Robert Hughes - The Prophet of Lamath

“I believe so,” Heinox replied uncertainly. Then addressing Talith, he asked, “You are the King, aren’t you?” Talith gulped. “Yes,” he squeaked.

“Yes, he is,” Heinox told Vicia.

Vicia moved in even closer, and murmured, “Well, you may tell your precious King that if he marches one step closer to Lamath, I will swallow him alive!” Talith suddenly had a very existential appreciation for all of those tales of terror related to him by men who had spoken with the dragon. He trembled.

“You mustn’t believe him,” Heinox said matter-of-factly.

“I—you—I—ah—I mustn’t?” Talith stammered.

“You mustn’t,” Heinox replied patiently. In all his dealings with human Kings the dragon had never been too impressed. Heinox had not been expecting much from this King, and Talith certainly didn’t disappoint him. “You see,”

Heinox continued pleasantly, “he may threaten a great deal, but he can’t really do anything to you unless I let him.”

“Really?” Talith said eagerly. He was still nervous, of course, but this was encouraging news.

“Not exactly so,” Vicia corrected. “It’s true that I can’t do anything to your army unless my other head participates. But I could very easily swallow you, before he could stop me.” Talith gazed up at the giant head in horror.

“Yes, that’s true,” Heinox admitted. “But he won’t. He knows that then I would do something to his King.”

“You surely wouldn’t eat him, would you, Heinox?” Vicia mocked. “After all, he wouldn’t be shaking and trembling before you.”

“All Kings shake and tremble before me!” Heinox roared back. Then he swiveled to explain to Talith, who was shaking and trembling. “He seems to think his King would be more courageous than you.”

“His King?” Talith murmured in confusion.

“For some reason he favors the King of Lamath,” Heinox explained.

“The King of Lamath worships me,” Vicia growled. “All of Lamath worships me. Does Chaomonous do as much?”

Vicia almost came inside the litter, and Talith scooted as far from him as he could without falling off the edge.

“I could… make a decree…” Talith began.

“Do that, and I’ll eat you,” Heinox snorted, and Talith scooted back to the middle of the carriage.

“What are you doing here?” Vicia snarled. “I have never allowed armies to pass this way!”

“But I thought…” Talith began.

“He’s going to attack Lamath, can’t you see that?” Heinox growled at Vicia.

“How did you know—?” the King started to ask.

“Did you somehow send word to this sniveling human that you would try to sneak his army by me?” Vicia demanded.

Heinox snorted. “Of course not. Think I could sneak an army of this size through Dragonsgate? You certainly have a vivid imagination.”

“Then what is he doing here?” Vicia demanded.

“How should I know?” said Heinox. “I know no more about this than you do. But I can tell you this, I shall make every effort to speed his army on its way!”

“You will?” Talith said in pleased surprise.

“Of course. The sooner you conquer his Lamathian army the sooner he’s put in his place.”

“Then my army may advance?” Talith asked hopefully.

“Certainly,” Vicia snarled, “and I shall swallow you the moment you give the order.” Talith gazed up into those giant lizard eyes. “Oh,” he said simply. Then he had an idea. Gesturing toward Heinox, Talith asked Vicia, “Do you think we could talk privately for a moment?” Vicia’s answer was a full-throated dragon roar that filled the canyon and echoed down into the valley. It was all the various commanders could do to keep the golden army from bolting home to Chaomonous.

“I see,” Talith nodded, voice quavering. “Well then,” he asked Heinox, “are there any other possibilities?”

“I would think it a fair trade, myself,” Heinox offered. “Your life and the lives of a few of your supporters in exchange for the conquest of my enemies.” Talith laughed nervously, then choked his laughter down to keep from offending this monster. “Perhaps to you it would seem so, but my life is very important to me.”

“More important than the conquest of my enemies?” Heinox asked, his head looming large in Talith’s limited field of vision. Vicia-Heinox’s two heads were so dose by now that Talith could actually see nothing but dragon.

“Tahli-Damen, are you anywhere close by?” the King whispered, smiling nervously at those many teeth.

“Under the litter, my Lord,” the young merchant replied honestly.

“What are you doing under there?” Talith asked angrily, the smile remaining fixed in place.

“Hiding,” came the truthful reply. “Do you have any suggestions as to how I can get out of this situation, merchant?” the King ground out between his clenched teeth. “A way,” he added, “that doesn’t involve my being eaten?”

“You might request a little time to think the idea over,” the merchant suggested.

“Perhaps you two heads would be kind enough to give me the opportunity to think all this over?”

“Certainly,” Heinox replied. “You have no objections, do you, Vicia?”

“No objections,” Vicia replied. “One condition.” The King cleared his throat. “And what is that?”

“I’m hungry,” the dragon replied, and the King nodded. He had expected that.

They haggled for another half-hour, then one squad toward the rear of the long golden column received word they were needed at the front. The King thanked each man personally, and promised each that his widow would receive a posthumous decoration.

By nightfall, the army of Chaomonous was encamped at the southern mouth of Dragonsgate. Talith threw many goblets and chairs in frustration that night, but those who knew him best considered him to be in quite good spirits.

He had, at least, survived.

Few words passed between them as they rode to the monastery. Rosha battled to contain his frustration. Why did Pelmen not use his powers to prove to that dark-haired witch lady that he spoke the truth? Pelmen had gained nothing in the exchange. Rosha knew little of Lamathian religious politics, but that much seemed clear even to a novice. He said nothing. He was the initiate, not the teacher. But he vowed to stay constantly at Pelmen’s side. There would be fewer seekers now, but Rosha wagered there would be many more assassins.

In the silent riding, Bronwynn thought of a hundred things she might have said to that raven-tressed phony who called herself Priestess. Some Priestess! The young Princess fantasized about creeping into this Serphimera’s dwelling and stealing away her identity. Now if Bronwynn were the Priestess, this dragon cult would make some changes. How could they worship anything so ridiculous as the dragon, anyhow? She felt no awe of Vicia-Heinox. The giant monster was so foolish she almost felt sorry for him.

Pelmen gazed straight ahead, but he was very aware of the thoughts and feelings of these two who rode behind him.

They were so young, so in need of a worthy teacher. And Pelmen felt so inadequate to the task. He had crammed everything he could into their all-too-short lesson periods. Bronwynn was already reading more swiftly than he could himself, and Rosha had taken to reading as well, once Pelmen discovered that it was fear of reading out loud that made the lad balk. That much he had accomplished.

But the changes were taking place too quickly. Open warfare between merchants and landowners in the Mar. Religious revival in Lamath that rivaled any such period in the Dragonfaith’s history. Mobilization for war in all the lands, a war planned and pushed by avaricious merchants who wished to rule the world. And a dragon gone crazy. Tired as they all were, Pelmen resolved to take his two charges below the library tonight and continue with the lessons. The leisurely ride through the Great North Fir seemed dreamlike to him now as he considered the hard realities of his task here in Lamath. There was no more time for leisure. Only time for work.