Sister of the Sun (37 page)

"Sand!" Cone-shell ordered. Paruru sprinkled more powder around the bowl. This time he was willing to believe that the weapon might actually work. He stepped back and put his hands over his ears.
 

Again came the sparks, the flare...and nothing else. "
Aue
!" cried Cone-shell, flinging the weapon aside and slapping at his fingers. "It stings! It burns!" He sucked on his hand, then spat out the unpleasant taste. He grabbed a handful of wet leaves and wrapped them around the hurt.
 

Paruru paid no attention to Cone-shell's suffering. He crouched and saw that the stones had merely rolled out of the tube onto the damp ground. The weapon itself was smeared with soil.
 

"This is what Nika warned me against," he cried. "The thing is dangerous if you do not fully understand it." Picking up the thunder-club, he tried to brush off the debris that clung to it.
 

"Then call your foreigner," said Cone-shell, "and let him burn his own fingers on the useless thing."

"He is not ready to help us."

"Your brother refuses?" Cone-shell unwrapped his hand, scowled at the red marks, and wrapped it again.

"He says the Pu-tahi are not threatening us."

"What does that pale-bellied stranger know? He should see the Pu-tahi when they get stirred up. Like barracudas!"

"How can I make him understand?"

Varoa's chief stared at Paruru. "He must see the
real
Pu-tahi," Cone-shell said, his mouth twisting into an ugly grin. "I will find a way to show him. And you will help me."
 

 

 

 

TWENTY

 

As sunset approached, Paruru slipped away from the assembly ground, taking with him a basket laden with food. The day's discussions had concluded with a feast. The Pu-tahi were still stuffing themselves with albacore, taro, and pork, but Paruru had no appetite.
 

Pu-tahi as honored guests
! In his anger, Paruru almost forgot his way to the sailors' camp. Crossing a path through the thickest cover of the forest, he ducked under low-growing hibiscus limbs. A few steps beyond a stand of young coconut he finally spotted a glimmer of firelight.
 

He had promised to bring the foreigners something from the feast. As he approached the small fire he saw both men jump up, their eyes bright with greed and anticipation. Evidently aromas from the cooking ovens had preceded him down the trail.
 

At least the men had not gone after rats again. "I hope you enjoy the meal better than I did," he said as he handed the sailors their dinner.
 

The men clawed at his basket as if they were famished children. Paruru backed away in disgust and let them squabble over the food. With savage cries they opened the packets of roast pork.
Meat
, he thought.
They crave it above all else.

He refused to watch them eat, but could not help hearing their chewing and smacking noises, mixed with sighs of satiation and delight. His own stomach felt hard and cold.
 

"Nobly done, Paruru," Nika said at last. The warrior turned back and saw his brother licking juices from his fingers.

Paruru watched moodily as the contented sailors nibbled the last bits from the bones. After a long discussion with Cone-shell he had planned what he would say now, yet he did not look forward to starting. To save Nika, he had become a master of lies. To save Tepua from her own folly, he would need subtler methods of deceit.
 

At last, with feigned indignation, he said, "It is not right that I should have to bring you this meal in secret, while our enemies take seats of honor at the assembly ground."
 

"I do not like it either," said Kiore. "But Tepua—"

"You should see her!" said Paruru, filled with genuine ire now. "Feeding delicacies to that white-haired dog, and to the other Pu-tahi curs. Whatever sense she had is gone."
 

"I thought she had good reason to send us here," Kiore argued.

"She was mistaken," Paruru replied. "She thought the Pu-tahi might want your goods, but that is not why they came. If the savages want shiny knives and foreign cloth, they can get them elsewhere." The
kaito-nui
watched with grim satisfaction when Kiore's eyebrows shot up. "It is so," Paruru continued, choosing his words carefully. "The Pu-tahi have dealt with other men like you."
 

"Others?" Kiore stepped closer. "Explain."

Paruru hesitated, perhaps longer than necessary. He had baited his hook. Now he readied himself for the big fish to strike. "The Pu-tahi tell us they have seen huge
pahi
, with wings. Foreign sailors have even come ashore."
 

Now Kiore stood directly in front of him, his eyes intense. "Ashore! I need to know where. And the banners they flew—what color?"
 

"You ask too much," said Paruru, refusing to say anything else even when Kiore pressed him.

Nika shouted a few angry words at Kiore. By now, Paruru had picked up some of their language, enough to make sense of what they were saying. They began to argue about the "lok-puk" that Kiore had been so zealous in protecting. Paruru knew how strongly he wanted to find a vessel from his own island. Nika did not care about the "lok-puk" or returning to his homeland. Losing patience with his companion, he threw insults at him.
 

At last Kiore addressed the warrior again, this time more politely, asking him to tell all he knew.

"There is a place called Cloud Island," Paruru answered quietly. "The Pu-tahi say that foreigners have taken on supplies there."

"Can you tell me how to find it?"

"Our canoe-masters should know. Ask any of them."

"And what of the flags that the foreign boats fly?'' Kiore knelt in the dirt beside the fire and drew lines with a stick.

"The Pu-tahi said nothing about flags."

An impatient glint came into Kiore's eyes. "They have seen the vessels. They must know. Ask them."

"Ask? How can I get close enough to speak with them when I gag at their smell?" In truth, the odor of these unwashed sailors offended Paruru's nose far more than did the Pu-tahi. Ata-katinga's people might be cannibals, but at least they bathed frequently.
 

Kiore stamped around the fire. He argued with Nika awhile, until the other man finally turned to Paruru.

"You are my brother. Now I am asking a favor," the red-haired sailor wheedled. "Do not forget that you want something in return."

"I am willing to help you, but your friend needs to learn patience." Paruru told Kiore, "These Pu-tahi seek an alliance, and Tepua wishes to accommodate them. If that happens, you can be sure that many Pu-tahi traders will come here." He took a deep breath, trying to contain his disgust at such a possibility.
 

"How can—"

Paruru interrupted. "A trader will know the answers to your questions. Offer him one of your foreign choppers and he will tell you everything."
 

"That is too long to wait," Kiore complained.

"Maybe not. I heard Ata-katinga speak to the clan chiefs." Paruru hoped his resentment did not show through. "He convinced most of them that his people have changed their ways. He is close to the agreement he seeks."
 

"We cannot be sure when traders will come," said Kiore. "And these Pu-tahi will leave without telling us anything."

Paruru replied. "You will get no answers from our visitors. They are not the kind who pay attention to colored bits of cloth. They are warriors."
 

Kiore shook his head and groaned.

"I am sorry. That is the best advice I can offer. Tomorrow there will be another feast, and more pork. I will not forget my friends."
 

In the gathering darkness, Paruru took his leave, but he did not go far. He doubled back and crept silently into the bushes that flanked the clearing. He listened as the sailors argued, though he grasped few of their words. They were speaking of Cloud Island and of men in their own far-off land.
 

It was clear that Kiore refused to wait when the information he wanted might be available for the asking. He stormed about the campsite, slapping his fist into his hand.
 

Nika seemed afraid of the Pu-tahi, but Paruru was glad to see that Kiore's arguments were wearing him down. Paruru was puzzled, however, when Kiore pulled off his tattered foreign leg coverings and slapped his arms and legs as if to show Nika that his skin was as dark as an islander's. Unwillingly Paruru agreed. He had not anticipated this and wondered what Kiore was planning.
 

Beneath the garments, the light-haired sailor wore only a simple
maro
. With a laugh, Nika pulled aside the rear band of Kiore's loincloth and remarked that the skin beneath was still as white as a fish's belly. Kiore slapped his hand away and rearranged the garment.
 

Paruru then heard baffling arguments about the shapes of noses and the colors of eyes and hair. Kiore took a handful of old charcoal from beside the fire. First he darkened his cheeks, to divert attention from his nose. Then he smudged his fair hair until it appeared black. Finally he made designs on his skin, crudely imitating tattoo patterns.
 

Paruru frowned as he watched. Kiore was showing more cleverness than he had anticipated. Maybe he would succeed at disguising his foreign appearance—at least in the dimness of night. Pu-tahi were stupid. Perhaps they could be fooled.
 

As a final touch, Kiore plaited a headdress from palm fronds to help conceal his face. When he finished and stood by the fire, Paruru was astonished at the transformation. As long as no light caught the brilliant aquamarine of Kiore's eyes, he might actually get away with his deception. Finally the sailor picked up one of his discarded garments—the fine
tiputa
that he had received from the
ariki
—and folded it in a neat bundle.
 

To be used as a gift
? With a mixture of anticipation and dismay, Paruru watched Kiore slip away from the campfire. The
kaito-nui
had alerted his men to be ready for trouble tonight. He was not sure what kind of trouble they would face.
 

 

A chorus of bellowing cries startled Tepua, making her jump up from her mat. After the feast, her attendants had all gone to sleep early, leaving the house in darkness. Trembling with apprehension over what might be happening, she found her way to the door and hurried outside. A sliver of moonlight lit the white coral sand.
 

As she emerged, a warrior ran up, shouting, "
Ariki
! There is fighting in the Pu-tahi compound!"
 

"Fighting over what?" Flanked by the warriors who guarded her household, she followed the messenger. As they approached the cluster of guesthouses she heard louder shouts, angry voices.
 

"Treachery!" came Ata-katinga's roar.

One of her warriors, holding a lit palm leaf torch, met Tepua at the entrance to the low wall that surrounded the compound. Paruru appeared next, a stormy look on his face. He held up a spear that resembled no weapon made by Tepua's people. In the flickering torchlight she saw a broad, leaflike blade and ornate carvings along the shaft.
 

"Those sons of eels tricked us," Paruru shouted. "They had weapons hidden."

Again Ata-katinga's bellow came from behind one of the houses. "Bring Tepua-ariki! She must explain this outrage!"

Tepua glanced angrily at her
kaito-nui
, wishing to ask how the uproar had started. But first she had to soothe Ata-katinga. She hurried toward the commotion, and when Paruru tried to accompany her, she said harshly, "I will go alone."
 

"
Ariki
, you need my protection. The men have spears."
 

"And if you come with me, they may be tempted to use them." She turned her back on him and stalked around the nearest guest house. There she saw other torches and shadowed figures. For a moment the scene confused her.
 

"Ata-katinga, what has happened?" she demanded. Then she saw a large man who wore only a
maw
struggling in the grip of two Pu-tahi warriors. The man looked familiar.... Her breath caught as she realized that the miscreant was Kiore, his hair blackened and his face smeared with soot!
 

One Pu-tahi clutched his jaw while another spat out broken teeth, held his ribs and moaned. Tepua guessed that these injuries had not been inflicted by weapons, but by the way of fighting with closed hands that only the outsiders used.
 

Tepua glared at Kiore, who looked back at her with an expression of arrogance mixed with embarrassment. Welts and bruises showed on his arms, proof that he had tried to defend himself from Pu-tahi clubs. Gashes bled on his chest and shoulder.
 

Not knowing whether she wanted to shout at him in anger or tend his wounds, she waited for Ata-katinga to speak.

Flanked by armed spearmen, the Pu-tahi chief stood angrily watching the sailor. "Do not feign ignorance, woman-chief," he hissed. "You deceived me once. I will not hear any more lies."
 

Tepua stared at him, stunned. "Lies?"

The Pu-tahi chief turned on her. "You took a great interest in what I told you about the foreigners. Now I know why."

Tepua glared again at Kiore. He tried to straighten up and face her. "
Ariki
—"
 

"Do not talk now," she ordered. His pained expression stabbed her with remorse as she turned away. As much as she wished to hear his account, she had to answer the Pu-tahi chief.
 

"Ata-katinga," she said, trying to force a soothing tone. "I intended no deceit."

"You did not send this man of the enemy here to cause trouble in my camp?"

"No."