Child of the Dawn Read Free Page A

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."  
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    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.
    'Tepua, this is foolhardy," said the warrior captain, who had brought his men up behind her. "I have a duty to your brother to keep you safe. You owe nothing