Read The Skull of the World for Free Online

"I go in search of my name," she answered respectfully. "I beg leave to pass through your lands on my way to the Skull of the World."
    The First of the Warriors said gruffly, "Those on the name-quest are under a geas to the Gods of White and are therefore under their protection. You may travel freely."
    Isabeau made the gesture of thanks and raised her eyes. She saw a middle-aged woman with a highboned face set in heavy lines of pride and temper, and sunken eyes that gleamed blue in the firelight. Her long red hair, drawn back tightly from her brow, was beginning to be dulled by gray. Isabeau could have been looking at a younger version of her great-grandmother, except this woman wore the tawny spotted fur of the native lynx, the totem of her pride. The broad head with its snarling muzzle and black tufted ears hung down her back.
    The blue-eyed woman who had fetched Isabeau gave a sharp protest. "But she is the get of the Fire-maker!" she cried. "See her eyes, blue as the sky, and her hair, red as flame. She is one of the Red, sent to deceive us and spy on us. The Firemaker regrets her overture of peace and seeks to disinherit us again!"
    Anger and suspicion flashed across the Old Mother's face. She leaned forward and seized Isabeau's face in a painful grip, turning it so the firelight blazed upon it. Then the fur cap Isabeau wore was torn off so her abundant red curls sprang free. The circle of watchers muttered angrily.
    "Never trust the dragon," the First of the Storytellers said grimly.
    The Old Mother nodded, her mouth compressed into a thin line. "We have always known the Pride of the Fire Dragon were our enemies," she said. "I have often pondered the meaning behind the Fire-maker's gesture of friendship these last few years. She has ever been jealous of her power, and though we hoped she spoke truth when she spoke of her acceptance of me as her rightful heir, often I have been beset by doubt. Now it seems as if this doubt has foundation."
    Isabeau was dismayed. Carefully she made the gesture of respect and then said, "Old Mother, it is true I am of the Firemaker's get but I have no desire to disinherit you. I wish only to travel unhindered upon my naming quest. I was assured I would be given leave to cross your land since the Pride of the Fighting Cats and the Pride of the Fire Dragon are at peace."
    There was a snort of disbelief from the blue-eyed warrior. "You lie!" she cried. "Do you think I do not remember you? It has been many winters since you received your name and your scars. I have often fought with you in the past and know you hate us as much as we hate you."
    "Indeed, you are no mere child," the storyteller said. "You have the breasts of a woman grown and your eyes show you have seen more years than thirteen."
    Isabeau made the gesture of agreement. "You speak with truth," she replied. Her impulse was to rush into explanations but her training held true and she said nothing more, lowering her eyes respectfully.
    There was a long, charged silence, then at last the storyteller said reluctantly, "You say we speak with truth. How can we speak truth if what you say is true?"
    "You ask of me a question. Do you offer me a story in return?" Isabeau said. There was another long pause, then even more reluctantly the storyteller made the gesture of agreement, saying gruffly, "I ask of you a question. Will you answer in fullness and in truth?"
    "I will answer in fullness and in truth," Isabeau answered, and raised her head, bringing her hands to lie upturned on her thighs in the traditional pose of the storyteller. "You, the First of the Storytellers of the Pride of the Fighting Cats, spoke truth when you said I was no child, for I have lived through twenty-one of the long darknesses. I am but a child in the eyes of my pride, however, for I have lived on the Spine of the World for only four years. I am therefore nameless and without status, and travel to the Skull of the World to hear what the Gods of White shall tell