push back a strand of living hair that had fallen across her
eyes.
Feeling a thrill at his touch and knowing that her own
cheeks must be burning, Goldmoon hastily smoothed her
hair over her shoulder. To cover her pleasure, she held up
the broken strands. “Thank you for saving these for me,”
she laughed awkwardly. “I can hardly be Goldmoon without
the golden hair.”
Riverwind looked back at her. “Of course you can. You
were Goldmoon when you were born, and you were quite
bald then.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Goldmoon said, shocked. “How
dare you?”
Riverwind shrugged. “It’s true. You can ask Hollow-
sky, if you like – he must remember. Though he’s not likely
to tell you the truth if he thinks it will displease you.”
Goldmoon closed her mouth on the disparaging
comment she had been about to make. Riverwind certainly
understood Hollow-sky. She thought for a moment, then
argued, “I don’t believe there is such a thing as a bald baby.
I’ve never seen one.”
“Well, you’ve never seen anyone with hair like yours,
have you?” Riverwind returned. “I was five when I first saw
you. I remember asking Wanderer if you’d been sick,
because you had only tiny, pale wisps of hair. He told me
that you were going to have light hair, and that sometimes
light hair comes in more slowly. He said such things were
natural among distant tribes. You will see for yourself, no
doubt.”
“What do you mean?” Goldmoon asked.
“When you have a baby of your own,” Riverwind
explained.
Goldmoon flushed and looked away, disturbed at the
direction the conversation had taken. She lowered her head,
allowing her golden hair to fall across her feverish cheeks.
The thought of bringing up little Hollow-skys,
grandchildren for Loreman, was disgusting! But Riverwind
. . .
She was silent for so long that Riverwind asked, “Is
something wrong, Princess? Have I offended – ”
Goldmoon shook her head. “Tell me about your
family,” she said, glad to change the subject. “Didn’t your
father used to be a tanner? Why did he leave the village and
become a shepherd?”
Riverwind raised his eyebrows in surprise. “The story is
common knowledge,” he answered.
“I have not heard it,” Goldmoon replied firmly.
Riverwind shrugged and proceeded to explain. “During
the summer of drought, the Que-shu battled with the Que-
kiri, and my grandfather Wanderer was wounded. Your
father went to the village of the Que-kiri to negotiate a
peace, and since you were still far too young to sit in
judgment, Loreman sat in your place. As Wanderer lay
dying, Loreman came to him and offered to write his name
in the Book of the Gods – to make him a god for his bravery
in battle. But Wanderer refused, saying that men could not
make gods of each other.”
Goldmoon bit her lip, determined to hear Riverwind’s
story in full before debating truths with him.
“Loreman was angry and declared that Wanderer had
planted a dark seed, meaning, of course, my family’s belief
in gods more ancient than the gods of the tribe. Loreman
decreed that the seed must not spread beyond our family. So
he confiscated my father’s trade and cast us out. We may
live only at the edge of the Que-shu’s lands. Therefore,
tending sheep and hunting are our only ways of making a
livelihood.”
“And having granted Loreman the authority, my father
could not undo what he had decreed,” Goldmoon added.
She silently determined that she would do something to
reverse Loreman’s ban on Riverwind’s family when she
returned. She had only to prove to Riverwind that her
ancestors were the true gods to get him to give up his
ridiculous belief in the foreign gods of Wanderer.
Hollow-sky dropped back by the twosome, causing the
cart-horse behind them to whinny in annoyance and prance
to reposition itself behind the riders’ horses. A peevish look
marred Hollow-sky’s fine-boned face. He gave Riverwind a
cursory glance of disdain and then turned his attention on
Goldmoon. “Great Lady,” he began, “if you would ride
ahead with me, I would enjoy talking with you on such a
fine day.”
Riverwind’s face darkened with hostility, and
Goldmoon wished Hollow-sky would vanish.