Robert Hughes - The Prophet of Lamath

“Oh, stop this!” the Priestess shouted, and Pelmen’s smile departed. “Will you waste your last few hours of life in sophistry?”

“My Lady,” Pelmen replied softly, “it isn’t sophistry. A Priestess of the dragon has pronounced my doom upon me. How can I but watch the horizon of the future for its coming?” Serphimera sighed. “Then you will not recant?”

“I cannot, my Lady. If I have seen the truth, can I deny it? When you have seen a vision, can you call it a lie?” Serphimera looked at the guard, and inclined her head to the door. He held it open for her, and she stooped to go out. There she stopped and looked back in at Pelmen.

“You are a fool, Prophet.” Then the door slammed shut, and they were in darkness once more.

Erri kept his mouth closed as long as he could, but finally could hold his tongue no longer. “You kick away a chance to be free just because you and the lady don’t see things alike. Is that entirely necessary?”

“How should I know what’s necessary?” Pelmen growled back, and the others heard him drop heavily onto a pile of straw beside the door. He would speak no more until dawn.

While conquering the northern lands centuries before, the armies of Lamath had discovered the great beast of burden they came to call the tugolith. It was a monstrous animal standing about fifteen feet to the shoulder, with an enormous horn protruding from the middle of its forehead and a hide as thick as dragon scales. Its skin and its size led those early Lamathians to assume the tugolith was a distant relative of the dragon. There was even a rumor that certain of the soldiers who discovered the creature attempted to worship it, but the army and the Dragonfaith kept that very quiet, for it was quickly seen that the tugolith was not terribly bright. Even the smartest of the beasts never accumulated a vocabulary much beyond that of a four-year-old. Certainly an animal so dull could not be related to the Lord Dragon! Lamath needed a wall in the far north to hold off the attacks of barbarians, and soon the army put these beasts to work hauling the stoneworks into place. They proved so capable that a large herd of tugoliths was driven south to help in the building of the capital. There the concept of drawing was hit upon quite by accident, when an unfortunate handler gave an imprecise command and his two animals pulled apart rather than pulling together. Before many years passed, drawing by a pair of tugoliths became the chief form of capital punishment. It was considered especially appropriate for heresy.

But that had been long ago. The sects of the Dragonfaith had grown so numerous and so varied that heresy was impossible to define. Then, too, quicker and less expensive forms of execution had gained in popularity. Few people expected ever to see a heretic drawn, though there were many who argued about the necessity of keeping the drawing blocks. The announcement of the drawing of the false Prophet came as a shock to the entire nation, and a large number of rural peasants brought their children to Lamath to witness this rare event. The dungeon’s occupants began hearing the crowd at daybreak, and the noise level gradually swelled through the morning.

Erri sat glumly in one corner, facing the wall. Rosha, too, kept to himself. He had never laid much stock in any visions of any kind, but he did know something of the laws of nature. If two monstrous animals were to pull Pelmen apart, the Prophet would be killed. That much was evident. What was not so obvious was what one could say to a man condemed to such a death. Instead of talking, Rosha played with handfuls of straw, and daydreamed of the snow caps on the mountains of Ngandib-Mar.

But Bronwynn was a believer. If Pelmen did not think he would die between the blocks, she didn’t think so either.

Something did concern her, however. She scooted over next to Pelmen. “What do you think of the Priestess? You’ve never really told us.”

“Why do you ask me that?”

“I just want to know what you think. I would like very much to hate her—but I get the feeling you don’t.”

“No, I don’t hate Serphimera.”

“I don’t see why not!” Bronwynn snapped. “She’s trying to kill you!”

“No, she tried to save me. Remember? Serphimera is a very beautiful woman who thinks she knows something—but really doesn’t.”

“Then what do you think of her?” Bronwynn persisted.

Pelmen smiled. “Isn’t that enough?” The girl studied his face. “I don’t think so,” she said seriously. “Things passed between you two last night that had nothing to do with words.”

“Who gave you permission to listen?”

“And I want to know this: do you love her?” Pelmen cackled. “What a thing to ask a condemned man!”

“Well, do you?” Pelmen took Bronwynn’s hand and rubbed it affectionately. “You’ve been too long in your father’s court, Lady Bronwynn. Like him, you mistake attraction for love.”

“Isn’t that what it is?”

“No. Love is much more than that. I’m a little surprised that you haven’t discovered that already.”

“But you do feel that for her?”

“Feel what?”

“Attraction.” Pelmen grinned. “Yes.

What difference does it make?” Bronwynn blinked a couple of times, and shrugged her shoulders. “Some,” she said.

“It matters some.” Then she stood up, and drifted away.

Soon after, they all heard the tramping of guards in the hallway. Then the door flew open, and the warder and his personal staff filled the cell. “On your feet, Prophet. It’s time to go.” Pelmen stood slowly, then looked around at his three friends. Rosha glided to his feet and came toward him. The Prophet noticed the lad had donned his robe again to protect the mail shirt from theft by the guards. Rosha hugged him forcefully, then stepped back to look Pelmen in the face. “D-do you want us to d-do anything?”

“You still have the book?” Pelmen asked. Rosha nodded. “Then keep reading it. Keep telling these people the truth.”

“Come on, the tugoliths are driving their master mad! We don’t have all day.”

“Very well. Erri?” The little sailor hopped to his feet and took the hand Pelmen offered.

“Oh, yes,” said the warder, looking at Erri. “You’re to go with us too. The Seachief has cleared you of all complicity with the heretics, and you’re free to go.” Erri raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He muttered a quick good-bye to the two young people, then climbed out of the cell into the hall.

“Bronwynn?” Pelmen asked, opening his arms to the girl, but she wouldn’t come. She stood on the far side of the cell and gave him an awkward wave.

“See you,” she murmured softly.

He waved back. Then he, too, climbed into the passageway. The warder followed him out, and the door clanged shut again. Once more, the young couple was alone.

“Was that any way t-to say g-good-bye?” Rosha growled.

“I wasn’t saying good-bye,” Bronwynn snapped back. Then she turned away from him. “Besides,” she said. “He’s in love with Serphimera.”

THUGANLITHA AND CHIMOLITHA were the two tugoliths who had been chosen to draw the false Prophet. Just now they were aggravating their handler to the limit of his patience. The creatures possessed only a four-year-old intelligence, it was true, but they had all the curiosity of a four-year-old as well. They were also very forgetful, and tended to ask the same question over and over again.

“Why am I here, Dolna?” Thuganlitha asked his keeper for the thirtieth time that morning.

Dolna screamed back his answer. “Because I brought you here!”

“Why?”

“So you can draw this Prophet, whoever he is!”