signs and glowering balefully. A few of the younger men spat in the mud as the kender passed.
“They don’t seem very pleasant this morning,” Kronn remarked, regarding the Plainsfolk in puzzlement. “Must be something they ate, although I thought supper was fine. Breakfast too. And I’m looking forward to lunch.”
“It’s because we’re kender, you ninny,” Catt said. She forced a smile at the angry Plainsfolk. The muttering was getting louder. “They’re not all as nice as Riverwind.”
Kronn frowned thoughtfully. “I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with that misunderstanding last night. I thought I explained that it wasn’t my fault those sacred talismans ended up in my pouch. If they’d taken them down when the storm started, they wouldn’t have been blowing around like crazy, and I wouldn’t have had to keep them safe. They should probably thank me, actually.”
“No,” Catt replied. “I think they’ve calmed down about that-although I’m a bit miffed they decided to post guards outside our hut. I was hoping to do some more exploring.”
“Me too,” Kronn agreed with a disappointed sigh. He glanced back toward the arena. “Hey, someone’s coming.”
The Honored Ones were striding down the street, toward the gates. Wanderer walked in the lead, his face looking as if it was carved of stone. The elders followed, then Graywinter of Que-Kiri and Nightshade of Que-Teh. At the last came Moonsong, Brightdawn and Swiftraven.
“No Riverwind,” noted Catt in a low voice. “Do you think he maybe changed his mind? People here don’t seem to be too keen on him going. Maybe they convinced him to stay.”
The Honored Ones stopped at the edge of the crowd, which grew quiet at their approach. The Plainsfolk continued to glare at the kender, and Graywinter and some of the elders did the same.
Kronn nodded to them respectfully. “Say,” he said, “what’s with Brightdawn?”
Catt looked at the young Plainswoman and frowned. While Moonsong was clad in an embroidered white dress and buckskin slippers, Brightdawn still wore traveling clothes: a brown tunic and leggings, with high boots and a plain, fur cloak. Her mace still swung from her belt. Swiftraven was similarly attired, a quiver of white-fletched arrows on his back and a slender sabre at his hip.
Catt opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment the crowd stirred again, pointing. Looking, the kender saw Riverwind and Goldmoon walking toward them from the center of town. As one, the villagers knelt before their chieftain and priestess.
Riverwind marched up to Brightdawn, scowling. “Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I’m riding along with you,” she replied, her chin rising defiantly.
“You’ll do no such thing.” Riverwind’s tone was harsh. “I alone agreed to make this journey.”
“Actually,” Kronn piped up, “Paxina said it would be fine if we brought more than one person back with us…
Riverwind ignored him, rounding on Swiftraven. “And you,” he growled. The young warrior fell back a pace, paling. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Leave him be, Father,” Brightdawn said. “He only wants to come along so he can protect me.”
“No one is ‘coming along,’ ” Riverwind said. “This isn’t like a sleigh ride to Solace, Brightdawn. It’s dangerous business.”
“You weren’t much older than me when you went on your Courting Quest,” Brightdawn challenged. “You’re always telling us how dangerous that was.”
“This is different. I was a shepherd boy; I had no choice in the matter. But you’re-”
“I’m what?” Brightdawn asked, her eyes flashing. “A girl?”
“My daughter.”
Those words, and the plaintive way her father spoke them, gave Brightdawn pause, but only for a moment. “I’m not helpless, Father,” she said. She held up her mace. “I know how to use this. I fought against the Brutes when they attacked Que-Shu.”
“That was different,” Riverwind reasoned. “We had no choice but to fight. You should know your place is here with your mother.”
“My place,” Brightdawn repeated. “And what is that, Father? Wanderer has his-he wears the champion’s breastplate, for he is Chieftain’s Son. Moonsong is Chieftain’s Daughter and will become high priestess when Mother is gone. One day, she and Stagheart will lead the tribes. But who am I, Father? Chieftain’s Third Child, the extra daughter. I have no place.”
Riverwind shook his head stubbornly, then glanced at the Honored Ones. They returned his gaze, saying nothing. Riverwind then looked to his wife.
“It’s your decision,” Goldmoon said simply. Riverwind raised his eyebrows at that but said nothing.
Moonsong stepped forward. “Let her go, Father.”
Riverwind frowned at her, then looked to his son. Wanderer nodded once, silently. At last, the chieftain sighed. “Very well, Brightdawn,” he said. “You may come to Kendermore.” He turned to Swiftraven. “And you, as well, son of Nightshade. If you have any wish to marry my daughter, then let this be your Courting Quest. If any harm comes to her, then woe to you.”
The villagers murmured at this. Swiftraven beamed with pride, then turned to his father.
“Go,” Nightshade said simply.
His smile growing even wider, the young warrior dropped to his knees before Riverwind. The arrows in his quiver rattled. “I accept, my lord.”
Riverwind nodded, his face troubled, then walked to the Honored Ones. He moved down the line, clasping arms with each man in turn. There was doubt and worry in the elders’ eyes, but none spoke against him. No matter how grave their misgivings were, he was their chieftain, and his word was law. When Riverwind reached Far- Runner, though, the ancient man bowed his head and began to cry softly.
“What is this, lorekeeper?” Riverwind asked gently. “Why do you weep?”
“My chief,” Far-Runner murmured. “I weep because my heart is heavy I have wronged you in the past, when I let Chief Arrowthorn use the Courting Quest to keep you from his daughter. I would be doing you wrong again if I did not ask you to reconsider, and stay with us on the Plains.”
Riverwind smiled. “You have long been loyal to me, Far-Runner,” he said. “If I had not gone on Arrowthorn’s impossible quest, the gods might have remained lost. The dragonarmies might have won the war-and Chaos might have won the next. If you hadn’t wronged me, so many years ago, we might not be here today. I forgive you-but I cannot stay. I have given my word, and I will not break it.”
Far-Runner nodded slowly, looking up at Riverwind. “Farewell, my chief,” he murmured.
“Farewell, lorekeeper,” Riverwind said, resting a comforting hand on the old man’s shoulder.
He walked onward, to Wanderer, and father and son embraced in silence. Riverwind met his eyes. “I will tell my son of you,” Wanderer murmured, his face dark.
Moonsong, who had remained stoic thus far, broke down completely, sobbing as she threw her arms around her father. She clutched him tightly, refusing to let go, and in the end it took both Swiftraven and old Hartbow to pull her away. No sooner did she release Riverwind than she fell upon her sister. Both twins’ faces shone with tears when at last they parted.
The stableboy strode through the gates leading three horses and two ponies. Catt and Kronn climbed into their saddles, then Brightdawn and Swiftraven, but Riverwind made no move toward his bay stallion-a gift bestowed upon him by Chief Graywinter when the Que-Kiri joined the allied tribes. Instead, he turned toward Goldmoon, his heart in his eyes. He dropped to one knee before her. Mud soaked through his pantleg, but he paid it no heed.
“Kan-tokah,” he said, choking. “My beloved.”
Smiling serenely, she bent down and kissed him on the forehead. Then she cupped his chin with her hand and raised his head so he looked into her bright, blue eyes. “Why so solemn, my hero?” she asked. “We have been separated before.”
He nodded, unable to find his voice.
“You have always followed your heart,” she said, smiling. “It is an arrow that flies straight and true. I will await your return.”
Taking his hand, she pressed something into his palm, then kissed his fingers, turned, and walked away.
He watched her go, his gaze seeking her as she approached the chieftain’s lodge. He could feel eyes on him- the villagers, the Honored Ones, his children-but he did not rise. Instead, he opened his hand, and his face lit with wonder at what his wife had given him.
