The men of Que-Shu gathered, drawn by the steady toll of drums. A hundred men, straight-limbed and stoic, formed two lines and filed into the Lodge of Brothers. They left their herds in the care of sons who were too young to witness the coming solemn ceremony. Fields and forges stood idle for the duration of the rite. The women and children went about their business. It was not for them to be curious.

No one could ignore the drums, however. Least of all Goldmoon, first priestess of the tribe, daughter of Chief Ar-rowthorn. She stood just inside the door of the chief's house, far enough in the shadows so as not to be seen. Perspiration sheened her beautiful face, and she bit her lip nearly to bleeding. The ceremony about to begin was the Anointing of the Quester; the man to be tested was her beloved, River-wind.

Let him be safe, she prayed silently. You elder gods, keep Riverwind from harm!

Goldmoon did not voice her prayers aloud because she appealed not to the tribe's gods, but to deities worshiped in ages past, before the Cataclysm.

The Lodge of Brothers was nearly full. The windowless interior was stiflingly hot, lit as it was by stands of smoky torches. The men of Que-Shu filled the open space around a low central dais, their leather-shod feet scuffing loudly on the packed clay floor. On the dais, squatting with his face averted and his arms clasped around his knees, was River-wind. As the drums continued their rumble, he did not move. He might have been carved from oak for all the life he displayed. Yet within, Riverwind was aboil with thoughts and anxieties. He had demanded this rite, in preparation for his Courting Quest. Goldmoon and he had pledged themselves to each other, but it remained for the laws of the tribe to recognize their joining. A man did not ask for the hand of the chieftain's daughter without proving himself worthy.