Robert Hughes - The Prophet of Lamath

Though Pezi certainly wasn’t feasting, he wasn’t starving either. In fact, were there a little more food and a little less noise, Pezi thought he could come to like the place, damp and dank though it was.

He heard footsteps in the tunnel, but he stayed in his place on the straw. He had run to the door for nothing too many times to believe these steps heralded his release. But he wasted no time getting to his feet when he heard a key scraping in its lock.

Pezi gasped when he saw the contingent that had come to remove him. These were not soldiers; they were spectres, wraiths, beings without faces! Four figures clad from top to bottom in blue robes stood waiting for him, their faces hidden by veils of blue gauze.

“Come with us,” said one in a funereal tone, and Pezi gulped and backed away.

“Are you the—the executioners?” he managed to stammer, and was surprised to hear muffled laughter from beneath those solemn cloaks.

“No, my son. We are advisors to the High Priest of Lamath. Our master would have words with you.” The High Priest!

Flayh had instructed him to make contact with the High Priest, but Pezi’s imprisonment had made that impossible. Now the High Priest had sent his ghouls after Pezi! The fat merchant began to quiver inside, wondering what this Priest would be like, and what weird twist this adventure would take next. Pezi decided right then that he hadn’t the stomach for diplomacy.

“The master is waiting,” another voice said ominously, and Pezi steeled himself and walked forward into the hallway.

Pezi had been expecting the High Priest to look like his advisors—only more so. He was hardly prepared for the youthful countenance that squinted out at him from under an ill-fitting, blue-jeweled hood. It appeared, in fact, that Naquin was as afraid of Pezi as Pezi was of Naquin.

“Welcome, Pezi!” The High Priest smiled warmly, and he motioned the chubby merchant to a chair. As Pezi sat, the four beings who had summoned him gathered in a semicircle behind him. This made the fat little man most uncomfortable, and the feeling wasn’t helped any when these four were joined by five others. They seemed to be inspecting him. Pezi wanted to return their stares, but instead he smiled weakly at Naquin.

The High Priest noticed his discomfort, and a frown creased his forehead. “Shoo! Shoo away there!” Naquin said angrily, nicking his hand at his dark advisors as if they were flies on the pudding. All stepped back obediently, but Pezi remained very aware of their presence. “Just imagine they’re not there,” Naquin. advised. “It’s the only thing that helps. Now, where were we?” Pezi cleared his throat and said, “Well, I was in the dungeon—”

“Oh, I don’t mean that. I’m Naquin, High Priest of the Unified Dragonfaith. And you’re Pezi, a merchant of Ognadzu.” Pezi nodded in agreement.

The High Priest had everything right so far.

“And you’ve reported to my Lord the King that Chaomonous is mobilizing for war.” Once again Pezi nodded. Naquin chuckled, pleased with himself. “You see, I know a great deal about what goes on in the palace.” Naquin leaned forward and winked. “I have my advisors, you see. I realize they’re strange, but they do get the job done. Besides, they’re loyal to the Hood. That’s, ah, this blue thing I have on my head,” Naquin explained, tapping the sapphire-studded headpiece and then readjusting it self-consciously. “Hasn’t been sized yet.” He chuckled nervously, then sat back in his opulently stuffed chair and endeavored to relax himself. “My father died recently. I’ve only lately come under the Hood. Naturally, that has left me with a lot to learn.

My advisors have informed me that my father was great friends with your uncle Flayh.”

“Friends?” Pezi blurted out in surprise. “With Flayh?”

“Ah, perhaps allies would be a better word. My father was a very difficult man to get along with. I never managed to.”

“I never get along with Flayh either,” Pezi confessed quietly, then looked over his shoulder again to see if anyone were taking notes.

“Don’t worry,” Naquin smiled, and he tapped his headpiece again. Pezi settled cautiously back into his seat. “We should be great friends then, shouldn’t we, Pezi?” Pezi smiled slowly, with extreme anxiety. He feared this young ruler was about to make a fool of him, but he couldn’t help himself. Pezi liked to be liked.

In fact, Naquin was making a strong bid for real friendship. He was so isolated in this giant holy place, so cut off from the outside by the constant attendance of his nine wardens, that any glimpse of the world beyond the walls came like a shaft of light through the stained glass. Now he leaned forward earnestly and laid his hand on Pezi’s knee. “Tell me then, friend Pezi. How is it with your uncle—and what news do you bring me?” Pezi shifted uncomfortably, then leaned forward to meet him. “Do they have to stand there? Can’t they stand across the room or something?”

“Over there!”

Naquin commanded imperiously, and the nine blue-cowled figures shuffled to the wall and formed a line against it.

“Now.” Pezi sought to remember what Flayh had ordered him to say. Haltingly he began, “The—ah—the King of Lamath has—ah—he’s blasphemed the dragon. And—ah—he’s sending his army to attack the beast. Ah—if you don’t move now, to—ah—weaken the morale of the army, you’ll lose your—ah—Hood.” Pezi glanced nervously around at the advisors, who were whispering among themselves. That made him feel more insecure than ever, and he looked back at Naquin for some indication of the High Priest’s response.

Naquin stared at him for a moment, blank-faced, then shook his head and murmured, “There was more nonsense in that one statement than I’ve heard from all my advisors combined since my father died—and that’s a whole lot of nonsense!”

Pezi choked, but said nothing. Already he was speculating on the nature of Naquin’s dungeon. Doubtless he would be spending some time there.

Naquin gazed down at the hem of his robe where it bunched heavily around his ornate sandals. “It sounds as if Flayh is at least as big a liar as my father was,” he murmured, then added, “Maybe bigger.” The High Priest glanced up at Pezi’s white face and smiled warmly. “But apparently, Pezi, you are a terrible liar! You ought at least to be a trifle creative with the general outline your uncle gives you, or you could get into a lot of trouble. You see, the King is anything but a dragon blasphemer. In fact, the old man’s gone so holy on us he’s wishing he could get himself eaten by the beast!”

“Oh, I knew that,” Pezi blurted out. He really knew of nothing better to say.

Naquin examined him curiously. “Then why all this other foolishness?” Pezi shrugged sheepishly. “That’s—ah—just what my uncle told me to say.” Naquin was amazed. Far from being annoyed with Pezi, he felt positively pleased. Here was living proof that he was not the only incompetent in a position of responsibility. What he needed to learn, Naquin decided, was how to gather the Pezis of the world around him and manipulate them to insure his continued position.

Perhaps he could keep this Hood yet.

“Thank you, Pezi, for your honesty. I appreciate that in a man. I’m going to need your help in enacting a plan I think will benefit both your house and myself.” Naquin leaned forward and spoke so softly that only Pezi could hear. “The King wishes to be consumed by the dragon in an act of ultimate devotion. How could the High Priest be any more loyal than to help the King get his wish?” Naquin’s smile curled into a sneer, and Pezi’s face now twisted to mirror Naquin’s expression back at him.