by Joanna Orwin
The redhead stood back. ‘Let’s see what you made of.’
The Travellers took their places, Matu as usual in the stern, and the Sanctuary youths pushed them out into deeper water. The narrow canoe wobbled disconcertingly, and Dyer guffawed as Taka instinctively grabbed at the gunwales to steady himself. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated on adjusting to the canoe’s skittish movement. For a while they paddled cautiously, taking slow, shallow strokes as they tested the craft’s balance and the heft of unfamiliar paddles. Soon, Taka began to relax, enjoying being out on the water again, working with the others, stretching his muscles. They began to move the canoe smoothly through the water, Matu grunting a steady rhythm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dyer and his companions stiffen like dogs scenting an unseen, unanticipated target. The jeers and catcalls from the shore slowly faded away. A group of bored youths who’d been mock-fighting stopped their scuffles. Before long, everyone on shore drew together, all their attention focused on the Travellers’ progress.
‘Right,’ Matu said, satisfaction in his voice. ‘Now let’s show them what we’re really made of.’
At first all went well. Matu gradually increased the tempo of their stroke, and Taka dug deeper as his whole body began to flow with the familiar rhythm of paddling. Despite its heaviness, the narrow wooden canoe with its sharp prow was surprisingly responsive. Slowly, they picked up speed until the water hissed past the hull and he could see the white flare of their bow wave as the prow cut through the dark water. Taka sensed the alert stillness of the watchers on the shore. Then, between one stroke and the next, without warning, the canoe lurched to one side. He barely had time to draw breath. He saw the outriggers lift clear from the hull before it rolled and they were flung bodily into the water. When he surfaced, spluttering, he heard raucous laughter from the shore, Harris’s now-familiar haw-haw among it.
‘Very funny,’ said Matu, emerging beside him. He shook the water vigorously out of his ears and swept his long hair off his face. ‘What a bunch of comedians.’
Kai was already hanging on to the other side of the overturned, submerged hull. He managed a wry chuckle. ‘You have to admit, it probably did look pretty funny from the shore.’
Taka wasn’t ready to find any humour in being made to look so foolish. His voice despondent, he muttered, ‘We were doing really well, too.’
They checked that the other two had surfaced safely, then gathered up the floating paddles before manoeuvring the waterlogged canoe until the prow was facing the shore. Awkwardly towing the craft with them, they began the laborious swim back to the landing place. The Sanctuary youths continued to shout ribald comments and laugh at their expense, but when the Travellers’ new-found strength proved short-lived and they began to struggle, Dyer was the first to wade out to help them.
When they at last reached the shallows and were heaving the canoe onto its side to drain out the water, Matu looked sideways at the redhead. Without any of his usual aggression, he said, ‘You loosened the outrigger ties, didn’t you? Just enough to keep them attached at low speed but bound to part company if we managed to pick up any pace.’
Dyer grinned, unabashed. ‘Clever, eh?’
Once they’d dragged the canoe ashore and stowed the paddles, the redhead nodded at the Travellers. ‘You did all right. With a bit of practice, you might even make decent enough paddlers.’ He sounded almost friendly.
Matu responded, his eyes gleaming. ‘At which point we’ll challenge you for real.’
It was several more days before Mister Goddard acknowledged their request to burn Kua-the-Seeker, and then his messenger made it clear that any ceremony was to honour him as well as the fire-goddess. When Taka snorted at such arrogance, Piko echoed Kai’s earlier theory, though he put a more acceptable slant on it, saying the Mister was probably the conduit to the goddess in much the same way their own Wise Ones interceded on their behalf with Tanga. Taka wished he’d been quick-witted enough to express it that way to counteract his cousin’s cynicism.
Kota wasn’t so sure about the Mister’s spiritual role. ‘What about those black-robed men who seem to live away from everyone else? They could be priests of some sort.’
Taka had seen them too, sinister hooded figures in the distance, always moving in pairs. ‘Harris says they tend Pere’s fires on the mountain.’
‘I’m not sure how much influence they have with Mister Goddard,’ said Kai. ‘I’ve not seen them come anywhere near the settlement.’ He dismissed the priests and focused on practicalities. ‘Maybe you should come up with another dance, Taka, one acknowledging our acceptance that we’re in Mister Goddard’s hands.’
‘Grovel, you mean,’ said Taka.
‘Grovel,’ said Kai, with a smile.
In the back of Taka’s mind was the thought that the Mister’s daughter would probably be present. He hadn’t been able to stop thnking about her. That amazing hair burnished by the torchlight, and his strong sense that they’d connected in some way. Although Harris had frowned at the question, Taka now knew her name was Cleo. So he went off to dream up a new dance, knowing he’d also be performing for the Mister’s daughter, seizing the chance to impress her. He silently savoured the sound of her name on his tongue, his head full of dreams of the two of them alone somewhere.
Harris told them they would have to burn the moki at midday: unlike those of the swampland people, all Sanctuary ceremonies were held when the sun was at its highest point in the sky. Piko thought this made good sense since the sun was at its most powerful then, its heat reinforcing the fire-goddess’s furnace. A disappointed Taka had been planning on taking advantage of the dramatic effect of flames against the night sky, but the spear carrier made it clear they had no choice.
More focused on practicalities, Kai didn’t think it mattered. ‘At least at midday, the reeds will be sun-heated and more likely to ignite.’
To be sure of success, the Travellers collected as much dry driftwood as they could and stacked it along the moki’s sides and on top of the platform, after first collapsing the remains of the thatched shelter to serve as tinder. They then spread thick layers of palm fronds on a temporary framework to keep out any rain. Although Taka had at first thought the burning a good idea, the reality of preparing a water-creature for sacrifice to the fire-goddess made him uncomfortable. At one point, he spotted Matu gently stroking the decaying flank of the moki, murmuring quiet words he couldn’t make out. He turned away to leave him his privacy, liking that Matu was sensitive enough to see the dying moki as needing comfort.
Pragmatic Kai’s mind continued to run along other lines. ‘We could drag up dried seaweed from the tide line and add it to the driftwood early on during the ceremony. If we do it right, people should see it as meaning we accept that Tanga has no authority here.’
Although Taka knew Kai’s suggestion was about strategy, not belief, he thought they risked the water-god seeing such a gesture as betrayal. But surely Tanga would be aware of their predicament. Seeking reassurance, he muttered the usual request for the water-god’s protection under his breath.
In the dim grey light before dawn on the nominated day, the Travellers slipped away from the hen house to bathe. Harris, grown lazy and neglectful of his duties, merely grunted at them querulously before rolling himself more tightly into his bedding. Taka heard him snoring long before they were out of earshot. On this day, they carefully skirted the fire-goddess’s mineral waters, needing the salt touch of seawater on their skins. Now, shivering as his wet skin prickled in the cool air of pre-dawn, he looked out over the calm, opaque surface of the harbour and at the dark, brooding hills surrounding it. He could feel the menacing presence of the warrior mountain at his back. They’d been so sure they would find sanctuary when they first entered this harbour. Now the very name of this place seemed to mock such a naïve assumption.
As the rim of the sun rose above the knuckled cliffs at the hidden entrance to the harbour, the Travellers murmured the prayers to Tanga that couldn’
t be part of the public ceremony. Their familiarity caused an ache in Taka’s throat, and he swallowed hard. Nothing stirred. He watched as the harsh line of light slid down the hill slopes towards them. He felt a waft of heated air against his cringing skin, the fire-goddess’s breath stinging his nostrils. His mind filled with unbidden fear.
Then, as the sun’s light reached the tender pyre they’d built over Kua-the-Seeker, it gilded the pale angles and curves of the heaped driftwood and bronzed the darker strands of kelp piled in waiting nearby. Far out on the quiet harbour, a wayward wisp of breeze set darker patches scudding this way and that across the silvered waters, then sent small, playful ripples to tease their feet. A cloud passed along the distant hills, its slanting curtain of rain lit by the sun. Taking a deep breath, Taka straightened his shoulders and stood tall, acutely aware of the strong, unyielding presence of his fellow Travellers. They might be stranded here in the domain of the fire-goddess, but today they would honour the valiant craft that had brought them safely here across the Great Ocean, following in the path of their ancestors, in the path of their gods. Nothing else mattered.
Chapter 16
Just before the sun reached the top of its arc, the beating of drums announced that the Mister and his retinue were on their way. The Travellers waited in a line beside Kua-the-Seeker, each holding a lit torch, the flames almost invisible in the strong noon light. The sun’s heat was fierce on the back of Taka’s neck, and sweat was already pooling where his waist belt fitted his skin. He watched the group of officials approach, his heart beating faster as he spotted the Mister’s daughter among them. She was even more beautiful in daylight, her red-gold hair flecked with light, her skin the pale gleam of newly dried reeds. Now they were close enough, he saw that her eyes weren’t stone-grey like her father’s but a softer grey with sea-greens and sky-blues in their depths. Even as he looked at her, he saw Cleo search him out among the Travellers. Their eyes met as they had before. Taka couldn’t help himself. He swept her a small bow, thinking that if the Mister noticed, he would assume it was for him. He could’ve sworn her face lit in a fleeting smile, before her expression resumed a suitable gravity.
‘Control yourself!’ Kai, who was standing directly behind him, prodded a stiff finger into the small of Taka’s back.
Taka ignored his warning. His heart swelled with anticipation as he watched the crowds file into the makeshift seating the spear carriers had erected on the terrace above the beach. He hadn’t been mistaken about the connection he’d made with Cleo. He was praying that the gods would surely provide a way for him to meet up with the Mister’s daughter, when his eye was caught by a small group of those mysterious black-robed figures filing onto a higher knob well above the crowd. Something like trepidation made his stomach lurch momentarily before he was distracted by the sight of other people gathering further along the terrace. People dressed like the Travellers in loincloths and short cloaks. His curiosity aroused, he forgot the dark, sinister presences and stared towards the newcomers. But they remained huddled in the distance, too far away for him to make out their features or determine whether they were indeed kin to them, as Harris claimed. Before much more time passed, the Travellers would have to find some way of making contact with them. Kai said they might prove the key to success of their escape from the island if Mister Goddard decided against them. That quiver of trepidation gripped his stomach once more, reminding him that, despite their freedom within the vicinity of Sanctuary, despite Harris’s perfunctory attention to guard duty, they were still prisoners.
Pushing the uneasy thought aside, Taka concentrated on the present. A lot depended on him. This new dance that would form the climax of their ceremony could make all the difference to their status and their future. He forced his attention back to the terrace seating above him, where the flurry of people finding their places had subsided. When everyone was silent, Mister Goddard waved his hand regally, indicating that the Travellers could begin.
Kai gave the signal, and they moved to their agreed stations, two on each side of the pyre, Matu taking up a prominent position in front. Kota had insisted he do so, saying he was their sea captain so it was fitting. Taka could see the pride in his bearing as he stood between the pyre and the expectant audience on the terrace. Once they’d taken their places, Matu paused a moment, then raised his torch high. The others followed suit, then waited until the crowd stilled, until the silence was almost palpable.
Matu said quietly, ‘Now!’
Taking a deep breath, Taka plunged his flaming torch through the tangle of driftwood until it penetrated the moki’s flank, in his head asking her forgiveness as he did so. For a moment that seemed endless, nothing happened. He waited, his heart thudding with anxiety. Would the fire-goddess refuse their offering? At last, the first wisps of smoke rose into the air and he smelt the sour stink of reeds starting to smoulder. As he let out his pent-up breath, he heard the reeds whisper and stir, forlorn sounds that threatened to spill the tears now blurring his vision. He watched as first one small flame, then another, licked tentatively among the driftwood as they travelled along the length of the reed bundles to join with those lit by the others.
Almost before he could draw another breath, the pyre was alight. Grey smoke eddied around them, and Taka’s eyes, already wet, smarted with its sting. He turned away with the others to fetch the long strands of kelp they’d piled ready nearby, each strip rolled into a loose ball. At Matu’s signal, one by one they hurled these balls high into the air, alternating from opposite sides of the pyre. Taka held onto the end of his strand as the ball unravelled, arcing over the pyre like a streamer. At the last moment he let the end go and the long strip of kelp, already alight, settled across the pyre. He heard a roar of approval from the watchers on the terrace as the driftwood ignited.
Once the flames built in strength, the growing heat forced the Travellers to step back. Taka watched the flames soar higher. Now the core of reeds glowed red-hot and the burning driftwood crackled and spat sparks, the heat vanquishing the colder smoke. A stir of wind from the sea sent a cloud of fiery embers whirling skywards, carried on the last of the smoke. Taka knew then that the water-god was present. No matter that this was fire-goddess business, Tanga had come to help them farewell the moki.
Only when Kua-the-Seeker and her pyre were transformed into a blazing column of smokeless, bright flame did Taka take up a position on the sand directly in front of the Mister and his attendants seated on the terrace. He stepped forward until the fierce heat pressing like a wall against his back receded and he stood beyond the zone of shimmering, heated air that had reduced the people on the terrace to wavering, distorted images. Without haste, he faced the watching crowd and raised his arms. He didn’t notice the motionless group of black-robed priests standing high above the crowd. He wasn’t aware of the distant cluster of those local people the Travellers hoped would be kin to them. He ignored Mister Goddard and his attendants. Taka had eyes only for one person, her outline now clear, her features distinct, gleaming as though the fire-goddess had newly conjured her up from the furnace of the fire.
The Mister’s daughter met his gaze steadily, her face without expression. With their eyes locked, a heat coursing through his veins that had nothing to do with the burning moki, Taka started to dance. He danced until the soaring flames behind him dwindled. He danced until the pyre collapsed into a bed of glowing embers. No matter how much he twisted and leapt, he finished each movement facing his audience, his eyes seeking out Cleo’s. Each time, she returned his look, although he couldn’t be sure whether that quirk at the corner of her mouth signalled pleasure in his dance or amusement at his presumption. Either way, by the end of the ceremony Taka knew he had won her full attention. He didn’t notice Mister Goddard’s thoughtful stare.
When night fell, the plume of white steam floating above the warrior mountain was lit from below by an eerie red stain that spread out across the sky. Taka watched the stain pulsate, its colour deepening then fading in a
slow rhythm that he knew must be the breathing of the fire-goddess made visible. He no longer had to strain his ears to hear the steam columns in Sanctuary: their wailing was forming a counterpoint to the breathing of the goddess. Fear dried his mouth and his legs started to tremble. What did such portents mean? Had he offended the fire-goddess with his attention to Cleo? He swallowed hard, wishing he’d not been so foolish. Could Tanga protect him now?
The Travellers stood with Harris in the doorway of the hen house and watched anxiously as people gathered in clusters on the outskirts of Sanctuary, gesticulating and pointing up at the mountain. Then Taka spotted children scampering among the houses and heard the unexpected shouts of their laughter over the wailing of the steam columns.
Kai echoed his sigh of relief. ‘Presumably a good sign then!’
‘Worried, were you?’ Harris snorted in derision.
Ashamed that he’d come so close to panic, Taka rallied. ‘Why would we be? Why wouldn’t the fire-goddess appreciate our ceremony in her honour?’ Although his words were bold, he made the demon-averting sign just to be sure.
Soon afterwards, a troop of spear carriers came to fetch them on the Mister’s orders. They told the Travellers a hastily prepared feast was being set up to celebrate these signs sent by the fire-goddess. ‘Luckily for you, Mister Goddard thinks burning that wreck of yours has pleased Pere.’
‘A feast?’ Harris grinned, his eyes glistening. ‘Bound to be pork then — my favourite.’
Taka’s grandfather had gloated just as greedily over memories of pork. Knowing the spear carrier would mock his ignorance, he asked the question anyway. ‘Pork? So those small animals I’ve seen in your gardens — they’re pigs?’
Harris looked at him as though he was mad. When he realized Taka’s question was serious, he patted him kindly on the shoulder. ‘You’re telling me you’ve never eaten pig meat?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Such a deprived childhood. You lot are in for a real treat.’