The Lost Tohunga (5 page)

‘So I guess there is electricity between us after all,' Cassandra observed slyly, making Mat blush.

Jones sat down with them, poured the tea, and then lit his pipe. ‘You'll get lung cancer,' warned Mat, to change the subject.

‘I've been smoking for centuries, boyo. Walter Raleigh himself lit my first pipe.' Jones took another puff. ‘Come out the front, Mat, and tell me about this dream.' He nodded apologetically to Cassandra. ‘I'm sure you don't need to hear what teenage boys dream about.'

Cassandra wrinkled her nose. ‘Yeurch. Take him away!'

Mat and Jones took their tea to the front porch, which was now in sunshine. He plunged right in, no longer shy about such conversations. ‘I've been having bad dreams for weeks, now. They start in a familiar place, like home, or school, but I know something is wrong. There's a girl …' He stopped suddenly. ‘I saw her! Yesterday by the lake!'

Jones lifted his shaggy eyebrows. ‘You know her?'

Mat shook his head. ‘Never seen her before. In the dream, she's running … not from me. I go after her, across a garden or park or whatever, and then suddenly she turns into Donna Kyle. She chases me. I hit a dead end, and she comes round the corner … then there's a man behind her, in dark clothes. He looks kind of medieval … he calls out to her, she turns, and I wake.'

Jones tapped his finger on his pipe. ‘Mmmm … do you know the name “Asher Grieve”?' Mat shook his head. ‘Asher was
Puarata's main rival for a long time, and then they formed an alliance. He used to flounce about in medieval attire, quoting Milton and Dante. Eventually Asher got above himself, and Puarata killed him. He was Donna Kyle's father.'

It was hard to imagine that Donna Kyle had a father. There was something so hard and unfeeling about her that she was scarcely human to Mat. ‘Why would I dream of him? I've never heard of him before.'

‘That's the beauty of watching your dreams, laddie. If your mind is open, Aotearoa speaks to you. And right now, it's sending you a warning that Donna Kyle is back, and that she hasn't forgotten you. Although what it has to do with Asher Grieve I don't know. She hated him passionately and had a hand in his downfall.'

That Donna Kyle would aid Puarata against her own father sounded entirely in character to Mat. The thought that she might be near was chilling. ‘Is this to do with Horomatangi's message?' he asked.

‘Perhaps. Between that and other information, I'm beginning to believe that the struggle amongst Puarata's warlocks is renewing, and maybe coming here.'

‘Here?' yelped Mat, sitting up.

‘Maybe. Calm down. You know that since Puarata fell, his warlocks have been fighting each other. At Waikaremoana, Bryce and Kyle's alliance failed. Bryce has retreated south, and Kyle went into hiding. It all went quiet a few months ago. The American, Sebastian Venn, controls Puarata's old base at Waikaremoana, and most of his real-world assets.'

Mat had heard of Venn, but not seen him. ‘What's he like?'

Jones curled his lip. ‘Rich. Arrogant. Smug. He's not a big
talent magically, but he's ruthless and resourceful. And his wife is some kind of ninja.'

‘Don't tell Damian, he's nuts on Asian swordswomen ever since seeing
Kill Bill
,' Mat laughed. ‘But what about that tramp I saw in the stone? Who is he?'

‘I don't know, but I have my suspicions.'

Mat peered out the window, half-expecting to see sinister shadows lurking. ‘What if they're here for me?'

Jones shook his head. ‘It may be a blow to your fragile teenage ego, but you're still a relatively small fish in this pond, despite Reinga and Waikaremoana. These warlocks have bigger fish to fry — each other.'

‘Then why are they all coming here?'

‘It's not certain they are. I've not seen any of them.' He blew a ragged smoke ring.

‘What are you doing about them?' Mat asked.

‘Me? I'm staying out of their way. Let them kill each other, and we only need contend with the winner.'

Mat pursed his lips and leant forward. ‘But where are all the good guys? Why do the bad guys have free run of this place? Where are all the heroes? Maori legends and settler history have lots of heroes. Guys like Maui and Hatupatu. And there must be heroes among the settler soldiers. Aren't they somewhere in Aotearoa?'

Jones tapped his pipe. ‘Maui was a demigod: the gods don't really come here. As for the heroes of legend … well, some have died in Aotearoa — been killed that is — and are gone. Others have vanished. And the more modern soldiery don't have the mystique of legends — those who remember them, remember them as men not magical beings. So they're
ordinary people. Not everyone who dies becomes a ghost in Aotearoa, Mat. Probably fewer than a quarter of those who die in the real world come here. Maybe fewer. We don't know why.' Jones looked at him. ‘You have to remember that Aotearoa is, for most of its inhabitants, a form of afterlife. People who are reborn here have their own priorities, usually to do with the life they just lived. They are looking for peace of mind and to resolve internal conflicts. Wars and politics are things they have left behind. Aotearoa doesn't have an economy, and its people seldom organize. As long as the warlocks don't openly assail the larger communities, such authorities as there are avoid them.'

Mat grimaced. ‘But you've told me before that they are killing Aotearoa folk in more isolated places all the time. And that if we weren't getting in their way, they'd be strong enough to attack the larger places.'

Jones nodded. ‘And that's true. Aotearoa teeters on the brink of a war, but most who dwell here are oblivious. Here, most folk are only concerned for their own afterlife.' He took a puff on his pipe. ‘The warlocks have the upper hand, for now. They are cunning, and they cheat. But they aren't invulnerable, as you know. I'm beginning to believe there is a very real way we can stop them, or at least hurt them badly, and you may be vital to it.'

Mat put his tea down so that he wouldn't drop it. ‘Me?'

‘Don't sound so eager, boy!' He grimaced, as if reluctant to speak. ‘It's about Ngatoro. You say he describes a floating sensation, and the feeling of being drained … it reminds me of an old spell that I once found being performed by a witch in the Waikato. Must've been 1911. She had kidnapped another
Adept, and was bleeding him of his magical energies. The poor fellow was only nineteen, but he looked sixty when I rescued him. He described similar sensations.'

‘Do you think Puarata was doing that to Ngatoro?'

Jones nodded. ‘Yes, I think it is possible. Ngatoro, instead of being dead, may have been Puarata's prisoner for centuries, and a major source of his power. If so, we've got to find him before Bryce, Venn or Kyle do.'

Mat stood up, clenching both fists. ‘Yes! We've got to help him!'

Jones blinked. ‘I meant “we” figuratively, Mat. “We” as in myself and various other Adepts; not “we” as in “you and me”. This could get very dangerous.'

‘But—'

‘No “buts”. It was bad enough how close to death you and your friends came in Waikaremoana. You've been lucky, boy, but you're only half-trained.'

‘You've got to let me help,' Mat insisted. ‘It's me he talks to! I'm the link!'

‘I know that,' Jones agreed reluctantly. ‘Otherwise I'd not even mention it. But I don't want you and your friends endangered this time. I mean it!'

‘Okay, okay. I get it!'

Jones slapped the table. ‘I think that's enough for today. Let's have us some lunch, and then you can get your friend out of my house before she burns it down. Best you don't neglect your mother, too. I dare say she's not happy at your visiting me.'

‘She believes that if I spend time with you then more bad stuff will happen.'

‘Well, she might be right. No-one said I'm safe to be around.' Jones led him back to the kitchen. ‘Clean up, Cassandra! Lunch time!'

 

Over a pleasantly plain lunch Jones questioned them both, but principally Mat, about life. How was school going? How were things with his family? Jones didn't comment on much, which was a relief. He sent them home with the usual instructions for Mat. ‘Don't forget: no coffee — it's bad for bones and nerves. No soft drink—'

‘Because it's bad for teeth and stomach,' Mat interrupted. ‘No alcohol or dope, because they're bad for everything. No fast cars or fast women, cos they're just bad. And above all, no fun.'

Jones beamed. ‘Excellent. I knew you'd turn out alright in the end. Now, off you go, laddie. I've got things to do. Keep watching your dreams, keep listening for Ngatoro, keep your nose out of trouble, and …'

‘No fun!'

‘Aye. You've got it.' They grinned at each other, and Jones waved them off.

Mat and Cassandra walked back around the track that led to Taupo, spinning three times around a certain kauri tree to return to the real world.

Mat had never really been alone with Cassandra before. Usually, there was one or both of the others around, except for odd minutes here and there. He realized that he had been kind of avoiding being alone with her. Riki had told him that Cassandra fancied him and, well, he didn't really feel the same
way about her. Not that he didn't like Cassandra, but she wasn't what he pictured when he thought of girls. In his mind she came under a category labelled ‘One of the guys'. And also ‘Kinda kooky'. And she had no magical abilities — she was an ordinary person — so what future could there be anyway? Best just not go there.

‘What have you been up to?' he asked, to fill the slightly awkward silence.

‘Oh, y'know. School. Night-class in 3-D animation. Part-timing on the Telecom Xtra helpdesk. And training for a half-marathon. The usual.' She paused. ‘Oh, and I've taken up judo and karate.'

‘Judo and karate?'

‘Yeah. After all that wacko stuff in Waikaremoana, I figured I needed to be able to defend myself a little. Damian keeps trying to get me to take up fencing, but … nah.'

‘Are you and Damian … ?'

She pulled a disbelieving face. ‘No! I believe that relationships are kind of pointless 'til you're eighteen,' she told him in a lofty voice. ‘I'm going to marry when I'm old, say twenty-eight. Kids maybe. I should have a house by then, and have a bit of OE behind me. Guys can just kind of fit in around that.'

Mat frowned. He had enough trouble figuring out what to do from one hour to the next; that much forward planning couldn't be natural. ‘How do you just decide not to have boyfriends? I mean, what if you meet someone you really like?'

She cocked an eyebrow. ‘It's just prioritization. It's not like hanging with some acne-ridden dweeb is so rewarding that I can't put it on hold for a while. And if I meet someone so
totally special it can't wait, well hell, I'll just change the rules. They're my rules. Anyway, kissing with these braces on kills the insides of my lips. I'm left using Bonjela for weeks like a teething infant. Embarrassment city.'

He remembered kissing Lena with a sudden flush. Cassandra saw the look, and seemed to read it straight off. ‘So, seeing as you're a hopeless romantic, have you got a girlfriend?'

He pulled a face to hide his blush. ‘No. Not really.'

She fixed him with her full stare, her eyes huge behind her glasses. ‘Does it bother you, then?'

‘Uh, I guess.' He suddenly wished they could talk about something else.

‘Then it's counter-productive. Chill, you're sixteen. Anyway, what are you doing this arvo?'

‘Homework,' Mat grumped. ‘I promised Mum. If I'd known you were gonna be around …'

‘Yeah, well, it was a kinda spontaneous thing. An' my Dad doesn't tell me anything,' Cassandra muttered. ‘I only found out last night.'

‘Why don't you just hack into his computer and check out his calendar?' Mat laughed.

Cassandra grinned. ‘One: he doesn't use an online calendar. Two: his computer is locked down harder than the Intelligence Service. Um, apparently.' She shrugged. ‘Anyways, wanna go to the AC Baths and check out the waterslides and stuff later this arvo; around five?'

He hesitated, then smiled.
Why not?
And it seemed she didn't want entanglements either, so it should be fine. ‘Yeah, sure!'

She beamed. ‘Cool!'

They walked together to the northern foreshore, and then parted — Cassandra's father had a time-share not far away. Mat carried on towards town and his mum's place. People were sunbathing and picnicking, locals and tourists enjoying what sun there was. He was just about to cross the road when he glimpsed a girl in a hoodie sitting under a tree; he stopped with a thumping heart.

It's the girl from my dream … Should I talk to her? What if she's like me, a potential Adept? Maybe she's like Lena, and I'm meant to help her …
He wavered, chewing his lip. She was staring across the waters, her face a void. She didn't look like she wanted company, but her head swivelled and she saw him. He couldn't read anything in her sunglasses and stony face.
Nothing ventured …
He screwed up his courage, and walked towards her. He couldn't think of anything clever to say, so he just said ‘Hi'.

She lifted her shades and jerked her head around as if afraid to be seen with him. He was struck by how unhappy she looked. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her mouth hung down at the ends, and there were tear tracks on her face. Her hair was tangled and appeared slept-in. She looked tired and run-down and hung over, although she remained a natural beauty.

‘Hi. I'm Mat,' he offered. ‘Well, Matiu actually,' he added, as she was clearly Maori.

She dragged on her cigarette with a shaking hand. ‘Matiu? Picked you as Pakeha.'