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