The Prophet Of Lamath Read online

  Pelman's rich, melodious voice broke the silence, filling the narrow canyon. "Of course, you really can't blame Pezi for his actions. Any of the trading families would do the same if they had the opportunity." Relief surged through Pezi as the giant heads lifted up and drifted back toward Pelman. He fished his handkerchief out of his handbag and mopped his sweaty forehead. He was seriously considering retiring from the business.

  "I have not seen a human of royal blood since I ate six of them during the last great rebellion. I want to see this girl." Vicia dropped down to look Pelman in the eye. "You show her to me." "I would rejoice in the pleasure of introducing the lady to you, your Dragonship, but-as you see-I am chained." The dragon really hadn't noticed, but the fellow was indeed bound. Vicia-Heinox rarely observed such things, in any case. Only when he got pieces of chain caught between his teeth were they ever any problem to him. Heinox spoke to Pezi: "Release this man." The chubby salesman waddled down to Pelman as quickly as he could, fishing keys from his handbag. Once free, Pelman walked to the beautiful golden litter with a style and grace that belied his rags. Here he paused dramatically.

  "I am sure the lady would have spoken to you sooner, your Dragonship, but as you see-" He swept aside the drapes. "-she, too, is bound." Pelman shot Pezi an accusing look. The merchant hung his head.

  The dragon yawned. "So release her." "With pleasure," Pelman said, and he bent nobly to his task. He was a spry and energetic figure, not an old man by any means, but neither was he young. He had expressive blue eyes, and shoulder-length brown hair, and a face that was ordinary enough to allow him to remain unnoticed if he chose to be. It was his voice that most impressed the dragon, for it climbed and dropped with such personality and dignity that Vicia-Heinox was nearly mesmerized. He could not recall hearing any man speak with such assurance.

  And speak Pelman did: "This lovely young lady, savagely ripped from the home of her father, will impress you, I think, with her gentleness. She has had the best of training in the art of being ladylike, for she's been surrounded since birth by the loveliest women of the realm. Now her father and I have not always seen eye to eye on every matter, I'll grant you, and the last time we spoke we did have a bit of trouble communicating, but I think he would agree with me that of all the ladies of his court, this one is the loveliest. I present to you the gentle Lady Bronwynn." At this Pelman removed the scarf that had gagged the young woman's mouth.

  Free from her bonds at last, she leapt to her feet on the satin and brocade pillows of the litter and, pointing a finger at Pezi, shouted, "You fat little Lamathian mudgecurdle! I'll have the royal chefs carve your belly and roast a hunk of it for-" Pelman clapped a hand over the girl's mouth and struggled to hold her quiet while saying, "Of course, the lady is a bit upset at the moment . . ." "Quit that!" she managed to blurt out around his hand, and he let go of her as she fought her way out of the litter. She straightened her robes and lifted her chin, and muttered "Where's the dragon?" to Pelman. He pointed behind her, and she swept grandly around to get her first good look at this beast she had heard so much about.

  Pelman heard her sharp grunt, and he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. She backed into the security of his arms, and gasped, "He's . . . big . . ." "As I said," continued Pelman, "a Princess of impeccable manners and great modesty. Try not to shake so much, will you?" he added quietly in the girl's ear.

  "You think I'm doing this on purpose?" she whispered back.

  Vicia-Heinox sat back on his hind legs, and raised his heads high into the air.

  "What do I do now?" Vicia muttered.

  "What do I mean, do now?" Heinox asked.

  "With this caravan. I'm not hungry. I don't need any new jewels. What does this merchant have that I want?" "I don't know, what does he have that I want?" "The girl perhaps?" Vicia asked. "After all, she is a Princess, and there must be something important to that. Otherwise, why would they clothe her in such delicate wrappings?" This statement was overheard by the little group below, and Bronwynn gathered her gown around her and shivered.

  "Perhaps Princesses taste better than ordinary folk," Heinox suggested.

  "Perhaps . . . perhaps I should . . ." "If I might interrupt, I believe you would be wasting this Princess if you were to eat her. Consider keeping her, as a-a companion," said Pelman.

  "Thanks a lot!" the girl whispered fiercely. Pelman squeezed her tight and leaned down to her ear. "Try to be quiet and I may be able to extract us from this." She stopped her struggling, and listened.

  "A companion. I could do that," Heinox said.

  "If I knew what a companion is," Vicia added.

  "A companion is someone you spend your time with, talk to, learn from. A companion can be a friend." Pelman noticed Bronwynn was gripping her ears and scowling at this.

  "A friend?" Vicia said. "But I don't need a friend. I have . . . myself." And that gave Pelman an idea.

  "Ah. I understand." He indicated Vicia. "You have him." He indicated Heinox. "And he has you. And you are friends." Vicia-Heinox looked at himself, then both of his heads looked at Pelman. "What?" the dragon asked. "I have myself and I have myself?" "Not quite the idea," Pelman went on quietly. "I mean you have each other." "Each other?" Vicia asked. "He isn't another, he is I. I think," he added.

  "He who?" Pelman asked.

  "Him," Vicia growled, growing irritated at the player's badgering tone. Then Vicia stopped. He looked at Heinox.

  Heinox was already looking at Vicia. "Him?" Heinox muttered. The group of people below kept very quiet.

  "I think I need to reason this out-" Vicia began, and Heinox said, "I think so too." The dragon looked at himself in great confusion.

  Pelman bent to whisper again in Bronwynn's ear. "You see the plateau at the high point of the pass?" She nodded. "When I shout, make for that plateau, and then run to your left." "But that's Ngandib-Mar!" she protested. "Chaomonous is behind us-" "When the confusion begins, make for Ngandib-Mar," he repeated strongly. He began to plot the quickest route to Pezi's horse.

  "I just said I need to reason this out," Vicia repeated.

  "I did too," said Heinox.

  "Yes, but-" "But what?" "But I already said that!" Vicia growled.

  "I know!" Heinox growled back.

  "I know I know! I said I knew!" Vicia growled again, more loudly this time.

  "I know I said I knew! I said I said I knew!" Heinox trumpeted back.

  "I know!" screeched Vicia.

  "Now!" grunted Pelman, and Bronwynn scrambled up the divide as quickly as her legs and gowns would allow her. Pelman drove toward Pezi's horse. The other slaves, still chained together, began to run this way and that, pulling each other backward and forward in a deadly serious game of whiplash, a centipede of people trying desperately to get coordinated. Pezi, seeing Pelman grab the reins of his mount, hustled down the slope to jerk up the reins of the fallen rider's horse, which whinnied and backed away from this heavyweight who was trying to mount it. The fallen rider, who was just coming to, surveyed the chaos around him and decided he had been better off unconscious. He fainted once again.

  And high in the sky, a curious thing was taking place. Vicia-Heinox, at an advanced age, had suddenly been confronted with a terrible identity crisis.

  "I am trying to understand this, will I please cooperate?" Vicia bellowed.

  "I am cooperating! I can't understand why I'm not cooperating!" Heinox screeched back.

  Pelman mounted Pezi's horse and kicked its sides. The beast sprang forward, puzzled but delighted at the lightness of this new rider. Bronwynn was about to reach the pass proper, and Pelman urged the horse toward her at a trot.

  "They're getting away!" Heinox shouted. "Can't I see they are getting away?" "Of course I can see it!" Vicia rumbled. The sound echoed off the sides of the canyon with a presence numbing to the ears, like a thunderclap at close range.

  "Focus! Focus!" Heinox cried, but it was no use. As Heinox focused on Pelman, who was moving up the pass and bending down to
sweep the golden Princess up onto the horse behind him, Vicia was focusing on Pezi, who was urging his reluctant animal into pursuit. Heinox shifted to focus on Pezi, but Vicia had turned to focus on Pelman. The great dragon gave a headsplitting, blood-chilling, back-bending scream of utter frustration, and flew straight up into the sky.

  Pelman cast a glance over his shoulder at Pezi, and kicked his mount once again, driving it toward the west and the land of Ngandib-Mar. By the time Pezi reached the open clearing and looked after him, Pelman and the girl were well on their way into the highland plain of that land. Though he could still see them, they were far away by now-too far and moving too fast to follow. He looked up and watched the dragon high above him, turning erratic circles in the sky. He pulled a sword from its scabbard on the horse's saddle and turned to ride back down into the gorge. The line of slaves still struggled to coordinate a run for safety, and Pezi leveled the tip of his weapon at the back of one slave's head. "Silence!" he roared, his confident manner restored by the change in the situation. The slaves stopped shoving, and all turned to look at him. "Now," he said when all was quiet, "we move on to Lamath. It's a long walk. I suggest you save your breath." The column turned and, under Pezi's watchful eye, began once more to ascend the slope. "Bring the litter! It's bound to be worth something," Pezi grumbled, but as they carried it past him he ground his teeth together in anxiety and disgust. He would have some explaining to do to his uncle Flayh. And who would believe the true story? As he reined his horse in behind the last walker, his mind was hard at work constructing a lie that would absolve him of guilt. Pezi wasn't good at many things, but he was an accomplished liar. "To the right!" he shouted when the first man reached the fork. It would indeed be a long way to Lamath.

  The banquet hall of Chaomonous was built of yellow marble. When all the tapers were lit, the walls reflected the favorite color of the golden King; all were burning brightly tonight. But the dinner conversation was subdued this evening, and the occasional giggle seemed out of place in the near-funereal atmosphere. What conversation there was subsided when a golden-mailed warrior entered the hall. He walked hesitantly toward the elevated table of the King. All could tell by the expression on his face that the news he brought wasn't good. No one was surprised when the King's silver goblet streaked through the room like a meteor; Talith frequently threw things when he was angry. It was a shock, however, when the object bounced off the distant back wall. No one had seen him that angry before.

  "Advisors! To me!" the King shouted, then turned on his heel and stomped off the dais. All over the hall there were muttered "Pardon's" and "Excuse me's" as the King's experts bade good-bye for the night to their ladies and trotted toward the doorway on the east side of the room. The King headed for the chamber of his council of war. Plans would be made tonight that would shape the destiny of the empire.

  Ligne, the King's latest mistress, watched him out the door and then reached for his plate. The best piece of meat lay untouched there, and she took great pleasure in finishing it off. She wished she were privy to the words of the council-but she had her spies sprinkled through the experts, so she would hear soon enough. Thus far things were proceeding exactly according to her plan.

  As she licked the grease from her delicate fingers she noticed the Queen eyeing her with suspicion. Latithia, the Queen and mother of the Princess, was out of favor with the King these days. Ligne licked the last of the juice from her hand, then smiled brightly at the Queen, her blue eyes twinkling. The Queen looked away, and Ligne was pleased to note the flush of Latithia's cheeks. Those seated near Ligne gave no thought to her smug smile. These days Ligne often smiled like that.

  "They weren't even mounted!" the King was shouting. "A group of slaves on foot! Only two riders! And they escaped you?" "It was a surprising move, my Lord," the exchequer said softly. "Pezi normally doesn't move his column until after he has a full complement of slaves. At this time of year he waits for the southern ships to dock, so he may add spices and fish-satin to his inventory. It will surely be two more weeks until the first of the fleet arrives-" "General Joss!" "My Lord?" "What of your spies in the trading houses? Why wasn't I informed she was being held in the house of Ognadzu?" The King's face was very red.

  Joss' eyes widened as the King grabbed his sleeve, but that was the only acknowledgment of his fear. He, too, spoke quietly. "It was a carefully guarded secret, my Lord. It must be admitted that when it comes to keeping secrets, we are no match for the merchants. Secrets are their stock-in-trade-" "I don't need a lecture from my head of intelligence!" Talith bellowed. "And if you want to keep not only your headship but your head, General, you had best begin producing!" The exchequer broke in again. "She wasn't being kept in the local house, my Lord, or we could have stopped them. The girl was being held at Pezi's own estate, on the edge of Dragonsgate." "And how did she get there? Exchequer? General? I take it you don't know." The King's eyes narrowed dangerously.

  "We know this," Joss began. "We know that when she was taken she was in the presence of your mistress-and that only a denizen of the palace could have spirited her past our watch." The General set his jaw and stared at his King. Though Joss was a cruel man, he did not lack for bravery.

  "You are accusing Ligne?" Talith crooned menacingly.

  "I accuse no one, my Lord," answered the General. "I share only what I know." "Perhaps you should know, my Lord," the exchequer interrupted again, "that among those Pezi was carrying to Lamath was a certain Pelman the player." "Pelman!" the King exploded. "Is he involved in this?" "There could be no proof of that," Joss began, but the King cut him off.

  "Pelman! Of course. He's behind this. He has masterminded this whole scheme to get back at me!" "I hardly think-" Joss began again.

  Talith interrupted. "That's right, you hardly do!" He turned his back on his Chief of Security.

  Joss closed his mouth and looked at the exchequer, who seemed even more nervous tonight than usual. The exchequer avoided his eyes, and spoke earnestly to the King. "He is a most clever adversary, my Lord. And you did deal rather brusquely with him when you sold him to Pezi. This stealth seems so unlike the fat merchant-could it be that Pezi and Pelman plotted this together?" "Of course," growled King Talith. "It must be." Joss snorted, and the King turned to look angrily at him.

  "Pardon, my Lord," Joss said. "I share your lack of affection for Pelman. He shows by these plays of his that he is dangerously well informed. But Pezi would not collaborate with a traveling performer. If you wish to know who has masterminded this capture of our Princess, look to the elders of the house of Ognadzu." "They're all in Lamath!" the King snapped.

  "So, we believe, is Bronwynn," Joss said quietly, and then paused while the King mulled over his words.

  The King did not think long, but his reaction was decisive. "Get me Jagd of the house of Uda. And arrest all who wear the blue and lime of Ognadzu." For the first time since the interview began. Joss smiled. "Jagd is waiting outside, my Lord. I felt you might wish to see him, so I sent for him earlier. As for the arrests-they were all made this afternoon. The family of Ognadzu is having a reunion tonight in the dungeon." "Send me Jagd!" the King bellowed, and a guard at the chamber door stamped the butt of his pike on the marble floor and announced as the double doors opened: "Jagd of Uda, to see the Golden King." A wizened little man in rich robes of red and purple stepped briskly into the room, and he and the King were soon deep in a heated private discussion. As Joss stepped out of the way, he noticed once again Kherda, the exchequer. The man stood in a comer of the chamber, forgotten now, his face inscribed with anxiety and self-doubt. Joss watched him, and marked that expression well.

  As soon as he cleared the west mouth of Dragonsgate, Pelman turned south. To go straight meant to run directly into lands controlled by the trading houses. Though they would not be expecting him, the guards on those lands held by the Ognadzu family would surely be suspicious of a man in rags carrying a girl in golden robes, mounted on a horse that wore the blue and lime. Pelman
would take no chance. Instead he would travel along the high southwestern rim of the Spinal Range until he could turn west under the shelter of the Great South Fir.

  Though he guessed that Pezi would not follow, he kept a cautious watch behind them as they rode through the green-cloaked foothills. He also watched the valley below, for any unusual troop movements across the lands of the merchant league. There was little danger yet, but Pelman knew that certain of the larger houses had discovered ways of transmitting messages many miles without the use of a blue flyer. Pelman assumed that in the next day or two, after Pezi reached Lamath, these hills would be covered with merchant riders. They would not allow so precious a prize as the Lady Bronwynn to be stolen away so easily.

  Pelman also glanced frequently to the sky, watching for the massive shadow of the dragon moving overhead. He urged the horse to move faster, and soon they were galloping full speed across the hillside. The more ground put between them and Dragonsgate, the safer Pelman would feel.