Justice and Utu (10 page)

‘Much as it was on the day Hobson came,' Wiri replied. ‘Tense, rough, and liable to get messy very fast. Hone Heke and Kawiti's war-parties roam the wilds. The ships that come here are full of dangerous men.'

‘And we're going there?' Damien asked, his eyes glittering.

‘We are.' Wiri looked at Mat seriously. ‘Listen, Mat, this Everalda — be careful: she's Donna Kyle's protégé, whatever else she is.' He raised a placating hand. ‘I'm not saying she's like Donna, but just remember that Donna may have claws in her that you don't even suspect. There is something Donna's not telling us about her.' He glanced up, and indicated with a nod that the two women were returning. He raised his voice. ‘Are you both ready?'

Donna nodded abruptly. ‘There is a portal near the Treaty grounds. I expect Father to be in Kororareka, but we cannot make assumptions. We need news before crossing the bay.'

‘I could take us over right here,' Mat volunteered, wanting to assert his worth.

Donna shook her head. ‘People here have seen too much of warlocks and Adepts; discretion is needed. We will use the
portal instead.' She indicated the Prado. ‘Get in.'

They got back into the car. Mat glanced at Evie, who looked nervous. He wondered what Donna had been saying to her while they were away. Nothing good, he figured. A premonition that none of this was going to end well filled his stomach.

‘Let's go,' Wiri said from the front. Donna gunned the engine, and they were off again.

Waitangi was only a few minutes further onward, around a small headland. They passed the Waitangi marae, where the chiefs had gathered in 1840 to discuss the English propositions. Wooden carved poles representing each of the chiefs and their tribes were arrayed on the lawn. Beyond it, an old sailing boat with a blue hull had been grounded beside the bridge to Waitangi, and converted to a restaurant. Further on, the inner bay was at low tide, acres upon acres of muddy silt patrolled by wading birds. The Prado cruised past and crossed a short, narrow bridge. To the right and just south of the Treaty grounds was a large hotel complex, but Donna turned left, down a short esplanade, and pulled into a small grove of trees near the gate to a house.

‘The portal to Aotearoa is here,' she said tersely, turning off the engine.

‘Will the Prado be alright here?' Wiri asked as they disembarked.

Donna shrugged, and looked back at Mat. ‘When you escaped my house in Auckland last year, you took my RAV across into Aotearoa. Can you do that again?'

Mat frowned. ‘I don't think so. Ngatoro was helping me, though I didn't know that at the time, and I think the fact that
your house opened onto both worlds helped.'

Donna nodded. ‘That is what I suspected. The gate is only large enough for one person at a time. So, we'll have to hide this vehicle, otherwise it might be stolen. Has Aethlyn Jones taught you how to conceal something?'

Mat pursed his lips. ‘Not really.'

‘Then I'll have to show you.' She turned to Wiri and Damien. ‘Break off some branches, enough to partially cover the vehicle.' She faced Mat. ‘Since you'll not free me, I'm going to have to give you the theory; then you'll have to do the rest.'

He nodded mutely, flicking an eye at the watchful Everalda.

‘Look at me, not One-Eye,' Donna snapped. She reached up and gripped his chin, to his annoyance. ‘Focus, boy! Are you listening?'

He nodded crossly, stepping out of her grip.

‘Then listen. There are two types of illusion: in one, you trick the mind by giving it false information, telling it to misinterpret what the eye shows; in the other, you trick the eye. The former is easier, but requires you to make contact with the mind, so you need to be present. Obviously, it is the latter we require. We will drape the cut branches over the vehicle, but that will do only so much. You must take the image of them and paint the air until it seems that the vehicle is part of the scenery. That will suffice for anything but close scrutiny — if you do it well.'

He nodded, his throat dry, self-conscious at performing in front of the group, especially Everalda. He calmed himself with an effort. ‘Paint the air?'

Donna waved her hands at the small pile of branches
Damien and Wiri had found. ‘Study them. Then take that image, and imprint it above the vehicle.'

He sucked in his breath, then bent, picked up a small branch with a straggling clutch of dead flower heads, and began touching and smelling and soaking up its patterns, twists and texture. Damien and Wiri piled the branches loosely over the roof and bonnet of the Prado, then Mat took the sight and sensation of those branches and began to visualize them, as intensely as he could.

He didn't get it right immediately, but then Donna's cold hand clutched his arm, and something flowed from her to him and the technique became clearer. He stroked the air, and the image appeared, and more. He could feel the rough bark, and the prickling of the leaves. With growing excitement he worked, no longer needing Donna's guidance. He painted not only the branches, but also images of gaps, and the earth below. When he was done he stepped back, panting slightly.

Damien gulped, and reached out, stroking an illusory branch. He gasped and drew his hand back. ‘I can feel it!' he exclaimed. ‘You'd swear it's real!'

‘See what I can be to you, boy,' Donna murmured in Mat's ear.

 

Evie felt nervy and exhilarated at the same time. Her greatest dread — that Donna Kyle would come and drag her away — had come to pass, but it didn't seem so terrible now. From the reassuring prowess of Wiri, the whimsical honesty of Damien, and the empathy she felt for Mat, she drew hope. Even Donna was less frightening. And her own new skills were intriguing.

Beyond that was the promise of Aotearoa, and a whole new world. What she had glimpsed when she had first touched Damien and Mat drew her on. A place where legendary people and beings lived and breathed. A place where the little miracle she'd just seen Mat perform was commonplace. And perhaps … she might be able to learn such things, too?

My Gift no longer feels like a curse …

‘Come!' said Donna, picking up her duffle bag and walking towards a pair of tall cabbage trees — ti ngahere — whose upper branches were entangled into each other like siblings embracing. She tramped purposefully three times anti-clockwise around them, then, at the third pass, simply walked between them. And vanished.

A haziness lingered in the gap, as if light was trapped there.

Evie sucked in her breath, suddenly nervous again.
What if we never come back?
She found Mat looking at her, and he offered her a hand. She took it shyly, and felt her fears recede.

Wiri looked at their clasped hands, but didn't comment. Instead he said, ‘Make sure you turn off your cellphones, or the translation might fry them.'

Evie turned her phone off, and Mat did the same. He had a taiaha jutting from one end of his bag. Seeing a weapon brought home further to her that they were going into danger. Together they watched Wiri and Damien walk through the shimmering gap, and vanish. She and Mat were suddenly alone.

She looked at Mat and went to say something, when suddenly he bent his head and kissed her — and everything else left her head.

‘Shall we?' he whispered in her ear.

‘Yes,' she murmured back, intoxicated.

They prised themselves apart from each other, and stepped between the trees.

‘Took a while to make up your mind then?' teased Damien, tapping his watch.

‘Just a few jitters,' she told him blithely, and looked about her. ‘Is this it?' she asked. ‘It's just the same, isn't it?'

Mat shook his head. ‘You'll see. We're now in a place made of wishes.'

She looked about, and gradually the differences stole over her. Yes, it seemed to be just the same field, although the copse with the Prado was gone, replaced by a dark thicket. And it was a windier day here, with the breeze whipping the waves into white horses, a mere few hundred feet west of where they stood. The birds that squawked and shrilled above seemed thrice the number in the world she'd just left. And the fragrance of the sea and the flowers and the leaves was dizzying, as if all her senses had been suddenly amplified. A sense of richness stole over her, and gradually filled her senses.

‘It's beautiful,' she breathed.

‘It is,' Mat agreed. ‘Except whenever I come here, people try to kill me.'

She felt an overwhelmingly strange feeling, which made her turn away from the others, and she cautiously lifted her eyepatch. Immediately she was overwhelmed by a new sense of depth and perspective, which took her a second to comprehend.

Three dimensions … I'm seeing with both eyes …

The sensation took her breath away. She put her hand to her mouth, and stared, drinking it all in. Because it was
more than sight: everything seemed richer, fuller, and to trail light through the air as it moved. It was as if she were seeing an echo of where everything had been, and where it would go, a before-and-after trail of images that filled the air and slowly faded out. It was almost painful to take in, like bad 3-D glasses.

‘Evie?' Mat said, concern in his voice.

She cautiously turned to face him, frightened to show her blind eye, except that it wasn't sightless anymore. It wasn't real sight, though, it was something else, because she was seeing his aura overlaying his body, a faint coruscating rainbow of colour. She'd read about chakras and auras before, but had never found them useful because she could not perceive such things; yet now …

‘What does my left eye look like?' she asked him, scared that he would find it ugly and repulsive. ‘Does it look … milky … ugly?' she whispered tentatively. It was watering a bit, and somehow it felt like it was filling up with light. It wasn't a comfortable sensation.

‘There's no iris,' he told her. ‘It looks kinda bloodshot … and it's getting worse …'

Abruptly Donna Kyle stepped between them. She peered coldly into Evie's face, her aura a dark blue-purple, flecked with smears of crimson, boiling and unpleasant. ‘Seeing more here in Aotearoa, are you? That's to be expected.' She glanced at Wiri. ‘The girl's Gift will be enhanced here, but it will be harder for her in some ways, too.'

‘What do you mean?' Evie asked anxiously.

‘There was a young boy like you, back in the Seventies, that Puarata brought to Aotearoa. He went fully blind here.
You need to wear that patch if you don't want to risk the same thing.'

No! This new vision she was experiencing felt too good! ‘But—'

‘Girl, you'll already be feeling the beginning of a headache, yes?'

‘Uh … I guess.' She winced. That blurring sensation was getting worse. Perhaps Donna was right. She felt her face fall in disappointment.

‘This place is intense,' Donna went on. ‘It'll burn out both eyes if you don't damp it down. Put the patch back on, for your own good. Unless you'd rather go fully blind,' she added callously.

Evie swallowed. ‘No, I wouldn't.' With a regretful sigh, she pulled her patch down again. At once, the pain receded. But the memory of how it had felt didn't.

‘Right,' Donna said. ‘We need to find out if Father is here. Obviously I'm not the best person to send scouting, and you young people don't know your way around. Wiremu?'

‘I'll go, with Mat,' Wiremu replied. ‘We'll cross the inlet and ask some questions in Paihia. There's a ferry, but the inlet is wade-able at low tide.'

‘We need local clothing,' Donna replied. ‘If you can be entrusted with state secrets, Everalda and I will tell you our sizes.' The hint of dry humour sounded odd coming from her. No-one smiled.

Wiri and Mat organized themselves to go. Evie didn't want to be left with Donna, but could think of no plausible reason to go with Mat.

Damien didn't look that happy about it either, although
more because of the inactivity. ‘I could come, too,' he suggested.

‘You're here to protect the ladies,' Wiri said firmly.

In the event, Mat came back inside five minutes, with a look of real concern on his face. Donna met him, and they conversed under their breaths for a few seconds; then they both came over. ‘Wiri's in Paihia, at the lower marae. The ferryman told us something has happened at the Treaty House. Something bad.'

Evie could see them all think the same thing: Venn and Grieve.

‘Are there perimeter patrols?' Donna asked, gazing towards the thick trees that obscured the Treaty grounds, some 500 yards away. The Union Jack fluttered high above the woods. There were several ships in the harbour; trading ships, Donna told them. Further across the harbour, more ships could be made out, clustered about far Kororareka.

After about a quarter of an hour, a wet Wiri waded along the shore of the inlet, carrying a large bundle of clothing. ‘Colonial women wear far too many layers,' he grumbled. He opened the bundle and gave some to Donna and Evie, before tossing the remainder to Damien.

Donna led Evie deeper into the woods, out of sight of the boys, and without ado she pulled off her blouse and pants, stripping down to knickers — she wore no bra. Donna was skinny, her ribs showing, her breasts small and her belly a hollow. There were bruises on her ribcage and arms, the traces of imprisonment. ‘What are you looking at, girl?' she sneered, before turning away, displaying a scarred back. ‘Lace me in, then I'll do you.'

Evie did as asked, then self-consciously undressed down to her underwear and pulled a white-and-black panelled smock over her head. She was uncomfortably aware of Donna's appraisal.

‘Well, you fill it out well enough,' Donna remarked.

Evie couldn't tell if she was hearing jealous praise or measured scorn. She'd not thought too hard about how she looked for a while, since her last fairly disastrous fling with a tourist who'd chatted her up. Basically not too shabby, was how she saw herself. She hoped Mat liked what he saw. Her speculation was broken by Donna seizing her hair, twisting it into a ponytail, then knotting it with a ribbon. ‘Count yourself fortunate you don't need one of these,' the witch told her, brandishing a bonnet that would conceal her own distinctive features.