Child of the Dawn (13 page)

Tepua still chafed over the unfairness of the skit; the critical gaze of the Blacklegs challenged her even more. If these people were going to stare at her, then she would give them something to look at. As determination took hold, her awkwardness and stiffness began to ease.
 

She had been struggling to keep pace with the drumbeat. Now she heard the music anew.

Her rebellious spirit became a fire within her breast, flowing out along her limbs, infusing them with suppleness and strength. Her abilities of long ago returned. Her hips rocked smoothly, her arms glided through the air, her fingers moved through delicate patterns.
 

The drumbeat quickened and her dance grew wilder, her hips moving faster, her hands taking on a life of their own. Now all eyes were fixed on her and she knew that she had left the other dancers behind. The drummers seemed to be playing only for Tepua. She could not stop, could not even think of stopping, for the fever of the dance had seized her. She was no longer the dancer, but the dance itself.
 

The faces of the Chipped-rock players, the hard stare of the Blacklegs, the awed expressions of her own troupe, all began to vanish in a growing red-orange haze. As if from a distance, she heard the cries of "
Nevaneva
!" from the people watching. "Divine frenzy! The god has seized her." Dimly she grew aware that the other dancers had halted their performance, leaving the stage to her alone.
 

It was as if Tepua danced within the heart of a flame, whose heat and color grew more intense with every drumbeat. She no longer knew where her body ended and the fire began. She flowed, and the light flowed with her, blossoming with a power she thought she could not stand.
 

Then, into the flames surrounding her, came a sight that made her gasp. She was dancing alone no longer.
He
had come to her. Oro! Oro-of-the-laid-down-spear!
 

The god danced before her, a strong golden youth, clapping his knees together and apart at a speed far greater than any mortal partner. He flung his head back, giving great god-laughs of joy. "If I could choose a mortal woman now," Oro said, "it would be you. But you are promised to a mortal man, and not even a god can change that. I will be there when he comes to you."
 

The next instant he was gone, dissolving into his sacred fire, surrounding Tepua, infusing her, transmuting his power into her dance. She gave the last of her strength to Oro. In one final burst, she tried to free herself from human limitations. Then the light faded and she felt her driven body, exhausted, sinking to the ground.
 

Hands were on her, not divine hands, but mortal ones, holding her up, steadying her, helping her off the dance area. Voices babbled in her ears. Something cool and soothing was put to her lips, easing her parched throat.
 

A wave of sound broke around her, as if the echoes of Oro's rich laughter still rang. No. She was hearing the cries and thigh-slapping of applause resounding through the performance house. Applause for her, the dancer seized and honored by the god.
 

Staggering, leaning heavily on Curling-leaf and several other women, she managed to return to her place. Her friends eased her down, mopped the sweat from her body with their garments, rubbed her with scented oil, and garlanded her with more flowers. She tried to recall the voice that had spoken, but the words would not come back to her.
 

Gradually the aftereffect of the frenzy wore off. Her breathing slowed, her pulse eased, until she was able to reply to the exclamations and words of praise. She noticed another group continuing the performance. At last the entertainment ended.
 

Still exhausted from her effort, Tepua tried to listen to the speeches that followed, first by Head-lifted, and then by First-to-crow, the male chief of the Chipped-rock Lodge. She heard talk that puzzled her—of a special pact of friendship between the two lodges, of ceremonies to formalize this agreement. These words roused her from her dreamy state and made her look up in bewilderment. She had never heard of such arrangements between Arioi troupes.
 

First-to-crow announced that there would be an exchange of members. Tepua's companions were wide-eyed as they gazed at each other in astonishment. First-to-crow ignored the stir and began calling names of men and women of his lodge, Chipped-rock Arioi who would now be inducted into the exiled Tahitian troupe.
 

"How can this be?" the voices whispered. "Head-lifted would not allow it. And Aitofa—"

But Tepua saw Head-lifted standing by proudly, apparently pleased at all that was happening. Aitofa showed a very different face, her brows knit, her lips pressed tightly together. She wore the look of one who had been forced into consenting to something she did not want.
 

The first to come forward was one of the Blacklegs, a sturdy woman whose ample belly almost matched that of First-to-crow. Her face was completely covered with scarlet dye, and her skin glistened with coconut oil. Arrayed in a plumed headband of black and red feathers and an elaborately printed
tapa
cape, she held herself proudly as she faced the audience.
 

Around Tepua, people were whispering. "We are being tricked," someone said. "Our lodge already has a female Blackleg."

"This new one will cause trouble," replied another. "She will be Aitofa's rival."

Tepua studied the interloper, whose short name was Pehu-pehu. She looked strongly built, a woman capable of getting what she wanted through her physical strength alone. That she was connected to the highest families of Eimeo only added to her aura of power. Her gaze slowly swept the crowd, already challenging the members of her new troupe.
 

Was Pehu-pehu coming as a spy? Tepua wondered. Or was her purpose to give Chipped-rock Lodge an influence over the affairs of Tepua's troupe? She could not understand why her leaders had approved this unless it was the only way to prevent the troupe's destruction. First-to-crow called a few other members forward, but these were from the lowest ranks and seemed unhappy to be changing lodges.
 

It was true, Tepua thought ruefully, that without the many goods the troupe needed, it would be unable to keep performing. Lack of cloth was an immediate problem. With no breadfruit or taro, and coconut running low, merely feeding the group was becoming difficult. If the other troupes continued to scorn Wind-driving Lodge, it soon would be destroyed.
 

"And now," First-to-crow continued, "I call those chosen for the honor of joining the esteemed Chipped-rock Lodge." Tepua scowled as she wondered where the "honors" would fall. Her lodge had no spare Blackleg, but there were others of high rank sitting on the platform who might go to the host troupe. She watched with annoyance as a man of the Light-print order, tattooed with short horizontal lines on both sides of his body, was summoned. Tepua had seen this man quarreling with Head-lifted; now he seemed pleased to be leaving. Next, a woman of the same rank, Aitofa's principal advisor and supporter, was called to stand beside him.
 

Tepua began to feel a nervous chill.
It is a plot to weaken Aitofa and give Head-lifted more power
! The women around Tepua seemed to sense what was happening. Aitofa was a staunch foe of Land-crab. The skit performed today had implied that she was the one to blame for her troupe's exile and misfortune. Evidently Head-lifted agreed, for now he was taking steps to push Aitofa aside. What could this be but laying groundwork for getting back into favor with the usurper?
 

Tepua sat numbly as a few more names were called. A hand shook her. Suddenly she realized that she had once again become the center of attention. "Tepua-mua," the lodge chief repeated.
 

She stood up shakily but did not go to join the others. Head-lifted was glaring at her, and Aitofa wore a strained expression. First-to-crow called her name once again.
 

Tepua turned to glance first at Maukiri and then at Curling-leaf; their looks of dismay cut her deeply. Abandon her cousin and her most loyal friend? How could anyone ask that? She clenched her fist, stood up straight, raised her chin.
 

"Forgive me, noble chief, but I cannot accept this honor," Tepua declared, trying to clear the hoarseness from her voice. First-to-crow looked back at her with astonishment as she said, "I am not worthy to wear your fine clothes and sleep under your high roof. Not while my companions wear tatters and sleep under palm-leaf shelters." She saw Aitofa give her a penetrating glance, but the chiefess looked more surprised and relieved than angry. Tepua continued, "I can accept this honor only when my troupe is home again, our performance house rebuilt, and my leaders accorded their proper respect by the high chief."
 

A hush fell over the assembly. Tepua sat down and stared at the ground. They could not expel her for this. Not unless her
own
leaders ordered her to come forward and accept the authority of the Chipped-rock Lodge. She wondered if Head-lifted would risk further antagonizing Aitofa and the other Arioi women.
 

She heard a hasty, whispered conference among the lodge leaders. Snatches of arguments drifted to her.

"This dancer is headstrong, disobedient, a bad example—"

"But the god did seize her. How can we punish—"

I do not know what they will do to me
, Tepua thought glumly.
Whatever happens, it will be better than leaving Curling-leaf and Maukiri.

First-to-crow grew impatient and waved the other chiefs aside. "We must get on with this," he hissed. He turned to the assembly and announced that the induction ceremonies would begin. Drums pounded. Voices rose in song. Then came the ritual questions and answers as the chosen ones pledged anew their dedication to the order.
 

As the ceremony neared its end, Tepua studied the grim expression on Aitofa's face. What had happened here? she asked herself again. Had the Blackleg been deceived about whose names would be called?
 

Tepua felt a surge of loyalty toward her chiefess. Aitofa had been a severe mistress, but she had brought Tepua into the lodge—against Head-lifted's wishes. Later she had fought hard to keep Tepua with the troupe, and to promote her to her present rank. Now Aitofa risked losing her position to this outsider—the new Blackleg, Pehu-pehu.
 

It will not happen
, Tepua vowed silently. As she exchanged glances with Curling-leaf and the other women, she knew that they felt the same.
 

 

 

 

SEVEN

 

When Matopahu woke, he was astonished to see that the day was almost gone. After his ordeal in the
marae
, he had fallen asleep at dawn. Now the sun was close to setting.
 

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Eye-to-heaven stood watching him, the
tahu'a
close behind. "We didn't wish to wake you," the priest said. "You look well. Tell us—"
 

"The god came!" Matopahu wondered what else he could say. Perhaps a vestige of the curse still lingered, but he felt no ill effects.
 

"You have done well," said the
tahu
'
a
. "I have never heard of a man with your strength of will."
 

"And I intend to do more."

"Not for a while," Imo cautioned. "You must rest first. And then there is one more task—"

"I need no rest," Matopahu argued. "And what is this new task?"

Imo gave him a stern look. "The sennit-wrapped corpse of your brother must be found. Only then can we completely free you of the curse. But you are not ready for the task, nor is it one you can do alone."
 

Matopahu felt a chill at these words. Land-crab's priests had undoubtedly hidden the body at a secret burial site. To search for it and hold off Land-crab's warriors at the same time would require a strong band of men. 'To return to Tahiti," Matopahu said, "I must have canoes and warriors and weapons."
 

"You will have them eventually. But I urge you to wait."

"Why wait? I am restored to what I was...." He hesitated as he realized what this meant. The curse had taken his manhood, making him lose all desire for women. That much had surely changed. If Tepua was here now, Matopahu knew he would not disappoint her. The thought of her was enough to stir his loincloth.
 

He paused, recalling the cold welcome he had given her. Remorse made gooseflesh run down his back. "My
taio
, do me a favor. Take word to Tepua. Tell her that I cannot see her yet...but soon."
 

"I'll try to make her listen," said the priest, eyeing him cautiously. "But I beg you to hear Imo's advice. Do not rush into anything—not even a woman's embrace—until you have recovered from this night's work."
 

Matopahu laughed sourly. "I have no time for rest. Fat-moon's archery contest is coming."

"Contest?" The priest appeared startled.

"I must prove myself somehow. If I am to gain support from the chiefs, I must show that the curse no longer weakens me. What better way than to enter the game of the gods?"
 

The face of the
tahu
'a
darkened. "The sacred trials will soon take place," he admitted. "But what are you thinking? You cannot enter the contest now. You are far from ready."
 

"Besides," added Eye-to-heaven, trying to calm the
tahu
'
a
, "there is no room for outsiders in the game."
 

"They will find room for me," said Matopahu defiantly. "The challengers need someone new on their team."

The
tahu
'
a
scowled. "Even if there is a way for you to join, you cannot just walk into the game. You need equipment and a place to practice. When was the last time you tried shooting?"