by Joanna Orwin
As the Travellers accompanied Harris and the other spear carriers through Sanctuary, Taka heard the sounds emitted by the steam columns change subtly. Now, he could detect unearthly music, distinct notes that rose and fell to the beat of the drums. When the Travellers emerged onto the open space, he could just make out figures through the writhing veils of steam that rose from the hot pool at the entrance. The veils lifted momentarily to reveal three women standing beside the metal columns. They were holding short poles with flanged ends, and before the steam hid them once more, he realized they were using their poles to block each aperture in a rhythmic sequence that created the music. The haunting notes vibrated deep in his chest as the song of the fire-goddess exerted its power over him. When he passed close by the pool, he noticed that its stone rim was piled high with offerings to Pere — glistening jewels in fire colours interspersed with tiny platters of food.
At the far end of the open space, he could see Mister Goddard surrounded by his retinue. This time the Mister’s headdress flaunted sheaths of flight feathers, scarlet alternating with yellow, and his cloak was trimmed with smaller tags of soft feathers in the same colours. Beside him, Cleo was sitting on her low stool, more simply dressed but with red and yellow feathers woven through her long hair and strands of jewels in those same colours looped around her neck. Behind the Mister and his daughter, the tall metal columns flared in spreading fans of bright flame that dimmed the light from the torches. Heated demon breath caught in the back of Taka’s throat, making him cough. Even though his nose had lost its sensitivity to the smell, tonight it was strong enough to make his eyes fill.
The spear carriers directed the Travellers to places on matting laid out in a long strip just below the raised platform. No sooner had they taken their seats than Taka saw Cleo look up at her father and say Something to him. Mister Goddard bent to listen, then shrugged before patting her on the shoulder. Taka watched as he turned to one of the spear carriers standing behind him. As women bearing large platters of steaming food filed into the open space, this man stepped down from the platform and headed towards them. Taka’s heart began to beat faster.
‘Now what?’ murmured Kai.
The spear carrier beckoned Taka. ‘You — dancer boy. The Mister bids you join him.’
When he stood nervously below the raised platform, Mister Goddard stared at him, his stone-grey eyes cold under their fat-pleated lids. Then he nodded brusquely and waved a plump hand at a stool being brought forward. Almost before Taka had time to absorb what was happening, he was seated beside the Mister’s daughter. His mouth dry, knowing he was blushing like an idiot, he turned to look at her. Cleo was watching him, that wry smile lifting the corners of her mouth. He immediately felt gauche, acutely aware of his long legs folded up around his ears like a grasshopper’s, his clean but tattered short cloak barely covering his equally tattered loincloth. The charm and repartee he’d spent hours imagining evaporated like smoke, and he was still struggling to stammer some sort of greeting when she spoke first.
‘Tell me about yourself.’
Her voice was all that Taka had dreamt it would be, low and sweet like dripping honey, its exotic intonation attractive in a way Harris’s speech never was. He barely heard the words themselves. Tongue-tied, he gazed at her.
‘You could start with your name.’
Stung by the amusement in her voice, Taka managed to answer.
The Mister’s daughter kept asking questions and he stumbled over his monosyllabic replies, the words like unwieldy stones in his mouth. He was sweating now, mortified that he could be so inept. All the time, women were bringing them servings of food, the succulent roasted pork and fillets of steamed fish surrounded by vegetables of various sorts and mounds of starchy cake, but his mouth was too dry for him to swallow easily, and his hand was shaking so much that it was only a matter of time before he spilt Something. Below them the open space was crowded with people, and the thought of all those watching eyes made him even clumsier. He pushed his platter aside.
‘Not hungry?’ Cleo asked sweetly. ‘Surely someone so athletic must build up an appetite?’ She picked out a morsel from her own platter and held it out. ‘Open wide.’
Mesmerized, Taka obeyed. He didn’t know what to think or where to look as the Mister’s daughter began to feed him, morsel by morsel. It was all he could do to swallow without choking. He could smell her distinctive scent, musk overlaid with faint astringency; he could see the fine grain of her flawless skin, the exotic slant of high cheekbone, the thick tresses of hair that fell over one bare shoulder, each shining strand picking up the fire shades of the feathers she wore. His own skin tingled whenever her long fingers carelessly brushed against his face as she fed him. She was perfection, beyond any fantasy — and he had no idea how to proceed. He was in agony, partly wanting this experience never to end, partly desperate to escape so he could recast it in a way that made him a manly hero rather than this beak-wide fledgling crouched helplessly at her feet.
At last the interminable meal was over, and the servers cleared away the empty platters. Cleo tapped Taka on the shoulder and gestured at the other Travellers, dismissing him. Hot and flustered, not sure whether to feel flattered or humiliated, but convinced he’d blown the one opportunity he would get, he rose to his feet and somehow made his way back down the platform without falling over.
‘What was that all about?’ Kai hissed as his cousin collapsed beside him.
Taka mumbled, ‘Don’t even ask!’ Scenes from the encounter were replaying in his head, none of them reassuring.
To his relief, the drummers started up, the beat making conversation impossible. When the drums fell silent, Mister Goddard held up his hand, palm to the people crowded onto the mats. Once he had their full attention, he spoke, his words deliberate and weighty with authority despite the curiously feminine pitch. It dawned on Taka that perhaps this was the voice of the fire-goddess, speaking through him.
‘These young strangers come among us have thrown themselves on our mercy. They ask food plants of us and canoes to transport them back across the ocean.’ Mister Goddard paused. ‘The goddess has sent us her sign. It is our thought that their requests should be granted.’
A murmur ran through the crowd, and the five Travellers shared glances, not daring to believe there wasn’t some catch.
The Mister hadn’t finished. ‘We Understand our young men wish to challenge them to a canoe race. It is our further thought that only if the strangers succeed in winning such a race should they have their canoes and their food plants.’
First thing on the morning after the feast, the Travellers made their way to the landing place to find Dyer and his companions already there. They joined them among the fleet of fishing canoes drawn up on the beach. The tall redhead rubbed his hands. ‘This puts a different slant on your challenge.’
‘No problem!’ said Matu, his tone robust. ‘Gives us an edge, having so much at stake.’
Piko grinned at Dyer. ‘As long as you lot don’t try any more clever tricks.’
Any semblance of good humour vanished from Dyer’s face. He drew himself up haughtily. ‘This is a matter of honour. The contest will be fair.’
‘No slight intended,’ said Piko, hastily dropping his usual languid tone. ‘My feeble attempt to lighten the mood — put it down to nervousness. We know you’ll be tough competition.’
Placated, Dyer turned to Harris. ‘We’ll pick shells for the canoes. That way no one gets any advantage.’ He nodded at Matu. ‘You’ve already shown you have a good eye, but we won’t be using these clumsy craft. This time we’ll use the racing canoes.’
He took the Travellers further along the beach to where an open-sided, thatched shelter housed six canoes, all the same length and apparently identical. Even narrower than the fishing canoe they’d tried out, these canoes were sleekly elegant and superbly crafted. Taka marvelled at their seemingly fragile, hollowed-out wooden skins, barely the thickness of the joint of his thumb. Harris b
ustled about, full of self-importance, then impatiently told them to stand at a distance while he buried his selected shells beside each canoe, a different type for each one. When he’d finished, he gathered the young men around him and shook his bucket of duplicate shells. He thrust the bucket under Matu’s nose. ‘Choose one.’
Matu plunged his hand into the bucket without hesitating and withdrew a shell.
Then it was Dyer’s turn. He showed Matu and Harris which shell he’d drawn, then waved Matu towards the waiting canoes. Taka watched as the two young men uncovered the buried shells beside each canoe, Harris hovering at their elbows to ensure neither of them made any substitutions. His mind filled with images of that other Choosing, and he wondered uneasily whether the gods would intervene or whether this time the choosing was truly random. Either way, the outcome might be just as life-changing. Although these canoes looked identical, each would have its own personality and spirit: that was the nature of anything fashioned by human hand. He made the demon-averting sign behind his back and prayed that Tanga had guided Matu’s choice.
Once both captains had found the canoe that matched their shell, Harris beckoned the others to join them. Taka stroked the gleaming, polished side of the canoe that could dictate their future, his admiration for its perfection mixed with growing dismay. He knew the very existence of such craft meant the Sanctuary people took canoe racing seriously. Despite Matu’s confidence, he thought beating Dyer and his team might prove difficult.
As they walked back to the hen house, Kai echoed his doubts. ‘We should’ve known the Mister would make things hard for us. It’s all very well Dyer protesting a fair contest. They have every advantage.’
‘Why so faint-hearted?’ asked Matu staunchly. ‘I’ve seen them paddling those fishing canoes often enough. I reckon we’re in with a better than equal chance.’
But when they returned to the landing place early next morning for their first practice session, Taka thought his brave words could prove false. Dyer and his team were already on the water. Unlike the Travellers, each of the racing canoe paddlers was of similar size and weight. They moved with a precision that only long hours of practice could achieve. Several of the other racing canoes were also out on the water, their crews similarly matched and demonstrating enviable skill.
‘Well, we know now how Sanctuary’s young men spend most of their time,’ said Kai ruefully.
‘We can do it,’ said Piko. ‘We’ll just have to work twice as hard.’
‘Let’s get on with it then.’ Matu was already sorting through the bundles of paddles stacked on shelves at the back of the shelter, hefting each one before discarding it or putting it aside to try. ‘Here, grab these for starters.’
At first, the Travellers found the delicately balanced, absurdly light canoe easy to capsize, much to the derisive delight of idlers on the shore. But they persevered, and by the end of the morning they were at least managing to stay afloat. Matu showed no signs of impatience with their initial clumsiness. He got them to experiment with weight placement, adjusting the movable thwarts until he was satisfied. He swapped paddles around, then changed his steering oar, and at last declared himself confident that all they had to do now was practise, practise and practise again. As they headed back to their sleeping mats in the heat of the day for a well-earned rest, he outlined his strategy. ‘We’ll spend a few hours down there each morning, then put in another session each evening. In between we’ll build up our strength.’
Harris looked at him pityingly. ‘You do realize you’ve no show of beating Dyer — his team’s our best crew. Might as well give up before you start.’
But when the Travellers threw everything into their preparation, interspersing paddling sessions with Moho’s stretching regime supplemented by weight training, the spear carrier grudgingly admitted they might at least give the Sanctuary team a decent workout. It wasn’t long before he was complaining loudly about the amount of food they were stowing away, but brought them extra supplies of starchy cakes without being prompted. He even took to rousting himself from his bedroll in time to come down to the landing place before they finished their early morning practice, then bombarded them with well-meaning but useless advice on their technique as they straggled back to the hen house for breakfast. At the same time, he kept reminding them they didn’t have a chance of winning. But his words were beginning to sound automatic, and Piko said his loyalties were switching without him realizing. ‘He sees us as his personal property, so he wants us to do well despite himself.’
Kota nodded. ‘Even a partial ally could prove valuable.’
Taka knew they were making real progress when Kai told them he’d heard Harris placing bets with the other spear carriers, risking a gamble on them to win against all the odds. ‘You should’ve heard the others rib him — but they were only too willing to take the bet on.’
‘They haven’t seen us on the water.’ Matu grinned. ‘Old Harris isn’t as thick as he looks, eh?’
As for Taka, he was throwing himself into the training, welcoming the chance to deflect interest from the spectacle he’d made of himself at the feast. He was first up in the mornings and last to stop pounding up and down the sand dunes, carrying buckets full of stones, when Matu called a halt. An increasingly concerned Kai took him aside and soon wormed out of Taka his confused feelings about the Mister’s daughter. He listened without interruption while Taka poured out his heart.
‘I Understand now what it was like for you with that Hara girl.’ Taka shook his head forlornly. ‘I can’t get her out of my mind. There aren’t any words to describe how beautiful she is. And now I’ve wrecked any chance I might’ve had with her.’
‘That might just be a good thing,’ said Kai firmly. He held up his hand when Taka started to protest. ‘No, listen. I overheard Something.’
‘What?’ said Taka truculently when his cousin hesitated. ‘If you’ve got Something to say, spit it out.’
Kai ignored his tone. ‘The race isn’t the only thing the spear carriers are betting on. Harris didn’t know I was within earshot, so I think he meant what he was saying.’ He hurried on when Taka bristled with impatience. ‘He was laughing. Saying Something about what a tease the Mister’s daughter is. That she’s toying with you. And the other man agreed. I couldn’t quite catch what he said, but Something about lovers being chewed up and spat out. They were betting on how long she’d stay interested in you.’
Taka managed a shrug. Although his heart longed to deny what his cousin was saying, the spear carriers had confirmed what part of him already suspected. That to Cleo he was nothing but an entertaining diversion. ‘They’ll have lost any bet,’ he said, his voice dull. ‘She already spat me out, didn’t she?’
‘You’re worth ten of her any day,’ said Kai bracingly. ‘Put her out of your mind. And stop pushing yourself so hard. There’s such a thing as overtraining and you need to focus your energies. A lot depends on us winning.’
Chapter 17
The Travellers had been training for ten days, and Taka was confident their growing skills and speed were steadily improving their chances of winning the challenge race. Early one morning, they had just completed a strenuous set of stretches when Harris told them the Mister was sending them up to the cultivations. He explained that it was harvest time and a good opportunity for them to learn about the food plant they wanted to take back with them. When Taka looked downcast at being deprived of their morning practice session, the spear carrier admonished him. ‘You should be pleased the Mister is looking after your interests.’
While the Travellers reluctantly followed him up the path leading out of Sanctuary, Taka muttered to Kai, ‘Looking after our interests? It’s more that he doesn’t want to risk us improving any more.’
Kai nodded. ‘Dyer must’ve reported that we’re getting too competitive for them.’
Behind them, Piko overheard. As usual, he found Something positive in their situation. ‘It’s not all bad. We’ll be working with those b
rown-skinned people. If they do prove kin to us, meeting up with them has to be a bonus.’
‘Good point.’ Matu gestured at the spear carrier stumping along ahead of them, safely out of earshot. ‘We need more allies than Harris — if it comes to the crunch, we won’t be able to rely on him.’
Kota, as usual, wasn’t concerned either way. ‘What will be, will be. We’re in the hands of the gods.’
When they came up over the lip of the highest terrace and the cultivations spread out before them, Taka saw a group of men and women with brown skin and long, dark hair, all dressed in simple wraps of earth colours. He felt a rush of instinctive recognition. They were unmistakably kin. One of the older men rose and came towards them. He had dark, deep-set eyes that smiled at them. Eyes like Moho’s.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ he said. ‘We meet at last. My name is Utaru.’ He embraced them, one by one, and pressed his nose against theirs, his face damp with tears.
The other men and women joined them and followed suit, murmuring greetings. It was as though the Travellers had come home, and Taka felt a sudden pang of loss for all they’d left behind them. His own tears flowed, and he saw even Matu brush the back of his hand across his cheeks.
‘No need for such a fuss.’ Harris grew impatient at this display of emotion. He beckoned over a man who had been leaning in the shade against a tree trunk some distance away. As he approached, Taka saw he was wearing the bright patterns adopted by those who lived in Sanctuary. ‘Lee here will keep an eye on you while you’re up here.’
Lee had the broad, moon-like face of some of the spear carriers. He looked the Travellers up and down with half-closed, slant-lidded eyes, then grunted impassively. He turned to Utaru and the other brown-skins. ‘Right, you lot, get to work. You’ve wasted enough time. Take these young men with you. The Mister says they’re to be shown how to do everything.’