Within the lagoon and close to shore a long coral bench stood almost exposed, its covering of kelp showing above the water. One could walk far out on such a reef and find many good things to eat along the way. Tepua glanced back and saw that Heka's servants had prepared themselves. Several men held fishing spears; women carried fara leaf baskets.
A good meal would come from this walk, Tepua thought. But more important was the advice that Heka had for her. Tepua stepped up onto the kelp-covered shelf. The surface was uneven, cratered with many small pools. A starfish of velvety blue lay in one. A sea urchin's black spines bristled from another. The reef also had occasional deep holes, which might be home to an octopus or a fierce moray eel.
"Your chiefhood is like this path," said Heka when they had gone a short way out. "There is firm footing if you are careful. But you cannot afford a misstep." She pointed to a stonefish that lay close by, its mottled body and venomous spines nearly invisible.
"I will have even firmer footing," Tepua answered, "if I can settle my differences with Cone-shell."
"If they can be settled."
Cone-shell's invitation had said nothing about acknowledging her rule as high chief. "I think I know what is on his mind," said Tepua. "Cone-shell was hoping that the foreigners would prove my undoing. But the visitors have charmed everyone and made themselves welcome."
"Yes," said Heka. "Cone-shell sees that you are only growing stronger. If he had thoughts of toppling you from office, he knows now that he will have to wait."
"Then perhaps that is why he offers friendship."
"It is possible," said Heka. "If he shows his pretty colors, you may overlook the sting he is saving for you."
"Even so, I have accepted his gesture of friendship. The people of Varoa support me. I saw crowds of them hailing me on the day of my investiture."
"The people of Varoa are wiser than their chief. But what about Umia? You say nothing about him."
Tepua paused. Far behind her she heard splashing and a quiet cry as one of the servants made a catch. "I am hoping to speak with Umia. That is one reason I accepted the invitation."
"Then I wish you a pleasant stay with Cone-shell." Heka quickened her pace, stepping over a pool where tiny hermit crabs crept in their borrowed shells. In earlier days Tepua would have stopped to pick one up and watch it pull in its claws, but that was no game for a chief.
"There is something else I wish to say, Tepua-ariki, and I hope you will hear my advice." Heka came to a sudden halt. In front of her the walkway ended where the reef was cut by a deep channel. "It is something you have heard before."
"That I should take a husband ..."
"Ah, Tepua. You are so stubborn. You keep saying no, when you mean yes. Everyone has heard about you and the bright-haired foreigner—"
"It is nothing—"
"That is not what people tell me. This man may be popular, but only as a novelty. Nobody will accept him as the husband of our chief."
Tepua stepped back in surprise, and almost lost her footing. "He will not be."
"Then you must end the rumors. If you take a proper consort, those voices will be stilled."
Tepua frowned. Evidently Heka had not forgotten her own stake in this. "Do you suggest Paruru?"
"And what is wrong with my brother?" Heka asked indignantly.
"He is a good warrior," Tepua managed, though she heard the lack of conviction in her own voice. Recent events had changed Paruru; sometimes he no longer seemed the man she had looked up to as a girl. That was not the only reason for turning away from him. Tepua did not wish to encourage any suitor.
"Tell me this," said Heka. "Have you thought of what will happen to these outsiders? Will they remain with us?"
For a moment Tepua considered how to explain the situation simply. What she understood of the sailors' misfortune came from Kiore. He and his companions had set out from home on a huge three-masted vessel. After many days at sea, discontented crewmen had turned against their master, though he was an able leader, and had thrown him into the sea to drown. Soon afterward Kiore and two friends had escaped the dire troubles aboard and gone off in the smaller boat.
"The foreigners cannot reach home in their vaka,'' Tepua said. "Kiore wants to head for a closer port and search for his countrymen, but Nika is not in a hurry to leave. I think the sailors will be with us awhile."
"Then I offer you this advice. Find a wife for each of the men and get them settled. Otherwise the outsiders will always be causing trouble."
"Wife?" Tepua felt a gnawing in the pit of her stomach as she gazed down at the surging water in the channel.
Heka put her hand on Tepua's arm and began to talk excitedly. "Yes. That is your answer. Marry him to Maukiri."
"Maukiri will be happy enough. If Nika is willing, why not?"
"No. Not Nika. Your outsider. Marry Kiore to Maukiri."
Tepua stared at Heka's sly expression as the implications began to sink in. It was customary that a woman could share the husband of her sister, so long as she did not make a habit of it. In these islands, cousins were the same as sisters— they were free to share their men. If Maukiri married Kiore, then sometimes he could be Tepua's...
"This is foolish talk," said Tepua angrily. "Kiore and
Maukiri have no interest in each other. I will not force my cousin to quit the man she cares for and take another."
"Ah, Tepua. I am sure there is little difference between one outsider and another. Tell Maukiri to try them both in the dark and see if I am right."
Tepua felt heat rush to her face. Looking down at Heka's meaty hand clamping her arm, she felt a strong urge to topple Piho's chief into the water. Harshly, she retorted, "I do not agree that men are like so many coconuts."
"There are plenty of both," answered Heka, undeterred. "And for that, I am always praising the ancestors."
"I will settle this in my own way," said Tepua. "I'm sorry to disappoint your brother, but my home is now in Tahiti. In the end, I will return, and I do not intend to leave a child behind. Umia will rule next—when he is ready. The priests decided that long ago."
Heka sighed and released her grip. "Tepua-ariki, that is just how I thought you would answer."
Tepua squeezed Heka's hand. "I will not be leaving soon. Faka-ora refuses to let me go. At least you and I will have more time together." Both women turned around to retrace their steps toward shore.
Now Tepua saw that the servants' baskets swung heavily from their hands. The walk had yielded a good harvest and it was not over. A short distance ahead, a man was still at work. He had poked a stick into a deep hole; now a spotted tentacle was wrapped around the stick. The man knelt, lunging his hand down until his entire arm was underwater. Then, with a cry, he brought up a squirming, white mass.
"Octopus...good!" Heka called with delight. "We will bake that one with taro leaves. A delicacy for the high chief."
Tepua agreed, licking her lips. But even anticipating this treat could not keep her thoughts from Kiore.
The day after her visit with Heka, Tepua arrived at the nearby motu where Varoa Clan held sway. Cone-shell put on the show of welcome she had expected—women dancing on the beach, warriors strutting. But he did not speak the words of acknowledgment she wished to hear: maeva ariki.
Looking elegant in his tall headdress of feathers and his necklaces of dolphin teeth, Cone-shell escorted her toward his assembly ground above the beach. Along the way, Tepua saw a horde of servants preparing a feast. Her gaze passed over the brightly colored fish and heaps of vegetables, then paused at a pile of knobby roots attached to jointed stems—dried roots of ava, known here as kava. Cone-shell must have had recent dealings with other islands, she thought. The intoxicating kava plants grew poorly in atoll soil; he could not have obtained them locally.
Custom required Cone-shell to provide a feast. In serving her kava, however, he would bestow on her a special honor. She wondered if he was trying to make amends for his coarse behavior when the foreign good
s were examined.
She put the question aside as she walked with him to his sitting place in the shade of a huge fara tree. "I am pleased by your welcome," Tepua said, recalling the crowded beach at her arrival. "But someone is missing. I hoped to see Umia here."
A faint frown showed on Cone-shell's face. "Umia is with me, but I speak for him. I see no need for my nephew to join us."
"What would people think," she countered, "if they knew that I came here and ignored my young brother? After my long absence, we have only spoken a few words in passing."
When she persisted, reminding Cone-shell that Kohekapu was eager to hear from his son, Varoa's chief relented. Umia arrived, but looked ill at ease, glancing at his uncle before stepping forward to greet Tepua. He quickly pressed his nose to her cheek, giving the briefest of embraces.
Tepua invited Umia to walk with her alone. She glared at Cone-shell, whose mouth was already open to deny her request. "I will walk with my brother," she said firmly. Grudgingly, Cone-shell gestured his assent.
Umia followed her to a deserted stretch of shoreline. Here strands of beach morning glory, blearing flowers of pale violet, crept over the sand and halfway down to the water. Tepua turned to her brother.
Today, for the first time, she noticed Kohekapu's features in his face—the high-boned cheeks, the flared nostrils, the large, dark eyes and bushy brows. He was certainly no longer a boy. His arms and legs bore the tattoo marks of a young warrior. His long, black hair was bound back by a warrior's knot
"Why is that you were gone so long, sister?" asked Umia in a clear voice when he finally raised his eyes to hers. "When you came back, I barely remembered you."
"For me, it was not that long. But while I was away you changed from a child into a man."
"Then why am I not chief? Why did Faka-ora push me aside?"
"That is what I want to talk to you about." Tepua sighed. "Do you understand that I came home only because of our father's illness? I did not want the chiefhood. It was forced on me."
"I have heard otherwise." He eyed her warily.
"From your mother and Cone-shell?"
"They say you tricked the high priest...with Tahitian sorcery."
"Tricked?" Tepua caught herself before she could fling back the accusation. Natunatu, of all people, blaming someone for using sorcery! "What of the chief's and elders? Did they also succumb to my spells?"
Umia gave a faint smile. "Perhaps."
"Then you are not certain."
"Of that, no," he replied. "But everyone agrees—even you—that signs appeared at my birth, and the gods showed that I must be chief."
"The signs did not tell when."
He hesitated.
"There is your answer, Umia. You will rule after me. And soon, I hope."
"Cone-shell talks of a different outcome. He says you will stay here and lead us into disaster. He says you will adopt foreign ways and scorn the teachings of our ancestors."
Tepua stamped her foot. "Your uncle is full of bad wind!"
Her brother sighed. "I have listened to him all my life."
"That is too long. Tell me your own thoughts. If you were in my place, what would you do with the foreign sailors?"
"I think...I would be careful."
"You would not send them out to drown?"
"They have skills and goods that may help us. I would like to have those, so long as we do not offend the spirits."
"Good. Then you and I agree on something."
"Perhaps not, Tepua. I am told that these men show no reverence for the gods, unless they are constantly reminded. They set a poor example."
"Paruru is teaching them. Soon they will learn all our ways."
"If they do not?"
Tepua felt a chill on her shoulders as she studied Umia's troubled face. "Then I will send them away," she answered hoarsely. "Does that satisfy you?"
"I will be happy when they are gone."
"But you have not even seen these men! You spurned my invitation to their welcome, so let me make another. Leave your uncle. Come live with the clan of your father."
Umia looked at her in astonishment. "How can you ask that? My home is here."
"Someday, my brother, you will have to stand up to Cone-shell. You will have to show him that you can make your own way. Until then, you cannot be high chief."
For a moment she saw a new expression in Umia's face, a hint that she had gotten through to him. Then his features hardened again. "We must go," he said brusquely. "My uncle is waiting."
When she returned to the others, she saw that Cone-shell had assembled nearly all the important men of his clan. Umia was not included in the gathering, nor did Cone-shell explain the omission. Tepua also noticed that a heap of kava roots had been placed nearby on a mat of palm leaves. A large wooden bowl lay on the mat, along with polished coconut-shell cups. Was Umia considered too young to drink kava? she wondered.
And why was Cone-shell making this unusual offer of hospitality? She recalled tales of legendary heroes who were tricked into imbibing too much kava. But the stories exaggerated the effect of the drink. When she had tried it in Tahiti, she had felt mildly invigorated, then drowsy, but had not fallen into a stupor.
She glanced about until she found Two-eels, the leader of the escort that Paruru had sent with her. Two-eels could be trusted to look after her safety, she thought, but found herself wishing he had brought along more warriors.
Cone-shell offered her the squat, four-legged stool beside his own. It was the same height as his, not the proper seat to be offered the high chief. "I will stand," Tepua told him, unwilling to let her head be lower than his.
She glanced about at the other men and saw frowns of disapproval. Had they hoped that she would give up her privileges? "My guest will not stand," said Cone-shell firmly.
"If I sit there, then you must bend over," Tepua answered Cone-shell. "That is a position I do not think you will enjoy."
The other men muttered among themselves. Tepua wondered if this meeting would end before it even got started. Cone-shell made an angry gesture, beckoned a servant, and gave an order.
Tepua felt no sense of triumph when she saw the servant returning. He did not carry the higher stool that she had expected, but only a handful of mats. The servant slipped these under the seat intended for her.
Again Cone-shell offered her the stool Tepua sighed her acceptance and sat down, realizing as she did so how cleverly he had arranged things. The mats had merely raised her head to be even with his. He had acknowledged her as his equal but no better. She could do nothing about that now but clench her jaw.
At Cone-shell's signal three girls came forward to ready the drink. Tepua had performed this task for her father, and took little notice now of the preparations. Cone-shell began to speak while the maidens chewed the roots, spitting the infusion into the wooden bowl before them.
With forced joviality he said, "It is good that you visit us today, daughter of Kohekapu. We of Varoa Clan are happy to have you here. It is not often that one of such distinguished lineage comes for a visit." He went on in this manner, speaking of the history of Varoa Clan and of Ahiku Clan and of the atoll, but always avoiding the issue of her claim on the chieftainship. Meanwhile the maidens finished the first part of their task and began straining the root fibers from the cloudy liquid.
Tepua also made a speech, expressing her pleasure at being a guest of Varoa Clan. She, too, avoided the issue of her rank. It was a topic that would be discussed later, after the kava and the food.
She noticed the men leaning forward with eagerness as the preparations continued. Fresh coconut water was added to the kava brew, and the contents stirred until whipped to a froth. The first maiden filled a cup for Tepua. The second filled one for Cone-shell. Together the girls came forward and offered the drink.
Tepua dared not refuse it; in presenting kava, Cone-shell was paying her the highest respect. Fortunately, she knew the proper procedure for drinking. She took a deep breath a
nd began to swallow, not stopping until she had drained the cup.
The peppery spice of the infusion was so strong that she barely tasted the mild coconut water that was mixed with it. She felt a numbing of her lips and noticed a sudden racing of her thoughts. The elders of Varoa Clan, partaking also, made brief speeches, but soon all talk ceased. Her legs felt heavy, suffused by the comforting lethargy that she had experienced before.
But an unexpected part of the ceremony began. Men sitting outside the central gathering were being offered the drink. Normally only people of high rank imbibed kava. Now one of the maidens invited Two-eels to come forward, and the young warrior was so flattered that he seemed to forget his station.
Tepua tried to speak, ordering him to refuse the drink. She found that her tongue had grown as heavy as her limbs. Helpless, in anguish, she watched Two-eels take a full cup.
He gulped his portion, made a brief speech, then stepped back to accept the adulation of his warriors. For the moment he seemed unaffected, and Tepua began to think that her suspicions were misplaced. Perhaps only she was so strongly touched by the drink....
In the excited state induced by kava, she found visions flashing in her mind almost too quickly to be followed. She imagined Kiore married to this woman or that, saw their children born and growing up, the hair of their youngsters colored in patches, dark in places and sandy in others. Then she saw Nika and Maukiri producing boys with black eyebrows and red beards. The sight made her want to laugh, but her lips did not move.
Then another vision came, and this one frightened her. A huge vessel, bearing many outsiders, arrived at the atoll. The men carried thunder-clubs—dozens of the loud weapons.
The strangers demanded food. To appease them, every coconut palm was stripped. When the invaders asked for more, and none could be found, they filled the sky with the smoke and noise of their weapons. Women screamed; children fled to the forest.
She had a sense that this would actually happen, if not on her own atoll then on some other, if not to her people then to their children or grandchildren. Greedy foreigners in large numbers would come; not even the gods could stop them.
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