Sister of the Sun

by Coleman, Clare;

  She gave other orders. At dawn, canoes would take word to all the clans so that the chief's could gather for the meeting. In the early morning, preparations for the welcoming feast would begin.

  Finally she sent everyone away, except Umia. In the yellow light of a fire, she studied the wide-eyed face of her brother. They had spent little time together, yet she knew already that Kohekapu's wisdom had passed to his youngest son.

  "Umia, I am curious to hear what you think," she began. "We are all guessing why the Pu-tahi are so eager to visit us, and today I heard a suggestion that worries me. I hope it is wrong."

  "About their interest in the foreigners?"

  She sighed. "Yes. Nothing is secret very long on these islands. One trader tells another. The Pu-tahi may know about our sailors."

  "And that is why their chief has come?"

  "I would like to be wrong," said Tepua. "I would like to believe that the raiders have changed their ways. But this visit could be a ruse—to allow them to seize the foreign goods."

  "If that is their purpose, then we should not permit them ashore."

  "Umia, I believe the Pu-tahi have good intentions. I invited their chief and I won't back out. But I must be careful. If he is looking for foreigners, let him find no sign of them here."

  Umia glanced toward the inland forest. She had told him about her secret arrangements. "The boat and the goods are well hidden," he said. "The two men—"

  "I will tell them to stay out of sight. If the Pu-tahi ever ask about outsiders, we must say that they have left us."

  "Yes," said Umia. "Everyone must agree they have gone. Perhaps I can help you, sister. Let me take charge of greeting the clan chief's and elders as they arrive. I will tell them your concern. I am sure that nobody wants to lose the foreign goods."

  "That will please me," she answered. "But remember that you must greet your uncle along with the others."

  A look of worry showed briefly, but then he squared his shoulders. "I can deal with Cone-shell. He does not frighten me any longer."

  His words filled her with hope. "That is what I have been waiting to hear, Umia."

  Early the next morning, the first Pu-tahi canoe entered the pass into the lagoon. From the deck of her own pahi, Tepua stood watching near the inner end of the channel. She felt a chill as the lead vessel approached, driven by the current and a following wind. From her early childhood, the sight of the inverted triangle shapes of Pu-tahi sails had stricken her with terror.

  Now all was quiet aboard her double-hull and the smaller vessels that surrounded it. She could feel the tension as the lead Pu-tahi craft drew near. The red feather pennants and carved figures marked this as the canoe of the chief, Ata-katinga, whose name alone was enough to frighten children.

  Sea-snake, in charge of Tepua's war canoes, narrowed his eyes as more vessels followed their leader into the lagoon. "Is this raider chief bringing all his people with him?'' she heard him mutter. He turned to her. "You can still summon Paruru and his men from shore, ariki. We can turn these man-eaters back."

  "No. Paruru will stay where I have put him. I will give the visitors no excuse for war."

  "They do not need reasons," someone else in the pahi growled, but Tepua silenced the complainer with an icy look. Once more she turned to Ata-katinga's vessel, watched with quickening breath as lean, fierce-looking men scrambled to bring down the mast and sails. Others paddled to keep the great canoe on course.

  A tall, straight figure rose from among the warriors. He wore an elaborate headdress with a tuft of black tropic bird feathers in front. His beard was grizzled, his hair long and tangled. His face was not merely lined with the creases of age, but marked heavily with a dark swirl of tattoos.

  "Aue!" Tepua cried softly. She had never before seen tattoos on a man's face. Nor had she seen a Pu-tahi warrior at close range.

  Like his men, Ata-katinga was bare to the waist, exposing a vast array of tattoos. A broad black line ran down from each shoulder to join in a spear point above his belly. A myriad of smaller designs filled in the weathered skin over his huge chest. Below these the red sash of his office was wrapped about his waist. Tepua had heard that the garment was colored, not with the usual dye, but with the blood of his numerous victims.

  And she wished to believe that this man no longer wanted war! She had been guided by what the string figures had shown her. Safe in her house on shore, she had felt confident. Now she swallowed hard as she tried to steady herself.

  The Pu-tahi chief lifted a long and slender coconut frond in his tattoo-blackened hand. "I, Ata-katinga-ariki, offer the sign of peace," he proclaimed with a harsh accent. Yet he spoke so powerfully that Tepua thought he could be understood even by the crowds watching from the beach."I ask permission to come ashore."

  She saw no weapons, no sign of hostile intent. The smaller canoes behind him appeared laden with gifts. But she could not know what lay hidden beneath the thatched cabin of the chief s vessel. Polished war clubs? Bone-tipped spears?

  Tepua needed help now. To be certain of peace, she needed to invoke a great power.

  Only one name sprang to her lips. In Tahiti she had served a god stronger than any her own people dared call on. "Ata-katinga," she called back. "I must have more than mere promises. I invoke the protection of a great god, the one who presides when enemies sit down together. Break the peace, and you defy the will of Oro."

  "I acknowledge Oro-of-the laid-down-spear," replied Ata-katinga. "And by the will of our own gods as well, I pledge peace between us."

  Tepua glanced around at the anxious faces of her warriors. Few seemed impressed by the chief's declarations. But she recalled once more her vision of blue sharks escorting the visitors to shore. The ancestors had shown her what they wanted.

  "Land your canoes," she called loudly, then sent her flotilla to lead the way.

  On the beach below the assembly ground, Tepua stood, flanked by warriors, watching Ata-katinga and his company disembark. Behind her, onlookers had lined up in long rows. Glancing back at the crowd, she saw expressions of wonder mixed with doubt and fear. The air carried a low undercurrent of muttering as well as cries of dismay. Older children wailed and ran; younger ones begged to be picked up and comforted.

  The arriving men were as fierce looking as their leader, their foreheads and cheeks heavily tattooed, wild tangles of hair spilling down their shoulders and backs. They kept flexing their broad hands, as if uncomfortable when not holding weapons.

  Now that she could see Ata-katinga's headdress at closer range, Tepua noticed a disturbing detail. In the back, whipped by the breeze, dangled a fringe of brilliant gold. It was hair, human hair, almost the same blond color as Kiore's.

  Her suspicions moved at a dizzying pace. Had these raiders also come across foreign sailors, or even foreign women? The fringe of the headdress might be a trophy from one such encounter.

  Tepua dared not ask. Unless the Pu-tahi mentioned outsiders, she was determined to say nothing about them. She tried to put aside her misgivings as she waited to greet Ata-katinga.

  The heavy steps came closer. The great tattooed face bore down on her. The broad, flat nose pressed her cheek, and she heard the raspy hiss as he inhaled. In the grip of his ceremonial embrace, her pulse drummed in her ears and a voice within her cried from fright....

  At last he stood back. I am alive, she thought: I have touched the Pu-tahi chief and I still live!

  The tattoos on Ata-katinga's cheeks and forehead made his face seem like a grotesque mask. Tepua wondered if she would be able to speak another word to this apparition. Then she peered at the eyes behind the mask and saw signs of frailty, of caution, of hope.

  Ata-katinga gave a sharp order, sending men scurrying to unload gifts from their beached canoes. Wild-haired Pu-tahi brought lashed wooden cages containing pigs. The animals squealed as the cages were heaved off tattooed shoulders and swung down to thump on the sand. The pigs appeared as fierce as their owners, glaring out with red-rimmed eyes, slashi
ng at the cages with their tusks.

  "These are warriors," said Ata-katinga, slapping a protruding snout. With an outraged grunt, the pig jerked its head back. "We will eat them together, and we will all share in their strength."

  The men carried other gifts—delicacies such as whole sun-dried coconuts that rattled inside when they were shaken. They also brought fine baskets and mats.

  Though the gifts flattered her, Tepua deliberately turned away from them. "Before I accept these gifts," she said to Ata-katinga, "I wish to know your reason for coming here. Your request for this meeting surprised me. The Pu-tahi are known for many things, but desire for peace is not one."

  Her words caused a buzz among the crowd. A momentary scowl darkened Ata-katinga's face, turning it once again into a threatening mask. "You are right to be suspicious. It is not by our own wish that we lay down our spears."

  I did not think you would willingly abandon your raiding, or your taste for human flesh, Tepua thought grimly, but she kept silent.

  At last Ata-katinga began to speak in a low and steady voice. "This is my reason, Tepua-ariki, and it is one that you may already know. A new enemy has come to our ocean, an enemy so strong and ruthless that even we, the Fierce People, cannot stand against it." He paused and Tepua felt a tremor in her fingers. She could guess what was coming next. "There are strangers who do not travel in pahi, but in huge islands that have wings," he continued. "These people have no need for spears or clubs. They possess sticks that belch smoke and make a great roar!"

  Ata-katinga's voice rose to a shout as if he were trying to imitate the sound and then fell almost to a whisper that made the back of Tepua's neck prickle. "When these weapons speak, men fall and lie still, covered with their blood, yet no knife or spear has torn their skin. And the foul smoke drifts down, making those who survived the blast choke and cry and run."

  Tepua struggled to hide her feelings. She had watched Kiore's companion use his thunder-maker. Her vision from the kava trance had shown far worse....

  As Ata-katinga stared at her, she held herself stiffly, refusing to give any sign that she knew about such things. The one she had seen had frightened people, but had not harmed anyone. Perhaps it was not the same kind that the Pu-tahi feared.

  "You are quiet," said the visiting chief, narrowing his eyes. "Is it possible that you do not believe me? That you think this another trick by the rascally Pu-tahi?"

  She tried to thrust away any feelings that might betray her. With cautious dignity she replied, "I do not doubt your word. I only wish to know more. Tell me what these enemies look like."

  "More like sea demons than men. Their bodies are patched with strange colors, as if covered by seaweed. Some have brown hands and faces as we do, but others are black or white, or even red."

  Tepua recalled the ruddy flush that often deepened the bronze of Kiore's face. Again emotion swept through her. These enemies who so terrified the Fierce People almost certainly were men from Kiore's land.

  Her tongue felt wooden; she willed herself to speak. "I have heard tales of such people," she admitted. "But I still do not know the purpose for your visit. Do you seek our aid against these outsiders?"

  "We cannot hope to survive if we do not unite," Ata-katinga answered. "All my life, I have busted in the hardness of my spears, but I fear they will prove useless against these many-colored men. That is why I come to you. I do not wish to make war against the foreigners—their weapons would destroy us. But we must stop fighting one another. We must join in friendship and together find other ways to deal with the outsiders."

  Again scenes fleeted across Tepua's memory, smoke and turbulence swirling before her eyes. If Ata-katinga had a way to prevent this, then she would eagerly embrace it. Yet she foresaw how difficult any such arrangement would be.

  Glancing about, she noticed the mistrustful glares of her warriors and the anxious looks of her people. She knew of no one eager to trust the Pu-tahi. Worst of all, she had to fight a part of herself that would always crave revenge—the child who had been hustled into hiding, who had listened to grieving women, who had felt the gnawing pain of hunger while looking at ruined coconut trees.

  Ata-katinga was speaking again. "To show you that we are honest in our desire for peace, we brought you a special gift, ariki. I saved it for last."

  He gave a sharp handclap and a Pu-tahi warrior walked forward, holding a white animal in his arms. Tepua glanced in astonishment at its upright ears, pointed snout, and lolling tongue. A white dog! This dog was unlike any she had seen before. Instead of the usual sparse coat and narrow ratlike tail, the animal had a thick coat and a bushy plumed tail.

  The warrior set the dog on its feet and led it with a sennit cord tied about its neck. It trotted along willingly, lifting ears and muzzle as it appraised the assembled crowd. On every face Tepua saw astonishment and delight.

  Dogs were rare in the atolls. In Tahiti they were common, raised for feasts to mark important occasions. But Tepua knew that no one would ever eat a dog that had such brilliant white fur. The long hairs of its tail were precious. Fringes of white dog hair were highly prized on ornaments and clothing. She recalled what a stir Cone-shell had made when he presented her with the fringed cape.

  "We call the dog Te Kurevareva, the Atoll Cuckoo," said the Pu-tahi chief. He took the end of the sennit leash from the warrior and handed it to Tepua. "You should not be surprised that she has a name. She is as valuable to us as a great canoe."

  Other Pu-tahi came forward, holding up a fringed gorget and a fan as additional offerings. "Our craftsmen have decorated these for you with the hair of Te Kurevareva so that you may see how long and beautiful it is and how well it can be worked," said Ata-katinga. One of his men knelt down and with a quick pat on the dog's side plucked several hairs from the plumed tail. He handed them to Tepua.

  She rubbed the hairs between her fingers, noting how long and fine they were. This was a precious gift indeed. Not only was the dog's coat beautiful, the hairs fine and silky, but the animal herself seemed pleasant tempered and amiable.

  Tepua had never taken much interest in dogs, but this one appealed to her at once. Atoll Cuckoo seemed to sense it and her plumed tail began to wag. Her large eyes glistened, and her pink tongue flopped out of her mouth.

  "She has been taught to stand still so that gathering the hair is easy," said Ata-katinga, in a proud, almost fatherly tone. "You must be careful, of course, not to take too much."

  His face had lost some of its severity and the tattoos no longer seemed as grotesque. As Tepua reached down to stroke the dog's head, receiving several wet licks in return, she felt a growing warmth toward the Pu-tahi chief. It was clear that his affection for Atoll Cuckoo went beyond his appreciation of her fur.

  Tepua saw Ata-katinga staring at her expectantly as he waited to hear her response. For a moment she looked away, trying to free her thoughts from the dazzling array of gifts. The problems that he had spoken of were real. She believed that he had come in earnestness. "Yes," she said at last. "I am honored to receive your offerings. I will sit with you and discuss the question of the foreigners." This time she found it easier to accept the chief's embrace.

  Then she turned, addressing the crowd, and announced her decision for all to hear. She recognized that many people disagreed with her, and wanted to see the Pu-tahi forced back into their canoes. But others clearly had been impressed by Ata-katinga's show of generosity. They leaned forward for a better view of the dog.

  Tepua called Maukiri and gave her cousin charge of Te Kurevareva for the moment. Maukiri took the leash hesitantly. "The Atoll Cuckoo will not bite. She is gentle," said Ata-katinga. "Try scratching her behind the ears." Cautiously, Maukiri knelt and did as the Pu-tahi chief suggested. The dog wagged its long tail like a palm leaf moving in a stiff breeze.

  "Hairs are flying off!" cried Maukiri, trying to catch the drifting fluff.

  "Have some boys follow and pick them up," Tepua told her.

  With a laugh, Maukir
i called for assistance. The animal did a little dance step as she led it away.

  Now it was time for Tepua to present gifts in return. She called for the offerings that had been readied at short notice—pearl-shell fishhooks, finely woven mats, and other handiwork. Nothing she had collected could match the Atoll Cuckoo, but Ata-katinga showed no sign of disappointment.

  When the gift exchange was done, she led the Pu-tahi to the guest houses she had ordered prepared for them. She explained that her clan chief's had not yet arrived, and that she would meet with them before both sides sat down together. "First I wish to talk with you alone," she told Ata-katinga.

  Sitting in her yard, Tepua asked the visiting chief to tell what he knew about the many-colored men. "I have heard of great vessels," she said, "but I have not been told where they were sighted."

  "They have been seen in open water," he answered. "Several times the foreigners have sent small boats ashore at a place we call Cloud Island. It is there that I saw the thunder weapons and the men falling dead."

  "What was the reason for the battle?" she asked uneasily, though she believed she knew the answer. "Did the people of Cloud Island attack?"

  "The islanders desired to trade peacefully. The strangers wanted food and drink, and offered their foreign goods in exchange. The islanders were happy to have those goods, but they found that they could not satisfy the foreigners. The many-colored men ordered them to strip the palm trees bare, and to bring every fowl and pig on the island. To obey would have meant starvation."

  "Food and drink. Is that all these outsiders want of us?"

  "They are curious about our ornaments, but toss most of them aside with contempt. They care nothing for feathers or fine craftsmanship. Pearls and pearl shell are the only valuables that interest them."

  Pearl shell. All Tepua's hopes vanished. She could not doubt now that Nika and Kiore were of the same breed as the foreign marauders. Her two sailors had seemed peaceful, but perhaps that was only because their weapon had fallen into the lagoon!