Free Mood Riders by Theresa Tomlinson Page B

stalks to light their lamps at night.”
    “You must miss Troy,” Myrina said. “It is your home. I’ve never lived in one spot, so it is my family I long for, not a place.”
    Cassandra shook her head. “I do miss Troy,” she whispered. “I miss the great golden walls and towers, the fig trees, the tamarisks, and the sacred oak. The little huts of the lower town are built of mud bricks, but such wonderful bricks, for the baked mud is crammed with seashells.”
    “I have seen them,” Myrina agreed.
    “I miss all of that,” Cassandra admitted. Then she looked down, rather ashamed. “I miss Chryseis, but I do not miss my family very much.”
    Myrina, arms full of sharp-scented lavender, bent toward her and kissed her cheek. “Why should you? I do not think they value you as they should.”
    Cassandra smiled. “Nobody ever kissed me like that in Troy,” she said.
    When the gathering was over, a small fleet of fishing boats came from Lesbos and carried the Moon Riders over the sea, with their steeds and their bundles of herbs. Once they’d landed they rode south toward Mytilene, named after the sister of the famous Dancing Myrina.
    The people of this ancient city, founded long ago by the Moon Riders, had never forgotten how their town originated. They gladly provided a fine camping place, plentiful provisions and a warm welcome each winter.
    The Month of Falling Leaves brought cooler weather but Atisha did not allow slackness. Horses must be exercised, dances improved, clothing dyed and mended, ready for the Spring Celebrations; herbs must be dried, pounded, and brewed ready for next year’s supply of medicines.
    In the Month of the Dying Sun, fires were built and slow sad dancing performed, in sympathy with the turning of the year. The Bitter Months followed, bringing snow and hail, but Atisha’s merciless advice on keeping warm was to work harder, run faster, leap higher.
    When at last the first signs of the sun’s returning strength came, a great restlessness seemed to rustle through the Moon Riders’ camp. Suddenly they were packing, ready to go off traveling again, for spring was coming. They’d soon gallop north again, for the Month of New Leaves, with spring romping along behind them.
    Myrina could not wait to get to the Place of Flowing Waters. For just seven days she’d be there with her family again, at the great gathering. She knew from her mirror-gazing that Reseda hadn’t given birth as yet. “I want very much to be there when my sister’s baby is born,” she confided to Cassandra. “But . . . I fear I’ve changed so much. I’ve grown so fast that my tunic needs replacing and my trousers letting down.”
    Cassandra smiled. “They will know their Snake Lady,” she said.
    “And Tomi. I must see Tomi, and make sure that he hasn’t forgotten me. Each time I mirror-gaze, I see him hunting and riding and tending the horses. I’ve never seen him with a girl at his side, but I must remind him again that I’ll marry him, if only he’ll wait.”
    Cassandra looked at her, puzzled. “Does your father not choose a husband for you?”
    Myrina laughed. “No, certainly not! The Mazagardi women choose for themselves, and a Moon Rider is never refused!”
    “In Troy, a father always chooses!”
    “But not for you! Surely you were promised to your sun god as a priestess.”
    Cassandra sighed. “I have broken that promise by going with the Moon Riders. I fear my father may change his mind if he thinks a marriage would be useful or bring more wealth.”
    “Hasn’t the man got enough?” Myrina asked. Then she suddenly realized that perhaps she’d been very rude. “Forgive me,” she muttered. “He is your father.”
    “There’s naught to forgive.” Cassandra was not offended. “You spoke the truth!”
    The lookouts spied the Moon Riders coming and at once a great clamor of pipes and clapping began. Myrina felt great pride in this moment, arriving back among her people an experienced