Love and War

Heart of Goldmoon

The air of excitement was high as the Que-shu tribe milled before the ancient stone platform that was the focus of their village. Everyone was clad in colorful festive raiment. Adding to the delight of the senses was the delectable smell of foods being prepared for the celebration to come.

One by one, however, the exhilarated men, women, and children fell into silence as their attention was caught by a lone young woman, climbing the granite construction before them. Soon, all was still. No child giggled, no babe even cried. Nothing disturbed the faint shuffling sound made by the slippered feet of the holy woman as she ascended to the platform.

The woman was Goldmoon, princess and priestess of the Que-shu. Those who watched knew that upon her death

in the far future — Goldmoon would become a goddess, as

had her mother, Tearsong, and all her deceased ancestors. Goldmoon was the tribe's link to their gods. Her father, Chieftain Arrowthorn, would also achieve godhood, but, as revered as he was, the silence and awe of the crowd was reserved for the slender woman who was his only heir.

Goldmoon's long, silken hair was brighter than the golden grasses waving in the fields near the village. Sight of her hair still astonished the dark-haired tribesmen. "It is a mark of her favor with the ancestors," they said. As she reached the platform and bowed to the crowd, the sun glinted from those golden tresses, and no one present witnessing her grace, her beauty, or that bright crown of hair doubted Goldmoon's worth in being honored with this ceremony.

Goldmoon turned from the platform edge and bowed respectfully to her father, who had previously ascended the platform. Though it was her mother's blood that decreed Goldmoon's status as priestess, it was her father's greatness as a warrior that had won him Tearsong's hand in marriage. Only Arrowthorn's cunning and wisdom had kept the reins of power from being torn from their family's hands after the crushing blow of Tearsong's early death, and had held them until she, Goldmoon, was old enough to serve as priestess to her people.

Goldmoon moved to Arrowthorn's right side and fixed her gaze out over the plains to the mountain on the northern horizon. She could not see it from here, but she knew that near the summit was a vast cavern, called the Hall of the Sleeping Spirits, where the mortal remains of Goldmoon's dead ancestors lay, behind a door opened by the rays of Lunitari, the red moon, only once every ten years. On the morrow, Goldmoon would journey to that cavern for the first time to speak with her ancestors, her gods. She found herself excited and perhaps a little anxious.

First, however, must come the games that would decide who her escorts were to be. Only those two warriors who proved to be the best would accompany and protect her on the journey. Twenty young Plainsmen, lean and muscled, all eager for the honor, filed onto a lower tier of the platform and formed a semicircle before their princess. Goldmoon, seemingly transfixed by the heat thermals shimmering in the air before her, appeared not to notice the men.

When the last man took his place, however, Goldmoon turned her gaze to the historian seated on the platform behind her father, writing on a parchment with deliberate strokes. She heard Arrowthorn let out a breath that might have been a subdued snort of annoyance at Loreman. The historian's painstaking slowness was an obvious ploy to demonstrate to the tribe the importance of his own position. Loreman finished writing the names of the contestants with a flourish, then looked up and nodded to the princess.

Goldmoon had already performed hundreds of religious ceremonies. Since her mother's death she had carried all the burdens of priestess — praying for her people, their crops and livestock and weaponry, tending the sick and injured, settling disputes, burying the dead. But because of the infrequency with which the door to the Hall of the Sleeping Spirits opened, she had not been able to perform this most important ceremony, during which she would dedicate her life to her people. Now, this day had arrived. These men seated below her would fight for the privilege of escorting her, and undoubtedly one of them would eventually court her, as her father had courted her mother.

"One of you had better be worthy," she said silently to the men.

Goldmoon unfurled her personal banner; the gold crescent moon emblazoned on the dark cloth shone in the sun as brightly as her hair. She called out, "May the blessings of the Ancient Dead give courage, endurance, and strength to the greatest among you."

Cheering in reply, the Plainsmen held the banners of their individual houses aloft.

Leaning down, the priestess drew a crystal dagger from her boot scabbard. Cunningly fashioned and hollow within, the dagger doubled as a vial containing a handful of sacred sand. With a twist, Goldmoon slipped the handle from the blade and poured some of the fine, warm, dry contents into her palm. Turning with a flourish, Goldmoon sprinkled the golden powder over the men before her, taking care that no head should escape at least a little dusting.

Resisting the impulse to brush the remaining grains from her palm, the priestess began to touch each head With her fingertips in blessing. Each warrior, as she stood before him, knelt and gazed up at her with admiration and devotion. All but the last one.

He wore well-cared-for but well-dented armor, and his clothing showed equal signs of wear and repair. His was not a familiar face, but Goldmoon recognized his banner as belonging to a poor family that lived in a hut at the edge of the grazing lands the Que-shu shared with bordering tribes. The warrior's name was Riverwind, and there was something about him that Arrowthorn, Goldmoon's father, spoke about with other men, but it was a subject always dropped when she entered the room.

Goldmoon moved into position before Riverwind, wondering idly what emotion she would see in his eyes, but he stepped back with a feline grace. Startled, and annoyed at the break in the smoothness of the ceremony, Goldmoon managed not to show her surprise. Believing the young peasant too simple to understand the ritual, she said softly, "We are not quite finished. If you will kneel before me, I will bless you."

"I need no blessing to pass this day's test, and I will not kneel to you or any other mortal creature," Riverwind replied. He spoke quietly, but his deep voice sounded across the platform.

Goldmoon stiffened with repressed anger. She would not be embarrassed before the tribe, her holiness denied. She gestured for the guards to come from the side of the platform. They stood behind the infidel, prepared to haul him away at her command.

Before she could motion for them to remove Riverwind from her sight, however, Arrowthorn was by her side interceding. "If it please, your grace," he whispered to her, "this one" — he glared icily at Riverwind — "intends no disrespect; he simply does not believe as we do."

The chieftain spoke up so the crowd could hear, "Riverwind, grandson of Wanderer, why are you here at this ceremony? It is not required for you to attend."

Riverwind shifted his eyes from the daughter to the father. Goldmoon's breath caught in her throat at his daring and pride. Yet the warrior's blue eyes showed not a hint of nervousness. Calmly, but with enough volume to carry to the tribe below, he replied, "I am a warrior, and my swordarm will be a strength to my people. Although I do not worship as you do, you have my loyalty. I, too, desire a safe journey for my Chieftain's Daughter. Today's games will prove my worth."

Riverwind glanced away from Arrowthorn, capturing Goldmoon's own reluctant gaze. He smiled ever so slightly. Goldmoon quickly shifted her focus out across the plains. What she had seen in those eyes in that brief instant caused her to shiver despite the golden heat of the sun. It was the look of a hunter stalking his prey.

"Well said," Arrowthorn stated, then he turned to the waiting crowd. "Let the games begin."

Goldmoon stood stunned, not seeing the men before her or the plains spread out around her. She could not believe what she had just heard. How could her father give his approval to this arrogant, rebellious peasant? And how dare he circumvent her will? He might be her father, but SHE was the priestess!

The warriors filed from the altar, Riverwind at the end of the line. Goldmoon followed behind him stiffly. She took each step down the stairs firmly, as though she were trodding on this Riverwind's head.

The chieftain followed his daughter, appearing completely calm. Loreman remained up above, still scratching away at the parchment with his quill, relating his version of the events which had just passed.

Goldmoon entered her lodge, closing the door behind her father. Then she whirled about, free to vent her anger and confusion. "I do not understand how you could allow — »

"Silence!" Arrowthorn said.

Goldmoon bit back her words.

The chieftain surveyed his daughter critically. She wore a formal robe that Tearsong, his dead wife, had also worn, and was, but for her hair, the image of her mother. She performed all the duties of Chieftain's Daughter without trouble or complaint. Goldmoon was, in fact, nearly flawless, yet Arrowthorn could never bring himself to tell her so. Godhood was not earned by the careless.

He suppressed his pride and snapped, "Your circlet is crooked."

Goldmoon felt her face flush crimson as her hands rose to straighten the slender silver band on her head.

"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 sub jects 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 beperfect 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 fail ure, 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.

The crowd cheered, but the priestess eyed both critically as they approached her. Hollow-sky gave Riverwind a vicious glare, then stepped forward as Goldmoon extended her hand to touch his forehead in blessing. But Hollow-sky grasped her fingers and pressed a lingering kiss on them.

Though this was hardly customary, the crowd cheered again, laughing. There was, after all, that other aspect to these games — finding a warrior worthy of courting their priestess/princess. Distressed, however, by the ardor in Hollow-sky's gaze and still angered by the broken poles, the princess was determined to show him no favor. She held her hand out to Riverwind to give him the same advantage.

Riverwind looked startled at the slender, graceful fingers before him. He took the hand as though it were very fragile and turned it over, seeming uncertain as to what he should do.

"Well, Riverwind?" Goldmoon said, arching her eyebrows expectantly. Inside, the sudden fear surged that, for religious reasons, this… peasant might refuse to kiss her, and she would be embarrassed before the whole tribe.

"Perhaps he reads your palm, my princess," Hollow-sky joked.

Goldmoon was instantly grateful to Loreman's son for breaking the silence and saving her.

"No," Riverwind replied gravely. "That is not one of my skills."

"What? You don't even see a long journey?" Goldmoon teased, though inwardly she was growing just a little nervous — the warrior's grip on her wrist was now quite firm.

Riverwind's countenance grew more serious, though his smile never entirely left his lips. "A journey you shall have, no doubt. And with my protection it will be a safe one. I swear."

Without turning her hand over he lifted it to his lips. Goldmoon's heart started pounding as she felt him sniff at the scent on her wrist and then, very gently, kiss her palm. Long after he released it and she lowered it to her side, she could feel Riverwind's warm breath on her hand.

The Princess Goldmoon spent the remainder of the afternoon in the privacy of her lodge while the rest of the tribe began celebrating in earnest — eating, drinking, dancing, arguing, and brawling. The music filtered into her quarters, making the priestess wish that she could join them, like any other young woman. She sat at her loom, but her shuttle lay unmoving in her lap. Riverwind and Hollow-sky would be seated with her at the evening feast, and she was anxious to know what further surprises they had in store for her.

Finally, her father sent a servant, signaling that it was time for the priestess to dine with the tribe.

A flute and a drummer accompanied her entrance to the torchlit feasting grounds, where she sat at her father's right. The two chosen warriors then entered as the tribe sang a victory song in their honor. They sat opposite her. Goldmoon rose and, with a quick wary glance at Riverwind, invoked a blessing over the food. If the shepherd/warrior objected, he gave no sign. Then the feast began.

Goldmoon hadn't eaten more than two bites, however, before Hollow-sky rose and begged leave to speak.

"I have a gift to present to you, Princess, in honor of this day," he announced.

As the young man spoke, his father, Loreman, walked proudly toward the head table. He wore a ceremonial cloak decorated with feathers, and he was carrying a heavy, ornate leather book.

Loreman lay the book on the table beside Goldmoon, saying, "It has taken me many long hours to complete this work. It is a history of the generations of Que-shu since the great Cataclysm three hundred years ago. I have condensed many old writings and made them into one book. The last page, you will see, describes the events of this very day. It is for all the people of our tribe to read, but we give it into the care of the princess, and hope she is the first to read it."

There were many murmurs of appreciation from the people seated at the tables near the royal family. A book was a rare thing, and the gift was completely unexpected, especially coming, as it did, from Loreman, who was not noted for his generosity. Goldmoon ran her hand along the smooth cover, delighting in its texture.

Hollow-sky leaned over the table, placing his hand over her own. "Read it carefully, Princess," he whispered.

Goldmoon wanted very dearly to see this last page. She wondered if Loreman had anticipated his two sons winning today's contests, and if he had had to rewrite it. Hawker, seated at his father's table, did not accept defeat graciously, and did not bother to hide his scowl. Goldmoon was suddenly very pleased that Riverwind had defeated him.

"We had best keep it from harm by storing it in your lodge right away," her father suggested, and he abruptly whisked the book out of her possession.

"Perhaps she would prefer to leave it on display or to look at it further," Loreman argued.

"Forgive my haste, Loreman, but it may rain, and we would not want it damaged," Arrowthorn replied in a tight, sharp voice.

The two men stared at each other in an obvious contest of wills, but a moment later the historian deferred with a bow and returned to his own table.

Arrowthorn summoned some of his own men to convey the book to his daughter's lodge.

Goldmoon, anxious to cover the moment's strain, called for the musicians to play. Her father, too, recognized the need for distraction and bid them, "Play a merry tune, to whet the people's appetite for dancing so that they might not overeat."

Laughing at the chieftain's joke, the people began to feast in earnest. Goldmoon noted that Riverwind had a hearty appetite, if not the most dainty table manners. Hollow-sky, on the other hand, though well-trained in what passed for courtly graces among the Que-shu, picked sulkily at his meal.

Less than half an hour into the meal, young people began to rise from their tables to dance. Goldmoon felt a momentary twinge of envy at their freedom and knew that the emotion had shown on her face when Riverwind asked, "Would you like to dance?" Once again he gave her that warm smile.

Hollow-sky quickly interjected, "Chieftain's Daughter does not dance. But then an infidel shepherd could not be expected to know her as well as a longtime family friend. Perhaps a short walk would suit better," he added, holding out his arm for her to take.

Goldmoon gritted her teeth. It was true that she did not dance. If she were to grow winded, it would be another reminder to her subjects of her mortality, something her father objected to. But Arrowthorn had left the meal early to throw the bones with his generals, and since he was free to indulge in the vice of gambling, Goldmoon could not see what harm there could be in one little dance. There was another reason, as well. She was determined to show Hollow-sky that he could not make her decisions for her.

"Chieftain's Daughter does dance, she just does not always choose to do so," Goldmoon replied coldly. "She chooses to dance now with Riverwind. Later she chooses to walk with Hollow-sky, for she has a few things to say to him."

"Alas, lady, but I must rest early tonight if I'm to be a good guardian in the morning," Hollow-sky objected.

"Then rest well, Hollow-sky," Goldmoon remarked, shrugging. Abruptly, she took Riverwind's arm and moved toward the dancers.

Actually, Goldmoon had never danced in public before. Humming the music, she had practiced in the privacy of her lodge, doing as many of the steps as she could recall seeing. But really dancing was quite different. As Riverwind led her away from the tables, she began to stiffen.

A calloused but gentle finger ran down the inside of her forearm, startling her into looking up at her partner. "The musicians want to know what dance you choose," Riverwind said softly.

"Please, choose for me," Goldmoon whispered back urgently.

"Something simple enough for my great, clumsy feet," he joked.

Goldmoon looked up into his blue eyes. He knows, she thought, that at this I am not infallible, yet he is kind enough to cover for me.

Riverwind untied the long, burgundy sash at his waist and held it above his head with a great flourish. "The princess chooses 'Tiger-hunt,'" he announced loudly.

Goldmoon relaxed. Tiger-hunt was a reel. Very simple. She noted Hollow-sky's sister, Ravenhair, smiling weakly at her, obviously vexed. But for Goldmoon, Ravenhair had the highest standing among the women of the tribe. She would have led the dance if the princess had remembered her place and stayed off the dance ground.

The high staccato notes of the flutes pierced the air as Goldmoon took her place a few paces behind Riverwind. Riverwind stamped his foot and tossed one end of the sash behind him. Goldmoon echoed the stamp with a lighter patting of her foot, just short of the sash's end. Riverwind walked a few steps forward, pulling the sash in a teasing manner, a hunter baiting a tigress.

Goldmoon pounced forward and scooped up the end of the sash in one graceful motion. She gave it a tug and Riverwind spun on his heel to face her. The hunter's look was in his eyes again, and the torchlight glittering in his blue irises made them appear red. Holding the sash between them, the shepherd and the princess circled one another, Goldmoon entranced by those eyes.

She had always found this dance a little silly, and never understood its popularity. It seemed better suited to children's play. Yet, as Riverwind fell to one knee and she spun about him at the end of the sash, she suddenly understood the dance's true meaning.

Riverwind gave a tug, and Goldmoon began spinning toward him, winding herself into the sash. As soon as she was within his reach, Riverwind caught hold of her and pulled her self-tied form down to his knee. With his arm wrapped about her, it seemed to Goldmoon that Riverwind was not as large as her father, but there was no doubt he was powerful, at the height of his manhood.

There was a pause in the music, and Goldmoon became aware that all about them young men were taking the opportunity to snatch kisses from their «helpless» partners. Her heart beat with anticipation. With a flick of her tongue, Goldmoon moistened her lips, but Riverwind held her stiffly, his eyes averted from her face, staring out into the starlit night.

Though his face was stem, Goldmoon could tell that he was breathing more heavily than the dancing's pace warranted, and with her arm pressed against his naked chest, she could feel his heart pounding.

Goldmoon leaned closer. Riverwind's breathing quickened. He started to turn his face directly to hers when the flute trilled without warning and the dance resumed.

Riverwind and all the other «hunters» gave a tug on their sashes, sending the «tigresses» spinning outward like tops. In a flurry of laughter and bright-colored clothes, each woman shifted around the next man.

"I'll have that flute player flogged!" Goldmoon muttered to herself as she smiled politely at her new partner, Hartbow, Watcher's son. They repeated the same silly pantomime with his blue sash. Hartbow's eyes were blue, too, but the light did not catch them the way it had Riverwind's, and Hartbow's look was not very predatory. He, too, took no liberty with her as she sat, bound up, on his knee, but smiled shyly at her.

It was the same with all the rest of her partners. Some, she sensed, would have kissed her if they'd had more nerve. Hollow-sky would certainly not have hesitated, but he had not stayed for the dance. Still, she found herself irritated that no other Que-shu warrior had the courage to touch his lips to her own. No one had even held her as closely as Riverwind had.

"Is Riverwind kissing his other partners?" she wondered curiously. "Does he watch them with the same hunter's look?" It was impossible to sneak a peek at him, though, and still pay attention to what she was doing. The pauses in the music and the uneasiness of her partners became more unbearable. Embarrassed and frustrated, she vowed silently not to wait until her wedding night for a kiss…

Then Goldmoon was once again only one partner away from Riverwind. He danced with Ravenhair. They held each other as aloofly as possible. Goldmoon understood that Ravenhair resented Riverwind's defeat of her brother, Hawker. But whether her escort had been so distant with all his other partners, the princess could not know.

The last repeat to the dance came with all the original couples together. Goldmoon studied the lines of Riverwind's back and legs, not truly paying much attention to the sash he snaked in front of her, so she was a little late diving for it. But when he tugged, she had a firm grip and tugged back with equal ferocity.

He looked just a little surprised, which made her smile, and if she could have seen herself, she would have recognized the tigress in her eyes. She spun about him, pulling hard, watching his muscles strain to hold onto the sash. Then she twirled herself into his arms. Bound, sitting on his knee with his arms about her, she realized that he was as much a prisoner as she, hardly able to dump his princess on the ground before the whole tribe. The tigress had won.

Placing her arms around Riverwind's neck, Goldmoon pulled his head toward her and pressed her soft lips against his, just as she'd seen the others do but as she'd never done herself.

Riverwind's arms tightened about her, and he kissed her back with a passion that sent an unexpected thrill of pleasure through her body. His mouth tasted of the sweet fruit they'd eaten at dinner, and his bare arms were warm against her sweat-cooled flesh. Suddenly he pulled his head away from hers, as though he had just realized he was kissing Chieftain's Daughter before the entire tribe. His face flushed darkly as he heard murmurs and giggles.

Goldmoon, breathing hard, spun out of his sash without his help. She turned abruptly and walked from the dance ground, leaving her partner behind as the music diminished.

Her father, standing at the edge of the crowd, watched her approach. But before he could begin to chide her, Goldmoon raised her chin and announced, "I go now to my lodge to pray for a safe journey to the resting place of my ancestors. Good night, my chieftain." She kissed him gently on his cheek and walked past him. Suddenly he didn't seem so very much larger than Riverwind. For that matter, Riverwind did not seem quite so overpowering either.

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 objectionto 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. "Duringthe 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."

Riverwind's face darkened with hostility, and Goldmoon wished Hollow-sky would vanish.

"Lady?" Hollow-sky queried, impatiently. His hands gripped his reins too tightly.

Riverwind's hand slid smoothly along his longstick in a vaguely threatening manner. In response, Hollow-sky, with seeming casualness, ruffled the feathers atop his own pole.

If I do not separate them, Goldmoon thought, they are likely to continue with yesterday's contest.

"Please excuse me," she said regretfully to Riverwind. "Come, Hollow-sky." She nudged her horse ahead a bit, and Hollow-sky followed.

The party of riders and servants made only a few short stops to stretch their legs. They ate dried meat and fruit on the trail. It was a typical summer afternoon on the open plains — hot and still. Grass insects hummed and swarmed and made a nuisance of themselves. The only excitement of the ride came when their passing flushed birds out of the grass or when snakes or small animals underfoot startled the horses.

At last, just when Goldmoon felt she could no longer bear her own trickling sweat, they began to climb into the hills at the foot of the mountain that held their goal. Cool, pine-scented air reached the travelers, renewing their energy and spirits.

The trail became steeper and narrower. Just when it seemed that the cart could go no farther, a high meadow came into view. Here Goldmoon instructed Clearwing and Starflower to unhitch the cart horse and load it with her belongings. They were then to make camp and await her return, which should be by midday the next day. Her serving women were reluctant to let her go on without them, but she repeated her orders, eyeing them sternly. No one but herself and her two escorts were allowed on the holy ground.

Goldmoon and her escorts continued upward with the cart horse. The trail grew worse; in some spots it became almost vertical. The cart-horse-turned-pack animal balked, and Riverwind had to dismount and coax, tug, and push it along. Hollow-sky watched without offering to help, an amused look on his face. Finally, they came to a spot where the horse refused to be moved no matter what Riverwind did.

Tossing her horse's reins disdainfully to Hollow-sky, Goldmoon slid off her horse and joined Riverwind. She covered the animal's eyes with her hands and murmured softly in its ears. When she sensed the beast relax, she tugged gently and it followed her along the rim.

Riverwind stared at her with admiration, but Goldmoon, failing to acknowledge it, remounted without a word, and they continued on.

The path divided unexpectedly on the lower slopes of the mountain itself, one trail heading up the west slope, the other the east.

"Which way, Princess?" Hollow-sky asked.

Goldmoon's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "I do not know. I thought there was only one trail."

"The shadows are lengthening," Hollow-sky said unnecessarily. "If we take the wrong route and need to turn back, we shall have to travel in the dark to be there when Lunitari's rays open the cavern, and that could be dangerous."

The princess wondered why Arrowthorn had not warned her of this. She looked for signs that one trail was newer than the other, but she really could not tell.

"Why don't you rest, Princess?" Hollow-sky said. "I will scout down one path and return as quickly as I am able. And you, shepherd, scout the other."

Goldmoon bristled. Riverwind was not an underling for Hollow-sky to command, and worse, the son of Loreman was again making decisions and giving orders on her behalf.

"You will scout the trail, Hollow-sky," she said firmly, "and Riverwind will remain here as guard." Her tone brooked no argument.

Hollow-sky sat stiffly astride his horse as Riverwind dismounted, tossing a tight-lipped smile at his rival. Hollow-sky's fingers strayed to the feathers atop his long stick as they had earlier. Ignoring the subtle challenge, Riverwind defiantly turned his back on Hollow-sky.

The Plainsman stood alertly at the path's divide and watched Hollow-sky depart, as Goldmoon sat down on the ground and leaned against a tree.

"Come sit with me, please," she commanded.

Riverwind lowered himself into a cross-legged position before his Chieftain's Daughter.

"I have something for you. I made it during the ride across the plain," Goldmoon whispered. She held out her hand, displaying a small golden circlet. "You rescued them from the crow," she said, and Riverwind saw that she had woven the strands of her hair which he had rescued into a lacy ring. She laid it in the warrior's palm, where it glistened golden in the sun.

Riverwind was silent for many long moments staring down at the gift. When he finally slipped it around a finger, Goldmoon let out the breath she found she'd been holding for fear he would reject it.

Drawing a chain from his shirt and removing it over his head, Riverwind said, "I would like you to have this."

Goldmoon quickly shook her head. "You don't have to give me anything in return."

"You must take it," Riverwind insisted. "I have already accepted two gifts from you."

"Two?"

Riverwind reached up and placed a hand over the pole strapped to his back. "This was not Wanderer's weapon."

"Well, I'm afraid his weapon was…" Goldmoon paused confusedly — "damaged."

"I thought as much. Why did you replace only mine?"

"It was the only one I knew about. I wanted the contest to be judged by the gods, not by mortals."

Riverwind nodded. "I see."

"But I am not displeased that you were one of the victors," Goldmoon assured him.

Riverwind smiled at her, the smile of a friend. "Then please," he said, "accept this."

Taking the chain from him, Goldmoon saw that it was made of common brass, but the charm hanging at the end — two circles joined together — was of brilliantly polished silver-blue steel, so valued a metal among the Que-shu that it was never used to make jewelry.

"It's called an infinity sign or a forever charm. But it is more than a decoration — it will protect you, keep you from harm."

Looking slightly puzzled, Goldmoon ran her fingers around the steel circles. "This has something to do with the ancient gods, doesn't it?" she asked.

Riverwind nodded. "It is the symbol of a goddess, but her name was lost to the memory of our people as were all the names of the true gods. I suspect Loreman knows them, but he will not say."

On first hearing that the charm was a symbol of a strange goddess, Goldmoon was tempted to reject the gift. However, if Loreman does not like it, she thought, perhaps there is some good to it. She slipped the chain over her head and tucked the amulet into her shirt.

Riverwind, too, let out his held breath and smiled gently at his princess.

They sat quietly, giving in to their fatigue. Goldmoon's eyes closed.

The sound of galloping hooves startled Goldmoon awake. While she slept Riverwind must have tucked her fur cloak around her. He stood alert, his bow at the ready. But it was Hollow-sky who rode up, his face flushed with excitement.

"This must be the right path. It leads to a road like none I have ever seen before. Hurry, the sun is going down."

Goldmoon and Riverwind mounted up and followed Hollow-sky down the path he had scouted. About a quarter of a mile along it suddenly turned into a broad road, at least ten feet wide and paved with huge, flat stones, work never seen among the tribes of the plains. Still, it seemed familiar to Goldmoon, though she could not tell why.

Although the slope was steep, traveling was easier now, for the way was quite smooth and they could let the horses trot. There was still plenty of light in the sky when they arrived at the landmark Arrowthorn had described to Goldmoon — a large stone arch straddling the road.

"I recognize this stonework," the princess said, relieved to know they were on the right road. "It's just like the platform in our village."

Riding underneath the arch, she halted her horse where she could touch the cool rock. Looking up, she saw symbols carved on the underside of the arch. Many were unrecognizable, but the largest, carved at the apex of the arch, consisted of two circles joined together. Goldmoon drew out the amulet Riverwind had given her and gasped softly. The steel charm glowed with a soft blue light in the shadow of the rock.

"Is something wrong, Princess?" Hollow-sky asked, turning to see why she had not passed all the way through.

Instantly Goldmoon cupped her hand about the symbol to hide its light and tucked it back into her shirt. "No, nothing," she said coolly, riding on through the archway.

Beyond the arch was a large, grassy clearing, surrounded by tall, ancient pine trees. The clearing sloped upward to a stairway carved out of the stone of the mountain. Set into the cliff face at the top of the stairs was a pair of huge stone doors. Goldmoon sat motionless on her horse for several minutes, just gazing at those doors. Beyond them, she knew, lay her ancestors who were now gods and goddesses. But most special to Goldmoon was her mother, Tearsong.

Goldmoon remembered her mother alive, laughing and beautiful. She also remembered her ill and dying. And she remembered her dead, encased in the sarcophagus which held her remains until the doors above had opened ten years ago, allowing Arrowthorn to entomb them at last. The princess's dearest and most secret wish was to see her mother again, as a goddess, laughing and beautiful.

A touch on her forearm made Goldmoon turn. Silently, Riverwind made a gesture toward the plains they had crossed. Far below, the sun was setting on the golden fields, painting them a rosy-purple hue. She could pick out a hundred hawks rising on late afternoon thermals, sighting prey, and swooping down on their dinners. Farther off, barely visible, were the thin wisps of smoke which she knew came from her father's village. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Shepherd, you cook supper while I tend to the animals," Hollow-sky ordered, tossing a bag of ground grain at Riverwind's feet.

Riverwind nudged the bag with his boot and said flatly, "I will roast the crow instead — after I've cared for my own horse and pitched the princess's tent."

Hollow-sky clenched his jaw, and his eyes narrowed as he inhaled deeply, an angry reply bubbling to his lips.

Assessing the tension, Goldmoon took command. "It is kind of you to raise my tent, Riverwind," she said lightly. Turning to Hollow-sky, she added, "You may make the porridge after you've attended to the pack animals."

"As you command, Princess," Hollow-sky replied coldly.

When Riverwind finished pitching her tent, Goldmoon arranged her things within. She laid out the ceremonial garb she would wear later — a long, sky-blue gown embroidered with gold crescent moons on the hem and sleeves.

Outside, Riverwind roasted the bird that had stolen Goldmoon's hair, while Hollow-sky stirred a pot of boiling cereal, eyeing the bird with apparent disdain. In the brisk mountain air, after the long day's journey, Goldmoon would have found anything delicious. Hollow-sky's well-prepared meal was quite satisfying, but the smell of Riverwind's bird was mouthwatering. So when the warrior declared it done and offered her a portion, Goldmoon could not resist, though Hollow-sky only sneered and would have none of it.

Replete, Goldmoon rose to go to her tent. She smiled when she saw Riverwind attempt to hide a yawn and fail utterly.

Hollow-sky, on the other hand, seemed to be filled with energy. "If it pleases you, Princess, I will take first watch. Riverwind has worked hard to get us here, he could use some sleep."

Goldmoon looked at Loreman's son, amazed at his sudden thoughtfulness, not to mention the fact that he'd asked her permission before making a decision.

Observing her astonishment, Hollow-sky said lamely, "It is the least I can do."

Wordlessly nodding her assent, Goldmoon hurried off to her tent. The night air was bitter cold. Once wrapped in her warm sleeping furs and rugs, the princess/priestess dropped off to sleep immediately.

She seemed to have slept only a few minutes when Hollow-sky, at the door to her tent, called her name softly. "Dawn is only half an hour off."

Shaking off the temptation to curl up in her warm rugs again, Goldmoon dressed hurriedly in her ceremonial robe and stepped out of the shelter of her cozy tent into the predawn coolness. It was time for the ceremony for which she had waited all these years. She fastened several, small, ancient crystal globes on her belt. In the Hall of the Sleeping Spirits, they would be filled with sacred sand.

"Where is Riverwind?" she whispered to Hollow-sky as he handed her a torch.

"I could not wake him, so I took both watches. The sheep-herder sleeps like a rock," he said, contempt in his voice.

"Try again!" Goldmoon commanded.

Hollow-sky shrugged. "Why bother? The sheep-herder is not a believer. The ceremony will mean nothing to him. He may even spoil it. Let him sleep."

Hollow-sky's refusal to obey her orders angered the priestess.

Goldmoon quickly knelt by Riverwind's bedroll and gave the warrior a shake. But he did not respond.

She spun about and stood to face Hollow-sky. "You've drugged him," she accused.

"Yes," he admitted. "I couldn't let him spoil my plans."

"Your plans? What are you talking about?" The princess suddenly felt chilled and even a little frightened in the predawn darkness. She began to search through her saddlebags for something, anything, that might bring Riverwind around.

Hollow-sky shrugged. "I know you will think this presumptuous of me, but I guarantee you will find my plans infinitely preferable to my father's."

"I know about the book, if that's what you mean." She could see nothing of use among her things.

Grabbing her arms, Hollow-sky forcibly turned her back around to face him. "You have no idea, do you?" He grinned and then said, as if explaining to a child, "Goldmoon, my father wants the title of chieftain for himself, but he can't take it as long as Arrowthorn has an heir. If you were out of the way, my sister Ravenhair would be priestess, then my father would be chieftain."

"Out of the way?" she asked in a sharp voice, determined not to reveal the fear spreading through her.

"Yes. Gone. Dead!" He bit off the words as he drew a sharp dagger from his belt and grabbed her roughly around the waist. The knife's edge glinted in the pale light as Hollow-sky held it menacingly near her throat.

"So why didn't you kill me in my sleep?" Goldmoon demanded, feeling the world reel about her. Stubbornly she forced herself to concentrate.

"I told you, I have other plans. I want you for myself, though the gods know why. You really are an arrogant witch sometimes. We'll marry, and then I'LL be chieftain. Loreman wants the power for himself, but the knowledge that his son, and later his grandchildren, will rule should satisfy him. In the meantime, he'll be content with your dowry." He smiled slightly, a smile that made Goldmoon shudder. "You should thank me for saving your life."

With his free hand, Hollow-sky clenched her hair close to the scalp, forcing her head to tilt back. As tears came to her eyes, Loreman's son kissed her as no man had ever dared to kiss her before. His passion was not an expression of affection, but an assault.

Struggling to wrench her face from him, Goldmoon gasped, "You're dreaming! I'll never marry you." Desperate, she threatened the first thing that came to her:

"I'll scream! I'll — »

"There is no one to hear you," he said, sneering.

His crushing grip bruised her shoulders through the silken cloth of her gown. She forced her arms down on the hand holding the dagger and almost succeeded in thrusting him away. He snatched at her and ripped the sleeve from her shoulder. Holding her more firmly than before, his face just inches from hers, the dagger point resting gently against her chin, he said, "Of course, you love the peasant!" He gave Riverwind's unconscious body a sharp kick and smiled cruelly when Goldmoon flinched. "That's why we'll ride down to the Que-kiri this morning. Any woman a man can drag to their priest, they'll declare married. Then, if your father ever wants to see you again, he'll have to agree to my worthiness and accept the vows of the Que-kiri as binding."

He is insane! Goldmoon thought to herself. I will humor him, stall him, until the doors to the hall open. Then surely the ancestors will aid me!

Goldmoon felt the weight of the forever charm against her breast. Her fingers closed around it. "Please, if this charm truly has a god, then help me now!" she prayed silently. A slow tingling sensation rose in the fingers that held the charm. It was so slight that she wasn't certain she'd felt it. She waited expectantly. Nothing happened. She suddenly felt foolish and angry with herself for even testing the charm.

Forcing herself to relax, she pressed against him, though his hot breath on her face sickened her.

"That's better," Hollow-sky whispered, squeezing her tighter. "Oh, Goldmoon, you'll get used to the idea. You'll discover that I'm more of a man than… than that shepherd there." He motioned at the still figure behind his back and moved his face close to hers. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, and then he kissed her again, even more intimately than before.

As Hollow-sky kissed her, she was astonished to detect movement in Riverwind's sleeping-bag. His head poked above the edge, two fingers pressed against his lips in a gesture for silence.

She roughly pushed Hollow-sky back. He scowled and thrust the dagger toward her threateningly, but it never reached the skin. The forever charm gleamed brilliantly, and a single arc of lightning leaped from it and flashed down the dagger, causing Hollow-sky to yelp in pain and drop the weapon. Goldmoon gasped in wonder.

As Hollow-sky stared disbelievingly at his burned hand, Riverwind threw back his bedclothes and stood.

The man reputedly raised by leopards stalked his prey so silently that Hollow-sky was totally unaware of him until Riverwind's two fists landed on his neck. Hollow-sky stumbled forward, stunned, letting go his grip on Goldmoon, who fell back away from him.

The shepherd could have drawn his sword and finished Loreman's son before he ever knew what hit him, but instead Riverwind slid his sparring pole off his back and waited for the other man to recover.

Hollow-sky turned about, his eyes widening with astonishment. "How —?" he started to gasp.

"Draw your pole, carrion crow," Riverwind snarled. "I didn't eat your drug-tainted porridge."

Hollow-sky's hand went for his sword, but Riverwind's pole lashed out. Hollow-sky cradled his injured hand in his other already stinging hand.

"I didn't hurt you badly. Draw your pole before I do," Riverwind warned.

Hollow-sky drew out his sparring pole. The two warriors circled each other warily. Goldmoon crouched on the grass in the pearl-gray of the predawn sky as the echoing crack of wood shattered the silence.

The men thrust and blocked, using jabbing maneuvers that she hadn't seen at the games. With a sharp intake of breath, she realized they weren't sparring but using moves meant only for real combat. Riverwind took a fierce jab under the kneecap, and she heard his gasp of pain. But pain seemed to spur the Plainsman on, for he suddenly whirled his pole aggressively, trying to disarm his opponent. Hollow-sky twisted his pole vertically and stopped the twirling of Riverwind's stick, nearly disarming the princess's champion.

The men were more evenly matched than Goldmoon had thought. Hollow-sky was good. Why he had bothered to sabotage his opponent's poles for the contest, Goldmoon could not understand. Is it possible he did not believe in his own skill, or is he simply so inured to his father's treacheries that he just automatically cheated? she wondered.

Goldmoon bit her lip anxiously.

The sky had taken on a faint reddish light, indicating that the red moon, which would open the doors to the hall, was about to rise. The dawn of the sun was brightening the sky all about her. She could see the combatants' faces clearly now. Riverwind's features were grim and determined. Hollow-sky's eyes were filled with bloodlust and hatred. Goldmoon shivered, but not with cold.

Sweat trickled off the men's bodies despite the cool mountain air. They circled each other again, waiting for an opening in the other's defenses. Goldmoon's fingers dug into the flesh of her arms as the tension rose like the mist in the meadow.

Suddenly, Riverwind snarled like a wild cat. The sound mocked a real wild cat's so accurately that it flushed a small flock of birds from the trees. The noise of their wings diverted Hollow-sky's attention for just an instant, but that was all it took. Riverwind knocked his adversary down, and Hollow-sky lost his grip on his pole. Riverwind closed in to deliver a blow that would knock the traitor senseless — or worse.

But Riverwind's injured knee slowed his attack, and Hollow-sky rolled away, scrambling to his feet. He slipped beneath Riverwind's blocking swing and ran up the stairs that led to the doors of the Hall of the Sleeping Spirits, dragging his pole behind him. Riverwind pursued him, just two steps behind. Goldmoon sprang to her feet and ran across the grass, following the warriors up the stairs.

As she reached the top step, Lunitari, the red moon, made its appearance above the horizon, shedding its light directly across the great stone doors. Very slowly the massive portals began to swing outward, showering gold sparks down on the two men locked in their deadly struggle. The footing on the rock platform out side the doors was slippery with sand, and the sides adjacent to the staircase edge and the door fell off sharply over sheer cliffs.

Goldmoon forgot her desire to gain entrance to the hallas she watched Riverwind, by jabs and blows, push Hollow sky toward the cliff. Both men teetered dangerously near the edge.

The opening doors nudged Riverwind slightly, breaking his concentration and forcing him to struggle to keep his balance. In that moment, Hollow-sky managed to land a blow across the side of the shepherd's head and face. Dazed, Riverwind raised his staff to block the next attack, but his reactions were slowed. Hollow-sky jabbed wickedly at the shepherd's already injured knee, bringing him crashing down on both knees. Seeing Hollow-sky close in on Riverwind, Goldmoon, consumed by fear for Riverwind's life, drew her crystal dagger.

She lunged forward, holding the dagger high over her head. Hollow-sky, intent on the kill, failed to look up. Goldmoon slammed the dagger down hard, gashing his right arm deeply. Hollow-sky's blood splashed over her dagger and wrist and onto the rock platform.

Startled, Hollow-sky staggered backward — and lost his footing on the sandy precipice. He tumbled over the edge, and his scream echoed up the cliff face, seemingly forever.

until his body hit the ground below. Bathed in red

moonlight, Goldmoon stood staring over the rock's edge, her hair stirred by a gentle thermal rising from below.

"Goldmoon! Come away from there," Riverwind cried, shaken.

As if in a dream, the priestess of the Que-shu turned from the cliff face and moved to the shepherd's side, helping him to his feet. Hollow-sky's scream echoing through her head, she sheathed her dagger without cleaning it.

"I had no choice. He was going to kill you!" she said and suddenly burst into shuddering sobs.

"I know," he answered. "I wanted to protect you this morning, but felt helpless while he held the dagger to your throat. Then the charm…" His voice trailed off as Goldmoon softly answered, "Yes, it protected me." Pulling her close to his chest, he stroked her hair in a gentle, calming motion.

Suddenly Goldmoon was very much aware of the man's arms around her. Then, remembering why she was here and how urgent it was that she convince Riverwind of the reality of her gods, she sprang away from him.

"The hall!" she cried. "We must get inside and hold the ceremony quickly before the doors close!"

As though mocking her attempts, the first ray of sunlight shot over the horizon, striking the doorway. The huge stone doors began closing on their own, scraping and rumbling against the stone platform beneath them.

"Hurry!" Goldmoon insisted, tugging Riverwind. With his injured knee, Riverwind had to lean on her to make it through the rapidly narrowing portal.

As they slipped through the opening, it closed with a thunderclap. Beneath the deafening echo, Goldmoon heard Riverwind gasp in pain. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"My injuries are minor," he answered curtly. "How do we open the doors again?"

Goldmoon hesitated. "I'm not sure we can. The ceremony is supposed to be held quickly between the red moon rising and the sunrise, while the doors stand open."

"You mean you risked being trapped in here?" Riverwind hissed angrily. "It's not enough you almost get yourself killed attacking Hollow-sky, you have to also bury yourself alive!"

"I stabbed him to save your life," Goldmoon reminded him with equal curtness.

Riverwind drew away from her. "You should have run," he said coldly, "not tried to save me. After all, I'm supposed to protect you, not the other way around."

"You are no use as a bodyguard if you are dead!" Goldmoon retorted, not understanding her own anger. Remembering those terrible moments when she thought Riverwind was going to die, she began to tremble.

"I suppose not," Riverwind said, chagrined. She could hear him withdraw even further.

Reaching out, Goldmoon found his hands in the darkness and took them in her own. "And, if you had died, I would have died out there, too," she whispered.

Riverwind drew several deep breaths without speaking. Goldmoon could feel his hands quivering in her own. Releasing his hands and moving forward, she wrapped her arms about him and rested her head against his chest. This time she noticed that his leather armor smelled of the spiced oil used to clean it. Riverwind pressed her near, holding her gently. In the cold, damp cavern, he radiated heat like a fire.

"When you first approached womanhood," he whispered, "and I saw then your beauty, I asked my family what age you would have to be before Arrowthorn would allow men to court you." He stroked her hair as he spoke.

Not interrupting him, Goldmoon luxuriated in the feel of his broad back beneath her hands, of his arm about her shoulders.

"My adopted parents tried to make me see that my poverty and faith would always keep us apart," Riverwind continued, "but I would not believe them. You never noticed me when I watched you, but others did, and Loreman himself came to our hut to warn my parents to keep me away from you."

Goldmoon guessed that that must have been the time she'd first heard her father discussing Riverwind with Loreman in hushed tones.

Riverwind continued his story. "My father sent me out to watch sheep in the fields farthest from the village. My mother's skill at weaving is great, so many send their daughters to apprentice under her, even though Loreman has forbidden it. My mother would invite the loveliest of these girls to eat with our family, but the memory of your face stayed with me. Then one night, Wanderer's spirit came to me and told me of the games held to choose escorts for the priestess's pilgrimage to this place. He said that some day you would give your heart to one of those escorts."

"And so I have," Goldmoon whispered. She raised her lips, so that she could kiss him, but Riverwind pulled away from her and held her at arms length.

"I must admit," the warrior said, "I felt certain of myself, seated next to you at the banquet. I could not imagine you with Hollow-sky, though my mother often warned me that the two of you were a likely match. When I saw you watching the dancers and realized you wanted to dance, I thought, 'She is just a woman, like other women.' But I was wrong. You will never be just a woman. You are and always will be Chieftain's Daughter. Now I doubt my worthiness. I am still poor, and our gods remain different."

Goldmoon was silent for many moments, before she said, "If I do not doubt your worthiness, then neither should you. And your fortunes might change."

"And the gods?" Riverwind asked.

"They will show us a way."

"Whose?"

"Yours, mine, both — it makes no difference. My mother used to say that hope is a gift from the gods we must never lose."

"My mother has said that, too," Riverwind replied. "Well, we must find some way out of here, or it will truly make no difference to our corpses!"

Goldmoon felt him take her hand in his and together they edged their way along the wall. They reached the passageway without trouble.

Wondering if her eyes were playing tricks, Goldmoon asked, "Is that a light ahead?"

"I think so." They moved more quickly along the corridor toward the light. Soon it grew bright enough that they could see all about them. Looking for the source of the illumination, Goldmoon saw movement on the smooth cut rock. Looking closer, she realized that the light came from brightly glowing red spots on the insects' backs.

"I think they're fire beetles," Riverwind said.

"Those are only in children's stories."

"I think we are in a children's story," Riverwind said, able to chuckle a little in relief. "Let me have your crystal globe. These little light legends may not live in other passages, so we will need to take them with us."

Goldmoon unfastened the crystal globe from her belt and surrendered it. The other two globes still lay on the grass outside. Riverwind gently scraped several of the beetles into the sphere.

"Here's the lid," she offered.

"I'm afraid they might suffocate."

"Air will get in. There are tiny holes in the lid," the priestess explained. "I've often wondered why. Do you suppose these globes were originally made for this purpose?" she asked.

"This one functions well as a lamp. That is all that is important." Riverwind held the globe up by its straps, and they made their way safely into the crypts of the Que-shu royalty.

The crypt cavern was so huge that their little light did not illuminate the ceiling or the walls beyond. At the edge of the darkness they could make out the shape of the tombs. The very first they came to bore the inscription, "Tearsong — beloved of Arrowthorn." Goldmoon slid her hand along the words and then snatched it back. The rock was cold. "Cold as death," she thought, shuddering slightly. She moved hurriedly past the memorial to her mother.

The floor sloped down as they passed the remains of three centuries of the princess's ancestors. At the bottom of the slope, Goldmoon could make out a stone altar, carved with the forever sign of her amulet. Realizing that she shouldn't be able to see the carving in the darkness, she became aware that the light around the altar was blue, not red, and that it came from the altar.

The priestess knew that the moment she had awaited had come. She knelt in front of the altar and sang:

"The red sun has risen

the blue doors have opened.

I kneel here before you,

to sing you my song.

You who have left us,

we ask for your blessing."

Goldmoon waited patiently in prayerful silence for several minutes, but nothing happened, no one answered. Fear crept into her. Was there some part of this ceremony that her father had not known about, something that Tearsong had carried with her to the grave?

Then a voice spoke, "My beloved child! What joy it is to see you!"

"Mother!" Goldmoon cried out. Her throat constricted in emotion as all the years of loneliness and longing for Tearsong, of quickly suppressed doubt that she would ever actually speak to her again, overwhelmed the young priestess.

Tearsong's laughter rang through the hall like tinkling glass and filled Goldmoon with a pleasure that was also painful. The air shimmered with light as Tearsong's form coalesced in the air behind Goldmoon. Tears of grief and joy welled in the princess's eyes. A harvest of loving memories, which had long lain dormant in sorrow, filled her. Her mother's sculpted features and jet-black hair were even more lovely than she remembered.

"Mother. This is Riverwind," Goldmoon started to say, turning around to summon the warrior forward, but all was darkness behind her.

"I cannot appear to Riverwind."

"But you must! You see, he does not believe that — »

" — that I am a goddess." Tearsong nodded. "He is right. I am a spirit only, and I have only a little time to speak with you — so listen carefully. You are a woman now, Goldmoon, and you must hear the truth and accept it. The gods of the Que-shu, the gods I served all my life, are false. It makes no difference whether or not Loreman has written your name in the tribe's Book of the Gods. Men cannot make gods of each other."

"But I am Chieftain's Daughter!" Goldmoon protested in disbelief.

The spirit of Tearsong smiled at her daughter's arrogance. "Your status in life, whether chieftain or healer, priestess or shepherd, has no influence on the judgment of the true gods. And the true gods will be your final judges, not your tribe, not your father, not myself. The true gods reward each person in the afterlife according to his or her virtues, not some circumstance of birth."

Goldmoon shook her head, stunned. After Lore-man's betrayal and Hollow-sky's attack, this was too much to bear. An idea came to her. "This is some kind of test of my faith. Oh, Mother, I will never turn from our gods. I will believe in you always."

A sad expression crossed Tearsong's face. "Your love for me is very great," she said. "That is why I was chosen to tell you of the true gods."

Tears filled Goldmoon's eyes, streaming down her cheeks, dropping onto her robe, leaving dark marks on the blue fabric. "But the spirits of the Que-shu will not obey me after death if I am not a goddess — " the princess argued, feeling cheated.

Her mother's tone sharpened impatiently. "You would do better to be grateful now for the gift of life and all it has to offer you, than to dwell on what power you will have in death." Death, even without godhood, had not robbed Tearsong of her air of authority. Goldmoon was instantly silent and looked down at the ground in shame.

Tearsong's voice softened at the sight of her daughter's confusion and unhappiness. "Time grows short. Will you listen to what I have to tell you, daughter?"

"Yes," Goldmoon nodded, eager to please her mother, lest she leave her.

"This place was really once the temple of one of the true gods, Riverwind's gods, a goddess known as the Great Healer. Long ago, after the Cataclysm, people despaired and abandoned their belief in the true gods. They must believe again, or this world will be conquered by an ancient evil. I have been sent to offer you the first of many tests. If you pass these tests, you will, in time, serve the Great Healer and lead people as her priestess, as a true healer."

"Tell me what this test is, and I will accept it."

"It will not be easy. If you pass this test, harder tests will follow, tests that may break your spirit, others that may destroy your body."

Goldmoon straightened her back and answered proudly, "I accept that."

"Very well, daughter. The first test is this. You must sacrifice these three things:

That which hinders healing.

That which hinders loving.

That which hinders daring.

"Let Riverwind guide you. He will be the leader of a leader. It is foreseen that someday he will bring great power to your hands."

"But he already has, Mother," Goldmoon said excitedly. "He gave me this." The princess removed the forever charm and held it out for her mother to examine.

"That is the symbol of the Great Healer. It is powerful, but only on these sacred grounds." The vision of Tearsong reached out and took the amulet. "When you have passed all the tests set for you and have become a true servant of the Great Healer, this amulet will be returned to you." The vision began to fade. "Farewell, daughter. I know you will prove worthy of the honor bestowed upon you. Remember that my love is with you always." Then the vision was gone.

Goldmoon remained kneeling, still feeling the warmth of her mother's love and puzzling over the test her mother had given her. She did not know how long she had been silent when she heard Riverwind crying out her name. The altar no longer glowed blue, and all about her was darkness. When she turned toward Riverwind's voice, she could see the circular, red glow of their fire-beetle lantern.

"I'm over here," the princess called out.

"Goldmoon! Are you all right?" the warrior asked as he ran, limping, up to her. "Where have you been? Why didn't you answer me?"

"I've been here all along, holding the ceremony I came to perform. I didn't hear you call me."

"I've been shouting your name for a long time now," Riverwind insisted. Goldmoon could see that his face was pale and anxious.

"How strange," the princess whispered. "And I thought you had disappeared."

Riverwind's voice grew stem, hiding his fear for her in a show of annoyance. "Don't ever go off without me again! There's no telling what evil creatures inhabit this tomb! And you with nothing to defend yourself but that stupid crystal dagger of yours."

"It isn't a stupid dagger," Goldmoon retorted. "It is a — " The princess stopped in mid-sentence. She had been about to say that it was a sacred relic of the Que-shu, but a sudden insight made her gasp: A dagger hindered healing. She drew it from her boot-sheath. She had not wiped off the blade after stabbing Hollow-sky, and the traitor's blood made the crystal appear to be rusted. Shuddering from the memory of his final, long scream, she placed it on the altar.

"Riverwind, hand me your shield," she commanded.

Puzzlement clearly written on his face, Riverwind unstrapped the wooden disk from his arm. "What are you going to do?" he demanded.

Goldmoon put her fingertips on his lips and said, "Trust me." Riverwind let her take the shield from him. She stepped close to the altar and raised the shield high over her head, but then she paused and lowered it again to her side. If she destroyed the dagger, she would have to explain to her father, probably to the whole tribe, why she had done so. Loreman would find some way to twist her action to make it seem evil. Her father would never forgive her. The tribe would not easily let go of their belief in their false gods.

Stealing a glance at Riverwind, she saw that he looked weary and ill. He limped with each step, and there was a blood-red bruise on his cheek where Hollow-sky's longstick had struck him.

If she earned the amulet back, she could heal all his wounds, make him whole. That was a power unknown in her tribe, a power that could help them all. A power, her mother had said, that might prevent an ancient evil from conquering mankind. She raised the shield quickly and smashed it down upon the crystal weapon.

Goldmoon dropped the shield to the side as the shards of crystal began to glow with a blue light; the light grew brighter until it was painful to look at. The sound of glass chimes tinkling in the wind crescendoed. Goldmoon heard her mother's voice.

"Taste now what you will know in full one day, my child, but think of the healing as a GIFT from the gods, not a power."

The shards of crystal on the altar spun about as though they were sand caught in a dust devil.

Riverwind gasped in fear.

Then, in a flash, the jagged crystalline shards flew at the princess, penetrating her flesh like darts.

"Goldmoon!" Riverwind shouted. He dashed forward to catch her as she fell back from the altar. Her skin glittered with the splintered crystal.

"I'm all right," she whispered calmly.

Riverwind gasped. There was no sign of pain on her face, no sign of blood on her robes. "You should be dead."

"No," she answered hesitantly. "I have never felt so alive!"

Riverwind lowered her gently to her feet, but he did not let go of her fully.

Placing her hands on his cheeks, Goldmoon wished for him to feel as she did.

The warrior drew a deep breath of surprise. She smiled, feeling the tingling energy flow from her hands into him. The crystal shards faded and disappeared. The weariness left Riverwind's face, and the color returned to it. The wound on his cheek vanished without a trace of a scar, and he stood up straighter, without any sign of pain in his knee.

"What have you done?" he asked in awe.

"I've sacrificed the dagger as my mother told me to do."

Riverwind's eyes narrowed. "I see. You've spoken to your gods." His tone was bitter.

"I've spoken with my mother," Goldmoon corrected. She could tell that the blank look he gave her masked disbelief.

"Oh, Riverwind," she said softly, drawing him near. "Wanderer was right! You are right! My mother told me this and more, much more! But — »

Goldmoon lowered her head, her voice caught in her throat. She hadn't realized how hard this would be to confess. Maybe she wouldn't tell him! Maybe she should let him continue to think of her as a goddess. She had her pride, after all… Suddenly, the feeling of peace began to seep from her. Her love for Riverwind turned into a knot of anger and resentment.

Riverwind, sensing her growing coldness, began to draw away from her…

That which hinders loving!

"Don't! Please don't leave me!" she cried, clinging to him in panic.

"I won't!" he whispered, holding her close. "Not if you want me! Tell me," he added wistfully. "Did your mother say there was a way for us, even though you are a goddess?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Goldmoon said, ashamed. "I'm NOT a goddess. I am mortal." Half teasing, yet half fearful, she glanced at him through her long lashes. "Can you love an ordinary woman, one who is not a goddess?"

"You — ordinary?" he repeated, his breath coming faster. "You could never be ordinary," he said solemnly.

Sinking into his arms, Goldmoon longed to remain there, wrapped in this blessed happiness forever. But a thought caused her to raise her head and look up at him. "My mother told me that she is not a goddess, nor are any of our ancestors. The true gods are the ones Wanderer taught your family to believe in. I sacrificed the dagger as part of a test so that I might one day become a priestess of the Great Healer, one of the ancient goddesses whose temple this once was. But when I sacrifice my pride and return to the village and tell them what I have learned, denying the old ways, I will be ridiculed. I will be Chieftain's Daughter no longer."

Riverwind smiled down at her. "You will always be Chieftain's Daughter," he said, smoothing the golden hair. "That is not something that depends on false gods, it is something within you. Even if you had not been Arrowthorn's child, you would be a leader. And someday, I know, you will lead people to the true gods. That is something to be proud of. It is only your pride in false things that you need to sacrifice."

Goldmoon entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down so his face was within her reach. The lantern light made his eyes sparkle red, and a grin fluttered across his lips just before their mouths met.

The shepherd's tenderness eased her worries about the future. As Riverwind caressed her lips with his own, he kneaded away all the tension in her shoulders with his fingers.

They both whispered, "I love you," simultaneously. Goldmoon laughed, and Riverwind smiled with a pleasure the priestess had never imagined she could evoke in the man. He put his arms about her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. But Goldmoon was tired of respectful, delicate embraces. She pressed against his warrior's body and wrapped her arms about his waist to keep him from pulling away.

Without witnesses to inhibit him, he let the passion of his kiss match her own. All the while, his hands slid her long hair up and down her back, against the silky fabric of her robe. Goldmoon wanted to bring him the same sensual pleasure he gave her, but his armor covered him like a shell. She wriggled one hand beneath the leather and then inside his shirt, where she could press her fingertips against his back.

Riverwind straightened, and his head jerked up. A low moan rumbled through his chest as Goldmoon ran her fingers along his spine.

"You sound like a cat purring," she teased.

Riverwind gave a little snarl like a wild cat. Though she'd heard him use it in the battle with Hollow-sky, it startled her now. Riverwind grinned at the look on her face, then bent over and very lightly licked her behind the ear. He drew her hands forward and flicked his tongue over both palms.

Goldmoon shivered with delight. She caught the ends of the ceremonial sash about his waist and wound them once about his wrists. "Now I am the tiger hunter," she joked and pressed against him harder, kissing his mouth, then his chin, his throat.

Goldmoon had never before sensed so much buming warmth within her body. The dank cavern no longer felt chill, but Riverwind suddenly struggled free of the sash and held her away from him. "This hunt must end," he gasped.

"What's wrong?" she asked, frightened by the way his whole frame shuddered.

The warrior took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calmer, he stroked her cheek with his forefinger. "We will change many of our people's ways," he explained, "yet there are some customs which we ought still to follow. I have yet to ask your father's permission to court you."

Goldmoon tapped her foot in annoyance. "I suspect that I might change more customs than you, if I have my way," she retorted.

"Is the honor of marriage vows so worthless a thing to wait for?" he asked.

"No, but Father might not agree," Goldmoon said tightly.

"He cannot deny me," Riverwind pointed out, "if I go on a courting quest."

She gave a sly grin. "The look on Arrowthorn's face will be worth seeing." More seriously she added, "I will wait for you, Riverwind, however long it takes." She sighed. "Though I do not think the waiting will be easy."

"And now," Riverwind said firmly, "we must find the way out!"

"What's that?" asked Riverwind, tilting his head to hear as they walked along by the light of the fire-beetle lantern.

"It sounds like water running," Goldmoon replied, listening. She licked her dry lips. "We can fill our waterskins, at least."

"Better yet," said Riverwind, "it is probably an underground stream that may lead us to the surface and out of here if we follow it!"

Hope rising in their hearts, the two hurried toward the source of the sound and came upon a swiftly flowing, underground river.

"Crow's luck!" Goldmoon snapped with annoyance as the strong current tore her waterskin from her grasp.

"Don't worry, I'll get it," Riverwind offered, stepping into the water to reach after the bag.

"No, Riverwind. The water's too swift. Leave it," Goldmoon ordered.

But Riverwind took another step, then slipped on something underfoot, and plunged forward with a cry. He tried to swim back to the bank, but despite his efforts, the current dragged him off into the darkness.

"Riverwind!" Goldmoon screamed. She stood up and, in her haste, knocked over the lantern. The lid fell off and the fire beetles skittered out and away from the water.

Echoes of her call rang through the cavern, mocking her. Absolutely alone in the pitch-black, unfamiliar cave, Chieftain's Daughter stood frozen with terror.

"I've got to go after Riverwind! What if he's hurt? But do I dare?" she whispered, her fear of drowning pulling her back from the water as strongly as her love for Riverwind pulled her toward it.

Suddenly Goldmoon laughed grimly. "Of course I dare," she cried out. Tearsong had told her to sacrifice that which hindered her daring — her fear.

The princess unfastened the clasp to her fur cloak and let it fall to the ground. Taking a deep breath, she dove into the water toward the spot where Riverwind had disappeared.

The cold of the water was a painful shock. Goldmoon tried to surface immediately, but the weight of her long dress hindered her and the undercurrent held her in its clutches. Her lungs were ready to burst.

That's it, she thought. I'm going to drown. Let it be quick, without pain, she prayed. She began to feel numb all over.

But with a last burst of energy, Goldmoon kicked her legs hard, driving her up into the small pocket of air between the deep water and the top of the cavern.

Her respite was short-lived. A deep thrumming filled the air all about her. A waterfall, she realized, and she was being carried straight toward it!

Light blinded Goldmoon's eyes, and for a moment, as she shot over the edge of the waterfall, she felt as though she were a hawk hanging over the world. Then she plunged. Shooting pains surged from her stomach and heart, and when she hit the water below, she was too disoriented to tell up from down.

Then strong arms grasped her and pulled her gently from the water to the shore. Too weak to do more than turn her head, she smiled sweetly as Riverwind collapsed beside her. They lay dripping and shivering on the sweet-smelling grass in the warm sunshine, taking deep breaths of the fresh air.

They were in a valley beneath the mountain. The waterfall poured out of a cliff face so far above them that their survival seemed a miracle.

"I knew," Goldmoon gasped, "that you would find us a way out."

Riverwind laughed, and Goldmoon laughed with him. She rolled near to him and lay her head on his shoulder. Then she sighed heavily and her eyes became clouded with concerns for the future — now that they had one. "We'll have to explain about Hollow-sky. At least now we know just how far Lore-man will go. He won't catch us off guard again."

"I don't understand," Riverwind said. "After he tried to get Hollow-sky to kill you, won't your father just banish his family?"

"We have no proof — just Hollow-sky's words — and he is dead. Loreman is very powerful; there are too many people who will take his side. Since Hollow-sky failed, Loreman will probably denounce him as a traitor himself."

"And what do we say about us?" Riverwind asked.

"Father won't be pleased," she said. "But I will tell him that I will wed none but you."

"If I ask him for a courting quest, can he deny me?" Riverwind asked tensely.

"No. He'll be forced to follow tradition. But he may send you to find or do something impossible."

"If it will earn me you, the gods will aid me." Riverwind smiled gently and slid his fingers through her wet hair.

Goldmoon shifted her position and sat up on her knees, facing him. "Tearsong told me that one day you would bring great power to my hands. So I know you will return triumphant."

"And quickly," Riverwind added hopefully.

"Do you know what happens at the questing ritual?" Goldmoon asked.

Riverwind shook his head no.

"Well, after you've spoken privately with Father, you'll stand before the whole tribe. Arrowthorn will proclaim that you will go on a quest to prove your worthiness to be my husband. Then, he'll ask me if that is what I want — »

"And you'll say yes," Riverwind added with a smile of certainty.

"Well, yes." She smiled back. "Then he'll announce us betrothed, until such a time as the quest is fulfilled or forsaken."

"It will be fulfilled," he said solemnly, capturing one of her hands in his own.

"And then," she said, "we'll kiss before the whole tribe.

.." She placed her free hand on his shoulder and leaned

toward him. She heard his swift intake of breath before she kissed him lingeringly. "Well, perhaps not quite like that," she whispered sweetly.

"The servants are probably wondering where we are," Riverwind said huskily. "It's going to be a long way around the mountain to find them."

"I know."

"We should get started," he added.

"If I must wait for you," Goldmoon whispered, once again settling herself in the crook of his arm with her head on his shoulder, "surely you can wait for me — until… until…" She pondered. "Until the sun dries my hair," she said finally, laughing.

"That may take some time."

"But not long enough." Goldmoon sighed.

"I will enjoy the waiting," Riverwind assured her as he spread locks of the golden strands across his armored chest. "Who knows? Maybe a cloud will pass by."