Robert Hughes - The Power and the Prophet

“I thought I did too.”

“What changed?” asked Tahli-Damen.

“Can’t you see?” Wayleeth pleaded. Then she buried her head in her hands, silently abusing herself for her terrible choice of words. It took several minutes for Tahli-Damen to respond.

“Of course I can’t see. I’m blind, Wayleeth, and I can’t appreciate any of the horrors you’ve described to me over the past week. I can’t see anything except a shapeless blue haze that lingers always before my eyes. Wayleeth—my dearest— is it meaningless? Is all this that I’ve tried to do, this faith, my pilgrimage to Erri, my mission—is it all, to you, what it is to our kinsmen, the nonsensical ravings of a lunatic?

Because if it is… my darling, if it is… I’d rather die. If there is no purpose in my blindness, then I see nothing but despair, and I’d rather die.” Tahli-Damen chuckled then, and Wayleeth heard a bitter edge to the sound that had not been there since the first days of his magical affliction.

“I don’t hear daily instruction from the Power,” he told her. “Most days…” He hesitated, as if unwilling to reveal this, but then continued. “Most days I hear nothing at all. But I go on. Wayleeth, by faith I go on, because not to go on, not to believe, is to admit I’m nothing but a stupid fool, who…” Here he had to stop to control his own emotions. “Who, without wishing to, has led the love of his life into the darkest possible circumstances.”

Wayleeth stared at him, aware of what he was saying and wanting to reply in the most helpful manner possible. Although he’d clung to her hand for many miles and relied upon her eyes for direction, he’d not revealed any real need for her until that moment. Now that she understood it, she responded in the only way a devoted wife could. She took him by the hand and pulled him to his feet, murmuring, “All right. I have my sign.”

They walked to the High Fortress in the company of their canine comrades, who seemed to grow more excited with every step. No one stopped them, but Wayleeth didn’t view that as good fortune. She fully expected to die within the next few moments. She thought she might prefer ending things out here in the open rather than within that looming tower. It was not to be, however. They walked straight to the open gate of the cavernous stable and up inside. No one guarded it, which puzzled Wayleeth only for a moment.

When she saw the tugolith, she realized human guards were totally unnecessary. She also understood the enormous hoof-prints in the snow and the mangled corpses. She remembered tugoliths now; although she’d never seen one, the merchant academies were all excellent.

The beast that walked menacingly toward them wore an extremely nasty expression. She didn’t scream—she couldn’t say anything at all. Instead she clutched Tahli-Damen’s arm and pointed fruitlessly.

Her husband frowned and cocked his head.

“I’m hungry!” Thuganlitha announced. Since no alarm had been given, he assumed these new arrivals belonged here in the castle. The woman’s trembling did not surprise him, since he’d grown accustomed to humans trembling in his presence. He addressed his complaint to them, making it clear that he wanted action immediately. It really wasn’t a threat.

Wayleeth didn’t know that and she shrank back in horror. Tahli-Damen, however, smiled a kindly smile and modeled his reply after Erri. “My child, if I had anything to eat I’d give it to you. In fact, I have nothing. I’m hungry, too.”

The beast peered at Tahli-Damen as if he were crazy, then bellowed again, “I’m hungry!”

Tahli-Damen no longer smiled. “And as I said, I am hungry also. But I have a mission to perform in this place, and it cannot be put off while I obtain food for you. You will excuse us.”

Thuganlitha’s enormous eyes grew bigger in surprise. Then the color of Tahli-Damen’s robe suddenly registered in his simple brain and he remembered a certain conversation with the despised Pezi on the road. “I can eat you!” he roared in delight.

“Eat me?” Tahli-Damen snapped. “How ridiculous! That sounds like the dragon talking! Wayleeth, is the illusion of the dragon standing before me?”

Wayleeth stammered, “N-n-no…” But she couldn’t man-age to be any more specific.

“Humph,” Tahli-Damen grunted, puzzled. “Well, you are obviously someone with a tasteless sense of humor, and I haven’t time for jokes. Stand aside, please. We have business within this fortress.”

Thuganlitha didn’t understand all of what Tahli-Damen said, but he’d gathered he’d been insulted. It shocked him. No one spoke to him like that! “I’ll horn you!” he roared, and his words thundered off the stable’s rock walls.

“That isn’t amusing,” Tahli-Damen scolded. “Wayleeth, lead me on into this castle.”

Perplexed at having his threat so carelessly disregarded, Thuganlitha watched dumfounded as Wayleeth hurried forward, hustling Tahli-Damen toward the stairway. Before the tugolith could respond, the pair was up the stairs and out of his reach. Then his rage spilled over, and he vented it by charging the wall.

This was solid stone, chiselled from the knoll upon which the fortress rested. He could do it no harm. Yet his impact was so great that those watching from above half expected the wall to collapse before him.

“I’ll horn you!” the incensed tugolith trumpeted. Then he took up a vigil at the bottom of the stairs. His brain was small, but some things he knew, among them that this was the only way into or out of the castle. He’d missed homing this insulting man on the way in. He would not miss another opportunity!

Any confrontation with the tugoliths quickly drew a crowd upon the landing above the stable, and this group murmured

with astonishment. But what startled the onlookers most was not Tahli-Damen’s demeanor nor the gall of the woman who led the blind man up the staircase without permission. Rather, it was the pack of fiery-eyed dogs that surged up the stairs behind them. Someone raced away to inform the sorcerer.

Flayh already knew. His ever vigilant fortress had seen the dogs approaching and reported it immediately. Flayh met the scurrying messenger in the hallway and brushed impatiently by him. “Where are they?” he snapped, and the would-be messenger shouted some reply at his back. The wizard never heard it. He was talking to the High Fortress.

—They have followed the blind religionist toward the apartments of the king, the fortress wheezed in pain.

“Why are they here?” Flayh snarled. “Why?”

The High Fortress had no answer and dared not make any reply. Flayh hurried up the wide spiral toward the lavish bedroom of Pahd mod Pahd-el, muttering anxious curses to the walls. He stopped at the top of the stairs. The dogs stood in the hallway outside Pahd’s door, gazing at Flayh as if they’d been waiting for him. Instantly he was a dog himself, and the ensuing conversation was carried on in the yaps and growls of the canine tongue.

“Why are you here?” Flayh barked.

“We follow this one.”

“But why?”

“Because he once carried a piece of the gate. He may again.”

“That wasn’t in the agreement!” Flayh howled. “You swore you would remain in Lamath and would never return to this place!”

“We swore,” one of the pack snarled, “but you swore an oath as well, and you’ve not kept it.”

“I’ve not had time!”

“You’ve not made time! You were to gather the pieces and remake the gate! What steps have you taken toward that?”

“I know where all of them are,” Flayh said, guarding his thoughts very carefully. He was frightened, and he didn’t like the feeling. His fears were well founded. The powers he’d enfleshed as dogs could kill him if they chose. It wouldn’t do to let them know he’d lost the only pyramid he’d actually possessed.