Free Sister of the Sun by Clare; Coleman

head afloat.  
    For a time he knew only the pain that filled him. At first he feared this was his punishment for touching the foreign thing. Then he recognized the diver's agony, though it had never afflicted him so severely. The suffering would end soon, he knew, and then all would be well.  
    Slowly, his senses returned. At last he could look toward shore, and was relieved to see that his dive had attracted no attention. He began to swim at a moderate pace, preserving his strength. His destination lay a good way down the beach.  
    When he staggered out of the water, Paruru felt weak in all his limbs. Exhausted as he was, he remembered to be careful with the thunder-club. It had erupted when the man pointed it skyward. Paruru held it low, pointed toward the ground.  
    His swim had brought him to an isolated and rocky shore, a place he had chosen for privacy. A dense stand of mikimiki bushes reached almost to the water and screened the interior from view. He crawled under the low-hanging branches and emerged in a shadowy forest. As arranged, the priest named Lost-the-wind stood waiting for him.  
    Lost-the-wind was younger and stouter than his superior, Faka-ora. Paruru had found him far easier to deal with than the older priest. Lost-the-wind had agreed to dispel whatever evil might adhere to the weapon, and to the kaito-nui for touching it. Now, as Paruru stood before him, the priest lifted a coconut shell filled with seawater. He sprinkled its contents, first onto the warrior and then onto the object he held.  
    After Lost-the-wind recited a long prayer, he led Paruru to a crude shelter, a thatched roof on four poles that was screened by bushes and young trees. Around the shelter, tapu signs made of coconut fronds had been tied to branches, to warn off anyone who came by.  
    "Stay here," the priest said, signaling for Paruru to go in under the roof. "I have left food and drink. Do not come out for three days. If all is well after that, you are safe."  
    Paruru went meekly into the shelter. He gently placed the weapon on a mat and seated himself beside it. Drinking nuts lay waiting for him, but he did not want anything just yet. "The arrangements are pleasing," he said in acknowledgment of the priest's efforts. He would make return gifts later, of course.  
    "Then I go," said the priest.
    Paruru sighed, resigning himself to three days of solitude. His curiosity about the rest of the outsiders' goods would have to wait. But he had what might prove to be the most important item.  
    For a time he did nothing but stare at the mysterious weapon. Much of it was made of polished wood, broad at the back, long and slender in front. The part that resembled hollow bamboo was made of something he did not recognize. Its color was gray as a stormy sea, its surface smooth and cool.  
    If this was not wood, then he assumed it must be a kind of foreign stone. Paruru bent his head down so that he could look in through the hollow end, which flared slightly. What a marvel! He wondered how long the carver had worked on it.  
    More important was learning how to use the weapon. He had thought, at first, that merely pointing the hollow end in a certain way would make the noise. Now, with sudden bravado, he seized the thunder-club and pointed it above the trees.  
    No blast!
    Only faintly disappointed, he turned his attention to the strange parts near the center of the weapon. Perspiration ran down his chest as he imagined the noise erupting again. Yet it had not seemed to hurt the black-haired sailor. It was Paruru's spear that had brought the man down!  
    Slowly he let his fingers explore the puzzling mechanism. One part resembled a bird's head on a long and sinuous neck. Below this hung a long, narrow tooth. He poked and prodded, discovering eventually that the bird's head could move. He had to exert some force to pull it back a short way, and suddenly it slipped from his fingers. The beak sprang down and