The Lost Tohunga

by David Hair

  But the thing Mat remembered clearest was the look in Donna Kyle’s eyes as she tipped the blood of Te Iho from the chalice.

  I’m doing this for you.

  He shuddered and opened his eyes. He was in a colonial-era hostel in Aotearoa. The light at the edge of the curtains was vividly bright. Somewhere a clock chimed briefly. He stared at the open-beamed ceiling, and listened to horses whicker and wagons roll past. He examined his hands, where ten flint-like nails tipped his fingers, shining like black marble. The magical feather cloak hung over a chair beside the bed, and a blotchy-stained taiaha was propped against it. Ngatoro’s taiaha, soaked in the blood of Te Iho. The old tohunga himself had given it to Mat on Saturday morning before the whole tribe in Rotorua-Aotearoa. ‘I’m too old to wield such a thing any more, Matiu Douglas. And I owe you my life. It is yours by right.’

  Ngatoro had left that morning with the Ngati Maungatautari, taking the prisoners to the Aotearoa Maori King in Ngaruawahia without delay. Two of the prison wagons would go further: all the way to Auckland, with Asher Grieve and his daughter chained inside. Donna Kyle had stared out at Mat as her coach lurched into motion that morning. She still looked like a lost child. He wondered if he would ever see her again. He hoped not. But he didn’t wish a hanging on her any more. She had rejected her father, and saved their lives. Whether that meant she could ever be a better person it was impossible to tell, but perhaps she deserved a chance to find out.

  It’s out of my hands. He felt both guilty and glad at the thought.

  There was a soft knock on the door, and it swung open with an awkward thump, allowing Wiri to lurch through on crutches. Kelly followed, holding their baby boy to her chest. He realized she was breast-feeding, and frantically tried to find something else to look at.

  ‘Kia ora, chief. How’re you goin’?’ Wiri propped himself in front of a large arm chair and then literally fell back into it, wincing heavily. Kelly perched on the side of the bed, the baby suckling noisily. She giggled at Mat’s averted eyes.

  ‘Get over it, Matty-mat! I’m going to be hanging my boobs out for the next six months, minimum, and there won’t be anything sexy about it. It’s just feeding time at the zoo!’ She had dark bruises around her eyes and looked as exhausted as Mat felt. ‘The little bugger wants a drink every three hours.’

  ‘What are you gonna name him?’

  ‘Aethlyn,’ said Wiri promptly.

  ‘Anything but Aethlyn,’ said Kelly at the same time.

  They both looked at each other and laughed.

  Mat put his hands behind his head. ‘Matiu is a good name,’ he suggested.

  ‘But then we’d get confused over who we’re talking about, you or him,’ said Kelly. ‘Otherwise it’d be our first choice, honest.’

  ‘Liar. You keep telling me that “Mat” means “flat and lacklustre”.’

  ‘No, that’s just you. The name is fine.’

  ‘Cow.’ He laughed. ‘Dairy cow!’ She began to protest, so he put his hands over his ears and went Moo, moo, until she flicked him a rude gesture and poked out her tongue.

  ‘And I was about to compliment you on your new-found maturity,’ remarked Kelly caustically, when he fell silent. ‘Anyway, what we really came to tell you was that it’s after five in the afternoon, and everyone else is up and hungry. So you can bloody well get your arse up, and join us for dinner.’

  Hunger suddenly washed over him at the mere thought of food. ‘Sure!’ After seeing the wagons off yesterday morning, he had gone straight back to bed and slept thirty hours straight — the price of his exertions, both physical and magical.

  Kelly waved her hand grandly. ‘I shall now hand you over to my husband for a status report.’

  Wiri gave an ironic half-bow from where he sat, and coughed. ‘Yes, status report … Well, Tu is fine, just a few bumps—’

  Kelly immediately interrupted him. ‘How’s your leg, sweetie-darling?’

  Wiri coloured, grimacing.

  ‘Manu carried Wiri out,’ Kelly went on.

  Wiri frowned. ‘He just helped me walk — I was on my feet,’ he insisted.

  ‘Wiri got cut up by a nasty thing,’ said Kelly caustically. ‘First wounds in how many centuries, darling? Because he’s not immortal any more. In fact, he’s promised to be much more cautious from now on, haven’t you, darling?’

  Wiri flashed Mat a ‘gimme some sympathy’ look. ‘I think I’m healing up pretty quick.’

  ‘How’s Tim?’ asked Mat.

  ‘Broken arm. Wounded pride. And Fitzy is okay, he got back at midday.’

  Kelly leant in. ‘And Hine is fine.’ She looked meaningfully at Mat. ‘She’s just outside.’

  Mat looked up at the door, then down at the bedclothes. ‘I better get dressed first.’

  ‘Sure,’ Kelly replied with a magnanimous gesture.

  He looked at her and Wiri, who put on patient expressions. ‘Ah, I said “I better get dressed”, so I guess you’ll want to leave?’ Mat told them.

  ‘Yep, got that. Go for broke, Matty-Mat.’ Kelly continued breast-feeding with a bland look on her face. ‘You’ve got nothing I ain’t seen before. Including last night, I might add, when we decided you might sleep better out of your clothes.’

  ‘Oh.’

  There was an impatient knock on the door, and Hine popped her head around the door.

  ‘Are you guys done already?’ she said, and grinned at Mat. ‘Hey!’ she said. She looked anxious. She was wearing another colonial-era dress, like the one she had had on at Jones’s place. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked beautiful.

  He thought he might feel jealousy or something, but in fact he found he didn’t. She hugged him, and he breathed in the smell of shampoo and perfume. No cigarette smoke. He squeezed her shoulders, and then pushed her away. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  She nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. Look, I just wanted to say thanks, for coming after me. You really are my knight in armour. That’s twice now. You’re probably the second most wonderful guy I’ve ever met.’ She measured him with his eyes. ‘But I’ve also met the first most wonderful guy. You okay with that?’

  He realized he was. ‘Yeah, sure. Tu’s cool. He’ll look after you.’ He put on a Star Wars voice: ‘It is your destiny.’

  She rolled her eyes, ‘Not you, too.’ Then she smiled shyly, ‘Yeah, he will look after me. And me, him.’ She put her hand on his. ‘I know you fancied me, and I kinda fancied you, too. I want you to know that.’

  He nodded slowly, aware that he felt both bereft and happy.

  ‘You’ll make some chick really happy one day. One day soon, possibly,’ she added with a twinkle in her eye. She leant over him, kissed his forehead, and then she was gone in a swirl of cotton skirts and rose-scented perfume.

  Kelly grinned at him, and Wiri nodded slowly, his face approving.

  They gathered in the upstairs lounge of the Red Deer: Wiri and Kelly and their still unnamed child, Mat and Riki, and Tu and Hine, wrapped up in each other — despite the age difference, they clearly belonged together. Fitzy was there, too, fully recovered, but still in dog form because Tu and Hine found his turehu form ‘just too weird’.

  Cassandra was also there. She had driven up from Taupo that morning, peeved at missing the action but grateful to have been able to contribute. She had to put up with being centre of attention, as only Mat had seen the beginnings of her latest transformation of appearance. Her hair was now buzz-cut, she was wearing stylish clothes that didn’t look like op-shop rejects, and of course no braces or glasses. She looked utterly different.

  ‘I’m thinking Natalie Portman after she shaved her head,’ Riki whispered in Mat’s ear. ‘Quite hot, actually.’

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Cass asked them, preening slightly. ‘This is the new look.’

  Riki gave a nodding thumbs-up, while Mat searched for words. Not one of the boys. Still kinda kooky … No: unique. Not ordinary in the slightest. He suddenly realized something he should have kn
own all along: that ‘ordinary’ didn’t really exist. Everyone was extraordinary in their own way. Especially Cass. ‘You look entirely like … yourself.’

  She gave him a thoughtful look, then smiled. ‘Good answer. Ten points.’ She raised a glass in salute.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Mat asked.

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’ She stroked the spiky down on her scalp tentatively. ‘When I look in the mirror, I still get surprised, but it feels more … honest. Although it makes me feel kinda naked. I’m still getting used to it.’ She reported that Jones was awake, fully functioning and clamouring to be released from hospital. ‘Oh, and he and your mum are getting on like old mates,’ she added to Mat.

  Mat blinked at that. ‘Mum and Jones?’

  ‘Yeah. He can make her giggle like an eight-year-old.’

  ‘Mum? Colleen O’Connor?’

  Cassandra smirked. ‘Totally. She brings him baking.’

  Very, very strange.

  Kurangaituku had not reappeared, and Riki confessed to being a little worried. ‘She’s a goddess, right? She’ll be okay?’ His friend looked years older. Adventures in Aotearoa seemed to do that to people. Although ‘adventures’ seemed the wrong word — they’re more like ordeals, Mat thought ruefully.

  ‘Has she promised you a date or something?’ Cassandra teased, but for once Riki didn’t rise to the bait.

  ‘She needs to remind herself who she is. She’ll be okay, I’m sure.’ Mat said.

  It seemed to be a gathering of the walking wounded. Wiri was still hobbling, and Tu Hollis was moving gingerly, too, from a cut to the chest and bruised ribs. Hine looked haunted and relieved. Tim Spriggs’s broken arm would take weeks to mend. Fortunately there were waiters to do the serving and carve the meat. Kelly looked exhausted, the worst of them all, even though she had not been in the fight. ‘Giving birth is far worse than being in any silly battle,’ she told them in a dismissive voice. When the men demurred, she grinned evilly. ‘Which would you boys rather do then?’ It clinched the argument.

  They toasted Aethlyn Jones and Ngatoro-i-rangi. They compared wounds. They ate venison and sipped a majestic red wine that Tim Spriggs ordered. Mat had one glass, for Jones. He could picture the old man lecturing him about the health issues involved.

  They all fell silent for a time, lost in their own thoughts. Then Fitzy jumped onto the table to help himself to more venison, and sparked a round of laughter that seemed to never stop. Tim Spriggs teased Hine about her clothes, and Kelly threatened to tell them all about her labour all over again, until a thin, plaintive cry came from the corner where the baby boy was lying in a bassinet. They passed the little boy around; a naming competition ensued, but few of the suggestions were serious. Mat sidled in beside Cassandra and clinked glasses. ‘Thanks for helping me find Te Iho.’

  ‘It was nothing. You did most of the thinking …’ she grinned slyly, ‘… for a change.’ She squeezed his hand softly under the table, suddenly looking extraordinarily lovely.

  Everything was very nearly perfect …

  He met Hine’s eyes. She was leaning into Tu Hollis with a contented look on her face, and smiled back at him. But he found himself thinking of another set of eyes, one that would be staring out from the bars of the prison carriage winding its way north. He no longer knew if Donna Kyle deserved death or not. He just knew he didn’t want to be the one who decided.

  He wondered about Mum and Dad, then put it aside. It was up to them. His happiness didn’t depend on them reconciling, and maybe their happiness didn’t either. There seemed nothing left to worry about, so he didn’t. He sipped his wine and joshed with Cassandra and Riki. Wine and laughter … weren’t they supposed to be good for the heart? Maybe he would have another glass.

  Author’s note

  Most of the characters of this book are fictional. Ngatoro and Puarata are figures from legend, and tales of their doings can be found in most New Zealand mythology collections. The tales of Maui and Mahuika, Hinemoa and Tutanekai, and Peha can likewise be found in most collections.

  Glossary

  There are a few Maori words used in this story and its prequels. Most are explained in the text, but here they are with a definition.

  Please note that there are subtle variations of Maori usage in different regions of New Zealand. The definitions, below, are based on those given in P. M. Ryan’s Dictionary of Modern Maori (Heinemann, 4th edition, 1994; republished as The Raup Dictionary of Modern Maori, Penguin, 2008).

  Aotearoa: The traditional Maori name for New Zealand, although it did not assume wide usage until the Europeans arrived. It roughly translates to ‘Land of the Long White Cloud’. In the story I have used the word to signify the ‘ghost world’ of New Zealand mythology, history and spirits.

  Haere ra: ‘Farewell.’

  Haka: A traditional Maori dance. We mostly think of it as a war-dance, which is a sub-type of haka called a peruperu and is performed by warriors as a challenge to enemies prior to battle. However, a haka can also be performed in celebration or to entertain, and not just by men. Different tribes have their own haka.

  Hangi: A traditional Maori cooking method in which fire-pits are dug and filled with large stones, which are then heated by fires for around two hours. The food is placed in baskets, wrapped in soaked cloth, and placed on the stones and covered over, trapping the heat and moisture for a gentle slow cooking of the fare — primarily meat and root vegetables. The cooking phase takes three to four hours, and results in a smoky, juicy meal that retains all the natural flavours of the ingredients.

  Hau Hau: A branch of the Pai Marire, a Maori religion that fused Christian and traditional beliefs. It was strong on the East Cape of the North Island. The militant branch of the Pai Marire was known as Hau Hau, and fought in the 1860s for the return of land. They were infamous for the slaying of a reverend in 1865. This set them as ‘bogeymen’ in the colonial settlers’ psyche, with the result that they became synonymous with cannibalism and savagery.

  Hongi: A traditional Maori greeting where the two participants rub noses. They are thereby symbolically ‘sharing breath’, and the visitor becomes one of the people of the tribe for their stay. The god Tane is said to have created woman by moulding her from clay and then breathing into her nostrils, and thereby gifting her life.

  Iwi: A tribe or race of people.

  Kai: Food.

  Kapa haka: A traditional display of Maori dance and song.

  Karani-mama: Grandmother (an adaptation from English).

  Kawa: Protocol, especially the protocol of the local marae. This covers who may speak and who may not, who is welcome, etc.

  Kehua: One of the many terms for a fairy or goblin in Maori mythology. For the purposes of this story, ‘kehua’ denotes spirit-goblins that can animate earth or wood, appearing as clay-like goblin creatures. Only about sixty centimetres tall, they are more mischievous than evil, but might be enslaved by a tohunga makutu for evil purposes.

  Kia ora: A universal greeting that can mean ‘Hello’ or ‘Thanks’ or even ‘Good health’ or ‘Best wishes’.

  Korerorero: A chat, a discussion.

  Koru: A carved spiral pattern based upon the unfurling fern frond. It symbolizes new life, growth, strength and peace. The koru is a common motif of Maori art.

  Makutu: Evil magic.

  Mana: Prestige, or charisma, or honour, or dignity, or all of these virtues; mana encompasses the personal qualities of leadership and pre-eminence within a tribe and people.

  Manaia: A sea horse, and a common motif in Maori carving. In the Aotearoa of this story, I have used the word to denote sea-taniwha.

  Maori: A Polynesian race that settled New Zealand, probably from around 800 years ago (the timing is unknown and somewhat controversial). They settled primarily in the North Island of New Zealand, and on adapting to the cooler lands, thrived and multiplied until the coming of the Europeans after Cook’s journeys in the late eighteenth century. The ninteenth century saw increasing European settleme
nt and conflict, until Europeans dominated numerically, and colonized the country.

  Marae: The central place of a Maori community. In a pre-European settlement, it was the central area of a village, and contained the meeting halls and central courtyard where social gatherings and events would occur. In the modern world, a marae is often in the countryside, and will contain a meeting hall and lawn outside for gatherings on special occasions and the funerals of noted community members.

  Mere: A traditional Maori club, which could come in many forms and be made from stone, bone or wood. The term patu also means club. For the purposes of this story, I have used the word ‘mere’ to denote blunt, heavy clubs which would be used to bludgeon an enemy, and I have used ‘patu’ to denote lighter-edged clubs which would slash an enemy.

  Moa: A flightless bird of New Zealand, extinct before Europeans arrived — though some say there might yet be some in the wilds of Fiordland in the South Island.

  Moko: A traditional Maori tattoo. Maori have a strong tradition of tattooing and this can cover much of the body, including the face. The patterns and motifs are strongly traditional. The carving of moko was a very painful ordeal, and part of the rites of passage of a young man or woman of rank — the more moko one had, the more mana and rank was implied.

  Pa: A fortified village. Pa were normally found on hill tops, encircled by several rings of wooden palisades and, once guns became widespread, also entrenched.

  Pakeha: Traditionally a Maori term for foreigners, although these days it has come to mean New Zealanders of European descent (primarily British, but also Continental Europeans such as German, Dutch and Scandinavian).

  Patu: A club — see ‘mere’.

  Patupaiarehe: One of the many terms for fairy or goblin in Maori mythology. For the purposes of this story, ‘patupaiarehe’ denotes pale-skinned, red-haired vampire-like creatures, which are dangerous to men.