Love And War (24 page)

“How are young men supposed to see a goddess in you if you do not take better care of your
appearance? That won't do. Take it off. Have your women comb your hair again before you
replace it.”

She was a full-grown woman of power, yet her subjects would be astonished to see how she
shook before her father's words.

Still, it was not easy for Arrowthorn to watch his only child tremble with shame. He put
his hand on her shoulder and lifted her chin to bring her eyes up to his own. “It would
hardly matter in Riverwind's case. His whole family is cursed thus.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Arrowthorn drew in a long breath. “Wanderer, grandfather of Riverwind, learned too much in
his wanderings. He broke pact with our gods and taught his family to do the same.”

“Is that why they are so poor?” Goldmoon asked, remembering their shabby hut out on the
plains.

“That is not important. Suffice it to say that I do not question their loyalty, despite
their peculiar beliefs.”

“But, how can you not when they deny us?”

“You remember once we spoke together of those among us who say their faith is strong, or
their loyalty is great, and yet the truth is another matter?”

Goldmoon nodded. The priesthood of the Que-shu passed from mother to eldest daughter, but
- peculiar among the tribes of the Plains - the position of chieftain went to the man who
won the hand of the priestess. Such a man's worthiness was judged both by the priestess
herself and the current chieftain, her father. It was a tradition stemming from antiquity,
a tradition that had kept the royalty of the Que-shu strong. Yet there were men,
especially chieftains' sons and spumed suitors, who rankled that their bids for power were
thwarted by one healthy girl-child grown to womanhood. Arrowthorn had warned her once that
many argued against this tradition, though none dared do so in the royal family's presence
- yet. That was why she must be perfect in her example. The people obeyed their
goddess-to- be, but evil men could turn them away from her if they could make her seem no
more than a mortal woman.

Arrowthorn continued, “And just as it would not be expedient to probe these false claims
of loyalty too deeply, we accept the loyalty of those who claim a different belief.”

“But why?”

Arrowthorn sighed. “Because they are only mortals, my child. And though mortals are not
infallible, they must be given the freedom to make their own choices. How else are we to
choose the truly righteous when it comes our time to judge as gods?” Goldmoon mused over
that for some moments, then argued, “But we must teach them the true path.”

“Teach, but not force them to march along it.”

“Perhaps Riverwind could be coaxed to follow the path,” Goldmoon pointed out.

Secretly, Arrowthorn thought: He might follow quarry down it some ways, but he'd drag it
back once he'd shot it. Aloud, he merely warned his daughter, “I would not waste too much
time on him, my daughter. Men like Riverwind will take orders, but persuasion only brings
out their stubborn streak. More likely he will make you look foolish.”

“Is that what you discuss with Loreman and the rest when I am not about, how his family
makes us look foolish?”

Arrowthorn would not lie, so he merely shrugged and replied, “Among other things.”

“Like what things?”

But Arrowthorn turned about to go, commanding her as he left, “Have your hair done,
replace the circlet, and go about your other duties. They are numerous this day, aren't
they?”

As the contest time neared, Goldmoon crossed the challenge ground, her hair and circlet
now as perfect as the rest of her appearance. All about the edges of the clearing warriors
were warming up and practicing. As they caught sight of her, they stopped their activity
and watched her approach. The priestess kept her eyes fixed on her destination, the
weapons tent. Thus, while all eyes were on her, it was she alone who saw a man crawl out
from beneath the canvas near the rear of the tent.

Goldmoon's brow furrowed upon recognizing the intruder. It was Hollow-sky, son of Loreman.
The historian was a man of wealth and influence in the tribe;

his family had kept the records of the Que-shu for many generations. Goldmoon knew that he
had been one of her mother's suitors, but it was impossible for the priestess to imagine
Tearsong choosing him over Arrowthorn. His stature was only average, his frame wiry, and
the features of his face - though considered handsome and refined by many women - were so
pale and ill-defined that Goldmoon sometimes felt sorry for him. He faded into the
background beside her father's strongly masculine and still hearty form. Loreman wasn't
half the warrior her father was, he was arrogant and tight with his money, and he lost his
temper or brooded when he did not get his way. After Tearsong died, he had argued constantly with
her father about the management of the tribe. Yet Lore-man's son Hollow-sky was among the
few men Arrowthorn had judged fit company for his daughter in her childhood.

The princess had thought once how magnanimous that was of her father, but she came to
realize it had been the chieftain's way of bartering for peace with Loreman. The unity of
the tribe was of the utmost importance to her father. He would buy it at any price, even
if it meant selling his daughter's affection to his enemy's son.

Once, Goldmoon might not have minded, for when she was a child she had loved Hollow-sky
dearly. But when Hollow-sky began training as a warrior with his older brother, Hawker, he
had changed. For the next few years her former playmate, engrossed in more “manly”
pursuits, had practically ignored her. When his attentions to her were finally renewed, it
had been all too obvious that he was not interested in her as a friend, but only as a
prize.

At first, his attentions had been exceedingly satisfying, for then she had thought
Hollow-sky was attractive and powerful; but soon his personality began to irritate her as
Loreman's irritated her father. Worse, his courtship was tainted by his persistent
conviction that he was the wiser, the stronger, the superior of the two of them. He made
decisions for her without her leave, or tried to dissuade her from decisions she had
already considered carefully. When they fought, he made a point of reminding her of their
youthful games to coax her out of her anger, tainting the only pleasant memories she had
of him.

Unfortunately, her father seemed to assume her dwindling feelings of friendship for
Hollow-sky would grow into love because of his own need to keep the tribe unified, and
others whispered what a perfect match they would be - he so strong, she so beautiful. No
one could see how her feelings had changed, and she had no mother to counsel her.

Now Hollow-sky was up to some mischief in the weapons tent, a place he should not even be
near. Goldmoon knew she should question him, but she did not want to confront him today.
She didn't want to listen to his excuses or even speak with him, so she said nothing as
she approached the guards posted at the opening to the weapons tent. Oblivious to their
failure, they bowed respectfully to the priestess and held back the flaps of the tent for
her to enter.

Left alone inside, Goldmoon found nothing apparently amiss. All weapons were stored here on festival days, ostensibly in acknowledgement of the
chieftain's sovereignty, though it coincidentally cut down on injuries in brawls that
might develop as the celebration wore into the night. Goldmoon shrugged. Whatever
Hollow-sky had been up to she would get out of him later. For now she must put him out of
her mind and bless the warriors' weapons.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, but her eyes caught on some feathers that she
recognized as marking Riverwind's sparring pole. There was nothing shabby about the rare
and precious wood, probably something his grandfather, Wanderer, had harvested on his
journeys. Angrily Goldmoon snatched it up and started to toss it to the side. “We'll see
what a marvelous weapon this is and what a great warrior he is without my blessing.” But
then she noticed the thin crack running along the upper third of the pole. She saw at once
that it was not a natural crack.

“Hollow-sky!” she whispered.

Knowing that Hollow-sky and his brother, Hawker, were clear favorites to win the contests,
Goldmoon immediately assumed he'd done this deed for her. Perhaps he'd even tell her later
how he had paid Riverwind back for the unbeliever's insult to herself.

Unsure she wanted this sort of championship, Goldmoon debated what to do. Perhaps
ignominious defeat was the fate the ancestors had decided for Riverwind. Yet . . . why
would the gods have let her discover the crack, if not to correct the matter?

Her duty was clear to her.

Finding another pole of the same rare wood was not easy. She had to substitute one of her
father's old poles, and affixing Riverwind's feathers to the replacement was a nuisance.
Finally, when she had finished the work and placed the substitute pole among the blessed
weapons, she began to have second thoughts.

Her father's sparring pole was a weapon her mother had undoubtedly blessed, perhaps even
the one her father had used when he'd won the right to escort Tearsong to the Hall of the
Sleeping Spirits. Stubbornly she tried to recall if there was a way to UNsanctify the
weapon.

“Goldmoon?” Arrowthorn entered the tent and looked quizzically at his daughter. A slight
smile crossed his lips. “Still praying? They are only going to fight one another, you
know, not our enemies 1”

Goldmoon lowered her eyes to hide her worry and confusion. “Father, please. This is
serious to me.”

“Forgive me. Of course. But everyone waits on you.”

Goldmoon followed her father and took her place in the viewing stand. The contests started
with a series of wrestling matches. The tribe all gathered about, unreserved in their
cheers and boos. Goldmoon watched silently with intense interest. She was the leader of a
warrior tribe and was herself a trained fighter, as were all Que-shu women.

A new bout was just starting when she heard Clearwing, one of her female attendants,
whisper to the other, “Perhaps it's true what they say of this Riverwind.”

Goldmoon's eyes remained on the games, but her attention was drawn to her servants'
conversation.

“What?” Starflower, her other attendant, whispered back.

“They say he was raised by leopards,” Clearwing replied.

“What nonsense!” Starflower sniffed. “There are no leopards on the plains.”

Clearwing shrugged. “My grandmother says he was raised by leopards and that Wanderer
brought him back with him from one of his wanderings.”

Goldmoon turned her attention back to the wrestling. Riverwind's bout was just starting.
Undeniably powerful and graceful, there WAS something feline in his movements.

“You have to admit he has the grace of a cat,” Clearwing added, echoing her mistress's
thoughts.

“So true!” Starflower said with a sigh.

Not wishing to listen to any more praises of Riverwind, Goldmoon sent both girls off with
some coin to purchase stickycakes to keep their mouths closed. The smell of the sweetened
bread set her stomach rumbling, but she bore it stoically. The royal family ate in public
only on ceremonial occasions so as not to remind their subjects of their mortality.

The wrestling matches, a footrace, and an archery contest culled the contestants down to
eight. The ancestors had yet to bring Riverwind to his knees, and Goldmoon wondered if he
attributed his victory to whatever gods he did worship. As he came forward with the others
to collect his sparring pole, the priestess watched him deliberately, but he gave no sign
at all that he detected the switch she had made. He did, however, look up at her and smile.

The grim hunter's expression disappeared from his eyes. His smile was that of a young man,
warm and friendly, and Goldmoon saw there the loyalty her father had not questioned. The final event was longsticks, a contest fought in a large circle, in which the fighters had to stay armed and within the circle. At the judge's
signal, the men engaged each other with dangerous thrusts and parries, and the crack of
wood shattered the air.

Two men quickly managed to knock each other out of the ring and roll clumsily into the
crowd, instantly disqualifying themselves. Goldmoon saw that Hawker and Hollow-sky were
being very aggressive, smashing at their opponents' weapons time and again. Riverwind,
with a series of unrelenting, well-timed jabs and blows, wore down his opponent,
Treewhistle, until Treewhistle lost his grip on his pole. The weapon clattered to the
ground and rolled out of the circle before its owner could retrieve it.

There was a sudden snap of wood, and then another, as Loreman's sons both broke the
weapons of those they fought. Goldmoon frowned. This could not be coincidence. The full
extent of Hollow-sky's activities in the weapons tent was now clear. This was sacrilege!
She would let him know of her displeasure.

Simultaneously, the brothers turned on Riverwind. It seemed a foregone conclusion that
they would double-team him and win the contest together, but Riverwind had had a moment to
breathe and analyze their movements. He held his pole high, almost inviting them to smash
it. Only one of them could strike without getting in the other's way, so Hawker declined
in his brother's favor.

Hollow-sky swung, but Riverwind was a blur of color as he dodged, weapon and all, beneath
Hollow-sky's arms. The unblessed warrior slammed his pole at the unsuspecting and relaxed
Hawker. Hawker's weapon soared from his hands over the heads of the crowd and landed on
the viewing stand at Goldmoon's feet.

Hollow-sky, witnessing his brother's defeat, seemed about to smash his weapon down on
Riverwind's head, but the judge rushed forward between the two, proclaiming them the
winners. Riverwind and Hollow-sky would be Goldmoon's escorts to the Hall of the Sleeping
Spirits.