Love And War (26 page)

Arrowthorn came to Goldmoon's lodge before dawn, before even the night owls ceased their
hunting. He sat beside her on the edge of her cot. “We must speak.”

Goldmoon sat up with a yawn. She thought the lecture on dancing was coming. But when she
looked at Arrowthorn, she knew something much more serious was wrong. Her father looked
tired, as though he had not slept.

“It's about Riverwind, isn't it?” She sighed.

Arrowthorn snorted derisively. “Among other things,” he answered. “Since he is still the
least of our worries, we will start with him. You know you can never marry him?”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because our tribe has enough trouble remaining stable without you adding the killing
blow. Riverwind is an unbeliever. The man you marry will become chieftain when I die, and
the chieftain cannot be an unbeliever. If a chieftain denies your authority, he denies his
own, leaving a wedge for another power to drive into the tribe, destroying it.”

Goldmoon shrugged. “Riverwind is taking me to the Hall of the Sleeping Spirits. There,
when I speak with the gods, he will learn his error.”

“More likely the gods will speak with you and not allow their words to be heard by the
heretic,” Arrowthorn argued. “But for his disbelief, he would make a good chieftain,”

Goldmoon countered. “Even you were Impressed with him - I could tell. I will beg the gods
to give him a sign. Surely Mother will not deny me that.”

At the mention of Tearsong, Arrowthorn's warrior's frame shuddered. The years since his
wife had died of fever and slipped into godhood had been too long and too lonely. He had
carried all the responsibility for raising their daughter, ruling and protecting the
tribe, and keeping the likes of Loreman from tearing it apart. But the joy that should
have been his reward - lying beside Tearsong every night - was denied him. His leadership
and strength had suffered from her absence, and he knew it better than any other. Whenever
he let Loreman get his way without an argument, whenever he wasted entire evenings
gambling, whenever some battle scar ached or a coughing fit seized him (as they did more
and more often these days), Arrowthorn was full of self-loathing. He cursed his
unworthiness and lived in despair that he would ever join Tearsong as a god.

The only thing he had to feel proud of was Goldmoon, but if she continued with this
stubborn championing of the heretic Riverwind, she, too, would be lost.

There were more immediate dangers than River wind, however. “We waste time on this,”
Arrowthorn declared.

“We must speak of the book.” “Hollow-sky's gift? I was wondering about that. I could not find it last night. I wanted to read the last page.“ ”It is in my lodge. If I could, I
would bum it before I would let it defile your eyes.“ ”Father! Why?“ ”It is full of slanders, vile insinuations
against the line of priestesses and all the warriors they have married and made chieftains. At the same
time it praises Loreman's line. One who reads this book would think the tribe survived
only because of the wisdom and generosity of Loreman's ancestors.”

“But how can that be? Loreman said he condensed it from ancient writings?”

“If I could get my hands on those writings . . . but Loreman's grandfather hid them away
from the tribe. 'For safekeeping,' he said, in anticipation, no doubt, of the day his
jackal heirs would gain the daring to threaten us.”

“They've given it to me in public, for the whole tribe to read, so we could not bum it,”
Goldmoon reasoned.

Arrowthorn nodded. “Loreman must have hoped that you would believe it, be shamed by it,
and marry one of his sons to gain some semblance of respectability.”

“That is exceedingly unlikely.” Goldmoon sniffed.

“There was a time you cared very much for Hollow- sky,” he said quietly.

Goldmoon's eyes narrowed.

Arrowthorn looked away from his daughter, his eyes misted with tears she must not see. The
chieftain had hoped Goldmoon could love whatever man she must marry, but her disgust for
Hollow-sky was clear. He spoke softly, “This matter has weighed heavily on me for many
years. I do not want you to be unhappy, Goldmoon, and I can understand that your feelings
for Hollow-sky have cooled now that you are older and your judgment more sound. But if no
other powerful warrior of worthy family can be found, you must consider Hollow-sky your
only suitor. Your marriage to him would keep our tribe together.” He paused and added,
“That is your duty.”

Goldmoon breathed deeply, controlling her turbulent feelings. It was rare that her father
expressed his concern for her happiness, and she was touched that he did so now. But that
did little to soften her anger. Now any accusations she made against Hollow-sky for
sabotaging his opponents' poles yesterday would look like a weak counter-attack;
Hollow-sky's character did not enter into this, only his skill as a warrior and his family's position in the tribe. The injustice galled her.

“Why must my duty to the tribe always come first?” she asked. “Why can't I choose with my
heart as other women may?”

“You are not as other women.” Arrowthorn raised his hands as though they were the trays of
a balancing scale. “Weigh carefully which is more important, your heart or your duty.
Consider - Loreman is powerful, Hollow-sky may become even more so. Unless you wed a
strong leader whom all the people will follow, you will never be able to fend off the
historian's or his son's lust for the office of chieftain. They will divide and splinter
the tribe. Then there will be no priestess, no Book of the Gods, no faith. We must prevent
this at all costs, even if it means sacrificing our happiness.” He rose and gently stroked
her hair as he had when she was a child. Then he left without another word.

Goldmoon's head remained bowed in humility at her father's words and the tears she had
seen gleaming in his eyes. Arrowthorn was right. The tribe must be kept together at any
price. She could not leave her people without her guidance as a priestess. And the Book of
the Gods must be preserved, for in that volume the names of those who were to become gods
at death were written down. The faith that had bound her people since the time of darkness
must remain intact. She resolved to put her father's worries to rest. She would bear the
burden for these responsibilities, but on her own terms.

It was now imperative that Tearsong help her bring Riverwind to the true religion of the
Que-shu. If the warrior became a believer, her father could have no strong objection to
their union. She was confident that Loreman and Hollow- sky would be no match for her with
Riverwind by her side.

The princess was dressed in her riding leathers of doeskin when Clearwing and Starflower
finally came in to attend her. She had already packed up her own bedroll for travel.

“Forgive us for keeping you waiting, mistress,” Clearwing begged.

“It is of no matter, Clearwing,” Goldmoon said softly. “I rose very early. Just do my hair
quickly. I'm anxious to be off.”

The very first golden rays of morning lit the grasslands as Chieftain's Daughter stepped
from her lodge to begin her journey to speak with her gods. Many villagers had turned out to see her off, despite the early hour. Riverwind held her horse's reins and stroked
the animal's forehead. Hollow-sky stepped forward.

“Allow me to help you up, Princess.”

Goldmoon paused. Her father watched them, looking older and more tired than she had ever
seen him look before. She could make his life and her own much simpler. Hollow-sky's hand
reached out for her own.

What kind of goddess has no pride? she thought. She turned a withering look on Hollow-sky
and said in a frigid tone, “I've been riding horses since before I could walk! Do I look
as if I need help, Hollow-sky, son of Loreman?” She grabbed her horse's mane and pulled
herself onto its back.

Hollow-sky and Riverwind mounted their own beasts while Clearwing and Starflower climbed
into a small cart driven by Clearwing's younger brother.

Without warning, a flutter of dark wings swooped down on the princess. Goldmoon felt a
pinch at her scalp. She cried out more from surprise than pain. Glancing up, she saw a
huge raven circling overhead, cawing fiercely, waiting for another opportunity to strike.

“It is an evil omen!” Loreman cried.

“Nonsense,” Riverwind countered. The bird plunged again at the princess, but a twang of a
bow put an arrow through its breast, and it dropped to the ground with a thud. A boy in
the crowd retrieved it and handed it up to Riverwind, for it had been the shepherd's arrow
that felled the creature.

“You are a very quick notch and aim,” Goldmoon complimented him.

Riverwind smiled at her.

“It is an omen,” Loreman repeated more loudly, “of war!”

“Just a crow” - Riverwind laughed - “that wanted to steal the princess's shiny treasure.”
Carefully he drew out several strands of long, golden hair clenched in the bird's claws.
He held them up for the crowd to see. “Wealth beyond any man's dreams,” he called out.
“Who can blame the poor crow?”

The crowd laughed, and as the sun shone even brighter, the evil feeling was dispelled. The
crowd cheered as the party left, Goldmoon in the lead.

When the near-silent party crossed into lands the Que- shu shared with other tribes -
sometimes disputed over - Hollow-sky took the point, which he considered his by his
superior rank, while Riverwind rode behind the princess.

As they settled into their new positions, Goldmoon held her horse back from Hollow-sky's
and signaled for Riverwind to ride alongside her. She saw that the raven was strapped to
his saddlebag.

“What are you going to do with that bird?”

Riverwind grinned. “Later, we will see if it is good eating. Some of them are, you know.”

Goldmoon shook her head. It was not a dish she had ever been served. Noticing then that
the Plainsman had her strands of stolen hair still wrapped about his fingers, she gave a
slight, hastily concealed smile.

Riverwind looked down at his hand to see what made her smile. “Stolen gold,” he murmured,
flushing. “These are yours, I believe, lady,” he said, untangling the golden threads from
his fingers and leaning over to hand them to her.

Goldmoon took the hair carefully.

“It is a lovely color.” Greatly daring, he reached over to push back a strand of living
hair that had fallen across her eyes.

Feeling a thrill at his touch and knowing that her own cheeks must be burning, Goldmoon
hastily smoothed her hair over her shoulder. To cover her pleasure, she held up the broken
strands. “Thank you for saving these for me,” she laughed awkwardly. “I can hardly be
Goldmoon without the golden hair.”

Riverwind looked back at her. “Of course you can. You were Goldmoon when you were born,
and you were quite bald then.”

“That's ridiculous!” Goldmoon said, shocked. “How dare you?”

Riverwind shrugged. “It's true. You can ask Hollow- sky, if you like - he must remember.
Though he's not likely to tell you the truth if he thinks it will displease you.”

Goldmoon closed her mouth on the disparaging comment she had been about to make. Riverwind
certainly understood Hollow-sky. She thought for a moment, then argued, “I don't believe
there is such a thing as a bald baby. I've never seen one.”

“Well, you've never seen anyone with hair like yours, have you?” Riverwind returned. “I
was five when I first saw you. I remember asking Wanderer if you'd been sick, because you
had only tiny, pale wisps of hair. He told me that you were going to have light hair, and
that sometimes light hair comes in more slowly. He said such things were natural among
distant tribes. You will see for yourself, no doubt.“ ”What do you mean?“ Goldmoon asked. ”When you have a baby of your own,” Riverwind explained. Goldmoon flushed and looked away, disturbed at the direction the conversation had taken. She lowered her head, allowing her golden hair to
fall across her feverish cheeks. The thought of bringing up little Hollow-skys,
grandchildren for Loreman, was disgusting! But Riverwind ...

She was silent for so long that Riverwind asked, “Is something wrong, Princess? Have I
offended - ”

Goldmoon shook her head. “Tell me about your family,” she said, glad to change the
subject. “Didn't your father used to be a tanner? Why did he leave the village and become
a shepherd?”

Riverwind raised his eyebrows in surprise. “The story is common knowledge,” he answered.

“I have not heard it,” Goldmoon replied firmly.

Riverwind shrugged and proceeded to explain. “During the summer of drought, the Que-shu
battled with the Que- kiri, and my grandfather Wanderer was wounded. Your father went to
the village of the Que-kiri to negotiate a peace, and since you were still far too young
to sit in judgment, Loreman sat in your place. As Wanderer lay dying, Loreman came to him
and offered to write his name in the Book of the Gods - to make him a god for his bravery
in battle. But Wanderer refused, saying that men could not make gods of each other.”

Goldmoon bit her lip, determined to hear Riverwind's story in full before debating truths
with him.

“Loreman was angry and declared that Wanderer had planted a dark seed, meaning, of course,
my family's belief in gods more ancient than the gods of the tribe. Loreman decreed that
the seed must not spread beyond our family. So he confiscated my father's trade and cast
us out. We may live only at the edge of the Que-shu's lands. Therefore, tending sheep and
hunting are our only ways of making a livelihood.”

“And having granted Loreman the authority, my father could not undo what he had decreed,”
Goldmoon added. She silently determined that she would do something to reverse Loreman's
ban on Riverwind's family when she returned. She had only to prove to Riverwind that her
ancestors were the true gods to get him to give up his ridiculous belief in the foreign
gods of Wanderer.

Hollow-sky dropped back by the twosome, causing the cart-horse behind them to whinny in
annoyance and prance to reposition itself behind the riders' horses. A peevish look marred
Hollow-sky's fine-boned face. He gave Riverwind a cursory glance of disdain and then
turned his attention on Goldmoon. “Great Lady,” he began, “if you would ride ahead with
me, I would enjoy talking with you on such a fine day.”