Sister of the Sun (41 page)

He eyed her fiercely. "How can that be?"

"Paruru has admitted everything. He could not stomach having your people as allies. Ask him how the weapon came to be here. And about the burned headdress as well."
 

"I may do that, Tepua-ariki. But it does not change anything." He gestured impatiently at his men to hurry.

"Ata-katinga, listen. I made a mistake and now I have suffered for it. I invited the foreigners to live among my people. We had never seen such men before. How could I know what they would do to us?"
 

"I do not fault you for that,
ariki
. Others have been fooled when they first met the many-colored men." For a moment he seemed lost in thought.
 

She searched his face, hoping to see a hint of softening in his deep eyes. He appeared implacable, but that was his way. She knew a gesture that might move him, only one. It would bring her more pain than she thought she could bear.
 

She remembered Kiore as she had just seen him, his hair dusty and rumpled, his face bristly. Yet his eyes, when he gazed at her, had gleamed with the same penetrating aquamarine that always made her breath catch in her throat.
 

She recalled the time she had spent close to him, enjoying his salty scent, warming to the gentle touch of his hands.

Tepua delayed a moment longer. Beyond the Pu-tahi chief and the cluster of houses the lagoon lay placid, a brilliant blue, unruffled by wind or by the troubles ashore. Wispy clouds hung overhead, but the tranquillity they suggested was a lie. There could be no joy for her here. Not now, or ever again.
 

When she spoke at last, Tepua's voice sounded strange to her ears, as if another woman were speaking in her place, a cold, hard woman, a woman of ashes. "Ata-katinga, I am sending the outsiders away. Now. Today. They will leave this atoll and never be allowed to return."
 

The Pu-tahi eyed her for a long moment. "And what of those chief's and elders of yours who still oppose our agreement?"

"There will be no more opposition. How can there be? When they see Cone-shell's body, they will understand everything you have said about the foreign invaders."
 

Ata-katinga drew in his breath. He turned to the left and then to the right as if seeking help from some invisible guide. Suddenly he barked a command that sent one of his men scurrying.
 

They were coming back! Tepua watched with astonishment and relief as the Pu-tahi began returning to the guesthouses. Her satisfaction lasted only a moment. Now she had to give the orders she dreaded. It was easier to let the woman of ashes speak instead.
 

"Bring the foreign boat!" she called hoarsely, sending someone to recruit the fifty men needed to move it from its hiding place ashore. "Tell the priests to release the sailors' goods. Fill the foreigners' water drum. Bring the provisions from their stockpile, and anything else we can spare."
 

Umia came forward, offering his help. She took his arm and walked with him back to the silent refuge of her house.

 

Paruru lay on a mat in Tepua's guesthouse. The
tahunga
was finished tending his wounds and Heka had ceased weeping over him. The noise was fading from his ears; he could understand some of what his sister said.
 

"What will you do now, brother?" she asked.

Paruru stared dully at the thatch above him. "I have no place on this atoll. I cannot stay."

"The gods played a cruel trick on you. If they had not sent the foreign boat—"

"Yes, sister, but I do not blame the gods for my fate." He sat up slowly and found that his dizziness was almost gone. "I must go away, but there is still a small service I can perform. It cannot make up for my offenses, but I would like to do that much for Tepua."
 

Heka tried to stop him, but he pushed her hand aside and went to the doorway. When he stood outside in the open air, he felt more of his strength returning. The weapon had left painful wounds and burns on his arm, but the rest of his body felt sound.
 

He walked to the shore, where the foreign craft floated at anchor once again. The supplies were being loaded, boys handing up baskets of food. He saw the outsiders already aboard, glumly stowing their goods and readying their sails. Tepua was nowhere in sight, and neither were the Pu-tahi.
 

Glancing behind him, Paruru caught a glimpse of moving figures. He climbed a small knoll for a better view. Then he saw that a crowd had gathered at the assembly ground, Tepua and the chief's meeting with Ata-katinga again. He groaned, knowing that now he was powerless to stop them.
 

Paruru turned his back on that troubling scene and once more approached the foreign boat. This time he went closer, wading out into the warm, shallow water. He knew that the sailors had every reason to despise him. Yet he had saved Nika's life, and perhaps also Kiore's, by concealing the turtle-killing offense. Perhaps they had not forgotten that.
 

"Nika! Kiore!" he called to them. The men looked up from their work, scowling. "You two cannot sail alone," Paruru shouted. "You need another hand." He knew that they had failed to find another crewman. Since Paruru had killed their original companion, it seemed fitting that he take the man's place.
 

The foreigners did not answer him. "Let me come with you," Paruru called. "I am strong, and I know the people of these atolls. I can show you how to catch fish and survive on the sea."
 

Still they did not reply. Paruru wondered if these two had learned anything at all during their stay here. He had made such an effort to teach them the customs of the atoll....
 

"You are my brother," he called to the red-haired sailor. "We share everything. I have given you much and now it is your turn. I ask you for my share in the
vaka.
"
 

The two foreigners glanced at each other, exchanged a few words. Paruru was aware that many people were watching him, listening to his pleas. But now he was nothing in their eyes, a man who had betrayed his chief. No one could be lower than that.
 

Paruru took a few steps forward, water lapping at his waist. Then Kiore gave a signal. "Come!" he said. Paruru threw himself into the lagoon. The burning of salt water on his wounds made him cry out but he managed to swim. With powerful kicks he reached the boat and let the sailors help him aboard.
 

Unsteadily he tried to find a place for himself in the foreign craft. At once he felt queasy, though the boat lay at anchor. The feel was nothing like that of the stable canoes of his people. The outlandish vessel seemed to roll whenever anyone moved, though it did not tip far.
 

"You are well prepared," he said with a false heartiness, looking around at the large collection of drums, the baskets of food, the heaped coconuts beneath the thwarts. In one corner he saw pearl-shell fishhooks that Nika had gathered. A roll of sailcloth lay near the mast. He glanced at it, remembering its strength. "We will go fast in this boat," he said. "And I will call on the spirits of my ancestors, who are Nika's as well."
 

He chattered on, but the men seemed not to hear him. He began examining the boat's gear, knowing he would have to learn how to use it. So much had happened since he first pursued this vessel and kept it from crashing on the reef. He had been eager then to learn the secrets of the strange rigging. Now, he feared, the knowledge would be hard won.
 

He sighed and looked out at the flotilla of canoes assembling around him. Paruru understood their purpose. They were to make certain that the sailors got under way, and did not try to turn back.

And on the beach a crowd was growing, people coming from all directions to bemoan the departure of the foreigners. He saw Maukiri at the fore, wading into the water while she gashed her forehead with a shark-tooth flail. Others came behind her as the sailors pulled up their anchor. He saw Heka standing on higher ground, her own forehead glistening with blood. The moans and cries grew louder.
 

He felt tears gather in his eyes. A heaviness settled in his chest as he watched his sister. The proud frigate bird of Piho Clan would not let his disgrace weaken her, but she would always grieve for the loss of her brother.
 

But where was Tepua? Paruru blinked back his tears and tried to find the
ariki
, but she was out of sight now, undoubtedly still at the assembly ground. Did she care so little about the foreigners that she would not mourn their departure?
 

The mainsail's canvas filled and the boat began to pull away from the crowded shore. Planks groaned, ropes creaked, sails flapped, fittings jingled. What noises this craft made! He wondered how anyone could tolerate it.
 

The boat wallowed and lumbered in the light breeze. With longing, he watched the escort canoes skimming swiftly and silently over the lagoon. Then he forced himself to look away.
 

This life was finished for him. There would be another, but one that he could not imagine.

Paruru set his gaze forward. He did not look at the sailors, or the people along the beach, or the graceful palms that shaded the shore. He kept his attention fixed firmly on the pass as the boat sailed out of the lagoon.
 

 

 

 

TWENTY-THREE

 

Paruru had watched this boat sail on the ocean, but he had not imagined how it would feel under him. As the wind stiffened, the boat heeled over and spray flew from the bow. For a time Paruru did nothing but clutch the thwarts fiercely, convinced that he was about to be plunged into the waves.
 

The outsiders showed no such fear. They even raised a second triangular sheet in front of the mainsail. Paruru had never seen a vessel fly such an expanse of cloth. When the wind strengthened, the craft leaned harder, groaning and creaking more than ever. Paruru cried out in alarm but the sailors ignored him.
 

Slowly he began to realize that the vessel was supposed to lean like this, that the masts were in no danger of breaking, that the sails would hold. He would have to get used to the feel of this demon's boat...and to many new things.
 

When the shadows of sails had grown long on the water, Paruru noticed the flotilla making a change in course. He glanced at one of the accompanying canoes and saw someone pointing toward a speck on the horizon. Yes, he knew where they were headed now. They would spend the night at a small, uninhabited atoll called Beach-of-shells.
 

Running downwind, with sails flying out to either side like wings, they made good speed. The escort canoes kept up, with no apparent difficulty. Soon he made out the fringed tops of palm trees.
 

Beach-of-shells was a tiny gem, with a safe broad channel through its reef. Unfortunately, the islets were too small to support a permanent settlement. As the boat entered the lagoon Paruru noticed remains of temporary shelters made of sticks and coconut mid-ribs lashed together. He knew that this was a popular stopover for voyagers crossing between larger atolls.
 

The canoes glided up to the narrow beach, but the foreigners, with their deeper keel, stayed offshore. The outsiders threw out their hooked anchor, then lashed several short uprights in place to rig their hanging beds.
 

Kiore climbed into his and lay there swinging slowly, his arm dangling down. Nika brought out his little flute and began to play a mournful tune. For a time Paruru heard only the strange, sad music, and the cries of the birds that flew overhead. He noticed that someone ashore was building a cook fire while other men waded into the lagoon to spear the abundant fish.
 

The foreigners ignored these activities. Perhaps they intended to eat from what they had aboard. But why deplete their supplies, he wondered, when good food could be found here?
 

Paruru had offered to help these sailors survive. Now he felt he must prove himself. Gritting his teeth against the pain of salt water on his wounds, he flung himself into the lagoon and quickly reached the shallows. He strode ashore, curious to see what he could find.
 

He improvised a fish spear from a
mikimiki
branch and quickly caught more than he thought the sailors could eat. Using coconut husks and fallen wood, he built a small fire, setting the fish to cook on skewers. He broke open several coconuts, cut the meat out in chunks, and laid it on leaves. "Come eat!" he called to the sailors.
 

At first they merely scowled at him, but when he held up a chunk of roasted fish, he saw Nika lick his lips. Finally, the sailors stripped off most of their garments and swam ashore. "This island has good food," Paruru said proudly as he glanced down at the meal he had provided.
 

The men said nothing, but took their portions and began to eat. Paruru carried his own aside. Was this the way it would always be? he asked himself. Would these men ever again accept him as their friend? He ate quickly, disposed of his bones and other leavings, then went to take a walk on the tiny seaward shore. Glancing toward the southeast, with the setting sun warming his cheek, he fancied that he could still see his home atoll far in the distance.
 

Home? No. He must not think of it anymore.

Paruru blinked, then stared once again at the horizon.
Impossible
. Yet something was definitely there. As he watched, the speck grew larger, until he recognized it as a sail. A canoe was coming swiftly, heading directly toward him.
 

 

Tepua watched from the deck of her
pahi
as the silhouettes of palm trees grew larger against the pale orange sky. She felt an ache inside that she thought she might have to carry forever. Yet if she could have a few last words with Kiore, feel his arms about her one more time, then perhaps she could accept what she had done.