“Timata,” Karuhiruhi said. “Let us begin.” In the firelit interior of the wharenui, with Areta looking on proudly, Karuhiruhi told the seabird chieftains of his meeting with Kawau. Never had Areta seen her husband act so powerfully, so like the ruler of the world.
“I have supped on kai so exquisite that I would give up all to have it again,” he said. “Oh … that river eel was so smooth and so cool. When it slid down my throat I could not believe that food could bring so much delight. Even now, remembering it, I drool for more. It had no scales, brothers, and in its death throes it flicked its tail inside me. The sensation was exquisite, and lasted for days.”
“How can such a food exist?” the chieftains asked. “No scales, you say?”
“None,” Toroa confirmed. “Just think, brothers, of the other kai which must exist in the kingdom of the landbirds. Think —”
“All could be ours,” Karoro added. “All, all —”
Karuhiruhi, Karoro, Toroa, Taranui and Parara swept the other chieftains along with the conviction of their words. Pathologically driven to eat, eat, eat, seabirds had always possessed appetites that could never be appeased. They gorged themselves even when full. Now they bore testimony to the aphrodisiacal nature of the food of the inland river lagoon. The vision they offered of limitless food sent all the seabird chieftains wild with delirium.
It was then that Karuhiruhi spoke what had until then remained unbroached.
“Why just stop at taking the kai of the landbirds,” he hissed.
“He aha? What?”
The hui turned into a Council of War.
“Why should the manu whenua live in such luxury in the forest,” Karuhiruhi continued, “where their food is within beak’s reach, while we, the manu moana, spend all our hours scouring the coast and the sea for our paltry sustenance?”
“Ka tika!” the chieftains whistled, their heads bobbing in assent.
“Why should their food be so sweet while ours is salty? Their kai so smooth while ours is scaly?”
“Yes! Ae! Ka tika!”
Then Karuhiruhi voiced the Ultimate Heresy.
“Why should the landbirds have been given such bounty by the Lord Tane and the seabirds not?” he cried. “Why should the seabirds be denied the incredible riches possessed by the landbirds? Such division of bounty is unfair. The setting apart of the Earth into two territories was not meant to be!”
The chieftains whistled and screamed with horror. They waited for Karuhiruhi to be struck dead by Tane. They waited for Hurumanu’s claws to descend and strike Karuhiruhi’s head from his body.
Nothing happened. The seabirds tipped over into insanity.
“Let us take the land!” Karuhiruhi called.
Intoxicated by his rhetoric, the other chieftains roared their approval.
“Let us declare war on the manu whenua. Ka tika?”
“Ka tika,” Karoro called in support, and he crossed his wings against Karuhiruhi’s in an act of allegiance.
The chieftains roared their agreement. “Ka tika! Ka tika!” they cried.
Karuhiruhi issued the instructions. “War! War! War!”
Chapter Four
As usual in the morning, birdsong.
Skylark was asleep when the melody drifted through her dreams. Something was sighing in the wind. The trilling began, ornamenting the vocal line. The warbling came next, followed by a throbbing bass and a syncopated whistling. The sounds merged into a crescendo of wind chimes silvered with a scattering of bells.
“Not again,” Cora wailed from her bedroom.
The sun flooded across the Manu Valley. The manu whenua repeated their age-old thanks to the Lord Tane.
Skylark awoke, wondering whether she’d been dreaming or whether Hoki really had told her about how the war between the landbirds and seabirds began. Her head was throbbing with it all. The seabird attacks, the stories Hoki and Bella were putting into her head — none of it made sense, yet she couldn’t shake off the impact.
“No, no, no,” Skylark said to herself. “I will not be caught up in someone else’s psychodrama.” She got up, put on her bathrobe, went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. A couple of pieces of toast with peanut butter later, and she was sitting in the sun looking across the valley.
What was that shadow over the sea? Was the weather changing?
Bella and Hoki were also up early that morning. At breakfast Bella made up with her sister.
“I’m sorry I overstepped the mark with Skylark,” Bella said. “From now on, I’ll leave you to do your job.”
“You’ll zip your lip?” Hoki asked sternly. She cocked an eye and made a threatening peck to make sure Bella got the picture.
“Consider it done,” Bella answered. Better to have peace in the henhouse and to smooth ruffled feathers.
Satisfied, Hoki put an arm around her sister to show she’d been forgiven. “Good,” she said.
Bella left the house in the direction of the toolshed, aware that she’d got out of that one lightly. Sometimes Hoki’s temper could go on for days. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Hoki got on with the breadmaking. She looked out the window, saw the shadows over the sea, and paused a moment to watch the weather front coming up from the south. She returned to her breadmaking. Then she looked again at the approaching southerly.
Her blood froze. “I have to find Bella,” she said.
Far off she heard Bella banging and crashing away, preparing the traps to catch the wild dogs, stoats, ferrets and feral cats that roamed the forest, killing the birds and destroying their nests.
“Bella?” Hoki called. “Bella!”
The sound of fear in her sister’s voice was enough to make Bella stop in her tracks. One look at Hoki’s face and she came running.
“Are you all right, sister?”
“Look!” Hoki pointed.
The shadows weren’t clouds. Seabirds, hundreds of them, were coming across the sea, making for the offshore islands.
“The Book of Birds told us this would happen, but I never thought we’d see the day,” Hoki continued.
“It’s an early warning call. Sister, you must bring Skylark up to speed. Rev up and put yourself into third, okay?”
Out on the Sea Queen, Mitch Mahana didn’t take much notice of the seabirds arrowing overhead. He’d been aware the numbers had increased over the last few weeks, but merely put it down to seasonal migratory patterns. The offshore islands had always been the staging post for seabirds heading north for the winter. Of more interest was the movement below water. The boat’s sonar system was pinging and it was clear from the screen that a huge shoal of kahawai was moving beneath them.
Within an hour Mitch and his crew — his son Francis and nephews Hori and Vic — had the nets out and were trawling the shoal. Soon after, they were scooping the catch from the bottom. The net rose and the kahawai began to stipple the surface of the water with froth.
Mitch and his crew were jubilant. It was a good catch. They began winching the nets in, unconcerned by the darkness of the clouds over the sun.
Then harsh cries split their eardrums and seabirds fell from the air.
Kaa. Kaa. Kee law. Kee law.
Mitch was accustomed to seabirds following his boat and skimming some of the fish from the nets. But this was different.
“Dad? Dad!” Francis came running along the deck. “What’s going on, Dad?”
Hundreds of seabirds were hurtling down on the catch. Hungry after their long journeys to the offshore islands, they relished the opportunity of easy kai. Again and again they hurled themselves into the nets, slashing at the fish and tearing the flesh from throat to tail, stripping the kahawai to the bones in seconds.