Child of the Dawn (2 page)

"We will see," said the escort captain. He was the best warrior her brother could spare to accompany her. Though slender, he was powerful, and he had five good men with him. Yet none of them had ever traveled this far from home. None knew the ways of high islanders.
 

Tepua heard screams from shore as more people, men as well as women, fled the fire. They wore wreaths of flowers and festive dress, but their celebration had been interrupted. As the people ran, their flower-crowns fell off and were trampled. Broken palm fronds and blossoms scattered to the breeze.
 

Maukiri began to moan softly. Tepua held her cousin's hand, but the words of reassurance she tried to say died on her tongue. The white dog whined from inside her cage.
 

Tepua felt Maukiri start to shiver. "It is a bad omen. The gods must be angry," the girl wailed.

"Men have done this, not gods," Tepua answered firmly. She studied the growing turmoil on the beach. What had happened? Invasion? War? "You stay here," she said in a low voice. "I will see what the trouble is."
 

"Hold in the shallows," she heard the warrior captain order the paddlers. Still a good way from shore, he clutched a long double-ended spear, leaped out of the
pahi
, and splashed ashore. Tepua took a spear from another warrior and jumped down into water that rose to her thighs. The men of her escort guard followed.
 

When she caught up with her captain, he tried to dissuade her, saying that he would investigate the trouble. Tepua refused his offer, but allowed him and two of his men to follow as she plunged into the trees toward the site of the fire.
 

Then she saw people wearing distinctive garlands of yellow mountain plantain, sweet-scented ginger, or the sacred red-and-purple
ti
plant. Their tattoos were familiar, for she bore some of the same. These people were her fellow Arioi, members of Wind-driving Lodge.
 

With a shock, she realized that the Arioi had been in the midst of performing, their faces smeared with red sap and their bodies blackened with charcoal. Some were hampered by oversized loincloths and other ridiculous costumes used in satires. Her jaw tightened with rage even as her mind reeled with disbelief. What evil had interrupted the devotees of Oro in their celebration?
 

She looked for people she knew but could not recognize anyone under the face paint and costumes. "What is happening?" she called. The fleeing performers were too panic-stricken to stop or answer.
 

She heard the harsh crackling of burning thatch. The smoke caught in her throat and made her gag. Then she was close enough to see the performance house ablaze, its high roof completely enveloped in flame. She groaned aloud in anguish. This was where the god Oro had inspired her, making her dance with such a frenzy that the Arioi asked her to join them. And now this great work of polished wood pillars and pandanus thatch was doomed!
 

As Tepua fought her way through the rolling clouds of smoke, worry for her fellow Arioi performers filled her thoughts. Where was her friend, Curling-leaf? And Aitofa, the chief of the women's lodge?
 

At last Tepua emerged from the drifting haze and could see the scene clearly. Now she understood why no one had tried to put out the fire at its start. Warriors bearing unfamiliar tattoos stood about the site, brandishing clubs and shark-toothed swords, threatening anyone who dared come close. No onlookers braved these fierce sentries. She saw Arioi and common folk watching with horror from the shadows.
 

"Tepua! Tepua! Is it really you?" The cry made her spin around. There stood another painted figure, as difficult to recognize as the others. She knew the voice. Curling-leaf!
 

Before the escort captain could prevent her, Tepua rushed into her friend's arms. "I am back. Oh, it has been so long!" Curling-leaf's embrace was strong, but Tepua felt the young Arioi woman quivering with rage and fright. "Who did this?" Tepua asked, searching her friend's eyes. "Who are those warriors? Why don't you have any weapons?"
 

Her own three guards clustered close about her, but she waved them aside. What could this handful do against so many others?

She turned back to Curling-leaf. 'Tell me what happened."

"There is no time!" wailed her friend. "Everything has changed since you left. The high chief was cast down."

Cast down! Tepua stared at her friend, unable to make sense of the words. When she left Tahiti, Knotted-cord had been high chief over this district and several others. She remembered him as petty and irascible, but not arrogant enough to overreach himself. The only threat to his rule had been the popularity of his brother, Matopahu.
 

His brother
! She closed her eyes, remembering Matopahu's ambitions as well as what he had meant to her. Had Knotted-cord been pushed aside in favor of his reckless sibling? She forced herself to ask.
 

"No." Curling-leaf's answer made Tepua heave a relieved sigh, but the next words gave her a chill. "The chief's brother had to flee."
 

"But Matopahu was not hurt. He is alive, isn't he?" She clutched at her friend's arm, demanding an answer. It was for Matopahu as well as the Arioi that she had returned to Tahiti.
 

Curling-leaf looked regretful. "He is, but that's all I know. Someone told me he has gone to live in Eimeo."

"Praise the gods, he is alive." Tepua's pulse began slowing and she felt steadier on her feet. "But who is the new chief, and why this outrage?"
 

Her friend glanced apprehensively at the line of guards around the burning performance house. They were starting to notice the two women. Curling-leaf headed in the opposite direction, tugging Tepua after her. "We can't stay. The new chief wants to destroy us." As Curling-leaf spoke, several other Arioi women emerged from the smoke, their garlands and costumes in disarray, flowers falling from their tangled hair. They rallied around Tepua.
 

"Go to my
pahi
," Tepua told them. "Straight through the trees and down the beach." She ordered one of her warriors to see that they got aboard safely. Ignoring the escort captain's pleas that she go with the departing women, Tepua plunged ahead with Curling-leaf and began to search for others who needed help.
 

She felt Curling-leaf take her hand, and this time the grip was firm and steady. The spirit had come back into Curling-leaf's eyes. Now she looked more like an Arioi, despite her shredded garlands and the soot smudges over the red sap on her face.
 

"The others are hiding," Curling-leaf said. "We have to find them." She beckoned Tepua through a grove of breadfruit trees. Overhead, waxy leaves of deep green hue spread a thick canopy.
 

"Arioi? Hiding? Why aren't any of them fighting?"

"With what?" Curling-leaf answered angrily. "Our weapons are gone! While the whole troupe was performing, the creature who calls himself high chief had them stolen."
 

"Who is this man?"

"He was a minor chief. After you left, he led a rebellion against Knotted-cord. Now he takes the name of Land-crab and rules as high chief."
 

Tepua, bewildered, followed her friend across the leaf-carpeted grove. It surprised her that an unexpected rival had risen against the former high chief. And this Land-crab had done something far worse, something unheard of. Arioi were under the protection of their patron god and immune from attack, even during outbreaks of war. A covenant of peace reigned at all Arioi performances; this was a tradition that the most exalted chief had never violated. Until now.
 

'The usurper chose a good name," said Curling-leaf bitterly. "He sits on us like a fat crab on a heap of coconuts, and tears us apart with his claws."
 

Well, this Land-crab would see what it was to anger Oro, Tepua thought, clenching her fists.

"Look! More of our friends," cried Curling-leaf. Tepua gathered another group of Arioi refugees and sent them to her
pahi
. She and Curling-leaf continued searching, finally reaching the smaller thatched houses of the Arioi women's compound. The neatly swept yards surrounding them were empty. Not even a stray chicken appeared in the shadows beneath the breadfruit trees.
 

Tepua saw daylight glimmering through the latticework walls of the houses. Clutching the spear in her damp fist, she approached the one house where she thought she heard rustling. "Who is in there?" she demanded, but got no answer.
 

She edged closer, toward the hanging mat that half-covered the doorway. Again she spoke a challenge, and this time heard another sound, a scraping. Or was it weeping?
 

With her spear-tip, she thrust aside the mat and looked inside. A lithe female figure wearing a red-dyed sash sprang to meet her. The woman had an eel-jawed knife clenched in one fist. Her unpainted face was twisted in rage. Tepua knew the features and lowered her spear even as the other checked her attack.
 

"Aitofa!" Tepua cried as she realized that she had burst in on the chief woman of her Arioi lodge. Then she saw the bright smear of blood on Aitofa's arm and the clumsy, loose bandage that she had been trying to tie around the wound with one hand.
 

Tepua threw down her weapon and ran to help Aitofa. The lodge leader looked as hard and stern as ever, but there was a certain weary despair in her eyes. She was a slender woman, heavily tattooed, her legs entirely black from ankle to thigh.
 

"You returned at an evil time," said Aitofa while Tepua retied the bark-cloth bandage. "We had no chance against Land-crab's treachery."
 

"But why did he do this? I have never heard of such—"

"We mocked him in our performance."

"That is our privilege!" Tepua was outraged. It was the right and even the duty of the Arioi to restrain chiefs by use of satire.
 

"He either does not understand that or chooses to ignore it," said Aitofa, with a return of her usual acerbic tone.

"Did we insult him?"

"We poked fun at his greed for power, but we have been harder on other chiefs."

"Then he had no right to steal our spears and burn our playhouse."

"Well, he didn't see it that way. When he learned what we were planning to present, he called us disloyal. We put the play on anyway, and this"—Aitofa opened her hands, palms up—"is the result."
 

"What can we do now? Who will help us?"

"As of yet, I do not know." Acting as if she had forgotten her wound, Aitofa picked up a short club and headed for the door.

"I have a large
pahi
," Tepua offered, quickly explaining how she had been gathering other Arioi and sending them to safety. "I can take a few more passengers."
 

"Good. We can use your help. The water today is too rough for smaller craft."

"But where are we going?"

Outside, Aitofa pointed between the trees toward the glimmer of gray water. "North along the coast—to Matavai Bay," she said. "If our friends there haven't deserted us, we will be safe."
 

 

When Tepua returned to the beach, she found a crowd of disheveled Arioi, mostly women, waiting for her. They were all trained warriors as well as performers, but without weapons they could not stand up to Land-crab's forces. Still wearing their paint and the remains of their costumes, they stood in groups, talking grimly.
 

Tepua's warriors, some arguing among themselves, watched from the
pahi
or the shallows. "You cannot take everyone," cried Curling-leaf when she saw the size of the crowd waiting to board.
 

Tepua looked at the deck that bridged the hulls of her double canoe. The thatched cabin, the dog's cage, the water bottles and supplies took up needed passenger space. She waded out to the canoe-master. He was a veteran of many journeys, with a bush of wiry hair that held a shock of gray. "We must take these people to Matavai Bay," she told him. "Remove the shelter and make as much room as you can."
 

"What about my other passengers?" asked the canoe-master. He opened his hand at the group of artisans who had left home at the request of a chief of Porapora. After delivering Tepua to Tahiti, the
pahi
was to take the craftsmen to Porapora and wait there while they finished the chief's work. Then the men would sail home, taking in trade for their services a wealth of Poraporan goods.
 

Tepua answered, 'The others can stay here until you return for them."

The canoe-master and the artisans glowered at her, but she ignored their reactions.

"You are in no danger," she said to the craftsmen. "If the chief here challenges you, offer to build him something. Maybe he needs an altar for one of his sacred canoes."
 

She glanced at distant whitecaps as she felt the harsh wind blow against her cheek. To reach Matavai, the
pahi
would have to go out through the reef, sail the rough Sea of the Moon, and come in through another pass before darkness fell.
 

The canoe-master seemed aware of the need for haste; he gave sharp orders. Quickly the crew dismantled the deck cabin and carried it ashore. Tepua watched as they carefully unloaded Te Kurevareva's cage and set it beneath a palm tree.
 

Atoll Cuckoo had a gentle and patient nature, making it easy to grow fond of her. Tepua originally had intended to offer the precious white dog, possibly the only one of its kind in Tahiti, as a gift to the Arioi leaders. During the journey, she had found it increasingly difficult to think about parting with Te Kurevareva. Now the troubles here had completely upset her plans.
 

She couldn't worry about the white dog now. Her Arioi friends needed her help. "I will be back for you," Tepua said, scratching Atoll Cuckoo behind the ears and accepting a lick on her hand. Then she went to see how many women could be crowded onto the deck of the
pahi.