Mood Riders
THE
MOON
RIDERS
THERESA TOMLINSON
An Imprint of
HarperCollins
Publishers
In memory of my great-grandmother Miriam Beer
The Dancer
T
HE NIGHT WAS
cool beside the Lake of Kus. The mother and grandmother sat together outside their round tent, soft woven rugs fastened about their shoulders. They beat a steady rhythm on small drums and sang. Aben leaned close to the fire, the muscles in his cheeks taut, as he strummed a simple melody on his oud, the music thrumming over rocks and grassland.
Myrina, carefully dressed in bangles, beads, trousers, and layers of smocks, danced barefoot about the edge of the fire. She was warm, the dancing saw to that. Her hands and arms twisted, sinuous as snakes; her hips swung back and forth in time with the ancient music of her tribe. She took her final pose with a flourish.
Gul’s voice dropped. “Is my daughter ready?” she whispered.
Grandmother Hati smiled broadly. “Aye. I’m sure of it.” She turned to the young girl, her face suddenly solemn with the importance of her words. “Myrina, my daughter’s daughter! When we go to the Spring Celebrations, I feel sure that Atisha the Old Woman shall take you with her!”
“Thank you, grandmother.” Myrina spoke with quiet satisfaction.
Soon the tribes would meet at the place of Flowing Waters; the sacred place at the foot of Mount Ida, not far from the high-walled city of Troy. The joyful Spring Celebrations and shrewd horse dealing that took place there was always exciting, but this year would be better than ever. She, Myrina, who was named after one of the most famous dancers of the past, would leave her family and become one of the honored priestesses of Earth Mother Maa, known as the Moon Riders.
Myrina could not settle to sleep that night, so she slipped out to the roped horse corral. Isatis, the eight-year-old blue-black mare, picked up her scent and, leaving the other horses, she came at once to her mistress’s side, whinnying gently.
“I’m to join the Moon Riders,” Myrina whispered, stroking the smooth short hairs on the horse’s neck. “And you will be my steed.”
Myrina was both terrified and excited at the thought of leaving her parents’ home tent. She would follow in the footsteps of her mother, grandmother, and Reseda, her older sister.
Reseda was now due to return home after spending seven years traveling from place to place with the Moon Riders, performing sacred dances and songs for those who honored the Great Mother, Maa. Myrina would take her sister’s place.
She’d learned to ride, as did all the Mazagardi tribe, when she was just a baby, and traveled constantly from camp to camp, with their herd of goats, sheep, and horses. But she’d never before been away from her family and tribe; and that thought brought a touch of fear with it.
She would have to leave her friend Tomi, who’d ridden at her side since they were children learning to hunt together, sending sharp, light arrows straight and fast toward their prey. In the evenings by the campfire they would lean together for warmth, but now that Tomi had seen fourteen winters he too must leave the tribe for months at a time, buying foals and selling horses with the other young men. Thank goodness at least Isatis would be going with her.