Robert Hughes - The Prophet of Lamath

“I want you to eat well,” Doriyth began, and there was another round of cheers before he could go on. “This is the best we could put on the table—”

“And that’s plenty good for me!” a warrior in back shouted, and there was noisy agreement from all parts of the room.

“But it may well be the last good meal some of you ever eat,” Doriyth finished. Some men nodded assent to this, but there were no more shouts. It was a sobering thought. “I wish I could offer you more. You are my friends, my fellows—in many ways my family. But we’re facing a siege, and this castle is not well prepared for siege.”

“Then why don’t we just meet them and beat them out on the field?” someone asked from the back of the room.

“We may be forced to, depending on how long they decide to stay and on our water situation. But the real victory in this conflict rests in making it last a long time. I see some puzzled looks. I know you are fighters, not sitters. I’ll explain.

Tohn mod Neelis, whom some of you know personally and all of you know by reputation, is marching against Doriyth castle.”

“Why?” someone asked.

“He’s the best warrior among the merchants, that’s sure,” someone in another corner of the room observed.

“He’s breaking the Confederacy then?” an old warrior near the front asked. “Have you informed the sloth?”

“The King has been notified,” Doriyth answered. “I hope,” he added under his breath. “You all are well aware of the King’s problem so I won’t bore you with it. If Pahd comes, he comes, but I don’t expect him. What we do, we must do ourselves, and I’ve chosen to defend rather than attack—”

“But why—”

“I’m getting to that. Tohn mod Neelis has broken the Confederacy on the orders of the Council of Elders.”

“I told you a merchant couldn’t be trusted,” one soldier growled to his neighbor, then cursed.

“He is a merchant, and it was well known to the Confederacy before he joined that his real loyalties were elsewhere. So be it. There’s nothing we can do now except defend against his coming. He marches against me because he believes I am sheltering a fugitive the merchant families want badly.”

“Are you?” someone shouted.

“If I were, I’d fight to protect him!” Doriyth yelled back, and there was a roar of Mari approval. “The fact is, I no longer am. The party is in the process of escaping the area. I want to give them all the time I can.”

“And that’s why the siege strategy?” a young warrior asked.

“Look here,” Doriyth chuckled. “Even Venad mod Narkis is starting to think like a general!” Laughter greeted Dorlyth’s comment, and the young man grinned good-naturedly. He was known for his skill with the bow, not for the quickness of his mind.

“Our problem is our water supply,” Doriyth continued. “If they cut that, we’ll be forced to take to the field.” There were some scattered cheers in reaction to that, too, but Doriyth shook his head. “No, that’s not what I want!” The room grew quiet. “My wish is to keep Tohn tied up for as long as possible without engaging him in battle. The longer we stay inside and the longer he waits, the more time our friends have to get away. And it is imperative that they escape, not only for their safety but for our security as freemen!” All listened grimly to Dorlyth now as he paced behind the head table that lined the length of the platform. Many of these men had been slaves, whose freedom bad been bought or won for them by Dorlyth. They knew little of the relation of other bondsmen of Ngandib-Mar to other lords, and cared less—but their bond to Dorlyth had been forged out of a struggle for personal freedom. They valued it—and listened closely: “It is the purpose of the merchant houses to force total economic slavery on us by crushing our governments and replacing them with merchant kings. This attack is only the first flexing of merchant military muscle, and if we can weaken them now, I say we should do it.” Dorlyth stopped pacing, and looked out at this gathering of dear friends. “But I won’t risk your lives if I can avoid it. We’ll hurt Tohn’s army as much as is necessary to drive him home—and hope that he chooses to stay home next time. But I won’t waste lives by going out to meet him in the field.”

“Yet if the water—”

“We’ll face that if and when we have to,” Dorlyth said. Then he held up his hands to stop further comments. “That’s enough for now—your dinner is getting cold and so is mine. Let’s eat it.” Dorlyth sat and began to tear into a slab of beef. Soon the kitchen crew was back in business, and the seneschal had gone back to his worrying.

As Dorlyth mushed, the bird handler stepped into the room and walked quietly to his side. The man bent and whispered in the swordsman’s ear, and left again. It took a few minutes, but enough of the company bad witnessed the exchange that soon the room grew quiet again. Dorlyth, forced to comment, stood once more.

“My falconer shared some news that you may be interested in. I sent a rider half a day’s journey east with orders to watch and count. Tohn mod Neelis will arrive two hours before tomorrow’s dawn.” He waited for a moment, but no one went back to eating. He smiled. “You want the count. He brings a force of six hundred. Against this crowd, I feel sorry for the man!” There was laughter then, and Dorlyth sat down to sop his plate. He felt a weariness in his bones, and he looked forward to sleep. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would be longer.

They rode from before dawn to well after midnight, with precious few stops. What few moments of rest they had taken were too short by half, in Bronwynn’s estimation. All three riders were exhausted, and the last few hours of the journey had been especially tense with the passing of the light. The night was moonless; and though the stars were brilliant, they did little to light the way. Instead they dazzled the eyes, making the ground and trees seem only more black and shapeless. Pelmen’s commands took on a sharp edge, for the rough terrain seemed determined to part them from one another. He spoke only when necessary, so deep was his concentration on holding them together. Rosha, of course, said nothing. There were times when Bronwynn felt herself all alone in the universe, and several times she said silly things just for the sake of hearing a human voice tell her to be quiet. She tried to content herself with the muted shuffle of horses moving cautiously through moist new grass and mud. She rubbed her cheek along the feathers of the falconet that stolidly rode her shoulder, and passed the time by quietly voicing various names for the bird. She settled finally on Sharki, though she really didn’t know why that appealed to her. It did seem to her, though, that she had heard sailors tell her father of a great sea creature by that name that was as graceful and deadly in the water as her falcon was in the air.

“Sharki I’ll call you,” she whispered to the bird.

“Quiet!” Pelmen scolded.

They rode on.

She sang songs in her head, counted hoofbeats, rehearsed a score of biting replies she would give the next time Pelmen hushed her—and she sighed a great deal. What about this Rosha, what does he think about? she wondered. He was back behind her again. Pelmen had appointed him to keep her from getting lost—and she one of the best horsewomen in the whole Chaon court! Just when Bronwynn was ready to scream in frustration, Pelmen decided to stop.

“Quietly now,” he said, “I know you’re both exhausted, but I need your help. We are at the edge of the Great North Fir.

Dismount and come here beside me.” Bronwynn swung her right leg over her pony’s rump, and was about to drop to the ground when she felt strong hands clasp her waist. Startled, she yelped.