Robert Hughes - The Prophet of Lamath

“To be an assassin, not another of your human houseplants,” he finished for her, his eyes boring into hers. “As long as that relationship is worthwhile to me, I will continue it. But I have been waiting long enough, and I have other matters to deal with this morning.” Ligne glared at him for a moment, then forced herself to laugh. “Admon Faye,” she said, “you are a very powerful man.”

“I’m also ugly and impatient!” he growled, starting to rise.

“I want you to kill someone,” Ligne said quickly, and he settled back onto the bed, dropping his foot graciously to the floor.

“Who and where?” he demanded.

“I want you to murder the heir to the throne of Chaomonous,” Ligne announced quietly. If she expected some reaction from him she was disappointed.

“Where?” he said again. “Don’t you hear any news? She has been kidnapped.

and taken to Lamath.”

“I hear a lot of news, my Lady, much of it not true. I assume your sources are good?”

“The best,” she said smugly. “Dealing with the merchants then.” He nodded to himself, then went on. “And are you sure the lady arrived in Lamath?” Ligne jerked. “Of course she did! Why would you ask that?”

“I said I hear a lot of things.

I’ve heard some rumors that she never arrived. But you say the merchants told you she’s there?” Ligne nodded uncertainly, hiding her shock and quickly stifling her fears. “They could be lying, of course. But I’ll find her.” He started toward a hidden door.

“I, too, hear rumors,” Ligne said, stopping him. “It’s rumored you are seeking Pelmen the player. He was sold into slavery and carried off to Lamath with the girl. Should you happen to see him, I will pay you extra to kill him as well.

He’s said some very unkind things about me in those plays of his.”

“Yes, Pelmen always was an honest sort,” Admon Faye sneered, and Ligne’s temper flared again. “You want him dead and Pahd of Ngandib wants him alive. When I do find him, I’ll sell him to the highest bidder. How’s that?”

“Get out!” Admon Faye chuckled, and crouched to duck through the low doorway concealed behind her marble washbasin. Then he stopped, and looked up at her. “Next time you want to see me, make it after the King’s visit. I’m not going back in that closet.” Then he was gone as silently as he had come, leaving Ligne to stew in silence.

Later that day the King’s crystal-maker was ordered to replace some mirrors in Ligne’s apartments. When the King threw things in anger, he tended to grab an unbreakable object. Ligne wouldn’t throw anything unless there was some shattering of glass involved. If people couldn’t see and hear your rage, what was the point of flying into one? Tohn swore aloud, and swung himself up into the saddle. The sun had just come up, but it was already promising to be a hot day. Tohn cursed this changeable weather, cursed his horse who was inexplicably in the mood to prance this morning, but most of all he cursed r whoever it was that had warned Dorlyth of his coming. Not only was the bearded swordsman not surprised, he was fully prepared for a siege! Every report Tohn received drove him deeper and deeper into depression. It had to be the magician’s doing. Tohn stood in his stirrups to get a good view of the small keep, and dropped back into the saddle with a heavy thump that did nothing either for him or the horse. He jerked on the animal’s reins and rode back to the brightly striped blue-and-lime tent that would serve as his command post. “Boy!” he bellowed, and his freckle-faced squire tumbled out of the tent, legs tangling in the unfamiliar flaps. “You bring me my helmet.” The boy started inside. “And my sword,” Tohn added.

“What, sir?” the lad asked, popping his head back out.

“Sword! You’ve heard of a sword, have you?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said, and he disappeared. “And my standard, I’ll need that, too,” Tohn added. The boy appeared at the door flap again. “What, sir?”

“My standard! How’s Dorlyth mod-Karis to recognize me without my standard!”

“I don’t know, sir,” the boy said, then hesitated at the door.

“What are you waiting for?” Tohn bellowed. Then he remembered something else. “And bring me that object in the blue bag…” He trailed off as the boy came out of the tent with helmet under one arm, sword and standard under the other, and the blue bag clutched in both hands. “How’d you know I wanted that before I called for it?” he roared.

“Simple, sir. It was the only thing left in the tent.”

“Give me that,” Tohn grumbled, grabbing the helmet the boy offered him. He looked at the sun climbing higher in the sky and muttered, “That magician’s cursed me, I know he has.”

“Remember, it’ll be hot for the enemy too, sir,” the lad offered with a smile.

Tohn looked at the boy. “Did I ask for encouragement? Did I?” he asked. The boy smiled at him, and Tohn finally chuckled and rubbed the youngster’s head.

Then it was back to business. “Sword.” The boy passed him his greatsword, and he unsheathed it in his left hand. It flashed brightly, and Tohn was pleased. He had drawn it for effect only. He wouldn’t use it unless he absolutely had to. “Standard,” he murmured, and the boy placed the butt of the stock in its holder on the saddle and pushed the pennant up for Tohn to grab it in his right hand.

“What about this?” Tohn looked down and saw that the boy was holding the pyramid bag up to him.

“Can’t you see I’ve got my hands full? Hang it around the saddle horn.” The boy obeyed, and stepped back to look at his master, resplendent in blue-and-lime. “Look pretty good for an old fellow, hunh?” Tohn asked, and the boy grinned back. Tohn mod Neelis wheeled his horse, shouting, “Captains!” He rode toward the castle.

The word was passed quickly along the battlements. Tohn and three others rode close to parlay. Dorlyth donned his own helmet and walked out onto the arch surmounting the door to the keep. He waited until Tohn was twenty yards away, then shouted, “Enough.” Tohn and his captains stopped their horses.

“I would welcome you to my property, Tohn mod Neelis,” Dorlyth began, “but I see you have already made yourself at home.” Dorlyth waved a hand at the semicircle of colored tents stretched across the eastern hill of Dorlyth Field. “I take it there’s a reason for this display?”

“I seek only a man and a young lady,” Tohn shouted back courteously.

“They were guests of my house, but seem to have disappeared.”

“If they chose to disappear, perhaps your house should improve its hospitality. That does not speak well of Ognadzu.”

“Perhaps not,” Tohn replied, “but that is hardly our concern here. I need this man and woman, and have come asking if you have some information concerning their whereabouts.”

“You need six hundred men to ask a question, Tohn?”

“I felt there might be some need for wide consultation,” Tohn replied.

“Then are your war councils growing as large as those storied councils of the golden south?”

“A lot of advice in a time of crisis can be most worthwhile, Dorlyth mod Karis.”

“I quite agree. That’s why I’ve invited these, my friends, to join me in my keep. To share advice.”

“I trust they advise you to aid me in my quest for Pelmen the powershaper and a girl in his company named Bronwynn?”

“Actually they’ve been rather insistent on my not aiding you. As you say, good advice is most worthwhile.”

“As long as it is good advice, Dorlyth.” Tohn was threatening now. “If you choose not to aid me, my searching could prove costly to you. It would seem that with the relative size of the forces involved, the better part of wisdom would be for you to help me.”