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