Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

“Others do pay attention, my friend.”

“I know,” Tanis said gloomily. He picked up a handful of small rocks, began tossing them one-by-one into the water.

“We have done our part,” Riverwind continued. “We helped scout out the land to find this valley. We showed your shopkeepers how to transform caves into dwellings. We taught them to track and bring down game, to set out snares and traps. We showed them which berries to eat and which were poisonous. Goldmoon, my wife,”—this was the first time he’d used that word and he spoke it with gentle pride—“heals their sick.”

“They are grateful, though they don’t say it. You and your people might be able to make it safely through the mountains and back to your homeland before the worst of the winter sets in, but you know as well as I do that it’s risky. I wish you would stay with us. I have this feeling in my gut that we should all keep together.

“I know we can’t stay here,” Tanis added with a sigh. “I know it’s dangerous.” He hesitated before he went on, knowing how his proposal would be received. Then, like diving into cold water, he plunged ahead.

“I’m sure if we could find the dwarven kingdom of Thorbardin—”

“Thorbardin! The mountain fastness of the dwarves?” Riverwind scowled. “I won’t consider it.”

“Think about it. Hidden deep below ground, the dwarven kingdom would be a perfect refuge for our people. We could remain there during the winter, safe beneath the mountain. Not even dragon eyes could find us—”

“We would also be safe buried in a tomb!” Riverwind stated caustically. “My people will not go to Thorbardin. We will go nowhere near dwarves. We will scout out our own path. After all, we have no children with us to slow us up.”

His face was shadowed. The children of the Plainsmen had all perished in the dragonarmy’s attack on their villages.

“You have Elistan with you now,” Riverwind went on. “He is a cleric of Paladine. He can heal the sick in Goldmoon’s absence and teach your people of the return of the gods. My people and I want to go home. Can’t you understand that?”

Tanis thought of his home in Solace. He wondered if his house was still standing, if it had survived the dragonarmy’s assault. He liked to think it was. Though he had not been in his house for five years, knowing it was there, waiting to receive him, was a comfort.

“Yes,” he answered. “I can understand.”

“We have not yet made a final decision,” said Riverwind, seeing his friend downcast. “Some of our people believe like you that there is safety in numbers, that we should remain together.”

“Your wife among them,” said Goldmoon, walking up behind them.

Riverwind rose to his feet, turning to meet his new bride as she came to him in the dawn. Goldmoon had always been beautiful. Her long silver-gold hair—the color that was so rare among her people—had always glistened in the morning half-light. She had always worn the soft and supple leather skins of her people with a grace and elegance that would have been envied by the fine ladies of Palanthas. This morning, she made beauty seem a paltry and inadequate word to describe her. The mists seemed to part for her, the shadows lift.

“You were not worried about me, were you?” Riverwind asked, with a trace of unease.

“No, my husband,” said Goldmoon, and she lingered lovingly over the word. “I knew where to find you.” She glanced upward into the blue heavens. “I knew you would be out beneath the skies. Out here, where you can breathe.”

He took her hands and they greeted each other by touching cheeks. The Plainsmen believed their love for each other should be expressed only in private.

“I claim the privilege of kissing the bride,” said Tanis.

“You claimed that privilege last night,” Riverwind protested, smiling.

“I will likely go on claiming it for the rest of my life,” said Tanis. He kissed Goldmoon on the cheek.

The sun flared out from behind the mountain peak, as though to expressly admire Goldmoon, causing her silver hair to flame in its light.

“With such beauty in the world, how can there be evil?” Tanis asked. Goldmoon laughed. “Perhaps to make me look better by contrast,” she said, teasing. “You were speaking of serious subjects before I interrupted you,” she added more somberly.

“Riverwind thinks you and your people should head off on your own, travel eastward toward the plains. He says you want to remain with us.”

“That is true,” said Goldmoon complacently. “I would like to remain with you and the others. I believe that I am needed, but my vote is just one among our people. If my husband and the others decide we should leave, then we will leave.”

Tanis glanced from one to the other. He didn’t quite know how to say this, so he decided just to come out with it.

“Excuse me for asking,” he said awkwardly, “but what happened to Chieftain’s Daughter?” Goldmoon laughed again, laughed long and merrily, and even Riverwind smiled. Tanis did not see the joke. When he’d first met the two, Goldmoon was Chieftain’s Daughter and Riverwind, a humble shepherd, was her subject. True, they loved each other dearly, and it had often seemed to Tanis that Goldmoon would have been willing to put aside the responsibility of leadership, but Riverwind stubbornly refused to let her. He had insisted on being subservient, forcing her to make decisions. Placed in that position, she had done so.

“I don’t get it,” Tanis said.

“Chieftain’s Daughter gave her final command last night,” Goldmoon explained. During the marriage ceremony, Riverwind had knelt before her, since she was his ruler, but Goldmoon had bidden her husband rise, indicating the two were wed as equals.

“I am Goldmoon of the Plains,” she said. “Cleric of Mishakal. Priestess of the Que-shu.”

“Who will be Chieftain of the Que-shu?” Tanis asked. “There are survivors from your tribe among the other Plainsmen. Will they accept Riverwind as their chieftain? He has proven himself to be a strong leader.”

Goldmoon looked at Riverwind. He did not meet her gaze. He deliberately kept his eyes fixed on the bubbling stream. His lips tightened.

“The Que-shu have long memories,” Goldmoon said at last, seeing her husband would not speak.

“They know that my father did not accept Riverwind as my husband and ordered him stoned to death. They know that, but for the miracle of the blue crystal staff, Riverwind and I would have both perished.”

“So they won’t accept him as Chieftain, even though they look to him for guidance.”

“The Que-shu do,” said Goldmoon, “but they are not the only people here. There are some from the Que-Kiri, and they were once our bitter enemies. Our tribes met on the field of battle many times.”

Tanis muttered a few words in elven.

“I won’t ask you to translate that, my friend,” said Goldmoon with a sad smile. “I know, and my people know, the truth of the tale about the two wolves that turned on each other and the lion who ate them both. It is not easy for people to overcome hatred that was born in them.”

“You and Riverwind have done so,” said Tanis.

“We still have trouble,” Goldmoon admitted, “but we know where to go when we need help.” She touched the medallion she wore around her neck, the medallion that was the goddess’s gift and an emblem of her faith.

“Maybe I’m being selfish,” Tanis said quietly. “Maybe I don’t want to say good-bye.”

“We will not speak of goodbye,” said Goldmoon firmly, “not on this day of joy—our first day as a married couple.”

She reached for her husband’s hand. Their fingers entwined, she and Riverwind walked back toward their dwelling, leaving Tanis alone by the stream.