Dragonlance Tales, Vol. 3 – Love and War

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

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