"There is more, Tepua. They built a platform for all these provisions and surrounded it with a high fence. They allow no one inside but themselves."
"Fence!" she answered in angry astonishment. The men were behaving like savages. Her people did not hoard food. If a friend or kinsman asked for something, it was cheerfully offered, with the understanding that its like would be returned. "They still do not know our ways," Tepua said, "but they have not been here long. I must continue teaching them."
"I am sure you will enjoy doing that," Ehi said, giving her a sly look. "If the sailors gather their own supplies, and share with their neighbors, then they will need more time to prepare for their journey."
"That is not my reason—"
"Tepua," she chided. "I have seen how you look at Kiore. Why do you hold yourself back? You can have fun, if you do it discreetly. In Tahiti, you had a man. Now you are unhappy without one."
Tepua beat her fist against the side of her stool. "Other things are at stake here," she said hotly. "You and Heka make two of a kind. I will decide for myself if I need a man, and which one. I want no advice on that score."
"Good," said Ehi. "At least you have not closed your mind on the matter. I'm tired of seeing so many scowls on your face."
At last Tepua summoned the sailors. She was happy to see Kiore again—more than happy. She began to forget the doubts raised by her vision.
"I have...much to tell," Kiore said.
Studying his glistening eyes and the warm expression on his lips, she wished Nika gone. "I have much to tell you also," she said to Kiore. "But first I must speak with the elders, and deal with questions that do not concern you." He knew nothing about Cone-shell's challenge, and she saw no reason to tell him now.
"There is a problem about this man Pinga," she said.
"Yes," Kiore agreed reluctantly when she explained her wishes. "Pinga is not for us. But who?"
She told him to try recruiting among the unmarried fishermen who lived at the end of the islet. Some were from distant islands, with no ties here.
Finally she suggested that the sailors gather their own provisions and share them, as was the custom. They could easily learn to collect and dry the meat of clams. Even a child could teach them.
Kiore told her that he would try, then stared at her, as if expecting more pleasant conversation. His eyes spoke of other times, of quiet walks on the white coral sand or through the forest.
"I will show you where we gather tern eggs,'' she offered lamely. "Tomorrow, perhaps. Or the day after." She wished to say other things, but the words did not come.
And then she found that she had no time for Kiore. The news of her encounter with Cone-shell spread quickly. Clan chief's came from all parts of the atoll to discuss what should be done. Over the next two days, Tepua heard much unwelcome talk of war against Varoa.
Paruru said little, however. Tepua knew how chagrined he was over the poor performance of his men. Perhaps, because he blamed himself, he did not condemn Cone-shell.
Kohekapu, weak as he was, managed to make bis views known. When the arguments became heated, he surprised everyone by sitting up to speak. "I am tired of listening," Kohekapu said in a whispery voice, "so let us...settle this." Unwilling to miss a word, Tepua tried not to breathe.
"A good chief knows...how to judge the wind and water." He paused, looking first at his daughter and then at the others. "There are times when we eagerly launch our canoes, and times when we are wise enough to keep them ashore." His head slowly slumped forward, as if the effort of his speech was exhausting him. The tahunga rushed to his side, but Kohekapu motioned him away.
"Listen to what...your chief has told you," Kohekapu continued. "The priests of Varoa Clan admit that she is the ariki. Even Cone-shell's maggot of a brother, who calls himself high priest, has shown his deference. Cone-shell cannot deny her now."
The men who had been urging war glanced about uncomfortably. Earlier they had argued loudly, but now no one seemed willing to speak against Kohekapu. An elder of Piho Clan said, "Cone-shell is a maggot who must be squashed—before he becomes a fly and can bite."
Kohekapu turned his head slowly, his dignified expression showing no anger. "I will not dirty my heel on him. But there are other ways to deal with this. Do not forget Rongo Clan. It is time to woo them away from their vile ally. If the chief of Rongo is made welcome here, then Cone-shell will know for certain he is alone."
With that last bit of advice, Kohekapu had seemingly exhausted his strength. He slid back down onto his mat and said nothing more as the tahunga began to fuss over him. Tepua let the arguments go on, paying them little heed, while she knelt at her father's side. "Stay with us awhile longer," she begged him. "I will need your help again."
The last of these meetings ended, the chief's agreeing reluctantly to follow Kohekapu's advice. Tepua went out into the bright afternoon to watch her important visitors depart. She was free of her duties—at least for a short while. She remembered her promise to Kiore.
The day was warm, the shadows just starting to lengthen. With light steps, she made her way toward the guesthouse where the foreign sailors were quartered. As she approached she heard both men shouting, the voices coming from behind the dwelling.
Hurrying around the thatched house, she saw the enclosure that Ehi had told her about. The sailors had used woody mid-ribs of old palm fronds, burying the ends to make a crude fence that bellied outward as it rose. Cords held these staves against each other, and poles reinforced the structure. She gazed in dismay at the ugly piece of work.
"I have you now, thief!" she heard a voice say angrily, but she could not see anyone. She ran to the narrow opening in the fence and peered through. There she saw Nika confronting a young boy who was clutching a handful of dried octopus. The sailor had a hold on one ear and was cuffing the boy about the other. Behind him, Kiore was struggling with a second youngster.
"What are you doing?" she cried, rushing toward Nika. "We do not strike our children! And to touch the head— anyone's head—is tapu!"
"He is a thief," said Nika, relaxing his grip and pushing the youngster away from him. Still holding his prize, the boy turned to the open gate. Tepua made a subtle movement with her hand. The boy saw the gesture and took a dash for freedom.
"Release the other child," Tepua demanded, turning to Kiore.
The sailor's face was flushed with anger. "Not the first time for this one," he said, shaking the boy by his thin shoulders. "I teach him!"
"You two are the ones who must be taught," she answered, stamping her foot.
The second boy squirmed and managed to kick Kiore in the shins. The sailor shouted angrily as the youngster slipped from his grasp. "Forgive me, ariki," the boy cried as he raced past her and out of the enclosure.
"Soon they come back!" Kiore complained, brushing his hands against each other, then wiping his dusty brow. Behind him stood his platform, where dried fish and octopus were piled on a shelf of tied sticks. Beneath the platform, coconuts lay in an untidy heap of browns and greens.
"This is folly," Tepua shouted. "We do not hide food like this. How long do you plan to keep those coconuts? Until they start sprouting?"
Kiore answered her indignantly. "We do honest trade All this is ours now."
"I have heard more than enough about your trading," she answered. "And you see it has made you no friends. The boys were not stealing, they were borrowing."
The sailor stared at her, shaking his head.
"I do not know how people live in your country," she said. "Anyone can see that you have plenty of food. That is why the boys came to you. They will bring something back when you are in need. That is our way."
She heard footsteps behind her. "What—is this commotion?" asked Paruru, arriving out of breath. "Someone said—the ariki was arguing with the foreigners."
"It is this—" Tepua, speechless for a moment, made a sweep of her hand.
"I did not know the fence would offend you, ariki," the warrio
r replied. "I saw no harm in letting them gather provisions."
And perhaps you wanted to hurry them on their way. "These men will be with us awhile longer," she said. "We must do a better job of teaching them our ways."
"As you wish, ariki. I have befriended the one with red hair. Perhaps—"
"It is Nika I blame for this," Tepua replied.
"I do not wish to disagree, but Kiore did most of the work. Nika is not eager to leave our island. And I have been able to teach him many things. Did you hear how well he speaks?"
She did not answer, for she suddenly noticed something out of place. On the ground behind the platform stood a foreign chopper, its blade half-buried in a log, its handle sticking up at an angle. "Did you also teach him to break the tapu on the goods?"
"I would not allow that," Paruru answered indignantly.
"Yet he has that chopper."
"So he does, ariki. It came ashore before the tapu was imposed. Nika traded it for a large pearl shell, but the new owner traded it back."
Tepua was about to answer angrily, but she recalled the remarkable shell that Nika had worn to the welcoming feast. Paruru's tale was plausible. "That tool is a dangerous thing."
"Then I will take charge of it," said Paruru. "As well as any others I may come across. And I will continue to watch over Nika, if that pleases you. But what about Kiore?"
Tepua saw a coldness in the warrior's eyes that made her draw in her breath. Everyone knew that Paruru saw Kiore as his rival. If she gave him a chance, he would be happy to get rid of the blue-eyed sailor. "Let the other sailor stay with me awhile," she answered. "I have made some progress with him."
"Yes, I am aware of that." Paruru's voice was edged with bitterness. "If you wish to continue, then I beg you not to run off by yourself. Allow my men to protect you."
"Your warriors are always at my heels!" Except when I truly need them, she thought.
"Then I will order my men to stay back when they follow you. But they must always be within earshot. To do otherwise would be foolish. We still do not understand these strangers." He spoke briefly with Nika, who gave Tepua a hard glance before pulling the chopper from its log and handing it to Paruru. Then Nika followed him from the enclosure.
Kiore had folded his arms across his chest, in a gesture now familiar to her, and stood watching her with narrowed eyes and a faint smile.
"Ah, Kiore," she cried. "I am afraid for you." She stepped closer and allowed him a brief embrace. "You must not get Paruru angry."
"Paruru is no trouble," he answered.
"You say that of the man who killed your friend."
"He is no enemy," Kiore repeated. "He talks...he learns from us."
"Yes?'' Paruru had said that he spent time with Nika, but she did not know what drew him to the young sailor.
"We talk of battles...on sea and land. Nika knows much that interests Paruru."
"Nika...a warrior?"
"No. But his father makes weapons. From his father he knows many tales of war."
Tepua stiffened. "And you?"
"I care for sailing, not battle."
"Then Paruru has no need of you. What is to keep him from shoving a spear into your belly?"
She looked up to see Kiore break into a grin. "Paruru thinks I keep secrets. He waits for me to tell him."
Tepua studied the confident set of his shoulders, the determined lines of his mouth. Perhaps he was clever enough to keep her kaito-nui guessing. "It is good that you keep learning our language and our ways," she told him. "But not from Paruru. I will find teachers."
"Not you?"
"I cannot teach you everything. You should leam fishing, gathering coconuts—"
"Maybe I surprise you," he said. "Watch me!" He reached beneath his platform and took a brown nut from his hoard. Tepua could see that it was old and waterlogged, evidently something that had washed up on the beach. She did not stop him when he carried it to a pointed stake that was set in the ground behind his platform.
He rammed the husk onto the point, then tried breaking it free of the shell within. A spurt of foul-smelling liquid poured out, and Kiore shouted an angry word of his own tongue. With a look of embarrassment he peered into the smashed side of the rotten nut.
"If you want good coconuts," she said, "you will have to climb after them."
He tossed aside the useless husk and gazed at her with new interest, his blond eyebrows raised.
"I have many trees," she said, "and I give you permission to harvest from them."
"It is good, ariki. I wish to learn climbing."
Tepua reflected a moment. Why not start now? If she could find a teacher..."Come." She motioned for him to follow. As she expected, Paruru had left two guards outside to keep an eye on her.
Spies. No, she would not ask one of them to help Kiore. Then she noticed the boys who had been chased from the enclosure peeking at her from behind a bush. With the ariki here to defend them, they seemed to have regained their courage. "You, come," she said to the older of the pair. "Give the sailor a climbing lesson and then he will not be angry with you."
She began to walk inland with Kiore, toward a grove that was a bit secluded. It would not do to have a crowd watching this first attempt. She stopped in a well-shaded place and explained what she wanted to the boy.
At first the youngster stepped back from her in dismay. "Do not scold me, ariki," he said in a high-pitched voice. "But what you ask is forbidden. If I climb, my head will soon be above yours."
She sighed. So many rules! No wonder the strangers were having difficulties. "I give you permission," she told the boy. "This one time. And I will stand far from the tree." This seemed to overcome his reluctance. The youngster peeled some bark strips from a fallen hibiscus branch and began plaiting a strap for his feet. Tepua set the other boy to plaiting a larger strap for Kiore.
"At home," said Kiore, "trees have branches all the way up. It is easy to climb high."
"We need no branches," she explained, running her fingers down the ridged trunk. "You can hold on with your hands and feet. The little belt makes it easier."
His face lit up with understanding as he studied the task before him. For a moment his expression became that of a child at play. Tepua thought then that her frightening vision could not possibly be warning her against this foreigner.
"Watch how it is done," she said. The boy hesitated, seemingly still in doubt. Impatiently she gestured for him to go, and at last he began to bound up the trunk. "Slowly!" Tepua insisted. "Let the sailor see what you are doing."
Kiore, barefoot now, crouched by the adjacent tree and stretched the plaited loop between his feet. He reached up, feeling for a grip, then pulled himself off the ground. "Use the strap to brace yourself," Tepua advised.
The blond-haired sailor laughed and pulled himself higher. In the other tree, the boy was already halfway to the top! Tepua tried to signal that he should slow down, but the youngster failed to get her message.
"Not hard," said Kiore. She heard the scraping of cloth and the heaving of his breath as he went higher. Then the trunk began to sway and he gave a short cry of alarm.
"It will not fall," she assured him. But what if Kiore lost his grip? Why send a man so high on his first attempt...?
He was past the halfway point. "That is enough for this lesson,'' she called to him."Tomorrow you can try again.'' But Kiore kept climbing, bending and then straightening his body, taking a rest between each advance. The higher he went, the more the trunk swayed under his weight. Meanwhile the boy reached the top of his own tree, twisted off a drinking nut, and sent it spinning to the ground.
The thud of the coconut's landing made Tepua imagine a stronger blow—of Kiore himself striking the ground. She looked away from the sight of his body swinging against the sky. She felt dizzy; her brow was wet. Faintly she heard the rattling of fronds overhead. The rattling grew fiercer and the ground seemed to sway beneath her feet. Suddenly there came a louder thud.
Her heart was
hammering like Ehi's food pounder as she spun around. On the coarse sand she saw only another coconut! From above, Kiore was shouting in triumph. "Come down," she called again, but he did not seem to hear. At last he began his slow descent. She caught herself gnawing at her fingers as she watched.
"Not hard," said Kiore when he finally reached bottom. "On the big boat I climb high every day. Up the tall masts."
Tepua suddenly found herself in his embrace, her cheek pressed to the smooth damp cloth of his shirt. She could hear the thudding of his heart and feel the rise and fall of his breathing. His broad hands pressed the bare skin of her back, holding her tightly against him.
Then she heard muffled giggling. The boys!
Tepua pulled away. She turned and saw grins on both youngsters' faces. "Go now," she told him. "Come back to my house at dusk and I will reward you." The first boy picked up his viavia. The second, with a sly glance at Kiore, hefted the nut that the foreigner had sent down.
"Good," said Kiore. "You take." The pair scampered off with cries of delight. "Now they talk," said Kiore, his brow slightly furrowed. "Tell about us. It is not good?"
"Nothing has happened."
He seemed briefly relieved, but then his brows knitted again. "Much is forbidden here," he said. "Touching someone's head...walking in the marae." His eyes caught hers. "This too is forbidden? Ariki with a man? Me?"
Tepua let out a long breath. She did not know how to answer. Perhaps he would not understand the obligations of her rank. A liaison with this foreigner, a man admittedly of low birth, would please no one—except, perhaps, herself.
"It is not forbidden," she answered. "Only unwise. I have enemies, people who say I should not be chief. I must prove them wrong, if only for a short while. That is what the gods expect of me." She paused, knowing that she had not satisfied him. "It would be better for you to find some other woman. I know many—"
He shook his head. "Others are not the same. Only the ariki pleases me." The color of his eyes seemed to shift and she stepped closer, drawn by their curious hue. He reached for her and she took another step. Then she lifted her face, offering him the foreign kiss as she had days before.
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