Sister of the Sun (30 page)

For the first two days of his return, Paruru asked nothing of the sailor, allowing him to enjoy Maukiri's company. But at last he could wait no longer. He had done much for his brother and it was time that Nika did something in return.
 

The next morning, Paruru led Nika to a place that few people knew about. It was the shelter where he had lived in isolation after diving for the thunder-club. "Sit," said Paruru. He had prepared the shelter, bringing fresh mats and coconuts. Now he opened a
viavia
and handed it to Nika. "Sometimes it is good to be alone," said the warrior. "I often come here."

Seated cross-legged beneath the low roof, Nika gazed at him expectantly, but Paruru was not yet ready to explain the purpose of the meeting. "You understand our ways now," said the warrior. "When brother asks help of brother, he does not refuse."
 

"Yes?" the sailor seemed hesitant.

"I want to show you something. It is a secret that I have had for some time. I share it with you, but no one else must know." The warrior turned to his side and reached for a long bundle covered in matting. Holding it on his knees, he carefully opened it, revealing the club that had belched smoke and thunder, before falling into the lagoon.
 

Nika gasped in surprise. "Where did you get this?" he asked, his eyes both eager and wary. "Does the
ariki
know?"
 

"Tepua thinks it lost. She asked me to send divers, but they could not find it." He watched Nika's eyebrows rise. "This is not something a woman can appreciate," said Paruru. "She does not concern herself with battle, as we men do. She does not grasp how this can protect us from our enemies."
 

"Protect us?" Nika said scornfully. He was leaning over the weapon and making sounds of disgust. "Look!" he said, running his fingers over a red scaly crust that marred the small parts of the thing. He tugged at the piece that resembled a bird's head, and when it did not move, he made more ugly sounds. "Why show me this? The thing is useless now."
 

"The weapon is harmed?" Paruru did not remember seeing the crusts when he first brought the thunder-maker out of the lagoon. Had they somehow grown there? He glanced at the long tube, shaped like a hollow bamboo that flared slightly at the open end. This tube had been smooth and gray; now it bore an ugly coat of reddish brown.
 

"Seawater!" Nika said, uttering the word as if it were a curse. Once more he tried to pull back the bird's head, then gave up in disgust. He threw the weapon to the ground.
 

"Sick?" asked Paruru. Was it possible, he wondered, that a bath had stolen the thing's power? Or had some spirit intervened? He remembered the force that had tried to keep him from reaching the bottom of the lagoon.
 

"Sick, yes. Very sick." Nika turned aside, drained his coconut, and tossed the shell carelessly into the brush.

"You can heal it," said Paruru. He recalled hearing Nika talk of his father, a craftsman who built weapons like this one. Nika had disliked the work, yet surely he had learned something of his father's art.
 

"Too late," said the sailor.

"It must be healed. Call on your gods!"

With a grimace of disgust, Nika picked up the weapon again. He tilted it, open end down, allowing a few grains of sand to fall out. Then he swung the end around and peered inside. "Bad!" he said, then began muttering in his own language as he turned his attention back to the middle of the weapon, to the toothlike piece and the parts above it. His fingernail scraped at scaly patches in the bowl beneath the beak. "With proper tools," he admitted, "maybe this can be fixed."
 

"We have many tools."

"Made of coral!" Nika shook his head.

Paruru studied the expression on Nika's face. Over the years he had learned to read the hidden thoughts of men, and now he clung to a shred of hope. "Nika, I have seen you working with wood. You have skills in your hands, and you are clever. You find new ways to do things."
 

Nika's eyes remained on the ground. "I could spend much time with this and still fail. I prefer to be doing something else."

Paruru thought of Maukiri and understood. "You need not go back to Piho Clan," he offered. "Not for many days." Still he saw no softening of Nika's attitude. The man wanted something else, Paruru thought, and was not willing to ask for it.
 

"Then I must get rid of this thing," the warrior said, reaching for the weapon. "Throw it into the lagoon again where no one can find it. It has caused me enough trouble...."
 

"Wait!" said Nika, putting a hand on the thunder-maker. He gave Paruru a curious stare. "My goods from the boat. I have been too long without them. Some are harmless, yet your priests do not give them back."
 

"Yes, my brother. I understand." With a feeling of relief, Paruru paused to drink from his own coconut. At last Nika was hinting at his true desires, and there might be a way to satisfy them. "Tepua asked me to make new arrangements with the priests," the warrior said. "It is possible that I can recover a small part of your goods. Perhaps your tools—"
 

"The tools there are no help. I can use the knife you already have."

"Then what is it you want?"

"This is not easy to explain," said Nika. "It is for me, not the weapon. So that I can enjoy myself while I work." He described an object that had made little impression on Paruru while he was inspecting the goods. It was a carved tube that was held in the mouth, and its purpose eluded the warrior. Nika made sucking sounds, inhaling noisily through his lips, then breathing out in a similar way. "Smoke," Nika said, fanning his fingers through the exhaled breath.
 

"Smoke from a man's mouth?" Paruru stared wide-eyed, thinking that Nika was about to reveal a weapon even more terrifying than the one that lay before them. "And thunder also?"
 

Nika laughed. "No noise, only smoke. It tastes good and does no harm. Bring it to me and try it for yourself." He also described a pouch that held fragrant, crumbled leaves.
 

Paruru sat staring at Nika as he tried to make sense of what he had heard. He had expected to be asked for the black sand or the round stones, or for some other thing connected with the weapon. "Is there nothing else you need from the stores?"
 

"Not now," answered Nika quickly. "I want only the 'pipa' and 'tapako.'"

"I will ask a priest who is my friend. Together we will speak with Faka-ora. He is a reasonable man."

"Good," said Nika.

"And now," said Paruru, "tell me what you need to heal this weapon."

 

A day later the two men met again beneath the isolated shelter. At Nika's request, Paruru had built a small fire outside. Now Nika sat beside the basket of articles that Paruru had brought and prepared his long, wooden "pipa."
 

Obtaining this "pipa" had not proved easy. Paruru had tried to explain to the priests that the thing was harmless, but Faka-ora remained doubtful. Fortunately for Paruru, the
tahunga
who had healed the foreigners was present during this discussion. The
tahunga
recalled seeing the "pipa" in use, and confessed that he had tried it himself. "It helps the men relax,'' said the old healer. "Keeps them out of trouble. I see no harm in it." At last, Faka-ora agreed to Paruru's request.
 

And so Paruru now watched curiously as Nika tamped some of his crumbled "tapako" leaf into the open end of the "pipa," then leaned out toward the fire. He sucked a draft of air through the tube, and suddenly the "tapako" was alight. With a huge smile of contentment, Nika puffed, releasing small clouds of fragrant smoke into the air.
 

"You try," said Nika after a short while. "Take the smoke into your mouth, not your throat."

Paruru recalled the healer's words. The old man had suffered no ill from this. But of course the
tahunga
was protected by benevolent spirits....
 

"Afraid?" asked Nika.

Paruru did not answer, but took the end of the "pipa" between his lips. He drew in a breath and felt the smoke swirl within his mouth. It was acrid and parching, stinging the back of his throat. Pulling the mouthpiece away, he bent over in spasms of coughing. He felt Nika snatch the smoking thing from his hands.
 

"Not so much!" cried Nika.

Paruru eyed the "pipa" coldly. He felt no great enthusiasm for a second try. Nika, watching him, began to smile. "I ate raw clams for you," he said jovially. "Now you try my 'pipa.'"
 

Paruru recalled the moment at Tepua's welcoming feast, not long after the men had first arrived. Nika had shown himself more willing than his friend to try the islanders' foods. With a sigh, the warrior put the mouthpiece again to his lips. Now he sucked very gently.
 

The smoke merely tickled his palate. Slowly he exhaled. "No coughing!" the warrior exclaimed. At Nika's urging he took a second puff. The sweet taste lingered in Paruru's mouth, yet he did not find it pleasant. He was relieved when the sailor took back the "pipa" for his own use.
 

"Now can we heal the thunder-maker?" Paruru asked. It had taken him several trips to gather the things that Nika wanted. He had brought a supply of fresh water in coconut bottles, the foreign knife that Nika used for woodworking, and many small tools made by island craftsmen.
 

One unexpected item was a half coconut that held a special balm used by healers. This liquid unguent was made by heating the fat from a coconut crab. Nika had come across it a long time earlier when the
tahunga
had rubbed it onto his sunburned skin. The greasy balm performed wonders when applied to people, but Paruru could not imagine how it would help the weapon.
 

Nika finally put aside his "pipa" and took the weapon across his lap. He flipped it over, with the bird's head down, then inserted the tip of his knife into a groove cut across a tiny disk. He tried to twist the knife, muttering and grimacing as he strained.
 

Paruru's jaw dropped in astonishment at the way the foreigner had begun his work—without calling on the gods for aid. Nika knew better. "Where is your chant?" Paruru asked. "How can you hope to succeed without one?"
 

"A chant for this work?'' Nika laughed, putting down the knife. "The spirits who watch over it live far from here. But if it pleases you ..." His voice rose in a brief song, all in his native tongue. The rhythm was lively, and to Paruru seemed ill-suited to his purpose. Was it possible, Paruru asked himself, that the "pipa" provided the true way of invoking foreign spirits for this task? He recalled how the pale smoke had risen from Nika's mouth and floated skyward....
 

Once more the sailor attacked the weapon with his knife. This time Paruru heard a creak and saw the grooved disk begin to turn slowly. Nika performed the same trick with another groove. Then, with a clang, a flat piece of the thunder-club fell away into his hand. Paruru leaped forward in alarm. "
Aue
!" cried the warrior. "Now it is certainly ruined."
 

"No," said Nika as he flipped over the weapon and looked at the opening he had made in its side. "This is how I heal it." He poked his knife within and began twisting again, until he broke out a collection of smaller pieces that were covered with scale.
 

Paruru cried out once more in protest. One did not heal a man by prying apart his bones."An old sailor told me a way to clean this," Nika said. "I will let you do the hard work." He washed the assembly in fresh water, then dropped it into a bowl that held watery sand. He told Paruru to stir the parts around until the sand scoured the scale away.
 

Meanwhile Nika busied himself with the other pieces, the long tube, the bird's head, the bowl, cleaning these with coral rasps and with sharkskin. The work went slowly, requiring many repetitions. Paruru's hand grew weary from his own task, but he refused to quit.
 

Under the sailor's skillful fingers, the scale vanished and a shiny surface began to appear on the larger parts of the weapon. He washed the sand from the complex piece that Paruru had been scouring and spent some time filing away the last remnants of stain. His final step was to rub the healer's balm onto each cleaned item.
 

The afternoon was almost gone before Nika began to reassemble the weapon. One by one he fitted the pieces back into place."The bones are knit together again!'' Paruru said with admiration. But Nika was not done. He worked awhile longer with the thinnest rasps and drills.
 

Finally, he swung the weapon, aimed the tube skyward, and moved his hand toward the center. Paruru drew in his breath as he carefully watched the movement of Nika's fingers.
 

First Nika pulled back the bird's head on top, pulling it much farther back than Paruru had done. When he let go, it stayed where he had left it. Then he hooked his forefinger about the tooth below. Paruru braced himself for a blast.... The beak fell forward with a snap and sparks flared where it hit. There was no thunder.
 

"Good," said Nika. "Very good."

"But no noise!"

The sailor gave a laugh that seemed edged with scorn."It is cleaned and rubbed with oil. That is enough for now."

"Then what else is needed...to make thunder?"

He noticed, to his dismay, that Nika's expression turned wary. "Are your enemies here? Is it time to defend the land?"

"They are not here yet," Paruru admitted. "But you have heard about their visit and their plans. I cannot trust them. If they come with their chief, I must be ready for treachery."
 

"If the weapon is to be used, I will do it," said Nika firmly."To make it work takes skills you do not have. If not done properly ..."He made a booming noise, spread out his hands, then fell over in mock death.