Justice and Utu (2 page)

N
APIER
, N
OVEMBER

M
atiu Douglas wiped the sweat from his eyes with his sleeve without breaking stride, and tried to up his pace. Fifteen metres ahead and loping gracefully, his best friend Riki Waitoa continued to leave him behind. They'd matched pace all the way down to Bluff Hill from Mat's house at the south end of Marine Parade, and all the way around the hill, but on the home leg Riki had suddenly grinned. ‘See you at home, bro,' he'd chuckled, and then he was away.

Bloody long-legged greyhound!
Mat gritted his teeth and drew deep, sucking in the air and pouring everything he could into regaining ground. The evening offshore breeze whipped at his hair and his breath came in gusts. And still Riki pulled away.

Mat felt a moment of temptation to use certain skills he'd acquired to rejuvenate his muscles. But he let the desire pass: that would be cheating. He struggled on. By the time he got home, a full minute behind his friend, he could barely speak.

‘Aw, man, I reckon you're getting slower,' Riki teased, as they lay panting on the front lawn.

‘You're bloody half rabbit,' Mat grumped back at him ruefully. ‘I thought your fitness would go off, after the rugby season finished. I thought you'd be straight into the beers again.'

Riki grimaced slightly. ‘Yeah, me too,' he admitted. ‘But then I figured if I stay off the booze until after the exams, I might get better marks, y'know. No hangovers on exam morning.'

‘How's that working out?'

‘Yeah, good. We're — what — halfway through the exams now? I reckon I'm going OK.' For Riki to be taking anything except rugby and taiaha classes seriously, let alone school work, was a major turn-up. But Mat wasn't altogether surprised. He and Riki had been through a few hard situations together, some harrowing times that had changed their attitudes. Life was fragile, and you had to put in the hard yards to get through. Although Riki still looked the same — skinny, unkempt and carefree — he worked hard on fitness and self-defence. Now even education had crept onto his radar, to the utter astonishment of his teachers, friends and family.

Mat, who had a mother who was a teacher so had no choice but to study hard, was halfway through the same exams, of course. They were going fine — Level 2 NCEA and he felt like he was aceing it. His parents weren't having to nag him too much, and they'd about got over the fact that Art was his thing, and that he wasn't going to be a lawyer like Dad.

The front door opened, and a thin woman with red hair came out, carrying two glasses of real home-made lemonade.
‘Back already, lads!' Colleen O'Connor, Mat's mother, trilled in her soft Irish accent. ‘That was quick.'

‘That's cos we're super-athletes,' Riki explained, taking a glass gratefully.

Mat smiled up at his mother as he took his glass, and revelled in the first gloriously soothing mouthful dancing on his tongue. ‘Thanks, Mum.'

‘My pleasure, love. Where's Tama?' Colleen asked. ‘We've got to go soon.' Mum was down from her Taupo home to go with Dad to the funeral of a lawyer they had both known. She was staying in a hotel. Mum and Dad still seemed no closer to reconciliation, something her presence here at the former family home threw into sharp relief.

Colleen looked down the driveway and gave a faint smile. ‘Ah, here he is. I better get another glass, then.'

A broad shape staggered down the asphalt to collapse panting onto the lawn beside them. For a full half-minute Tama Douglas lay as if dead, except for the laborious rise and fall of his chest. ‘Am I still alive, or is this hell?' he groaned.

Riki snickered. ‘It's Napier, Mr D. Heaven on Earth.'

‘Can't be Heaven if you two are here,' Tama replied. ‘Must be Purgatory.' He eyed Mat. ‘Why did I marry a skinny woman, so she could breed a greyhound for a son?' He winked at Colleen, who raised a sceptical eyebrow.

‘Yeah, you shoulda married a big lady,' Riki said, ‘and then had some lard-arsed prop forward son that you could outrun.'

‘Hey,
I
was a lard-arsed prop!' Tama protested. ‘Don't diss the front-row union!'

‘I, for one, am grateful to be born just the way I am,' Mat put in, looking at his mum.

‘Wait 'til you're being left behind by your own children, son — then you'll understand,' Tama told him. He looked at Colleen. ‘I suppose I'd better shower and get ready.'

The two adults went inside. Riki looked at Mat. ‘Hey, bro, your mum and dad getting it on again?'

Mat pulled a face and shook his head. ‘Nah. She's just down for the funeral. This lawyer guy Dad knew dropped dead. He was like eighty or something and still working. Mum had met him at dinner parties and stuff so she came down.'

‘Shame for your dad to lose a mate.'

‘Royston Belsworth.' Mat gave a wry grin. ‘Actually, Dad was terrified of him. He reckons Roy used to rip shreds off him in court. He was the chief prosecutor, and they came up against each other all the time. Dad said Roy could peel paint with his voice when he got worked up. He used to totally shit himself when he came up against him.'

‘Sounds hilarious,' Riki grinned. ‘Still, good that he's going to the tangi, eh? You going?'

Mat shook his head. ‘Nah. Dad says he can't trust me at funerals after the last one.'

Riki laughed aloud. They both knew exactly what Tama meant: the last funeral Mat had been to was his Nanny Wai's tangi, and Mat had stolen a bone tiki and ended up being pursued half the length of the North Island by the most evil tohunga makutu in two worlds. A repeat of that wasn't an attractive proposition. He'd been fifteen then. Now he was nearly seventeen, but he'd changed immensely: he was a trainee tohunga ruanuku (or ‘Adept', as his mentor Aethlyn Jones preferred to say), and could do things few others could. He had met a goddess, faced death and evil, and seen secret
places in a secret world. It showed sometimes in his eyes, in his bearing and his maturity. Only a few months ago, he and Riki had fought patupaiarehe and warlocks in Rotorua, and freed the legendary tohunga Ngatoro from imprisonment in a secret lair of evil. All that they had been through in the past year lay at the heart of their new maturity. Sometimes it was a struggle to care about things like school, sport, TV, movies, and even girls when there was so much more to worry about. This world was hard enough, but Mat could journey at will to another world: magical Aotearoa, the Ghost World.

‘So, have those concert tickets we ordered arrived?' Riki asked, changing the subject.

Mat grinned. ‘Yeah, absolutely! We're going to the Green Day show, man! Second Saturday of February, in Wellington. Wiri and Kelly are going to put us up. Cassandra's confirmed: she'll drive down from Gizzy and pick us up on the way through. Has Damien confirmed?'

Riki grinned. ‘Sure has! The Dame's got some big fencing tournament on in Auckland the week before, but he says it'll be over by Thursday and then he'll come down.' He tsked. ‘Dame still hasn't forgiven us for not calling him up that last time we were in Aotearoa. He was gutted when I told him about it.'

‘He shouldn't be: we could have all been killed,' Mat replied in a low voice, checking to make sure his mother wasn't eavesdropping on the conversation. The less his folks knew about some of what they faced in Aotearoa, the better. Both knew of the Ghost World, but knowing of it and experiencing it were different things.

‘Yeah, when I told him that, it just made him more envious.'

Mat laughed softly: that sounded like Damien. The four of them were going to get together in January here in Napier, and he was looking forward to that more than anything. Although they all had other friends, the bond Riki, Damien, Cassandra and Mat shared was unique: they had been to Aotearoa.

The two friends lay on the grass soaking up the sun, letting the breeze dry their skin. November had been windy but warm, promising a hot summer to come. Traffic rolled in the distance, and gulls called as they glided by. The neighbours' children were crying over something, and Mat could even hear the clip-clop of a horse out on the road—

A horse?

He sat up just as a rider turned into their driveway. His horse was big, a shaggy brown beast of a creature, wide-eyed and skittish, with soaking-wet, sweaty flanks. The rider was tall and straight-backed, and clad in a long leather coat and broad-brimmed leather hat, like a drover. He had a sabre and musket among the bags strapped to his saddlebags.

‘What the heck?' Riki breathed as he saw the man. The boys stood warily.

‘Greetings,' the rider called formally. ‘I'm seeking one Tama Douglas.'

Mat frowned.
Why would someone like this want Dad?
‘You must mean me. I'm his son, Mat.'

The rider peered at him, then fumbled into a saddlebag, coming out with a thick envelope with a handwritten address on the front. ‘No, lad. It says “Tama Douglas” here. I'm a courier, sent by the governor himself.'

The governor?
Mat looked at Riki, and then back at the house. ‘Um … I'll get Dad. Do you need anything for the horse, sir? Water or something?'

‘Aye, water'd be nice, thank you. We've ridden long ways today. My name's Baisley. Jonah Baisley, from Akarana.'

‘Akarana?' Mat asked.

‘Akarana is Auckland, in Aotearoa,' Baisley replied. He swung out of the saddle and stroked his horse's nose. ‘I've been on the road two weeks. My horse would be grateful for some feed, too, if you have it, young sir.'

‘Er, we don't have horses ourselves, sir, but he is welcome to the lawn.'

Baisley shrugged. ‘I understand. I'll get him housed tonight, once I've delivered my message. I can collect your father's response tomorrow.'

Mat nodded, wondering what on Earth — or Aotearoa — this ‘governor' might want of his father. He hurried inside. His mother was in the kitchen, battling the usual stack of dishes. He crept past the door: she would flip if she knew there was a courier from Aotearoa outside.

He found his father in his room. He'd just pulled on his best trousers, but his belly wasn't quite contained by his belt, and he still looked hot and bothered.

‘Dad!'

Tama looked up. ‘Son? What's up?'

‘There's a man on the front lawn with a message for you.'

Tama raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, bring him in.'

‘I can't — he's from Aotearoa.'

Tama's eyebrows shot up. ‘What?'

‘He says he's got a message for you from the governor. I
think he means Governor Grey.'

‘Governor Grey? But he's been dead for …' Tama's voice trailed away. ‘Oh.' He pulled on a white shirt. ‘Does Colleen know he's there?'

Mat shook his head. ‘Not yet.'

Tama put a finger to his lips. ‘Best we keep it that way. I'll be out in a minute. Can you take him round the back without Colleen seeing him?'

‘I dunno — he's got a horse — but I'll try.'

Two minutes later, Tama slipped out the back door, taking in the sight of Jonah Baisley and his old-time gear with an incredulous shake of the head, but he composed his expression and strode forward, shaking the courier's hand and accepting the envelope. He opened it and read, while Mat and Riki watched with bated breath. Tama looked more and more troubled as he took in the contents of the letter. Then he looked up at Baisley: ‘And this is really from Governor Sir George Grey?'

Baisley gave a small bow. ‘The same, sir.'

Tama shook his head. ‘Good Lord.' He ran his right hand through his damp hair. ‘You must understand that all this is hard for me to take in. I mean, Grey is dead.'

Baisley inclined his head sympathetically. ‘I know. I'm “dead”, too, if that helps, sir.' He winced. ‘Though I guess it won't much.'

Tama rubbed his face. ‘Not really.' Then he flinched as the back door opened and Colleen stormed out.

‘What's going on? Who are you?' She glared at Baisley, taking in the old weaponry and harness with something like dread creeping over her face. ‘What do you want with us?'

Mat took his mother's hand. ‘He's a courier, Mum — he's got a message for Dad.'

Colleen's hand clamped onto his like a vice. ‘He's from …
that place
… isn't he?'

Mat nodded as gently as he could. ‘Yeah.'

Colleen stared at Baisley and then at Tama. She'd been kidnapped and taken into Aotearoa by Puarata for a short time last year, until Mat and Wiri had freed her. She'd also had her house in Taupo attacked by goblins only two months ago. The experience had been terrifying, and she now lived in dread of ‘that place', fearing it could rip her family apart again. ‘Well, we don't want whatever it is, you hear me! Tell him, Tama!'

Baisley glanced at Tama. ‘Is that your reply, sir? Only, the governor was most insistent that you be appointed.'

Tama groaned. He looked at Colleen, and then at Mat, clearly thinking very hard. Then he turned back to Baisley. ‘I'll consider it. Come here tomorrow evening and I will have an answer.'

Colleen O'Connor swore under her breath, words Mat had never heard his mother use before.

Baisley bowed. ‘Very well, sir.' He tugged the reins of his mount, waved to the boys, then led his horse around the house. The sound of boots and hooves faded into distance. Mat knew of several nearby gates between Aotearoa and this world — the good people of Napier would not even notice Baisley's coming and going.

Colleen pulled her hand out of Mat's, and stalked towards Tama. ‘Well, what is it?'

Tama looked down at the letter in his hand with a stunned
look on his face. ‘It's a request for my professional services. Apparently Donna Kyle wants me to represent her at her trial in February.'