Robert Hughes - The Prophet of Lamath

“Ten what?”

“Ten advisors, of course. Every other movement is represented, why not the ‘ultimate devotion’ party?” Naquin’s sarcasm was not lost on the Priestess, but she disregarded it. He was, after all, still a boy. “I had no wish to start a new movement, only to restore the old to its original passion.”

“No doubt, no doubt. So did all the other movements when they started.” Naquin was not pious by any means, but he did know his history.

“But this won’t be another movement.” Serphimera smiled knowingly. “The true end of ultimate devotion has nothing to do with religious practice. The true end is to be swallowed by the Lord Dragon.”

“And that’s what confuses me in all this,” Naquin replied. “When the aim is to be consumed by the dragon, and when so many adherents are flocking to captivity in the south in order to accomplish that dubious purpose, how is it that your following continues to grow?”

Naquin smiled sarcastically. “Could it be that a lot of them preach what they fear too much to practice? I notice their leader is still undigested…”

“It has been given to me to prepare the faithful,” Serphimera replied patiently, condescending to his skepticism. “When the proper time comes I hope to make my own pilgrimage. Like you, I hope that time is soon.”

“Like me?” Serphimera laughed brightly and tossed her dark mane over her shoulders. “I quite understand that my disappearance would be cause for great rejoicing within this temple—and within a host of monasteries still untouched by my devotionalists.”

“I would never think such a thing!” Naquin lied. “My only concern is that you’ve gotten the King into a lather over this, and for the welfare of the country I wish you would make some proclamation or something that would set the old fellow’s heart at ease.” Serphimera’s eyes flashed with excitement as she smiled triumphantly. “But you see, my concern is not with the welfare of the state. I’m far more concerned with the welfare of the Lord Dragon!” Naquin smiled back, a thin smile, then weakly called out, “Advisors?” Within moments his nine blue shadows trooped back into the room. “Would you please discuss this situation with the lady? I’ve remembered an important task of office I must attend to.” He turned on his heel then and walked out of the temple, his robe clacking all the way. He really had nothing else to do, of course—what could be more important than the welfare of the King? But it was just too much for him today. Too much. He needed to get out of this jeweled lizard skin and be himself for a while.

The Elder climbed cautiously down the ladder into the cavern, sniffing for bear at every step. He realized it made little difference if he did smell one, for the beast would get him before he could get back up the ladder. Still, he felt it might be worthwhile at least to know what was getting him before it did so. He thanked the Power that bears never came up into the open.

He walked quietly, holding the lantern above his head and trying to remember the way. At last he found the entrance hole, and saw a light glowing from within. “My brother?”

“Yes, my father?” Pelmen replied from within. The closeness of the place made his voice sound distant.

“I hate to disturb your study, but there is another one waiting in the anteroom.” There was a short silence, then the old holy man heard Pelmen sliding through the passageway.

“You didn’t disturb me,” Pelmen answered gravely, shaking dust from his clothes.

“That’s a lie, of course,” the Elder said, “but a gracious one. You seem to be bearing up well under the burden.” They shuffled back toward the ladder. “I wish one could say the same for your young friends.” Pelmen stopped walking and looked at his old teacher.

“What can I do? What other choice is there?”

“Oh, I didn’t say you had a choice. I do think that perhaps you could help their adjustment somewhat if you would spend a little time with them. You seem to have it for everyone else…”

“Yes. You’re right, as always.”

“Do you think we could walk along as we talk?” the old man asked. “After all, we could visit in the library all night and never even smell a bear…” Pelmen chuckled, and they moved on. “I’ll speak with the two of them as soon as I deal with this new seeker who has come.”

“Oh, no need to wait.”

“But—”

“You see, I lie rather graciously myself.” The old man put his hand on the ladder and passed the lamp to Pelmen. “You take this prophecy business so seriously. What other lever do I have to get you to fulfill your responsibilities?” The Elder was old, but he wasn’t dead. This close to the library and safety, he wasn’t about to give any passing bear a chance to render him so.

Pelmen was amazed at how swiftly the little man scrambled up the ladder and out.

“We just don’t understand,” Bronwynn said when the three of them were together. “We’ve been a part of everything you’ve done up until now, why can’t we be a part of this?”

“But you are a part of this. Look at your robes, look—”

“What difference does it make what color robes we wear?” Bronwynn protested. “All right, so the good brothers have told us the significance of the sacred blue. But Pelmen, we have no interest in this religion business, we want to be a part of what you’re doing!”

“Rosha? You’re saying nothing?”

“I speak for both of us,” Bronwynn said, and Rosha nodded to indicate this was true.

Pelmen sighed. “If you’re not interested in all of this, what makes you think you would be any more interested in what I’m doing?”

“You.” It was Rosha who said it, and even he seemed surprised that he’d spoken.

“Me?”

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Bronwynn said, her tone pleading as she sought to make him understand. “If it is this important to you, it is important to us as well.” Pelmen gazed first at one young face and then the other, then stood to stroll around the room. “Very well,” he said finally. “I will make you my first initiates.” It was such a serious pronouncement that Pelmen expected more reaction from the young couple than he received. They simply nodded. “If there’s nothing else then—”

“One more thing,” Bronwynn said.

“Yes?”

“Rosha wants to know if you have any news about his father.” Pelmen’s grim expression grew more so. “Why do you ask this, Rosha?” The young man cleared his throat. “I had a—dream. The n-night of the s-s-storm. I dreamed that you—heard a c-conversation about m-my father. D-did you?” Pelmen stared at the lad. “Yes.”

“Why d-did you hide it from m-me?”

“Your father did not do as I asked. He has been under siege by Tohn mod Neelis—probably since the day we left.”

“D-don’t you think I kn-know that?” Rosha stammered, his eyes angry. “I kn-knew that before you ddid! My father t-told me his plans! M-m-my father t-tt-trusts me!” Rosha glared at Pelmen, and the Prophet felt his stomach knot up. He had underestimated the son of his finest friend, he now realized, and it grieved him.

“I’m sorry, Rosha. I was trying to protect you.”

“I c-can protect m-myself!”

“I realize that. Better now than before, my friend.”

“Then t-tell m-me what you have heard!”

“The three men who plotted Bronwynn’s kidnap have also plotted Dorlyth’s death.”

“D-d-did they succeed?” Rosha asked, stony-faced.

Pelmen shrugged helplessly. “All I heard was the plot.”

“Then they d-d-didn’t,” Rosha barked fiercely, “for I know my father, and he has b-b-better sense than to g-get himself killed.” In spite of the weightiness of the conversation, Pelmen was forced to smile at that. “I see the son trusts the father as well.”