Justice and Utu Read online

  Riki snickered. ‘It’s Napier, Mr D. Heaven on Earth.’

  ‘Can’t be Heaven if you two are here,’ Tama replied. ‘Must be Purgatory.’ He eyed Mat. ‘Why did I marry a skinny woman, so she could breed a greyhound for a son?’ He winked at Colleen, who raised a sceptical eyebrow.

  ‘Yeah, you shoulda married a big lady,’ Riki said, ‘and then had some lard-arsed prop forward son that you could outrun.’

  ‘Hey, I was a lard-arsed prop!’ Tama protested. ‘Don’t diss the front-row union!’

  ‘I, for one, am grateful to be born just the way I am,’ Mat put in, looking at his mum.

  ‘Wait ’til you’re being left behind by your own children, son — then you’ll understand,’ Tama told him. He looked at Colleen. ‘I suppose I’d better shower and get ready.’

  The two adults went inside. Riki looked at Mat. ‘Hey, bro, your mum and dad getting it on again?’

  Mat pulled a face and shook his head. ‘Nah. She’s just down for the funeral. This lawyer guy Dad knew dropped dead. He was like eighty or something and still working. Mum had met him at dinner parties and stuff so she came down.’

  ‘Shame for your dad to lose a mate.’

  ‘Royston Belsworth.’ Mat gave a wry grin. ‘Actually, Dad was terrified of him. He reckons Roy used to rip shreds off him in court. He was the chief prosecutor, and they came up against each other all the time. Dad said Roy could peel paint with his voice when he got worked up. He used to totally shit himself when he came up against him.’

  ‘Sounds hilarious,’ Riki grinned. ‘Still, good that he’s going to the tangi, eh? You going?’

  Mat shook his head. ‘Nah. Dad says he can’t trust me at funerals after the last one.’

  Riki laughed aloud. They both knew exactly what Tama meant: the last funeral Mat had been to was his Nanny Wai’s tangi, and Mat had stolen a bone tiki and ended up being pursued half the length of the North Island by the most evil tohunga makutu in two worlds. A repeat of that wasn’t an attractive proposition. He’d been fifteen then. Now he was nearly seventeen, but he’d changed immensely: he was a trainee tohunga ruanuku (or ‘Adept’, as his mentor Aethlyn Jones preferred to say), and could do things few others could. He had met a goddess, faced death and evil, and seen secret places in a secret world. It showed sometimes in his eyes, in his bearing and his maturity. Only a few months ago, he and Riki had fought patupaiarehe and warlocks in Rotorua, and freed the legendary tohunga Ngatoro from imprisonment in a secret lair of evil. All that they had been through in the past year lay at the heart of their new maturity. Sometimes it was a struggle to care about things like school, sport, TV, movies, and even girls when there was so much more to worry about. This world was hard enough, but Mat could journey at will to another world: magical Aotearoa, the Ghost World.

  ‘So, have those concert tickets we ordered arrived?’ Riki asked, changing the subject.

  Mat grinned. ‘Yeah, absolutely! We’re going to the Green Day show, man! Second Saturday of February, in Wellington. Wiri and Kelly are going to put us up. Cassandra’s confirmed: she’ll drive down from Gizzy and pick us up on the way through. Has Damien confirmed?’

  Riki grinned. ‘Sure has! The Dame’s got some big fencing tournament on in Auckland the week before, but he says it’ll be over by Thursday and then he’ll come down.’ He tsked. ‘Dame still hasn’t forgiven us for not calling him up that last time we were in Aotearoa. He was gutted when I told him about it.’

  ‘He shouldn’t be: we could have all been killed,’ Mat replied in a low voice, checking to make sure his mother wasn’t eavesdropping on the conversation. The less his folks knew about some of what they faced in Aotearoa, the better. Both knew of the Ghost World, but knowing of it and experiencing it were different things.

  ‘Yeah, when I told him that, it just made him more envious.’

  Mat laughed softly: that sounded like Damien. The four of them were going to get together in January here in Napier, and he was looking forward to that more than anything. Although they all had other friends, the bond Riki, Damien, Cassandra and Mat shared was unique: they had been to Aotearoa.

  The two friends lay on the grass soaking up the sun, letting the breeze dry their skin. November had been windy but warm, promising a hot summer to come. Traffic rolled in the distance, and gulls called as they glided by. The neighbours’ children were crying over something, and Mat could even hear the clip-clop of a horse out on the road—

  A horse?

  He sat up just as a rider turned into their driveway. His horse was big, a shaggy brown beast of a creature, wide-eyed and skittish, with soaking-wet, sweaty flanks. The rider was tall and straight-backed, and clad in a long leather coat and broad-brimmed leather hat, like a drover. He had a sabre and musket among the bags strapped to his saddlebags.

  ‘What the heck?’ Riki breathed as he saw the man. The boys stood warily.

  ‘Greetings,’ the rider called formally. ‘I’m seeking one Tama Douglas.’

  Mat frowned. Why would someone like this want Dad? ‘You must mean me. I’m his son, Mat.’

  The rider peered at him, then fumbled into a saddlebag, coming out with a thick envelope with a handwritten address on the front. ‘No, lad. It says “Tama Douglas” here. I’m a courier, sent by the governor himself.’

  The governor? Mat looked at Riki, and then back at the house. ‘Um … I’ll get Dad. Do you need anything for the horse, sir? Water or something?’

  ‘Aye, water’d be nice, thank you. We’ve ridden long ways today. My name’s Baisley. Jonah Baisley, from Akarana.’

  ‘Akarana?’ Mat asked.

  ‘Akarana is Auckland, in Aotearoa,’ Baisley replied. He swung out of the saddle and stroked his horse’s nose. ‘I’ve been on the road two weeks. My horse would be grateful for some feed, too, if you have it, young sir.’

  ‘Er, we don’t have horses ourselves, sir, but he is welcome to the lawn.’

  Baisley shrugged. ‘I understand. I’ll get him housed tonight, once I’ve delivered my message. I can collect your father’s response tomorrow.’

  Mat nodded, wondering what on Earth — or Aotearoa — this ‘governor’ might want of his father. He hurried inside. His mother was in the kitchen, battling the usual stack of dishes. He crept past the door: she would flip if she knew there was a courier from Aotearoa outside.

  He found his father in his room. He’d just pulled on his best trousers, but his belly wasn’t quite contained by his belt, and he still looked hot and bothered.

  ‘Dad!’

  Tama looked up. ‘Son? What’s up?’

  ‘There’s a man on the front lawn with a message for you.’

  Tama raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, bring him in.’

  ‘I can’t — he’s from Aotearoa.’

  Tama’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What?’

  ‘He says he’s got a message for you from the governor. I think he means Governor Grey.’

  ‘Governor Grey? But he’s been dead for …’ Tama’s voice trailed away. ‘Oh.’ He pulled on a white shirt. ‘Does Colleen know he’s there?’

  Mat shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

  Tama put a finger to his lips. ‘Best we keep it that way. I’ll be out in a minute. Can you take him round the back without Colleen seeing him?’

  ‘I dunno — he’s got a horse — but I’ll try.’

  Two minutes later, Tama slipped out the back door, taking in the sight of Jonah Baisley and his old-time gear with an incredulous shake of the head, but he composed his expression and strode forward, shaking the courier’s hand and accepting the envelope. He opened it and read, while Mat and Riki watched with bated breath. Tama looked more and more troubled as he took in the contents of the letter. Then he looked up at Baisley: ‘And this is really from Governor Sir George Grey?’

  Baisley gave a small bow. ‘The same, sir.’

  Tama shook his head. ‘Good Lord.’ He ran his right hand through his damp hair. ‘You must understand that all this is ha
rd for me to take in. I mean, Grey is dead.’

  Baisley inclined his head sympathetically. ‘I know. I’m “dead”, too, if that helps, sir.’ He winced. ‘Though I guess it won’t much.’

  Tama rubbed his face. ‘Not really.’ Then he flinched as the back door opened and Colleen stormed out.

  ‘What’s going on? Who are you?’ She glared at Baisley, taking in the old weaponry and harness with something like dread creeping over her face. ‘What do you want with us?’

  Mat took his mother’s hand. ‘He’s a courier, Mum — he’s got a message for Dad.’

  Colleen’s hand clamped onto his like a vice. ‘He’s from … that place … isn’t he?’

  Mat nodded as gently as he could. ‘Yeah.’

  Colleen stared at Baisley and then at Tama. She’d been kidnapped and taken into Aotearoa by Puarata for a short time last year, until Mat and Wiri had freed her. She’d also had her house in Taupo attacked by goblins only two months ago. The experience had been terrifying, and she now lived in dread of ‘that place’, fearing it could rip her family apart again. ‘Well, we don’t want whatever it is, you hear me! Tell him, Tama!’

  Baisley glanced at Tama. ‘Is that your reply, sir? Only, the governor was most insistent that you be appointed.’

  Tama groaned. He looked at Colleen, and then at Mat, clearly thinking very hard. Then he turned back to Baisley. ‘I’ll consider it. Come here tomorrow evening and I will have an answer.’

  Colleen O’Connor swore under her breath, words Mat had never heard his mother use before.

  Baisley bowed. ‘Very well, sir.’ He tugged the reins of his mount, waved to the boys, then led his horse around the house. The sound of boots and hooves faded into distance. Mat knew of several nearby gates between Aotearoa and this world — the good people of Napier would not even notice Baisley’s coming and going.

  Colleen pulled her hand out of Mat’s, and stalked towards Tama. ‘Well, what is it?’

  Tama looked down at the letter in his hand with a stunned look on his face. ‘It’s a request for my professional services. Apparently Donna Kyle wants me to represent her at her trial in February.’

  Mat was still awake when his dad got back from the funeral. Riki had gone home. He had allowed himself to hope, just a little, that Mum might have come back too, that by some miracle his parents might have patched things up. But after the shock of the courier’s message he supposed that was pretty unlikely.

  Two months ago, Aotearoa had reached out to him for the third time, dragging him into a conflict between the dead Puarata’s surviving warlock disciples. They had been seeking Puarata’s secret lair, the place which had provided him with the overwhelming mystic powers that had permitted him to dominate Aotearoa and even manipulate the real world for centuries. Te Iho — The Heart: any warlock who gained dominion over it would become as powerful as Puarata had been.

  Donna Kyle was one of those warlocks, and Mat’s most dreaded enemy; a woman who had been Puarata’s lover and would-be heir. But in the final conflict between the warlocks, confronted by the prospect of being forced to serve her hated father, Asher Grieve, she had capitulated, enabling Asher to be captured. This had not gained her clemency, however: she had been sent north to face a trial for witchcraft and myriad other crimes, with the prospect of public execution. And now Tama Douglas, defence lawyer, had been asked to represent her.

  Mat didn’t know what to hope for. The look on Donna’s face as she had surrendered still haunted him. He had pitied her then. But she had been the right hand of Puarata for half a century. Who knew what crimes she had committed? He’d been told that, in Aotearoa, Governor Grey had sworn to see her hang. Maybe it was what she deserved.

  Tama poured himself a Scotch and slumped into a lounge chair opposite Mat. ‘Hey,’ he said tiredly.

  ‘Hey, Dad. How’d it go?’

  ‘Well, that old bugger Belsworth is buried. I guess I’ll miss him.’

  ‘What’re you going to do about the letter, Dad?’

  ‘I dunno.’ Tama pulled the letter out of his breast pocket and unravelled it, then passed it to Mat. ‘Here, tell me what you think.’

  Mat smoothed open the letter, and read it carefully.

  To Tama Douglas, Esquire

  Barrister at Law

  At the request of the accused, Edith Madonna Kyle, you are hereby commissioned to act on the said prisoner’s behalf in the case R v Grieve & Kyle, to be heard at the High Court, Akarana, from 12th February of the coming year, Judge J. S. Williams presiding. Payment of 200 sovereigns is tendered as your retainer, plus expenses. The Crown requires confirmation of your acceptance or otherwise by return courier.

  Right Hon. Sir George Grey

  Governor of Akarana and the North

  Mat hadn’t known Donna Kyle was ‘Edith Madonna’. At another time he might have laughed. ‘Two hundred sovereigns?’ he asked.

  Tama sipped his whisky and winced a little. ‘Sounds like peanuts. It’ll probably vanish like the fairy gold in Colleen’s Irish tales.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘That’d make her laugh.’

  ‘I guess Mum isn’t too happy about this?’

  Tama barked out a short, bitter laugh. ‘That’s an under-statement. She told me if I do it, then don’t expect to ever speak to her again.’

  Mat swallowed. ‘So you won’t do it, right?’

  And let the governor hang Donna Kyle, who saved us all.

  Tama didn’t speak for a moment, and when he did, he answered with a question of his own. ‘I guess Kyle asked for me because of you?’

  It wasn’t something Mat wanted to think about. ‘I s’pose.’ He had not told either parent much about what had happened at Te Iho.

  ‘Why would she ask for me?’ Tama persisted. ‘If anything, I’d have thought she would want me well out of it, after what she’s done to you before.’

  Mat bit his lip. ‘Uh, she probably thinks I’ll persuade you to try and save her. In Rotorua, back in September, she … uh … could have won. But she threw away the chance deliberately.’

  Tama raised his eyebrows. ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘She hates her father, and she knew that winning was going to hand all the power to him. And … I think — I’m not sure — that she was sick of it all.’

  Tama’s eyes narrowed in concentration. ‘Sick of it all?’

  ‘Yeah. The killing and lying and all that shit.’

  ‘But, from what you’ve told me of her, she doesn’t seem the surrendering type.’

  ‘She did, though. Wiri said he’d speak for her,’ Mat added glumly. Dad sounded interested, which would be just like him. Tell him he couldn’t do something, and he redoubled his efforts. It was a family trait.

  Tama pursed his lips, fingers tapping on the whisky tumbler. ‘Wiri said that? His opinions matter in Aotearoa.’ He was silent for a long time. Mat was scared to move in case his dad asked him any more questions.

  Don’t do this, Dad …

  Eventually Tama stood up, in one abrupt motion. ‘You go to bed, Mat. I’ll see you in the morning. I just have to check up a few things online.’

  Next morning, Mat crept downstairs at seven. He had an exam that afternoon: History, which was fast becoming his most useful subject; the most relevant to Aotearoa, anyway. His dad was still at the computer, smoking (he’d supposedly given up), with the empty whisky tumbler beside him. He had bags under his eyes. When he saw Mat, he yawned. ‘What are you doing awake, son?’

  ‘It’s morning, Dad! What are you doing still up?’

  Tama blinked at his watch. ‘It is? Good grief!’ He stubbed out the cigarette, and yawned again. ‘So, how much do you think 200 sovereigns comes to, Mat?’

  Mat shrugged. ‘Dunno. It’s old-time money, so it might be hard to cash.’

  Tama shook his head. ‘No, there’s a market, through collectors. Face value is the gold price plus a bit for rarity. I’ve done the maths. Mat, the fee of 200 sovereigns comes to nearly $100,000! That’s several times
my normal fee. It’s enough to wipe the rest of the mortgage. It’s ridiculous money.’

  Mat groaned to himself. No Dad, no! ‘Like you said, it’ll probably just vanish. Some stuff doesn’t translate from Aotearoa very well.’ Not that I think gold is one of those things. ‘There are other lawyers, Dad.’

  ‘Wiri will testify. I’ve asked him about it. I called him after you went to bed.’ Tama fixed Mat with a look. ‘You’ll have to take the stand as well.’

  Mat gulped. ‘No!’

  ‘Certainly. You were a witness at the crucial moment, when she reneged on her old life and came back to the light. Wiri told me all about it. Your testimony and his might prevent her from being hung. You’d be crucial.’

  ‘But … I hate her! I can’t stand her! She deserves to die!’

  There, I’ve said it.

  But do I believe it?

  ‘Mat, she might be guilty, but deserving of death? Most civilized countries don’t have the death penalty anymore. The real victory will be having her sentence reduced, and I think we can certainly argue she deserves that. You must testify.’

  ‘Dad, you can’t do this! Mum will kill you! You’ll never get back together with her if you do it!’ Mat sucked in his breath, suddenly scared he’d said too much, that Dad would fly into one of his famous rages. But he couldn’t unsay it now.

  Tama took a long time to reply, and when he did, his voice was sad but determined. ‘I don’t think that’ll happen anyway, Mat. Too much has happened. And in the meantime it seems to me that you owe Donna Kyle a debt. We all do. Wiri said as much, and he was no more willing to speak well of her than you are. I will represent her, and do my best. Even if it does mean going to Aotearoa and dealing with worse than Ranginui Puarata.’

  Mat opened his mouth to argue the point, then closed it again. Dad had made up his mind. He never changed it afterwards. Not if all the judges and lawyers in Creation argued against him. ‘Dad, Governor Grey has sworn to hang her.’

  Tama nodded, seemingly energized rather than deterred by the warning. ‘I can use that fact to create a moral imperative towards clemency.’