Beside and to the left of King Kamehameha another man was on the dais—standing; the only seat in the room was filled with Ali'i . An older man, he was, scrawny and weathered, looking like he'd been carved from nut brown wood. He too wore a cape—no feathers, just red fabric—and a loincloth. Around his brow was a headband, and a single feather of some kind protruded from the back, to sag forward—forlornly, I thought—over his forehead. An advisor of some kind, I figured at once. What had Scott called these guys? Kahunas , that was it. The kahuna looked only a couple of years younger than God himself, but he had the same steely edge in his eyes as Gordon Ho. Not a slag to trifle with.