Sister of the Sun (20 page)

You are the daughter of the reef, mothered by coral, fathered by coral. You are the sister of the shark, mothered by sharks, fathered by sharks.

"But these reef sharks do not listen to the gods!" she cried silently.

They listen to fear. They can taste weakness. To one who faces and overcomes both, they are no more than angelfish dancing past the coral.

Tepua's spirit sank. Was her ancestress mocking her, abandoning her to death?

The sharks drew closer, dorsal fins and tails rising up from the water. They slid so near that she could feel the underwater pull of their wake and see how water ran down the grain of their skin.
 

Something brushed past her feet. She felt another touch, by her hip, and she no longer thought she could control her scream. She had once seen the remains of a fisherman after reef sharks had attacked him, one leg bitten through to the bone, the other completely gone. The face of the dead man grew vivid in her mind....
 

She had heard that there was no pain when a shark struck, only numbness. Some people claimed that the victim did not recognize the loss until he saw blood blossoming up through the water. Tepua could not believe that. Surely she would feel the shock, the pulling sensation as flesh parted....
 

No. Such thoughts were only sharpening the grays' hunger.

You are the sister of the shark
. The words quieted Tepua's shuddering. She remembered great blues that she had seen long ago, how they swam with easy sweeps of their tails. They were powerful, but held that power inside, not needing to churn the water with it.
 

I can be like them
. In Tepua's imagination, she clothed herself in the skin of a shark and swam the same way, with powerful strokes and long glides. She was not a reef shark, but a great blue, swimming through a pack of grays as if they were a school of mullet. In her mind, the sea swept through her open jaws, through her gill slits and out again. She watched what lay ahead through the slitted eyes of a shark.
 

At that moment a gray appeared, the largest she had ever seen. It swam toward her, men suddenly adopted a threatening pose. Its back humped, its snout lifted, its forefins dropped. Then it stopped swimming and began to sink.
 

Tepua had been warned of this dreaded sign. In a moment, she knew, it would shoot forward to make its slashing attack. Yet she did not waver or change course. She felt no fear in her intestines, for they were the intestines of a shark.
 

The gray's tail trembled as it saw her coming on. It made a short rush, but instead of attacking, it turned before her and fled. Triumphantly she swept through the remaining grays. She no longer needed to evade them. The sharks knew her, sensed her power, and gave way.
 

 

Gradually Tepua came out of the trancelike state she had gone into. She found herself moving, not with a powerful tail, but with strokes of human arms and legs. Soon she realized that something else had changed. The channel's current had stopped pulling her. Now the islet lay between her and the sea, blocking the flow.
 

Here the lagoon was calm, its color verging from pale green to yellow.
Shallows
! With her last reserves of strength she headed toward shore. One moment she was in deep water, the next she found herself skimming over a sandy bottom that was close enough to touch. She looked back and saw the reef sharks—possibly as many as a dozen— remaining far behind. They seemed in a turmoil, swarming about, tails thrashing.
 

Exhausted, Tepua stopped swimming and began to walk over the soft bottom, pushing through water that barely reached her knees. Her body felt heavy, as if loaded down with stones.
 

At last she came out onto a shaded portion of the beach, not far from where she had made her camp. A few coconuts lay on the ground, but she did not have strength to satisfy the thirst that clawed at her throat. She threw herself down beneath a
fara
tree and slept.
 

When she woke, Raha and his fellow priests were crouching beside her. At once she stood, grabbing at the tree for support. When the priests stood also, she noticed that they bent forward so that their heads remained lower than hers. "Cone-shell?" she asked in a dry whisper.
 

"He lives," answered Raha.

She swung around and saw Varoa's chief seated in his canoe. He was wrapped in his cloak, his face pale, his wet hair in a tangle. Had he been attacked? Fear and curiosity drove her a few steps closer. She saw no blood pooling in the bottom of the boat. But she recalled how the second canoe had moved out of sight, heading toward Cone-shell. She wondered how far he had swum before his men pulled him from the water.
 

One of the paddlers humbly walked up to her and offered an open
viavia
. Tepua drank deeply before she spoke. "Cone-shell, the gods have given you your answer," she said in the firmest tone she could summon.
 

His eyes looked red and his face incredibly weary. When he spoke, his voice was faint. "The priests will take you back to my land," he said. "You will have the welcome you were promised.''
 

"I want no welcome from you." She turned away, hesitated, then faced him once more. "When you are ready to acknowledge my authority, I will see you again." She stalked away from him and paused to speak with the cowering knot of priests."Send my
pahi
here to take me home,'' she told them. "I will not ride with the men of Varoa Clan."
 

Then she walked on, toward the high log she had used as her perch. She sat rigidly, staring straight ahead while she chanted her praises to the gods, until both canoes were gone. Only then did she permit herself the tears, the rush of relief, the taste of the sea that had spared her.
 

 

 

 

ELEVEN

 

As Tepua approached her home shore, all appeared quiet. A few fishermen in canoes looked up to call a greeting. Children glanced at her and then returned to their pebble games. Clearly, the news of Cone-shell's treachery had not yet arrived. Tepua dreaded the stir this news would bring.
 

Two-eels, in his shame, had barely spoken to her during the journey home. His men had performed woefully on Varoa's territory, and now they tried to make a gallant show of escorting her to the beach. Tepua refused to be carried. She stalked away from them and headed to the one place where she might find solace–to Ehi's house.
 

The rhythmic pounding Tepua heard as she approached brought back the days of her Childhood. How often she had watched Ehi and other women using stone mallets to break open keys of
fara
fruit for the edible seeds.
 

"Tepua-ariki," cried Ehi, rising from her work. "It is my daughter, coming back to me."

"Ah, Ehi," Tepua answered, eager for the embrace. She was glad that her foster mother had no company today. Tepua's tears started again, "I do not want to be chief. But the gods will not let me go."
 

"Daughter, come and sit. Refresh yourself. Then we will talk."

Tepua accepted a cool drink and slowly began to describe what had happened. "Cone-shell will suffer for this," Ehi said bitterly when Tepua was done. "The men of Ahiku will not sit on their heels when they learn of his outrage. They will pick up their spears and avenge the insult to our clan."
 

"No battle," Tepua protested as she recalled the frightening visions caused by the
kava
. "We must not fight among ourselves. Not when there are enemies ready to swoop down on us."
 

"Enemies?" Ehi's tone of outrage changed to one of alarm. "Pu-tahi?"

Tepua hesitated, uncertain whether to describe the fears that troubled her now. She realized that she was not ready to tell Ehi, or anyone else, about the vision that had been brought on by
kava
. She had seen invaders arrive in huge boats, but perhaps they were a different breed of men from Kiore and Nika. Why raise alarms based on something so uncertain? "Pu-tahi," Tepua said finally. "Yes. They have been seen in nearby waters. Heka has heard this from traders."
 

"I know you do not come to me for advice," Ehi answered. "But I can guess what the men will tell you. If we are to be strong against the Pu-tahi, then we cannot tolerate Cone-shell's impudence. Varoa must acknowledge your rule."
 

"We may be rid of Cone-shell soon."

"And how is that, daughter?"

"He offered himself to the sharks, but he did not stay in the water long. Some men who watched will tell what they saw. If they saw weakness, soon everyone will know. I wish to do nothing now but wait. Let the people of Varoa take care of their own problem."
 

Ehi's eyebrows raised. "Our warriors will not want to wait."

"Let us see if I can convince them." Tepua finished her drink, and for a time they spoke of lesser matters.

"Why is it, daughter," Ehi said at last, "that you ask me nothing about the foreign sailors?"

Tepua wished she could explain the vision that worried her. Whenever she thought of Kiore now, she remembered the smoke-belching weapon. "When I left here, the visitors were doing well...."
 

"It is true that they have learned to speak better," Ehi admitted. "But that has not kept them from mischief."

Tepua's eyes opened wide as she remembered Umia's warning. "What sort of mischief?" she asked nervously.

"The blue-eyed one talks much of continuing his journey. He needs a sailor to replace the one who died. A man named Pinga agreed to go with him, but his wife is complaining loudly about it."
 

"That will not do,'' said Tepua. "I must tell the sailors to find someone else."

"And they are gathering provisions for their journey— dried fish, clams, octopus. This is where most of the trouble lies. The foreign goods remain under
tapu
, so the sailors can give nothing in return for what people bring them. Instead, the outsiders offer lengths of dried
fara
leaf inscribed with black marks."
 

"Marks?" Tepua recalled Kiore's quills and bottle of dye.

"Yes. Designs I have never seen before. The foreigners say that before they depart, they will exchange these marked leaves—for beads or choppers or colored cloth."
 

Tepua tried to picture what Ehi was describing. "What a strange way to do things. I have never heard of using marks to make promises."
 

"That is why people are starting to shun the sailors. They are afraid that the dried leaves are all they will ever get."

"That is sensible," said Tepua. "I see no reason the sailors cannot collect their own fish. From what I have seen, they are two strong and healthy men."
 

"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.