Robert Hughes - The Prophet of Lamath

“Who will deliver us from the two-headed beast?” Everyone in Lamath had a different explanation for the cataclysmic events of the last weeks. Many blamed the dragon’s rampage on the Prophet, saying that this punishment was Lord Dragon’s retribution for Asher’s stopping the execution. These would have followed diligently any new command their Priestess might have given, even to storming Asher’s compound and murdering Pelmen on the spot. But Serphimera was giving no new commands. Serphimera had disappeared.

Others praised the Prophet for revealing the twi-beast as a sham, and claimed that this destruction was the dragon’s attempt at revenge. This new party united behind Pelmen, and the group grew larger daily as it was joined by soldiers freshly returned from the front. They had heard from their leaders the dialogue of Asher’s meeting with the beast, and had seen the flash of light in Dragonsgate just prior to this eruption of chaos. “The dragon is divided!” they declared to loud cheers. “The Prophet is right!” These words swiftly formed the foundation of a new litany. Everywhere, the final chorus was the same. “All bless the Prophet! The Prophet will deliver us!” Serphimera’s loyals, prowling the street comers and searching the alleys, clenched their teeth against these new heresies and continued to search for their leader. “Remember,” they reminded one another in whispers, “the Priestess has seen his doom!” But where was Serphimera? The inner circle seemed to know, but they said nothing. Most of them wore their gloom wrapped about them like winter capes. The” others zealously kept on searching. Where was she? The double-headed dragon singled out the cities for special punishment. Each of the major metropolitan areas felt the dragon-burn in widely scattered locations. But perhaps the hardest hit was the High City of Ngandib. Lamath and Chaomonous both stood astride giant waterways, but Ngandib sat on a great plateau. All water had to be pumped up from the valley below, and the liquid was always in short supply. Once the twi-beast set his fire upon a section of city, the blaze was nearly impossible to quench. By the time Pahd mod Pahd-el arrived home at the head of his victorious army, the flying monster had burned away half of his capital. Later that same day, Dorlyth mod Karis received a summons by blue flyer, demanding his immediate presence in the court of the King. Weary though he was, Dorlyth mounted his horse and rode west, wondering what Pahd required of him. When he saw the billowing black smoke while still miles away from the base of the plateau, he realized why he had been called.

Pahd’s mother ushered Dorlyth into the King’s chamber with grim silence. The King reclined, as usual, but Dorlyth noted a distinctive difference. Pahd mod Pahdel was wide awake.

“You saw?” Pahd asked.

Dorlyth nodded. “Sickening. Worse than I had imagined.” Pahd looked away. Then he exploded. “And I can’t do anything about it!” He suddenly reached out and gripped Dorlyth by the wrist. “I need help!”

“Whatever I can do, my Lord, I will—”

“Pelmen the powershaper. Where is he?” Dorlyth shook his head. “To my great regret, I have no idea.”

“None whatever?”

“Only that he left for Lamath some weeks ago with my son. I have heard nothing since.”

“Why would he go to Lamath?” Pahd demanded. “I need him here!” The King jumped up, paced the room, then sat on the footstool before his throne and hid his face in his hands. Finally he looked up. “I’ve never faced anything like this before, Dorlyth. Nothing prepared me—for this!”

“No, my Lord,” the bearded warrior replied. He laid a hand on the King’s shoulder, and the younger man gazed up into his face. Pahd’s eyes were wet.

“I have lost half of my’ kingdom to this burning beast! In only a week! Can’t someone help me control this monster?”

Dorlyth patted the King’s shoulder, trying to impart some hope and strength even he himself didn’t feel. “Perhaps Pelmen will—” he began, but his voice trailed on. It was such an unlikely idea. Why even mention it, and raise the young King’s hopes? Ligne paced the opulently furnished apartments that until lately had belonged to King Talith.

They were hers now, but today the gigantic canopied bed brought no smile to her lips. Today the gilt-edged mirrors that ringed the walls reflected an angry pout back at their new mistress. Ligne was now indisputably Queen of Lamath.

The bones of her former lover lay charred on some Mari hillside, if Jagd’s information were correct. But of what value was a kingdom burned into ruin? Ligne had not opened the shutters for days, for it pained her to see so much of her golden city smouldering. The people were crying out to the crown for help against the monster, but what could she do? She no longer had an army—Vicia-Heinox had scattered what remained of that giant golden column all the way across Ngandib-Mar. The small remnant that had made it home through the forest and the mountains had been organized into a brigade of rebels by that meddlesome General Joss, and her pitiful little palace guard was kept busy guarding her outposts against Joss’ harassment. Nor did she have a navy any longer—without coming into bow-shot of a Lamathian vessel, the Admiral of Chaomonous had managed to lose the greatest flotilla anyone could ever remember seeing. The man rotted, now, in Ligne’s dungeon, but the damage was done. The mightiest nation in the world suddenly tottered on the brink of military and economic collapse.

Ligne sighed. Ruling wasn’t much fun anymore. “Kherda!” she screamed, just as she did a hundred times a day, and the new prime minister of Lamath scrambled from his offices down the hall to appear at her door.

“Yes, my Lady?”

“What are we going to do?”

“Do, my Lady?” Kherda replied timidly. “What—what can we do?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!” Ligne bellowed, her face turning crimson. “You’re supposed to be my advisor! Now start advising or I’ll find someone else!” Kherda winced, and reflected briefly on the irony of it all. He had toppled Talith’s government, only to find himself in a worse position in Ligne’s. “There—is perhaps one idea that might be helpful.”

“Then get it out!”

“I’ve learned from our contacts that a certain—subject of yours has become somewhat prominent in the government of Lamath.”

“One of my subjects? Who?”

“I hesitate to mention his name—”

“Get to the point!” the woman screamed.

“It’s Pelmen the player, my Lady!” Ligne stared. Then she laughed. “In Lamath, is he? And alive?”

“Apparently, my Lady.”

“Then Admon Faye has failed me. But go on! What’s Pelmen got to do with the dragon burning up my kingdom?”

“It seems, my Queen, that it was Pelmen who started the dragon’s current erratic behavior.”

“I’m not surprised. That idiot actor is incredibly skilled at getting under one’s skin.”

“Perhaps Pelmen could calm the beast as well.” Ligne laughed so hard that she choked. “Pelmen? A dragon-tamer? Kherda, you’re getting senile!”

“You forget, my Lady, that Pelmen is said to be powerful outside the land. Perhaps he—perhaps he has some power that might be—”

“Ridiculous!” Ligne cackled. Then she licked her lips and thought a minute. “Still, it’s worth a try. Where can we get in touch with this fool?”

“Through General Asher, the Chieftain of Defense and Expansion of the Kingdom of Lamath.”

“I suppose you know where this General may be contacted?”

“I could have a bird directed to the palace, if that is what you wish—”

“Not a bird, Kherda. A hundred birds. A thousand! We will fill the sky of Lamath with blue flyers!” For the first time in days, Ligne flung open a shutter and gazed out. “Pelmen shall know his presence is required at Dragonsgate—by order of his Queen!” Pelmen and his three initiates had read and re-read the book to one another for days, but they still hadn’t wrested any solution from its pages.