‘And another thing. He’s been talking about having curios for sale. He’s been nosing round. Asking about old times. Over at the Peak.’ Smith’s voice slid into an uncertain key. He went on with an air of nervousness. ‘Someone’s told him about Rewi’s axe,’ he said.

Rua turned, and for the first time looked fully at his companion.

‘That’s not so good, is it?’ said Smith.

‘My grandfather Rewi,’ Rua said, ‘was a man of prestige. His axe was dedicated to the god Tane and was named after him, Tokipoutangata-o-Tane. It was sacred. Its burial place, also, is sacred and secret.’

‘Questing reckons it’s somewhere on the Peak. He reckons there’s a lot of stuff over on the Peak that might be exploited. He’s talking about half-day trips to see the places of interest, with one of your people to act as guide and tell the tale.’

‘The Peak is a native reserve.’

‘He reckons he could square that up all right.’

‘I am an old man,’ said Rua affably, ‘but I am not yet dead. He will not find any guides among my people.’

‘Won’t he! You ask Eru Saul. He knows what Questing’s after.’

‘Eru is not a satisfactory youth. He is a bad pakeha Maori.’

‘Eru doesn’t like the way Questing plays up to young Huia. He reckons Questing is kidding her to find guides for him.’

‘He will not find guides,’ Rua repeated.

‘Money talks, you know.’

‘So will the tapu of my grandfather’s toki-poutangata.’

Smith looked curiously at the old man. ‘You really believe that, don’t you?’ he said.

‘I am a rangitira. My father attended an ancient school of learning. He was a tohunga. I don’t believe, Mr Smith,’ said Rua with a chuckle. ‘I know.’

‘You’ll never get a white man to credit supernatural stories, Rua. Even your own younger lot don’t think much…’