His lips felt strange when he spoke, and he heard laughter from his own throat. The noise did not matter, he told himself. Tepua and her guests were sleeping off the big meal they had eaten.
But Paruru remembered that he had come here for a purpose. He needed the ou
tsiders' help.
"Dance," said Kiore, waving his arms crazily. "Remember the spears?" He held out two sticks on his forearms and clumsily tried to perform the hipa step that Paruru had demonstrated at the welcoming feast. Paruru wondered if he was trying to make amends for his behavior that night.
"I will show you," said Paruru. He picked up another pair of sticks, greasy from the meat they had held, and balanced them on his own forearms. His legs felt curiously light. While Nika played a tune, he began his dance.
Before he could get one time around his circle, the sticks rolled off his arms and Paruru toppled to the ground. He lay sprawled on his back and felt his body spinning. Above him he saw a clouded sky, tinged with red from the approaching sunset
"This is not good," the warrior said, fighting the dizziness as he sat up. "We need to talk. Seriously. About the Pu-tahi." His head seemed to float of its own accord, drawing his body after it.
"Pu-tahi! We can finish them like that!" said Nika. He picked up another long stick and swung it at one of the dead rats that lay on the ground. "And that!" He kept hitting the limp body, knocking it across the leaf-strewn ground.
Kiore got his own stick, and soon they were batting the dead creature back and forth between them.
"No," said Paruru. He staggered forward, tried to grab one stick in each hand and stop the buffoonery. For a moment he succeeded, but the sailors tried to pull away from him. "Listen," he said in a slurred voice. "I need help from both of you—to stand with me and protect Tepua. Nika, I must talk with you alone."
"I am your brother," said Nika, leaning forward, his breath reeking of drink. "But Kiore is my friend. We keep no secrets from him."
"No secrets," said the second sailor, leaning in the opposite direction.
Then all three men toppled in a heap. The foreigners were laughing, but now Paruru did not join in.
"I will save Tepua from the man-eaters," said Kiore. "I will not let them harm her." He lifted his arms in a strange gesture, as if raising a weapon that jutted out from his shoulder. Not a spear...Paruru cried out in alarm as he realized what Kiore was doing—acting as if he held the thunder-club. "Pam!" said the sailor. "No more Pu-tahi."
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