"Kiore knows about the weapon!" Paruru cried hoarsely.
"No secrets," said Nika. "We can trust him."
"But Tepua—"
"I care nothing for Tepua," said Nika. "But I will fight for her. Because of Maukiri."
Paruru could not clear his thoughts. He wanted to get an agreement about the weapon, and to warn the men not to tell anyone else, but he could not bring the words to his lips. Silently he untangled himself from the intoxicated sailors and left them to their foolishness. Behind him, they began another song.
The drink was the cause of all these troubles. Though he could barely keep his eyes open, Paruru resolved to get rid of the stuff. His legs wobbled as he began to search for the container. He staggered from tree to tree, leaning on each to support himself as he looked around. Then, in the shadows, he saw the slatted drum half-hidden by a branch.
Nika and Kiore were too busy carousing to notice, he hoped. He recalled that the drink could be made to flow out through a hollow stick at the bottom of the drum. He reached down and twisted something. His fingers felt clumsy, but the piece turned in his hand. When he saw the liquid spilling onto the ground, he went back to the sailors.
"Teach me your song," Paruru said through numbed lips as he eased himself down to rest against a log. His head seemed to bounce gently against the bark. "Maybe I can learn it." But the foreigners were quiet now. He heard slow breathing and a snore. Paruru felt his own eyes closing again and this time he could not stop them.
The sound of raindrops woke Paruru near dawn. He heard a gentle patter that changed to a steady shower of water against the overhanging leaves. The throbbing pain in his head almost made him forget the rain and all else.
In the gloom he tried to find his way to a better shelter. The sailors, too, were stirring. He heard them muttering together in their own tongue.
"What have you done to me?" Paruru cried. "My head!"
He heard Nika's muffled laughter. "After a time, you will grow used to drinking."
The rain was soaking the ground now, falling through the branches in a steady stream. Paruru thought that he might feel better if he remained still awhile. He found his way under a dense canopy, lay down and drew up his knees, but the throbbing in his skull continued.
The foreigners kept gabbling to each other, and Paruru understood almost nothing. "We must talk about the weapon," he called to the sailors.
"I do not think the ariki wants it used," said Kiore. "It is not good for this place."
Paruru turned toward the sound of their voices, but still he could not see the men. "The Pu-tahi will respect nothing less. I must have it."
"Too dangerous!" said Kiore.
"You said you would stand with me," Paruru protested. Finally he spotted the sailors, two dark figures seated beneath a tree. Yesterday, the drink had made the men foolish, but also amiable. Now they only seemed stubborn.
"I will not tell Tepua," said Kiore. "I do not want her to take the weapon. But we have no reason to use it."
"Nika," Paruru called in desperation. "Tell your friend that you agreed to help me."
"If trouble appears, I will help," the other sailor answered. "I see none now."
"The Pu-tahi are waiting for us to drop our guard!" Paruru's stomach felt queasy. Sitting here arguing was only making his head feel worse. For now, he had no strength to vent his anger at Nika. Later he would deal with him, insist that he honor his obligations to his brother.
But first he needed to get rid of his pain. "You will see that I am right," Paruru said in parting. "I will bring news that will make you listen." He forced himself up, leaning for a moment against a young fara. The rain was still falling heavily, but he was used to being wet. Dawn had come, spreading a dim, gray light.
Paruru brushed away leaves and sticks that clung to his damp body. Then he headed for a place of refuge, the house of a tahunga who often cared for his warriors' ills and wounds. Shortly he reached one of the main paths across the island and turned toward the lagoon. He heard footsteps ahead.
"Paruru!" called an indignant voice. "Where are you going, you sea worm? Do you think you can hide from me?"
When the warrior recognized Cone-shell's harsh voice, he gave a quiet groan. The bulky figure, covered in a dripping rain cape, came quickly toward him. "I want answers," Cone-shell demanded as he drew closer. "I am tired of chasing after you in these woods."
The only weapon that the warrior saw was the club that Cone-shell pounded against the ground. Paruru realized with chagrin that he had no weapon of his own. "The storehouse is empty!" shouted Cone-shell. "Where are the foreigners' goods?"
"I do not have them," Paruru replied, wishing he could somehow get past Varoa's chief.
"You know where they are!"
"Do not make me angry, Cone-shell. Yesterday, we put aside our differences."
"That has nothing to do with this treachery. I asked Tepua to give me Kiore. Now you and she are trying to cheat me of the benefit."
"Benefit? A few trinkets. Cloth. Choppers."
"Worth much in the right hands!"
Paruru wiped rainwater from his face and sized up the man who stood before him. Cone-shell had been a warrior once, but now he was too heavy, too slow. Paruru felt an impulse to grab the club from his hand and strike him with it.
No, that would not do. He needed Cone-shell's help or everything would be lost. He needed to regain this man's trust, even if it meant giving up his secret.... "The foreign goods you saw mean nothing," Paruru hissed, "compared with what I have hidden."
"Tell me!" Cone-shell took a menacing step closer.
Paruru's head pounded as he spoke. "You were not here when the foreign vaka arrived at the lagoon, Surely you heard what happened."
"Yes ..." The chief's eyes widened.
"Come. I will show you something you have never seen before. Then you will stop asking about the other goods."
In a deserted part of the inland forest, behind the ruins of an old marae, Paruru halted and pulled at a heap of coconut fronds. Underneath lay the upturned hull of a canoe that had long ago lost its outrigger.
He glanced back at Cone-shell. Now that the rain had stopped, the chief had taken off his plaited cape and stood bare-chested in the cool air. "Help me turn this over," Paruru asked as he gripped the bow of the old boat.
When Cone-shell squatted to assist, a piece of rotten planking broke away in his hands. On Paruru's side, the lashings holding the boards together were frayed, ready to part. "Gently!" warned Paruru.
At last they managed to roll the hull over to an upright position and prop it against a log. Inside lay several bundles lashed to the thwarts. Cone-shell grabbed the largest and began to tear at the cords.
"Everything must stay dry!" Paruru shouted.
Cone-shell ignored the warning. In a moment he had the weapon unwrapped. He turned it, sniffed at it, applied his teeth to the gray flared tube. "Aue! This is the thing of war. The weapon the Pu-tahi warned about."
"It will do nothing as it is now," Paruru retorted. "It is just wood and stone. The thing has no power."
Cone-shell lay the weapon across the rotting hull and crouched to study it. He ran his fingers over the smooth contours of wood, then came to the bird's head. "Show me how it is held," he insisted.
Reluctantly Paruru lifted the piece. He had succeeded in silencing Cone-shell's demands for the other goods, but now he faced a new problem. There was only one weapon and two men wanted it!
Yet he had taken Cone-shell here for a reason. If Tepua learned of the thunder-club, she would forbid Paruru to use it. In that case, giving it to Cone-shell might be his only recourse. The thought of doing so brought back the pounding to his temples.
"Here is how the thing is held," Paruru answered, pointing the open tube at the trees. "The head is pulled back like this...."
Paruru let the beak fall sharply into its little bowl. He could not help smiling when the sparks made Cone-shell jump. "This is a weapon of flame," the kait
o-nui said. "The spark must be what starts it. In one of my bundles is a fine black sand that smells like the weapon's smoke. My guess is that this powder can be lit by the spark, as wood dust flares in the groove of a fire-stick."
"Guess? You do not know?"
Irritably Paruru replied. "The foreigners refuse to teach me. They say the weapon is too dangerous."
"We need no help from them," Cone-shell snorted. "It is simple enough. Show me the black sand."
"There is more than just the sand. A canoe paddler heard small stones falling after the weapon thundered. Two dropped into his vaka. They are the same kind as the ones in this bag."
"Leave the stones for later," growled Cone-shell.
Paruru opened a second bundle, removing a container curved like a boar's tusk. He opened the pointed end, then shook a few grains of black sand into his palm. "Sniff it," he said. He watched Cone-shell's nostrils widen and his eyelids fly up.
"It smells of bird droppings!" Cone-shell whispered. "And foul water!"
Paruru's hand began to tremble. "There may be evil spirits in this."
"Your priest Faka-ora got rid of them," Cone-shell rebuked. "This powder did come from the stores I examined, did it not?"
The warrior raised his eyebrows in assent.
"Then waste no more time talking." Cone-shell took the bottle and poured powder onto the place where the bird's beak struck. He put the bottle down. "Stand away from me," he warned Paruru. Cone-shell spoke a brief prayer before pulling back the beak.
Paruru took a deep breath. There came a shower of sparks and then a flare of light."It does burn!" shouted Cone-shell in triumph. An acrid puff of smoke spread outward from where the fire had been.
"But no thunder," Paruru added moodily.
"We will come to that," said Cone-shell. "If stones are part of this, then I see only one place they can go." He turned the tube and looked once more inside. Then he held out his hand.
Paruru was pleased that they had managed this much so quickly. Now Cone-shell seemed about to unravel the last of the secrets. With growing excitement Paruru opened another bundle, taking out a handful of heavy round stones. With a rumble, Cone-shell let them fall into the tube.
"Sand!" Cone-shell ordered. Paruru sprinkled more powder around the bowl. This time he was willing to believe that the weapon might actually work. He stepped back and put his hands over his ears.
Again came the sparks, the flare...and nothing else. "Aue!" cried Cone-shell, flinging the weapon aside and slapping at his fingers. "It stings! It burns!" He sucked on his hand, then spat out the unpleasant taste. He grabbed a handful of wet leaves and wrapped them around the hurt.
Paruru paid no attention to Cone-shell's suffering. He crouched and saw that the stones had merely rolled out of the tube onto the damp ground. The weapon itself was smeared with soil.
"This is what Nika warned me against," he cried. "The thing is dangerous if you do not fully understand it." Picking up the thunder-club, he tried to brush off the debris that clung to it.
"Then call your foreigner," said Cone-shell, "and let him burn his own fingers on the useless thing."
"He is not ready to help us."
"Your brother refuses?" Cone-shell unwrapped his hand, scowled at the red marks, and wrapped it again.
"He says the Pu-tahi are not threatening us."
"What does that pale-bellied stranger know? He should see the Pu-tahi when they get stirred up. Like barracudas!"
"How can I make him understand?"
Varoa's chief stared at Paruru. "He must see the real Pu-tahi," Cone-shell said, his mouth twisting into an ugly grin. "I will find a way to show him. And you will help me."
TWENTY
As sunset approached, Paruru slipped away from the assembly ground, taking with him a basket laden with food. The day's discussions had concluded with a feast. The Pu-tahi were still stuffing themselves with albacore, taro, and pork, but Paruru had no appetite.
Pu-tahi as honored guests! In his anger, Paruru almost forgot his way to the sailors' camp. Crossing a path through the thickest cover of the forest, he ducked under low-growing hibiscus limbs. A few steps beyond a stand of young coconut he finally spotted a glimmer of firelight.
He had promised to bring the foreigners something from the feast. As he approached the small fire he saw both men jump up, their eyes bright with greed and anticipation. Evidently aromas from the cooking ovens had preceded him down the trail.
At least the men had not gone after rats again. "I hope you enjoy the meal better than I did," he said as he handed the sailors their dinner.
The men clawed at his basket as if they were famished children. Paruru backed away in disgust and let them squabble over the food. With savage cries they opened the packets of roast pork. Meat, he thought. They crave it above all else.
He refused to watch them eat, but could not help hearing their chewing and smacking noises, mixed with sighs of satiation and delight. His own stomach felt hard and cold.
"Nobly done, Paruru," Nika said at last. The warrior turned back and saw his brother licking juices from his fingers.
Paruru watched moodily as the contented sailors nibbled the last bits from the bones. After a long discussion with Cone-shell he had planned what he would say now, yet he did not look forward to starting. To save Nika, he had become a master of lies. To save Tepua from her own folly, he would need subtler methods of deceit.
At last, with feigned indignation, he said, "It is not right that I should have to bring you this meal in secret, while our enemies take seats of honor at the assembly ground."
"I do not like it either," said Kiore. "But Tepua—"
"You should see her!" said Paruru, filled with genuine ire now. "Feeding delicacies to that white-haired dog, and to the other Pu-tahi curs. Whatever sense she had is gone."
"I thought she had good reason to send us here," Kiore argued.
"She was mistaken," Paruru replied. "She thought the Pu-tahi might want your goods, but that is not why they came. If the savages want shiny knives and foreign cloth, they can get them elsewhere." The kaito-nui watched with grim satisfaction when Kiore's eyebrows shot up. "It is so," Paruru continued, choosing his words carefully. "The Pu-tahi have dealt with other men like you."
"Others?" Kiore stepped closer. "Explain."
Paruru hesitated, perhaps longer than necessary. He had baited his hook. Now he readied himself for the big fish to strike. "The Pu-tahi tell us they have seen huge pahi, with wings. Foreign sailors have even come ashore."
Now Kiore stood directly in front of him, his eyes intense. "Ashore! I need to know where. And the banners they flew—what color?"
"You ask too much," said Paruru, refusing to say anything else even when Kiore pressed him.
Nika shouted a few angry words at Kiore. By now, Paruru had picked up some of their language, enough to make sense of what they were saying. They began to argue about the "lok-puk" that Kiore had been so zealous in protecting. Paruru knew how strongly he wanted to find a vessel from his own island. Nika did not care about the "lok-puk" or returning to his homeland. Losing patience with his companion, he threw insults at him.
At last Kiore addressed the warrior again, this time more politely, asking him to tell all he knew.
"There is a place called Cloud Island," Paruru answered quietly. "The Pu-tahi say that foreigners have taken on supplies there."
"Can you tell me how to find it?"
"Our canoe-masters should know. Ask any of them."
"And what of the flags that the foreign boats fly?'' Kiore knelt in the dirt beside the fire and drew lines with a stick.
"The Pu-tahi said nothing about flags."
An impatient glint came into Kiore's eyes. "They have seen the vessels. They must know. Ask them."
"Ask? How can I get close enough to speak with them when I gag at their smell?" In truth, the odor of these unwashed sailors offended Paruru's nose far more than did the Pu-tahi. Ata-katinga's people might be cannibal
s, but at least they bathed frequently.
Kiore stamped around the fire. He argued with Nika awhile, until the other man finally turned to Paruru.
"You are my brother. Now I am asking a favor," the red-haired sailor wheedled. "Do not forget that you want something in return."
"I am willing to help you, but your friend needs to learn patience." Paruru told Kiore, "These Pu-tahi seek an alliance, and Tepua wishes to accommodate them. If that happens, you can be sure that many Pu-tahi traders will come here." He took a deep breath, trying to contain his disgust at such a possibility.
"How can—"
Paruru interrupted. "A trader will know the answers to your questions. Offer him one of your foreign choppers and he will tell you everything."
"That is too long to wait," Kiore complained.
"Maybe not. I heard Ata-katinga speak to the clan chiefs." Paruru hoped his resentment did not show through. "He convinced most of them that his people have changed their ways. He is close to the agreement he seeks."
"We cannot be sure when traders will come," said Kiore. "And these Pu-tahi will leave without telling us anything."
Paruru replied. "You will get no answers from our visitors. They are not the kind who pay attention to colored bits of cloth. They are warriors."
Kiore shook his head and groaned.
"I am sorry. That is the best advice I can offer. Tomorrow there will be another feast, and more pork. I will not forget my friends."
In the gathering darkness, Paruru took his leave, but he did not go far. He doubled back and crept silently into the bushes that flanked the clearing. He listened as the sailors argued, though he grasped few of their words. They were speaking of Cloud Island and of men in their own far-off land.
It was clear that Kiore refused to wait when the information he wanted might be available for the asking. He stormed about the campsite, slapping his fist into his hand.
Sister of the Sun Page 26