Robert Hughes - The Prophet of Lamath

Bronwynn and Rosha were too tired to read, anyway. They slept in the straw while Erri and Pelmen shared a quiet conversation about the nature of the Power.

“What good is this Power,” Erri whispered down the corridor, “if it can’t keep you out of prison?”

“Sometimes I wonder that myself,” Pelmen replied. He shifted, seeking a comfortable position for sleep. But there would be no sleep tonight. Only memories of an old friend, lost to the dagger of Admon Faye.

While most of Lamath slept, its army continued to march. By morning, General Asher and his troops stood at the northern mouth of Dragonsgate.

Sometime in the night a small contingent of guards came marching down the corridor and unlocked Pelmen’s cage. He was still half asleep as they dragged him from the tiny cell and carried him farther down the hallway.

Erri was awake when the key turned in the lock. He jumped up and scrambled to the door, and so was right in Pelmen’s path as they tossed the Prophet into the room and slammed the door behind him. The two fell in a heap on the floor, and Pelmen immediately rolled off.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Pair enough,” Erri answered, struggling to his feet. “I hope I made your landing a bit less painful. Why did they move you down here? And at this hour?”

“I’ve no idea—”

“Someone to see the Prophet,” came a call from the corridor, and once again the door opened and someone stepped inside. There was no light in the dungeon, so Pelmen didn’t recognize her until a guard followed her in with a lighted torch. It was Serphimera.

“What’s going on?” Bronwynn called sleepily from the comer.

“Someone to see the Prophet,” Erri hushed her. “Go on back to sleep.”

“The Prophet is here?” Bronwynn exclaimed, and she jumped from her pile of straw and ran to Pelmen. She hugged his neck, crying words of greeting, and he responded by wrapping her in his arms.

“Excuse us, my Lady,” Pelmen smiled at Serphimera over Bronwynn’s shoulder. “We’ve been separated for several days.”

“So I understood from the warder.” Perhaps it was the acoustics of the cell, but Serphimera’s voice seemed tinged with jealousy. Pelmen gently pulled Bronwynn’s arms from around his neck, and grinned at her.

“Where’s Rosha?” he whispered.

“You know Rosha. He could sleep through an earthquake.”

“I’m here,” Rosha murmured from the comer. “Since I d-don’t expect to be g-going anywhere, I’ll let you greet your g-guest.” Bronwynn looked around at Serphimera and frowned.

“What’s she doing here?” she asked.

“We’re about to find out,” Pelmen said quietly.

Serphimera cocked an eyebrow and surveyed Bronwynn’s ragged, bloodstained garment. “Since when have the Divisionist brothers been accepting female initiates?”

“I asked that they conceal the girl among themselves, and they complied.”

“Do you find that heretical, too, Priestess?” Bronwynn sneered.

“My mission here has nothing to do with you, my child,” Serphimera said. “Would you excuse us, please?”

“I am not your child—”

“Bronwynn,” Pelmen murmured, and the girl turned to look up at him. “Let me speak with her.”

“Here, girl, I’ve made you a new pile of straw,” Erri called from a dark comer of the cell, and Bronwynn laughed derisively.

“I’m the child, being sent to bed, then?” she snarled. “Very well, my master! Perhaps in the morning you’ll relate to us what the lady had to say?” No one missed the bitterness in her voice.

“Bronwynn, let them b-be!” Rosha called, and the sulking girl finally went to sit beside him. She whispered heatedly in his ear as Pelmen looked at the Priestess.

“Why did you come here, my Lady?” he asked.

“When I heard Asher had put you in that cage, I had to come,” Serphimera answered quietly.

“Oh? I understood from the General that it was you who asked that I be imprisoned.”

“Imprisoned yes, but not caged!

It is for your own good,” she continued defensively, “and for the good of the people of Lamath. You cannot be allowed to roam the land, attracting weak believers to your heresies.”

“Yet you roam the land, my Lady.”

“I share the truth of Lord Dragon! Yours is a message of lies!”

“So you have said. Did you come to this dungeon to argue with me, my Lady?” Serphimera turned her back on him and walked toward the door. She did not wish these others to hear their conversation. When she spoke again, it was almost in a-whisper. “I have come to offer you freedom.”

“What kind of freedom?”

“Freedom from this place, of course… and freedom from death.”

“On the condition that I follow you?”

Serphimera looked back at him. “I know well enough you could not follow me now. In these short weeks you have built your own following, and many remain stubbornly loyal to you in the face of all reason. No, I don’t ask you to follow me. I only ask you to leave off your Divisionist heresies and serve the Dragon.”

“Your devotion is impressive, Serphimera. But I have met your dragon, and he is no god. Please don’t cover your ears!” He pulled her hands from her head to hold them in his own, and stooped down to gaze into her face. “Look at me, Serphimera—please.” She had clenched her eyelids tightly against his words. Now they nickered open, and he saw great sadness in her eyes.

“Asher gave the order to the keeper of the tugoliths four days ago,” she whispered. “The beasts are already prepared to draw you.”

“I understand that.”

“If you are a Prophet, you know the traditions. Five days from the giving of the order, the tugoliths draw. You will be between them tomorrow, unless you recant.” Pelmen thought a moment. “But Serphimera, what of your vision?” The Priestess dropped her eyes and tried to pull away, but he held her. “Did you not see me torn between the mouths of the dragon?”

“It was a dark vision…” she murmured, struggling weakly.

“Yet you said it was I! You spoke so certainly of my doom!”

“The man in my dream wore a robe of sky blue—Divisionist blue, like this robe you wear!” Pelmen released her. “Few Divisionist monasteries still exist, so effective has been your teaching.” He shook his head and paced away from her. “Most monks are midnight-clad, as you are. If the man in your vision was noon-clad, I’ve no doubt you dreamed of me.”

“Draw no comfort from my vision, false one,”

Serphimera said. “It will not save you between the blocks!”

“Who can alter visions, Serphimera? Am I to believe that you are able?” , “It was a dark vision, I told you!”

“Who else but I would be clothed so?”

“Your initiates are two!”

Serphimera snapped, and she gestured to the young couple lying in the straw.

“Rosha, Bronwynn—when I gave you those robes I told you the time would come soon to lay them aside. It has come.”

“G-good,” Rosha announced, and he jumped up from the floor and began stripping the garment over his head.

Bronwynn now saw by torchlight that he had been clothed in tunic and mail shirt all along.

“No wonder you’ve been complaining about being hot!” she said.

“C-could n-never tell when t-t-trouble might come.”

“That’s all very well for him,” Bronwynn told Pelmen, “but I don’t have anything on under this!” Pelmen smiled. “I imagine you are safe enough here, Bronwynn. But we’ve been discovered now. There’s no longer any sense in hiding your womanhood.”

“You seek to force the vision to apply only to yourself and thus insure your safety between the blocks,” Serphimera spat out. “But if you were a true Prophet you would know that every vision is open to many interpretations. There are those who say the tugoliths are related to the dragon. Could they not fulfill the prophecy in drawing you?” Pelmen gave Serphimera a slight grin. “Tugoliths related to Lord Dragon? Now that sounds like heresy to me!”