Coiled Snake (The Windstorm Series Book 2) (16 page)

“Windtalk?”

“You can control the wind.”

“What! How?”

“It’s hereditary,” she says then laughs quietly. “We like to think we’re special because we can windwalk, but the truth is we’ve fallen a long way, just like humans. In the beginning, when First Parents placed us on the earth, our abilities were much greater. We didn’t just ride on the wind; we were masters of it. But over time that power has been lost. It survives now in only a few families, mostly in the women.”

She shakes her head. “I had an inkling you might be a talker. That’s why I wanted to teach you to sing. I thought it would be good to lay some type of groundwork before you explored your abilities further. I just didn’t anticipate how strong your force would be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t just ride the breeze in the caves, Kitara. You yanked it into the room.”

I stare at the orange peels, thinking about how the wind helped me at the Yakone fortress and again when the Tuhoe warrior
attacked. “If it’s hereditary, did I get it from you?”

“Ha!” She takes another sip. “No, girl, you didn’t get it from me. For some reason, windtalking seems to be passed down the paternal line. You got it from your other grandmother.”

“My dad’s mom?” It hadn’t occurred to me to wonder about my father’s family.

“Yes,” Miri nods. “The Huripari is one of the oldest
hapa
, and one of the last to possess strong windtalking blood.” Her voice sounds almost bitter. “But the clan is dwindling, thanks in part to your father’s betrayal. No one wants to marry into them anymore.”

I frown, remembering something from a long time ago. “I thought you called my dad a
pakeha
. A white man. But his
hapa
has old blood?”

Miri shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, I suppose you can’t tell everything about a bloke by the color of his skin. Lots of the Huripari are pale. You have your mum’s coloring.”

“So, this other grandmother of mine. Is she still alive?”

“I believe so. I haven’t seen her in years. She stays with the rest of her family in their village and never comes to tribal events.”

I sit still, trying to process this information. If I hadn’t experienced windtalking myself I don’t know that I would believe it. And my grandmother …

“Can I meet her?” I ask.

“At some point, yes. But now’s not the best time—with the Kaana involved, we could be entering a major conflict. I’m not sure I’ll be able to take you to her village, not until this is all over.”

I shudder, thinking about the map in
Poro A
, wondering when this really will be over, and what price we’ll pay to get there. “Will Mokai go off to fight?”

“Of course. He’s
maiha
.”

“That means leader, right?”

“Right.”

“What about you?”

“It depends. Not at first, probably, but if things go bad, they’ll start using us old geezers.”

I snort at the idea of anyone labeling Miri an old geezer even while I flinch at the thought of her fighting the Yakone. “But in the meantime we’ll stay here?” I ask.

“Yes. We’ll be given an assignment of some sort. Are you finished eating? Good. Let’s go back to my room.”

We return to Miri’s
poro
. In the common area, some older members of the tribe are sitting around the fire pit, swapping stories. We sit with them for a while, and I listen to a man tell a tale about how one of the early windwalkers discovered fire. He traveled deep into a mountain cave and stole the secret from the Earth. In her anger, the Earth caused the mountain to erupt, lighting the world on fire. But the windwalker called on the power of the skies to bring rain and douse the flames, thus saving his life.

“We honor the Earth,” the man says, “when we return fire to her belly, as we do here.” He motions to the fire pit. “And we do not forget the power of the flame.”

No, we don’t
, I think.

Once the fire is burning low, we retire to Miri’s room for the night. I curl my fingers into the sheepskin rugs, and as I drift off, I think about the man’s story. Would it be possible to control not just the wind but also the weather?

When I fall asleep, I dream of fire. But this time when the flames threaten to destroy everything, I call on the skies and make it rain.

We wake in the morning to the sound of knocking. Immediately, Miri sits up and says, “Enter,” without the slightest sound of grogginess in her voice. But I hear her muttering obscenities under her breath.

Stephen pulls back the drape. “The
Riki
sent me to relieve you,” he says to Miri. “I’ll keep Kit with me for the day.”

I blink at him, and he stares back. “Give me a minute to get dressed,” I say. There’s definitely grogginess in
my
voice.

After I pull on my clothes and say goodbye to Miri, I meet him in the common area.

“Breakfast?” he asks.

“Okay.”

We walk in silence for several minutes before I steal a look at him. His face is as impenetrable as ever.

“Are you angry?” I finally ask.

He looks at me sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Are you angry you have to protect me, after what happened?”

“What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Mokai thinks it was.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

He shrugs. “You didn’t ask to get attacked. And you didn’t ask me to kill him. That was my decision.”

A few moments pass before I say, “I never thanked you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

He’s quiet for a second. “His name was Hohepa,” he says at last. “He was my brother’s age.”

I twist my hands into my shirt, not knowing what to say.

“I can never go home,” Stephen says. “I can never face his family.”

“Kit!” My name echoes down the tunnel. Relieved, I turn around to see Paika hurrying toward us.

“Glad I found you,” he says. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Are the warriors leaving already?” I glance at Stephen.

“No.” Paika shakes his head. “They won’t head out until after the funeral. But the
Riki
wants me, Jian, and another of his councilors to go to Africa to meet with the Oya, convince them to form an alliance with us.”

“Oh.” I recall what Miri said about this war snowballing into something big, and I can’t keep myself from thinking about what happened the last time the Rangi went looking for allies. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Paika looks down at me. “What’s all this? I didn’t train you to be a softy.”

“When will you be back?” I ask.

“A few days. The
Riki
’s asked me to lead a
pataria
, so I can’t be gone long.”

“A battalion? That means you’ve been promoted, right?”

He rubs his eyebrow. “I’d be happier about it if it weren’t for the fact that I’m taking over Wiremu’s job. It’s not right.”

“Why isn’t Wiremu doing it?”

“He’s left. Gone home. Won’t respond to the chief’s messages.”

“Why?”

“He’s angry about what happened with his warrior. And like I told you, the Tuhoe have short tempers and long memories.” His eyes dart toward Stephen. “I’m worried the
Riki
isn’t as concerned about this as he should be. It’s not the first time their
hapa
has filed a complaint and had it ignored. We can’t risk alienating them. Not now.”

“Can’t you talk to the
Riki
about it?”

“It’s not my place. We’ll just have to hope Wiremu doesn’t do anything rash.”

I look down at the floor. “So when do you leave?”

“Right now.” Paika puts a hand on my shoulder. “Take care of yourself, girl,” he says. “Remember what I’ve taught you.”

“Thanks,” I mumble. “You take care of yourself too.”

He reaches out and rumples my hair. “Don’t forget to do your hair now and then.”

“Ha ha,” I say, pushing his hand away. “Very funny.”

“Gizza squeeze.” He pulls me in for a hug. After he releases me, there’s a moment of silence, and then he says, “Well, cheers, you two. Remember Rangiātea.”

“I will not be lost,” Stephen answers, saluting him.

I nod, throat tight, and watch as he disappears around the corner. “He’ll come back, right?” I ask Stephen.

“’Course he will. The Oya have always been our allies. This trip is really just a formality. No one is going to get hurt.”

When I don’t answer he says, “You know, the Oya have a choice village in the Drakensberg Cliffs in South Africa. Their homes are built right on the cliff face, so they windwalk virtually everywhere. You should see it sometime.”

I can tell he’s trying to make me feel better. Coming from him, the gesture is terribly moving.

The two of us continue our walk through the passageways to the dining hall. The tunnels are crowded, and when we enter the cafeteria, I’m surprised to see a line of people reaching across the entire cavern.

“Is it just me, or are there more people here than usual?” I ask Stephen.

“This is nothing. Just wait until the whole tribe’s gathered.”

“The whole tribe?”

“Well, almost. The elderly and small children probably won’t come, but most everyone else will.”

“For Tane’s funeral?”

“Yeh, and to hear who the new
Matoa
will be. And to receive their assignments.”

“Oh, right. Assignments. When will they be given?”

“Soon. Tomorrow maybe.”

“What do you think yours will be?”

“Active duty. I’m a
kapa
.”

“A
kapa
—that’s what Kai is, right? You’re in charge of ten warriors?”

He nods.

“Is Talia in your squad?”

He gives me a sharp look. “No.”

I want to ask why he was standing by her at the hunt, but I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. So instead I say, “Here’s what I don’t understand. Why are only certain people eligible to become leaders?
Maiha
?”

He seems relieved by my question and rewards it with a long answer. “It has to do with when the
hapa
joined together. There were thirty families to form the original coalition. They believed it was our only chance for survival, but the other clans refused to give up their autonomy. Over time, however, they managed to convince the others to join them, sometimes by force. But only warriors from the original thirty were
ahia
—allowed to become warriors. I guess you could say it was a way to punish the other
hapa
, to maintain control.”

“But there are some warriors who aren’t whatever-that-word-was,” I say, thinking of Sunshine.

“
Ahia
.” He nods. “They amended the rules after several generations had passed. But the
rohamaka
, the unranked,
can never be
maiha
. Leaders.”

“I can’t believe only thirty
hapa
are
ahia
. That leaves out one hundred clans!” No wonder the
rohamaka
looked angry at the hunt.

“Actually, there are thirty-one
hapa
.” When I furrow my brow, he elaborates, “One clan joined late but was still granted permission.”

“Which clan?”

“The Tuhoe.”

“Of course it was the Tuhoe.” I almost roll my eyes but stop when I remember whom I’m talking to. “But all that happened a long time ago, right? I don’t get why the other
hapa
are still putting up with it.”

“Traditions take a long time to die.”

“I guess.”

“We’re entering full mobilization,” he continues, “so the other
hapa
will need to step up their efforts to support the warriors. We’ll need more food from the farms, more money and supplies from the factories.”

“Will they be able to do that and still work their normal jobs?”

“What normal jobs? This is what they do.”

I frown. “You mean everyone works for the tribe?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s not how the Yakone do it.”

“Well, the
Yakone
”—Stephen spits—“have heaps of money and so apparently see no need to follow tradition.”

There’s more bitterness to his tone than anger, and I wonder if he’s secretly envious. I recall the way he nervously looked over his shoulder when he told me he was studying architecture.