Sister of the Sun Read Online Free

over the ruling succession could throw the entire atoll into turmoil. Everyone expected Natunatu's son to follow Kohekapu. Tepua's arrival could only cause trouble.  
    "Come, daughter, to your honored place," said Ehi, after Tepua had pressed noses with all the guests. Ehi led her to mats, woven of fara leaves, that were spread on the sandy ground. Maukiri brought a coconut shell full of water and spilled some onto Tepua's hands for washing. Then two girls bent over the steaming oven and began uncovering the food.  
    This feast was for women only. Here, as in Tahiti, men and women cooked and ate in separate groups. Tepua watched silently as the food was brought to her place—a large piece of steaming fish, a pile of clams, baked taro root, cakes made from fruit of the fara . She had eaten lightly on the long sea journey. Now she should be famished, yet her stomach felt cold and tight.  
    The customary silence reigned as each guest tore into the generous meal. Tepua tried to do justice to the fare, but had to force herself to swallow each morsel. She could not get Maukiri's words out of her mind.  
    She began to wonder, angrily, whether Paruru had deceived her. On his arrival in Tahiti he had said only that her father wanted to speak to her before he died. The warrior had mentioned nothing about the chiefhood.  
    Perhaps the priests had misled her, she thought. Long ago they had told her that she must give way to her younger brother. She had accepted that decision, agreeing to marry a chief of another island. But the marriage had not taken place. And now the priests seemed to be changing their minds....  
    Tepua looked up, seeing the tangle of atoll forest that surrounded Ehi's house. Despite all her treasured memories, this island was no longer her home. But the trees seemed so close on all sides, the shadows so deep. In those shadows, the spirits of her ancestors lingered, watching over their people. The spirits might not let her go back to Tahiti.  
    At last the meal was done, guests packing leftovers in baskets to carry home. Nearly everyone hurried off, anxious to reach their own houses before dark. Ehi's old mother and two daughters remained—Maukiri as well as Maukiri's married sister, slender Roki. Soon Roki's young and portly husband, Adze-falling, arrived from a meal with his companions.  
    "I have eaten well, and now I am sleepy," Adze-falling announced. His wife looked at him scornfully. Evidently she had hoped he would keep her awake.  
    Maukiri readied a copra candle—chunks of dried coconut strung on a stick. She blew on some hot embers preserved from the fire until the first piece of copra began to burn. With this as their source of light, the people of Ehi's household moved into the dark interior of the dwelling.
    On such occasions as a homecoming, there would usually be singing and storytelling late into the night. Tepua sensed a less festive mood this evening. Now that the guests were gone, Ehi's expression had become thoughtful, even worried. "We must talk," she said in a low voice.  
    Adze-falling yawned loudly.
    "This concerns Ahiku Clan," said Ehi sharply to her daughter's husband. "If you want to sleep, that is no matter."  
    "Sleep now so that later you will have some life in you," Roki added, giving him a playful slap.
    Maukiri laughed, and Ehi whispered a rebuke. "You youngsters think about nothing but hanihani ! We have serious things to discuss."  
    The women gathered about the copra light and sat in a circle, facing each other. Tepua, guessing what was to come, wished she could retreat into the darkness.  
    "I want to warn you all," said Ehi. "We must watch out for Natunatu. She is dangerous. She knows how to get rid of people who stand in her way."  
    Maukiri, her mood turning suddenly solemn, gave a dismayed cry of " Aue !"  
    "It is true," said Ehi. "We must be certain she cannot use sorcery against Tepua. Every morning, Maukiri, you will