Hannah scanned the village bures, her eyes halting at the tallest.

‘Hannah … you can’t just barge in!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because Ratu Rabete is the Chief.’

‘Watch me.’

He shook his head, ever so slightly.

‘It can’t do any harm, and it may just help. Come on. We’ve got to try.’

All his protests dissolved under his cousin’s determination.

Just as they reached their destination, a small group of men exited from the tiny doorway. Hannah and Joshua stood back and waited. A white man! Hannah stared in surprise. But no white man dressed native-style and wore his hair in such a tremendous bouffant. The man’s skin was certainly pale, but there were faint brown blotches over his arms and chest. His features were not European but Fijian. His eyes were red-rimmed, the lashes unnaturally white. He was not of white descent: he was an albino. Hannah had never seen a man like this, but her father had told her that he’d seen an albino woman once, in the town.

Ratu Rabete came out of the bure next, huddling down to get his bulk through the small door. He saw Hannah and Joshua but said nothing. The albino and Ratu Rabete talked, then leant forward and sniffed each other’s necks. Hannah’s eyes slid sideways to Joshua. With a restrained gesture, he mimed shaking a hand.

The albino man departed, his group of followers close behind. Ratu Rabete stood, arms folded, and watched till his visitors disappeared between the bures. His expression was enigmatic. Had the visitor been friend or foe? Friend, she surmised, as the albino had left with his skull intact, and Ratu Rabete had permitted his neck to be sniffed.

‘A cava beka kon cakava tiko?’ The Chief spoke without looking at the two Stantons.

Joshua replied in Fijian, then English for Hannah’s sake. ‘He wants to know what we are doing. I said my cousin wished to speak private words with him.’

The Chief turned his liquid brown eyes in Hannah’s direction. Her chin rose just a fraction.

Joshua interpreted once again. ‘He says you may speak because he is feeling … good today. His cousin brought him many expensive gifts.’

Was that a hint? What could she offer him?

‘He says if your words are only between you and him, then you may enter his bure, but usually it is not for women,’ said Joshua.

She entered in trepidation, her brain feverishly working out what to say.

The inside of the house was much like the bure that Merelita had taken her to, except this one was much larger. A vast trunk, pots, lengths of cloth, a massive roll of sinnet, and a long musket leant against one wall. Ratu Rabete indicated that they should sit, and Hannah remembered to do so cross-legged.

A long silence stretched into awkwardness. ‘He says you can begin now,’ said Joshua, his tone reflecting strain.

Afterwards, Hannah wondered how she had come up with all she’d said. Desperation had given her words.

‘Tell the Chief that I had it in mind to give him a marvellous gift, a painting. It was going to be a very big painting, with many colours, and I hoped he would wear his best necklace of whales’ teeth to show how rich he was, and how poor the other minor chiefs were in comparison. It would have shown his wisdom and courage. Everyone in the village and beyond would have come to admire such a painting …’

A cunning look came into Ratu Rabete’s eyes. He knew she wanted something. In one sense, time was wasting, but it would have been ill-mannered to launch straight into the point of a conversation: you sidled around it, teasing, touching on it, before finally easing into your real purpose.

Hannah sighed loudly for effect. ‘But now I cannot do this painting and I must offer an apology to the Chief.’

He played his own role perfectly and asked why, knowing all the while that she was waiting for him to do so.

‘There has been a thief at work …’

Eyes hardening, Ratu Rabete sat a little straighter, his attention secured. He demanded to know who this thief was. Theft was not permitted among his people, he said.

‘Unfortunately, we don’t know who this person is. He is very clever, working in secret so no one can detect him.’

Ratu Rabete interrupted. He could find this person if he wished. Nothing in the village remained secret for long. He was Chief. What happened among his people was not hidden from him. He wanted to know what had been stolen.

‘Something very important, that cannot be replaced … my uncle’s life.’

A hint of surprise registered in those dark eyes.

‘Someone is, by magic, trying to drain away my uncle’s soul. He is getting weaker every day. You saw him only this morning, and this afternoon—he is worse.’

Ratu Rabete did not immediately reply. He played with his toes like a child who was idly passing time. But there was nothing idle nor childlike in the look he shot at Hannah. He said that as Reverend Stanton was a missionary, he did not believe in vakadraunikau.

She asked him if he thought it were possible that such things could be effective without the faith of the victim. Could vakadraunikau be stronger than a man’s mind?

The Chief’s reply, when it came, showed a shrewd knowledge of people. He thought that not many things would be stronger than Reverend Stanton.

Finally, the Chief told them to return early on the next morning, and he would see if anything could be done.

Any delay was frustrating. The next day would be the fourth. But if they wanted Ratu Rabete’s help, they had to comply.