Shadowed by Moonlight (SAMPLE)

Chapter 3.a

That night the Light Village held the feast of a lifetime. The elders and the high chiefs sat in a long oval at the center of the meetinghouse, the food displayed before them down the middle. Three fat pigs lined the center in-between them, with mountains of food on either side. 

Everything that made my mouth water had been laid out on banana leaves and lauhala mats to protect it from the ground. Pork lau lau, roti curry, palusami and fresh lu sipi, all of it was there. So was the fish high chief Moe had prepared after a successful huki in the bay. There were piles of fruit, fresh kalo, and lots of ulu and fa'i to balance the richness of the main course dishes. 

I sat at my father's right side. Masina clung to his left arm. She stared up at the crowd's appraising looks. We gave thanks to the ancestors, the musicians started playing, and the feast began. Laughter filled the air as everyone helped themselves to as much food as they could cram into their bellies. Father went for the pork and lu sipi, Masina unwrapped her lau lau. I savored the taste of warm fe'e, loving the creamy sensation that ran down my throat. Even as the high chief's son I almost never ate like this. Given the way we were feasting, one might've thought the light god himself were attending.

Several hours later conversations lulled as people started to slow down. The feast wasn't anywhere near over; we simply needed to rest before attacking the food again with renewed gusto. This in-between time was usually when we heard from the orators or listened to speeches prepared by visitors.

 Orator Raʻi, who was sitting on Masina's left, raised a hand. The murmuring side conversations died down as everyone turned to him.  

He raised his cup, "Today we celebrate a great victory in the Light Village. Glory to the gods and to our ancestors that we did not fall prey to the demons."

He paused as the villagers called out words of approval. When it was silent again, he continued, lifting his cup to the high chiefs. The high chiefs, in turn, all raised their cups to him.

"We are indebted to you, most noble leaders of our sister villages. We honor you today for your courage and your sacrifice. Were it not for your intervention, our village would have suffered much greater losses."

The villagers echoed their approval again, and all nine of the high chiefs drained their cups with Orator Raʻi. Setting their empty coconut shells aside, Orator Ra'i gave the time to the high chiefs. They weren't obligated to speak, but out of respect, they were always given the opportunity.

High chief Senidra nodded to Alani. She cleared her throat. "On behalf of the War Village, we wish to express our gratitude to high chief Alai and to the Light Village for your hospitality. We also would like to commend your brave warrior, Masina, whom we honor here tonight."

She winked at Masina, who grinned shyly.

"We would like to add our praise on behalf of the Wind Village," said Tāwhiri, holding up a closed fist, "The high chief's daughter fought valiantly, demonstrating a strength and will that belie her age. My mother also wishes to add how impressed she was by Masina's work ethic demonstrated in the aftermath."

The well-wishing continued around the circle. Every village heir expressing their gratitude to the Light Village, and then describing what they admired about Masina. Ori thought she was selfless, Puana praised her intelligence. On and on it went.

When the speech-making was at an end, Orator Raʻi gave the time to Masina. She looked at our father. He nodded, and she sat up on her knees, bowing low before sitting up tall. Her hands rested in her lap, and when she spoke her voice rang out over the masses.

"I give thanks to the gods and to our ancestors for blessing us with this day," she stated, her tone regal. Gone was her timidity and her childish antics. Masina looked back at Orator Raʻi, who motioned for her to keep going.

She cleared her throat. "I am both humbled and honored to receive the accolades of the high chiefs. I will do my best to always serve in a way that is worthy of your approval."

She bowed to the chiefs, who acknowledged her with a nod. Pride brimmed in all of their eyes, as though they wished Masina could be their daughter. As she sat up, Orator Raʻi addressed her.

"Young Masina," he said, his gaze reflecting the pride mirrored by the high chiefs, "Tonight's feast is held in your honor, but if you so desire you may dedicate it to another."

Masina bobbed a nod, her royal air slipping, "Ooh, I do! I mean, I would like to. If—if that's all right."

A few of the elders smiled at her eagerness. My father gave a throaty laugh. Masina took a deep breath, composing herself.

"I want to dedicate this feast to our ancestral god Havaiki, and to my parents who gave me life. I am who I am because of my father, and while I never knew my mother, I like to think I could be like her, too."

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of our mother. Masina never spoke of her. I glanced around, noting the way the women were dabbing their eyes at the mention of their beloved high chiefess.

"And lastly, I want to dedicate this to the other person who has always been there for me," Masina said, "The one who is my quiet strength, and makes me want to be better every day, my brother."

Several people gasped and I nearly dropped the cup in my hands. Had Masina just dedicated her victory feast to me? I stared past our father at her, not sure what she was playing at.

She smiled at me, lifting her cup, "To the future high chief of the Light Village!"

Silence. 

If I thought I was shocked by her words, it was nothing compared to the rest of the village. Nobody moved. For a painfully long time all I could hear was the sound of my heart thumping in my ears.

High chief Loa of the Song Village was the one to break it. He chuckled as he rested his hands on his folded knees, a playful smile on his face. Then he dipped his cup into the wooden bowl in front of him and raised it in amusement.

"To the future high chief of the Light Village," he echoed, grinning at Masina. 

Not wanting to shame the high chief, the rest of the village joined the toast. But from the cutting glares that came my way, I knew what they really thought. My face grew hot; once again Masina had humiliated me in public.

The eating resumed. This time people weren't lifting their fingers to their mouths as much because everyone was busy talking. I caught a few murmurs of, "Such a merciful sister," and "she gives him more credit than he deserves."  

"I should hope no one in our village would speak so poorly of my son," Father rumbled, his eyes roving over the families seated in the outer circles.

There were hurried looks of shame, and all chatter about me ceased immediately.