Against the backdrop of the light, Kina can’t make out many details of her captors, though she can tell they are hairless and bear several dangling rings from each ear. They order one of their own to go back to the village, leaving the rest of them to guard the pit.
“Help us!” Kina calls up. “This woman is hurt badly.”
But the men don’t answer. Before long, many more arrive and glare down into the pit.
“Rope the talkative one first,” one of them says, and two others loom over the top of the pit with a rope tied into a strange lasso-like loop.
“I’ll climb,” Kina tries to tell them, but they ignore her, instead tossing the rope until they snag her left arm and shoulder. When they yank on it, it tightens painfully and they hoist her out of the pit, ignoring her screams.
“I told you I’d climb,” she says, miserably, prone at their feet. She looks up and finds herself surrounded by spearmen who look eager to drive the points of their spears through her.
Nakali is given similar rough treatment, and by the time they get her up to the top of the pit, she appears only half-conscious. One of the warriors scales down the pit on a rope and returns with the pahi. The others cluster around and look at it, barely willing to touch it out of superstitious fear.
Finally, one of the warriors, the one who appears to be a ranking leader, stalks over to Kina and wags the pahi in her face.
“What devilry is this? Were you sent by Mokolo? Is this his weapon?”
“I was sent by no one,” she replies. “We came looking for To`o.”
“So it’s true, then? You admit that you are here to slay him?”
“What? Slay him?” Kina is confused, and knows she needs to defuse this situation, fast. She calls upon her days as one of the homeless “gutter rats” of Huka`i and affects a helpless, harmless demeanor. “Good sir, I am only the servant of this woman. We sailed here from far across the ocean to seek the wisdom of the God in the Stone.”
“Get up,” he says, and pulls Kina to her feet. Another takes up Nakali, slinging her over his shoulder. The rest of them squabble over the pahi as the entire group begins to march back out of the forest. They follow the beach for a long time, until Kina can begin to see a cluster of sorry, miserable huts that crowd around a freshwater stream where it dribbles into the sea.
The village is built in a semi-circle, facing outward toward the horizon. Each hut looks like it was made by occupants with no skill in the craft. Many of the dwellings lean to the side or suffer from sagging roofs. Chickens flap away as the group enters the central square. Kina sees no women.
“What is this place?” she asks the leader, who has been prodding her on this whole time at spearpoint. “I was told no one lives here.”
“Save your words for Kuanatuku,” the man says.
People seem to be waiting for the hunting party, probably told of the presence of Kina and Nakali when they sent back for help. A broad-shouldered man with a barrel chest comes out of one of the huts, a crown of feathers on his head. Other than a mali loincloth, he is completely naked. In one hand he holds a taiaha, just like the long clubs wielded by the others.
“Kneel,” the escort says, and Kina does just that.
The man carrying Nakali lowers her to the dirt. “My Lord, this one has passed out from blood loss.”
Now, Kina can tell the man wearing the crown must be the ali`i, and she rightly guesses this is Kuanatuku. The ali`i walks over to Nakali and gestures the others to roll her over.
“What happened to her face? Was this your doing?”
“No, my lord,” the nervous warrior replies. “She was found this way in the pit.”
Kuanatuku turns to Kina. “Why are you attempting to infiltrate our island? What message have you brought from Mokolo?”
There was that name again.
“My… Lord, I know not of this Mokolo. My mistress and I sailed here from far away, seeking the wisdom on To`o.”
The ali`i looks closely at her, even leaning in to stare into her eyes.
“You are lying,” he says.
Kina might be guarding her true identity, but this part of the story is very real and so is her reaction to his verdict. “No, My Lord, I’m not. This is Nakali, the high priestess of the Cult of the Ebon Flame.”
Gasps ripple around the assembled villagers.
Kina pauses, suddenly unsure this was the wisest tactical choice, but she can’t stop now that she has begun. “I am her slave. That is my my hands are bound. She forced to me to row here. You can find our canoe up the beach that direction.”
Kuanatuku nods to a pair of warriors, to head off that direction at a run. “If my warriors find your canoe, you will live. Otherwise, you die. It has been long since we had the soul of a woman to eat.”
Kina shoots the ali`i a look of horror. “My Lord, I assure you, the canoe is there. I beached it myself.”
“We’ll see. Put her in the corral.”
The warriors lift her to her feet and shove Kina out of the square. On the other side of some of the huts is a shallow pit walled with a bamboo cage. She is thrown in. Kina gets back to her feet and clutches at the bamboo as the warriors seal shut the gate.
“What are you going to do with Nakali?” she asks them.
“When she wakes, Kuanatuku will decide what to do with her. Eating the soul of someone such as a high priestess would give him a lot of power.”
Kina screams and rattles the cage as the warriors walk away. Once they are out of sight, she drops to the floor and starts to chew at the ropes binding her hands.
Night falls swiftly, and before long Kina is in near-total darkness. A servant eventually brings her some food and water, in the form of a dried-out gourd filled with river water and part of a baked breadfruit. Kina eats as though it has been years since her last meal.
When she is finished, she begins to doze. She has fitful dreams of something large that swims through dark water, between reefs and rocks and along sandy floors, always searching for something.
She wakes in the middle of the night, still alone in the cage, certain that the subject of her dream is in the water just off shore, and it has fixed its attention on her. For a long moment she lies, frozen from fear, certain that she is being measured, evaluated, by the thing in the sea.
And then it is gone.
It takes her a long time to fall asleep again. Long into the night it begins to rain, and she shivers, exhausted and battered and full of despair, until sleep once more takes her.
Morning comes and the chill from the night’s wind and rain fades. Midmorning, Kina is brought more food—fish, this time—but is still not removed from the cage.
She spends the morning trying to remember the details of her dream from the night before, no longer sure if it really happened or of it had been the residue of a nightmare still sitting in her waking mind.
By noon, the heat has become oppressive and Kina dozes again, grateful for the shade of overhead trees. She is roused from her sleep by the sound of several men approaching.
“Wake up,” someone calls. It is the servant again, attended by several warriors. “The ali`i wishes to speak to you.”
“Again? I thought Kuanatuku was going to kill me last night or set me free.”
The warriors scoff. One of them, which Kina remembers from yesterday, says, “He never said anything about letting you go. He just said you’d live.”
They all laugh at that, and tug open the cage. Kina stumbles out.
“Look,” one says. “She’s untied her hands.”
Kina holds her hands up in a display of passiveness. “They were cutting off my blood,” she says. “I’m outnumbered and too weak to escape.”
“Kuanatuku will be interested in this,” another says.
They lead her back into the village square.
The first thing Kina sees is Nakali, awake and seemingly feeling much better. The high priestess is on her knees in the middle of the square, a position she surely must not enjoy. Kina is walked directly beside her and forced to also kneel.
Kuanatuku is in charge of the gathering. Now he sitting on some kind of throne made of carved wood. Someone has engraved a strange, expressionless face into the high back of the chair. In his hands is the pahi. To his left is a man with strange, circular markings that spiral all over his pale skin. Some sort of advisor, or kupuna? The man has a hard expression and looks at Kina and Nakali as if he could happily watch them both murdered on the spot.
As for Kuanatuku himself, his own face bears an expression of indignant rage.
“One of you is lying,” he says.
Kina glances at Nakali, but the high priestess doesn’t seem to share her alarm. “What did you tell them?” Kina asks, but is cut off by the ali`i’s booming voice.
“Silence! You’ll speak only when asked a direct question, or I’ll have my warriors kill you on the spot. Do you understand?”
Kina nods.
“Then I shall repeat myself. One of you is lying.”
He stands and walks slowly around them. “Yesterday, my warriors found you caught in one of our traps. You had come onto our island without consent, breaking our kapu in the process. You claim to have come in peace, seeking only the wisdom of our god, To`o. And yet you carried with you this weapon of the devils themselves.”
At this, Kuanatuku raises the pahi. Kina can see it is still encrusted with Nakali’s dried blood.
“You told me you were the servant of this woman, and said she was the high priestess of the Cult of the Ebon Flame—of the Burning Warriors of Keli`anu. Your canoe did, indeed, bear the standard of that nation, yet it was not a voyaging canoe. It was a scouting canoe. It is the kind of canoe a warrior or two might use to sneak onto an enemy island to raid it, perhaps take something from the people. The canoe told me there were lies buried beneath your truths. And then, I took a closer look at this.”
Kuanatuku stops in front of Kina and holds the blade with the point toward her. “The work of a devil, for sure. A devil like Mokolo. Look at the color. Feel how light, and yet so strong. And see, also, the dried blood along the cutting edge. Is this not the blood of your supposed mistress, the high priestess?”
Kina says, “It is, but it’s because-“
“Be quiet, before I slice out your tongue. Your words are full of half-truths and deception. I made my mind up last night that I would ask your supposed ‘high priestess’ how she came to be on the island, and compare your stories. And do you know what she told me?”
Kina decides not to answer.
Kuanatuku keeps going. “She told me she you are a devil who has taken the body of a woman, and that you’ve come here to destroy To`o. That you brought her to sacrifice to Mokolo, and that she almost escaped by tying your hands together in your sleep, but you cut her with your devil blade.”
Kina raises her eyebrows and glances at Nakali, who is doing her best to look innocent.
“She said that, did she?”
“Yes,” the ali`i replies. “That’s what she told me. I can clearly see the work of your weapon on her face. And her arm is broken near the wrist, which she also claims was your handiwork.”
“It wasn’t from falling into a pit?” Kina asks. “And, by the way, what kind of devil can get caught in a hole in the ground?”
“She’s trying to twist your mind,” Kina tells Kuanatuku. “That is her power as a devil. She knows how to get into your mind with her words.”
“Be silent!” Kuanatuku shouts at her.
Nakali stops speaking and the two of them watch Kuanatuku as he circles them one more time.
“It is obvious there is treachery here,” he says. “If you are as this one says, you should die now. But if she is, in fact, the high priestess as you claim, perhaps it is her who should die. I will grow very powerful off her soul and To`o will have his sacrifice.”
Kina looks around at the villagers, who eagerly await their leader’s words.
Kuanatuku continues, “So I have decided you two will fight to the death.”
This rouses the villagers to a lusty cheer.
“What do you mean?” Nakali asks, stunned. “Surely you don’t expect me to beat a devil in combat, especially with a broken arm?”
“If she truly is a slave, as she claims, you should be able to kill her easily. As high priestess, surely you have been trained in combat. And if she is a devil, as you claim, she will slaughter you and then we will know her for the devil she is and we will kill her on the spot.”
Kina asks, “So I die no matter what the outcome?”
But Kuanatuku doesn’t answer. He whistles and two warriors step forward. He takes from each of them a brutal-looking shortspear tipped with a row of shark teeth. As Kina and Nakali stand up, he tosses a spear to each of them and they are brought to opposite ends of the square. By now, the villagers are fanned out to form a loose ring. They seem excited at the prospect of this fight. Kina wonders if it would be possible to escape between them, if she moved quick enough to catch them by surprise. But, no, she is sure she wouldn’t be able to outrun them in her tired state.
“To the death,” Kuanatuku repeats. A drum begins to beat and Kina slowly steps forward, eyes locked on Nakali, who does the same.
It is obvious Nakali isn’t up to this fight. Under other circumstances, Kina is sure the high priestess could possibly kill her, but with a cracked bone and tattered wound on her face, Nakali is barely able to step forward.
“I’ll make it quick,” Nakali says.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Killing you is the only chance I have for survival.”
Kina says, “You won’t survive this any more than I will. Once I’m dead, they’ll eat your soul.”
Nakali remains in a battle-ready posture, but stops in her tracks. “What are you talking about?”
“When they were throwing me in that pen last night, one of the warriors said Kuanatuku intends to eat your soul.”
Nakali grunts. “And the lies still flow, do they? Not even facing your death will get you to speak the truth?”
“That is the truth. They have some sort of ritual here, and Kuanatuku looks forward to eating the soul of someone as powerful as you. Believe me or not. The truth awaits you either way.”
Nakali rushes Kina, who easily sidesteps her. She is still hoping to somehow turn the high priestess into a temporary ally, so she declines to attack. The high priestess spins around and comes at her again. This time, Kina rolls away and cracks the flat of the spear against Nakali’s back to send her a message.
The high priestess staggers under the blow, eyes lit with rage.
“You dare strike me?”
“Did I break another kapu?” Kina asks, in a mocking tone.
Nakali answers by rushing at her again. This time, Kina meets her with her spear to knock Nakali’s aside. Both spearpoints scrape along the ground. Kina grabs Nakali’s weapon and the two begin wrestling in circles.
“If we don’t work together, we both die on this ground,” Kina says.
“The only one to die,” Nakali replies, panting, “will be you.”
“Wrong again,” Kina says, and shoves Nakali back. The high priestess stumbles to keep her feet, attempting to ready her spear for another attack.
Taking her eyes away from Nakali for a second, Kina spins on her heel and throws her spear as hard as she can muster right at Kuanatuku.