Robert Don Hughes - Pelman 01 - The Prophet Of Lamath

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The Prophet of La-Math

(Pelman the Prophet, Book 01)

by Robert Don Hughes

Chapter One

THERE WAS a saying in the land as old as the dust that stood ten inches deep in the back of his cavern, as old as the

diamonds that he loved to toss from mouth to mouth. "Two heads are better than one," Vicia-Heinox would hear a

passerby say, and he would nod with both of his in sage agreement, then eat the traveler whole. Vicia-Heinox was a

two-headed dragon, the only one there had ever been-the only one which has ever been.

To say that Vicia-Heinox was the most powerful living creature anyone could remember is to understate the case. A

one-headed dragon is a national emergency. A two-headed dragon, sitting astride the only truly usable pass on the

north-south trade route, is a world problem. Vicia-Heinox was an environmental feature. He not only altered cultures,

he was a factor in producing them. Three ancient nations feuded and skirmished around him, for he sat on the only

frontier the three realms held in common. He had been actively involved in the history of each, and all held him in awe.

One could say that the dragon helped preserve the peace, for he refused to let armies march through his pass. On the

other hand, one could say his presence constantly argued for war, for he strangled economic interchange between the

giant powers. The only merchants he allowed to pass were very rich merchants. They had to be very rich, in order to

pay his incredibly high toll in goods and slaves and still make a profit. They were also very wise merchants, who knew

how to show honor and respect to the dragon who insured their financial well-being. No wisecracking merchant ever

made his way through Dragonsgate. A misplaced remark about two heads, dropped thoughtlessly amid the bargaining

with the beast, had been the bane of many a family fortune. Over a period of centuries this process of unnatural

selection resulted in a very small company of sour, mean-tempered, closemouthed merchants controlling all of the

inter-empire traffic.

This provided the primary cause of friction between the nations. Everyone knew that it was the merchants who

controlled their economy. And because the merchants kept to themselves, each family holding a number of private

estates scattered through each one of the kingdoms, the people of every land viewed the merchant families as

foreigners. Because they hated merchants, the public hated foreigners. Because they hated foreigners, they warred on

their neighbors.

But Vicia-Heinox straddled Dragonsgate, and armies couldn't march. The three lands waged no hot, quick wars on

sunny days, moving in colorful array across great remembered battlefields. Instead, the three realms wrestled in one

slow, dark war, a night war, fought in black and white. Skirmishes and raids replaced marches and charges. Generals

were made by intrigue, not excellence. Cruelty was valued over bravery. The greathearted leaders of memory had long

since been replaced by thieves. It was not a good world in which to live.

Except for Vicia-Heinox, who felt it couldn't be better. There were rulers of lands, but he ruled the rulers. The merchants

controlled the countryside, but he controlled the merchants. And he ate well.

Every week a caravan or two would labor up one of the steep approaches to his pass. Some came up the short, sharp

northeastern defile, carrying farm goods, rough textiles, and good sturdy tools from Lamath. Others toiled up the long,

narrow southern route from golden Chaomonous, patron of the arts. Finely crafted luxury items and exotic objects from

foreign lands came with these southerly caravans, for the people of Chaomonous were seafaring men, who prided

themselves on their travels. But it was the western entrance to Dragonsgate that the beast watched most carefully, for

two reasons. Ngandib-Mar was a mountainous empire, and caravans from this region did not have to climb so far to

reach the pass. One very tricky, very quick trading captain had managed to sneak in and past the dragon while he was

napping once, but that had been many years before. Any captain so foolish as to try to repeat the trick Vicia-Heinox

took great pleasure in charbroiling, for it was from the mines of Ngandib-Mar that the dragon obtained his wealth.

Chaomonous was indeed called golden, but in fact most of its gold passed through Dragonsgate first-and the dragon

always got his share. The jewels of Ngandib-Mar, though, were the objects of his passion. He demanded and received

the finest Ngandib-Mar could send him: great, white gems the size of a giant's skull, and multifaceted, multicolored

stones that dazzled even in the moonlight. These were the beast's playthings, in the idle hours between

meals-caravans. Vicia, the dragon's left head, would grip a giant stone between his lips and toss it high into the air,

then would move out of the way of Heinox, the right head, who would try to catch it. It pleased the dragon to watch

the sparkling light dance through the gem as it twisted in the sky. The game was to see how many times a stone could

be tossed and caught before one of the dragon's heads misjudged and it was swallowed instead. Vicia-Heinox

swallowed a lot of diamonds this way. He was in constant need of a fresh supply.

And, naturally, he was also in constant need of food. Now, some dragons preferred to eat cattle. Others liked the sport

of catching flocks of birds on the wing, though this was indeed a seasonal type of meal. Some dragons, mostly of the

island-dweller varieties, really preferred seafood, and could move through the waterways as easily as they could soar

through the air. But Vicia-Heinox was a perverse sort of dragon, the kind that gave all dragons a bad name.

Vicia-Heinox took pleasure in talking to his dinner before he ate it. How the hideous beast came by this disgusting

proclivity for dinner conversation cannot be dealt with here. It must simply be said that this was an old habit, one not

easy for the dragon to break, even had he been so inclined. And this had resulted in a rebirth of the long-dead

institution of slavery.

Before the dragon straddled Dragonsgate-before it became Dragonsgate-slavery was viewed by civilized man as an

aberration of primitives, to be stamped out wherever possible. But that was long ago. When the dragon first came, he

didn't rest in the pass when he got hungry. He simply took to the wing, swallowing everything in his path. After the

entire populations of several cities disappeared into the dragon's belly, the rulers of the world agreed that something

had to be done. Royal armies, clothed in the brilliant livery of long-forgotten empires, marched on the beast from all

fronts. It was the last great march for many storied kingdoms.

It wasn't that Vicia-Heinox breathed fire. That is a popular misconception. Though few lived who ever witnessed the

beast's power displayed, those who did never mentioned any flames. Rather, the two-headed monster in some

unknown way generated heat-waves of burning heat-and, focusing on an object with all four eyes, would char it out of

existence. So went the combined arms of empires. So had gone every army raised against him since.

Now, Vicia-Heinox knew nothing about slavery. In fact, there were a great many things the dragon knew nothing

about, for he was not a very curious beast, nor was he particularly bright. But the merchants knew of it, and to them it

seemed the perfect solution to the otherwise insoluble problem of a dragon on their trade route. Hideous as he was,

Vicia-Heinox did not bear full responsibility for the evil system that kept him fed. But it did keep him fed. He therefore

preserved it.

On a day like most other days, the dragon lay on his back, playing with his baubles. He was not hungry, for only the

day before a large caravan from Lamath had passed his home. The Lamathian warriors were generally not as cagey as

the men of Chaomonous, but they were stalwart and level-headed. Some days before, a large troop of Lamathians had

ambushed a Chaon slave-raiding party as it made its way toward the Spinal Range and safety. It was a truism known to

all that "those who slave-raid are often slaves made," and most of the captured Chaons had served to subdue the

dragon's appetite. He rested now, digesting, playing with his jewels and talking to himself.

"I think," said Vicia, "that I ought to learn how to count." "Why should I?" Heinox replied, somewhat puzzled by the

idea.

"In order to play the game better," Vicia answered himself. "I have played it so long, yet what have I to show for it?"

"Nothing," Heinox answered. "But then, I don't have anyone to show it to, either. Nor any reason to show it. Nor any

reason to count-whatever counting is." "Counting is what the merchants do when they try to bargain with me," Vicia

observed.

"Which is foolishness," Heinox replied, "since I take what jewels I like and eat what food suits me." "That's why I

don't need to learn to count," Vicia nodded in agreement, and reached down to grasp a particularly large and beautiful

stone between scaly lips. The jewel was gigantic by human estimation, but it was dwarfed by the dragon's gleaming

teeth. With a mighty flip of his neck, the head known as Vicia launched it sparkling into the air. But Heinox heard a

commotion from the southern approach to the pass, and the diamond bounced unnoticed off the dragon's hide.

"Why didn't I catch that?" "Because I hear a noise in Chaomonous," Heinox growled, and the right-hand head craned

over the left to peer deeply into the pass. Vicia dropped an ear to the ground, listening closely and hearing now the

approach of a force of men.

"Of caravan size," Vicia murmured, "but coming much faster than a caravan would normally." "Armed?" Heinox asked,

rearing high into the sky, to the full extension of his mighty neck. There was a flash of reflected light far below him, like

sunshine glistening off the golden armor of Chaomonous.

"Perhaps not the first party," Vicia advised, "but there is a second group of riders behind the first that may be. It

moves much faster." Vicia-Heinox leapt into the sky, wings unfurling lazily. He soared upward, well above the lofty

mountain cliffs surrounding his home, one head circling from south to west to north and back toward the south, the

other head gazing intently at the column of armed warriors hesitating at the mouth of the southern entrance. The

dragon screamed-a dreadful, piercing, full-throated duet of screeching sound-then flapped slowly toward the troop,

both heads focusing carefully on it. The column broke immediately. Horses tossed riders, riders fought to turn their

mounts from the dragon's gaze, and screams of terror echoed the dragon's screech back up at him. Within seconds the

pass was clear of warriors. Those unfortunate enough to have been carried up the road by their panicked mounts,

rather than down, died with their horses in an inglorious blaze. The dragon dropped down to investigate the remains,

then jumped lightly over the caravan, now halfway up the incline. He settled slowly and gracefully onto the road thirty

yards ahead of the struggling band, bringing it to an abrupt stop. Vicia glared straight down on the merchant captain,

while Heinox cocked himself slightly to the side in a look of deep puzzlement.

"Merchant Pezi? And a week ahead of time?" The merchant reined in his horse, which was well used to the sight of

this particular, dragon, and dismounted. He hitched his pants and started up toward the beast on foot. Pezi was fat and

out of breath, and his pants immediately gave up and slipped back to their original position. He stopped to hitch them

again, but couldn't find the strength. He looked up at Heinox and nodded. "Your Dragonship," Pezi acknowledged,

puffing.

"Why so soon? And so hurried?" Heinox asked.

"And why do you bring soldiers to my nest?" added Vicia.

"I didn't bring them. They brought themselves." "Against me?" Vicia growled.

"Against me," the fat man muttered. He pulled a handkerchief from his handbag and blew his nose. It was a purple and

red handkerchief, the colors of the merchant house of Uda. Pezi's own colors were dark blue and lime, the colors of the

house of Ognadzu. Perhaps Pezi became self-conscious, for he explained: "It's a Uda trade gimmick. Free hankies. Let

me blow my nose on the opposition." The dragon didn't comment, and Pezi shoved the scarf back into his bag. "What

is happening is this. I've got some valuable cargo, your Dragonship, and a certain ruler of Chaomonous-" "Who?"

asked Vicia.

"-who shall remain nameless, tried to steal it away." The two heads rose into the air, and looked one another in the eye.

Pezi took several steps backward and looked around for a good place to run. When the dragon looked at himself, that

wasn't good. The great head named Vicia turned to stare at the fat merchant once more, and began slowly dropping

out of the sky toward him. Closer and closer it came, until one eye gazed into Pezi's face from only a yard away. Pezi

had backed into his animal, and now the horse, too, was spooked. The dragon rarely came this close to a living thing

he did not intend to eat.

"I don't believe you," Vicia hissed. He spoke quietly, Vicia thought, but at this distance the noise rattled through Pezi's

relatively empty skull, and the merchant slammed both hands over his ears. Heinox had by now surveyed the entire

length of the caravan, eyeing everything carefully and throwing a terrible scare into all present. He investigated

particularly a curtained litter that was being carried by a team of eight slaves, all Maris. It was a nobly carved carriage,

from what he could see, but what most attracted his attention were the drapes. They shimmered as only fish-satin

shimmered, and they were interlaced with threads of finely spun gold. Only a member of the royal house of

Chaomonous would travel in such a booth as this, and the dragon knew it.

"Is this your cargo?" Heinox thundered from right above the litter. Pezi jerked around to look up at the head high

above, but he quickly turned back to look at Vicia as the left-hand head snorted behind him: "I was talking to you,

merchant!" "Oh, ah, yes, ah . . ." "Is this the cargo, merchant?" Heinox roared behind him, and Pezi looked around

again, but: "Answer me, merchant!" Vicia snarled, and that was all for Pezi, at least for the moment. He fell into a dead

faint beneath his trembling horse.

"Now what have I done?" Heinox murmured.

"I was only asking him a simple question," Vicia grumbled. Then he growled loudly, "Can't any of you answer me?

You!" Vicia-Heinox zeroed in on a pale rider in blue and lime who held tightly to the pommel of his saddle to keep from

shaking all the way out of it. As Heinox darted down from nowhere to look him in the face, the rider threw up his hands

in dismay . . . and fell out of the saddle, flat on his back. Had he, too, passed out? "You are faking. Get up!" Heinox

ordered. The rider stayed put. "Get up or I'll eat you!" Still the rider lay in peaceful silence on his back, and

Vicia-Heinox threw up his heads in disgust. He was focusing four eyes ,on the entire caravan, preparing to burn it all

away, when someone spoke: "Excuse me, your Dragonship, but perhaps I can shed some light on this situation." The

dragon stopped in mid-bum and looked himself in the eyes. Vicia dropped down to look at the speaker, a ragtag

character near the end of the line.

"Are you of the family of Ognadzu?" the dragon asked. "You are certainly not dressed for it . . ."' "I am not of the

house of Ognadzu, nor of any of the trading houses. I am Pelman, sometimes called Pelman the player, lately of

Chaomonous. I was enslaved by the King for making an allusion to one of his mistresses in an ill-received play." "The

Player? I've never heard of the family of Player," Vicia observed.

"But you can't be a slave," said Heinox. "You see, I've just eaten." "Which I take as a stroke of great luck," Pelman

admitted.

"What is this caravan for. Player? It's too early, I'm still full!" "I suppose it comes as no shock to a dragon of your

experience that these merchants are not in business entirely for your benefit," Pelman said quietly. Vicia shook his

mighty head, and looked at Heinox.

"Did I understand that?" "I didn't, did I?" "I don't think so." "There is a trade war going on right now, your

Dragonship. Each house is striving to get the better of the other houses. In the struggle, one might say the ethics of

the League of Trade have . . . slipped, somewhat." "Ethics?" said both heads together. Vicia-Heinox was amazed at this

little spokesman. Not only was Pelman the player not trembling, he even took his eyes off of the dragon as he spoke.

He behaved as if he conversed with a peer at the gaming tables.

"Now what is happening here is an indication of the kind of thing that has been taking place in Chaomonous for some

time," Pelman continued. He motioned the dragon to come closer. Both heads moved fluidly down to listen as he

whispered conspiratorially: "You see, Pezi there has kidnapped the daughter of the royal house of Talith, and he

carries her to Lamath to sell her for trading favors." About this time, Pezi was regaining his consciousness, if not his

composure. "Where am I?" the fat merchant groaned, and Heinox slipped to the front of the column to answer him.

"You are under your horse," the dragon said, which was true; and though Pezi's question had been rhetorical, the

dragon's answer did bring back to him the realities of the situation. He jumped up. Rather, he tried to jump up, but

bumped his head against his horse's underbelly and fell down again. He rolled over with great effort, and tottered

slowly to his feet.

"What's going on?" he muttered.

"Quiet," hissed Heinox, "I'm talking to the man from the house of Player." "Nonsense," snorted Pezi without thinking.

"There is no house of Player. I know all of the royal and noble family names of all the districts, and the only Player I

know is Pelman the player, and he's-" It suddenly struck him. "You're not talking to Pelman the player! Don't believe

him! A pack of lies! The man's a public nuisance!" Pezi forgot himself. He ran toward the rear of the caravan, so upset

at this turn of events that he forgot who it was he was talking to. The dragon reminded him.

Quickly. Suddenly Pezi was running into the opened jaws of Vicia; when he managed to get his belly turned in the

other direction and looked away from those gaping jaws behind him, he found himself looking down the throat of

Heinox. He stopped dead in his tracks, and clapped both hands over his mouth. The two pairs of teeth snapped shut

together, with an almost metallic click. Pezi swallowed with some difficulty. "Excuse me, your Dragonship." Four eyes

focused intently on Pezi, and the fat man sank to his knees under the burden of that steel-hard double gaze.

Pelman's rich, melodious voice broke the silence, filling the narrow canyon. "Of course, you really can't blame Pezi for

his actions. Any of the trading families would do the same if they had the opportunity." Relief surged through Pezi as

the giant heads lifted up and drifted back toward Pelman. He fished his handkerchief out of his handbag and mopped

his sweaty forehead. He was seriously considering retiring from the business.

"I have not seen a human of royal blood since I ate six of them during the last great rebellion. I want to see this girl."

Vicia dropped down to look Pelman in the eye. "You show her to me." "I would rejoice in the pleasure of introducing

the lady to you, your Dragonship, but-as you see-I am chained." The dragon really hadn't noticed, but the fellow was

indeed bound. Vicia-Heinox rarely observed such things, in any case. Only when he got pieces of chain caught

between his teeth were they ever any problem to him. Heinox spoke to Pezi: "Release this man." The chubby salesman

waddled down to Pelman as quickly as he could, fishing keys from his handbag. Once free, Pelman walked to the

beautiful golden litter with a style and grace that belied his rags. Here he paused dramatically.

"I am sure the lady would have spoken to you sooner, your Dragonship, but as you see-" He swept aside the drapes.

"-she, too, is bound." Pelman shot Pezi an accusing look. The merchant hung his head.

The dragon yawned. "So release her." "With pleasure," Pelman said, and he bent nobly to his task. He was a spry and

energetic figure, not an old man by any means, but neither was he young. He had expressive blue eyes, and

shoulder-length brown hair, and a face that was ordinary enough to allow him to remain unnoticed if he chose to be. It

was his voice that most impressed the dragon, for it climbed and dropped with such personality and dignity that

Vicia-Heinox was nearly mesmerized. He could not recall hearing any man speak with such assurance.

And speak Pelman did: "This lovely young lady, savagely ripped from the home of her father, will impress you, I think,

with her gentleness. She has had the best of training in the art of being ladylike, for she's been surrounded since birth

by the loveliest women of the realm. Now her father and I have not always seen eye to eye on every matter, I'll grant

you, and the last time we spoke we did have a bit of trouble communicating, but I think he would agree with me that of

all the ladies of his court, this one is the loveliest. I present to you the gentle Lady Bronwynn." At this Pelman

removed the scarf that had gagged the young woman's mouth.

Free from her bonds at last, she leapt to her feet on the satin and brocade pillows of the litter and, pointing a finger at

Pezi, shouted, "You fat little Lamathian mudgecurdle! I'll have the royal chefs carve your belly and roast a hunk of it

for-" Pelman clapped a hand over the girl's mouth and struggled to hold her quiet while saying, "Of course, the lady is

a bit upset at the moment . . ." "Quit that!" she managed to blurt out around his hand, and he let go of her as she

fought her way out of the litter. She straightened her robes and lifted her chin, and muttered "Where's the dragon?" to

Pelman. He pointed behind her, and she swept grandly around to get her first good look at this beast she had heard so

much about.

Pelman heard her sharp grunt, and he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. She backed into the security of his

arms, and gasped, "He's . . . big . . ." "As I said," continued Pelman, "a Princess of impeccable manners and great

modesty. Try not to shake so much, will you?" he added quietly in the girl's ear.

"You think I'm doing this on purpose?" she whispered back.

Vicia-Heinox sat back on his hind legs, and raised his heads high into the air.

"What do I do now?" Vicia muttered.

"What do I mean, do now?" Heinox asked.

"With this caravan. I'm not hungry. I don't need any new jewels. What does this merchant have that I want?" "I don't

know, what does he have that I want?" "The girl perhaps?" Vicia asked. "After all, she is a Princess, and there must be

something important to that. Otherwise, why would they clothe her in such delicate wrappings?" This statement was

overheard by the little group below, and Bronwynn gathered her gown around her and shivered.

"Perhaps Princesses taste better than ordinary folk," Heinox suggested.

"Perhaps . . . perhaps I should . . ." "If I might interrupt, I believe you would be wasting this Princess if you were to eat

her. Consider keeping her, as a-a companion," said Pelman.

"Thanks a lot!" the girl whispered fiercely. Pelman squeezed her tight and leaned down to her ear. "Try to be quiet and

I may be able to extract us from this." She stopped her struggling, and listened.

"A companion. I could do that," Heinox said.

"If I knew what a companion is," Vicia added.

"A companion is someone you spend your time with, talk to, learn from. A companion can be a friend." Pelman noticed

Bronwynn was gripping her ears and scowling at this.

"A friend?" Vicia said. "But I don't need a friend. I have . . . myself." And that gave Pelman an idea.

"Ah. I understand." He indicated Vicia. "You have him." He indicated Heinox. "And he has you. And you are friends."

Vicia-Heinox looked at himself, then both of his heads looked at Pelman. "What?" the dragon asked. "I have myself

and I have myself?" "Not quite the idea," Pelman went on quietly. "I mean you have each other." "Each other?" Vicia

asked. "He isn't another, he is I. I think," he added.

"He who?" Pelman asked.

"Him," Vicia growled, growing irritated at the player's badgering tone. Then Vicia stopped. He looked at Heinox.

Heinox was already looking at Vicia. "Him?" Heinox muttered. The group of people below kept very quiet.

"I think I need to reason this out-" Vicia began, and Heinox said, "I think so too." The dragon looked at himself in

great confusion.

Pelman bent to whisper again in Bronwynn's ear. "You see the plateau at the high point of the pass?" She nodded.

"When I shout, make for that plateau, and then run to your left." "But that's Ngandib-Mar!" she protested.

"Chaomonous is behind us-" "When the confusion begins, make for Ngandib-Mar," he repeated strongly. He began

to plot the quickest route to Pezi's horse.

"I just said I need to reason this out," Vicia repeated.

"I did too," said Heinox.

"Yes, but-" "But what?" "But I already said that!" Vicia growled.

"I know!" Heinox growled back.

"I know I know! I said I knew!" Vicia growled again, more loudly this time.

"I know I said I knew! I said I said I knew!" Heinox trumpeted back.

"I know!" screeched Vicia.

"Now!" grunted Pelman, and Bronwynn scrambled up the divide as quickly as her legs and gowns would allow her.

Pelman drove toward Pezi's horse. The other slaves, still chained together, began to run this way and that, pulling each

other backward and forward in a deadly serious game of whiplash, a centipede of people trying desperately to get

coordinated. Pezi, seeing Pelman grab the reins of his mount, hustled down the slope to jerk up the reins of the fallen

rider's horse, which whinnied and backed away from this heavyweight who was trying to mount it. The fallen rider,

who was just coming to, surveyed the chaos around him and decided he had been better off unconscious. He fainted

once again.

And high in the sky, a curious thing was taking place. Vicia-Heinox, at an advanced age, had suddenly been

confronted with a terrible identity crisis.

"I am trying to understand this, will I please cooperate?" Vicia bellowed.

"I am cooperating! I can't understand why I'm not cooperating!" Heinox screeched back.

Pelman mounted Pezi's horse and kicked its sides. The beast sprang forward, puzzled but delighted at the lightness of

this new rider. Bronwynn was about to reach the pass proper, and Pelman urged the horse toward her at a trot.

"They're getting away!" Heinox shouted. "Can't I see they are getting away?" "Of course I can see it!" Vicia rumbled.

The sound echoed off the sides of the canyon with a presence numbing to the ears, like a thunderclap at close range.

"Focus! Focus!" Heinox cried, but it was no use. As Heinox focused on Pelman, who was moving up the pass and

bending down to sweep the golden Princess up onto the horse behind him, Vicia was focusing on Pezi, who was

urging his reluctant animal into pursuit. Heinox shifted to focus on Pezi, but Vicia had turned to focus on Pelman. The

great dragon gave a headsplitting, blood-chilling, back-bending scream of utter frustration, and flew straight up into

the sky.

Pelman cast a glance over his shoulder at Pezi, and kicked his mount once again, driving it toward the west and the

land of Ngandib-Mar. By the time Pezi reached the open clearing and looked after him, Pelman and the girl were well on

their way into the highland plain of that land. Though he could still see them, they were far away by now-too far and

moving too fast to follow. He looked up and watched the dragon high above him, turning erratic circles in the sky. He

pulled a sword from its scabbard on the horse's saddle and turned to ride back down into the gorge. The line of slaves

still struggled to coordinate a run for safety, and Pezi leveled the tip of his weapon at the back of one slave's head.

"Silence!" he roared, his confident manner restored by the change in the situation. The slaves stopped shoving, and

all turned to look at him. "Now," he said when all was quiet, "we move on to Lamath. It's a long walk. I suggest you

save your breath." The column turned and, under Pezi's watchful eye, began once more to ascend the slope. "Bring the

litter! It's bound to be worth something," Pezi grumbled, but as they carried it past him he ground his teeth together in

anxiety and disgust. He would have some explaining to do to his uncle Flayh. And who would believe the true story?

As he reined his horse in behind the last walker, his mind was hard at work constructing a lie that would absolve him

of guilt. Pezi wasn't good at many things, but he was an accomplished liar. "To the right!" he shouted when the first

man reached the fork. It would indeed be a long way to Lamath.

The banquet hall of Chaomonous was built of yellow marble. When all the tapers were lit, the walls reflected the

favorite color of the golden King; all were burning brightly tonight. But the dinner conversation was subdued this

evening, and the occasional giggle seemed out of place in the near-funereal atmosphere. What conversation there was

subsided when a golden-mailed warrior entered the hall. He walked hesitantly toward the elevated table of the King.

All could tell by the expression on his face that the news he brought wasn't good. No one was surprised when the

King's silver goblet streaked through the room like a meteor; Talith frequently threw things when he was angry. It was

a shock, however, when the object bounced off the distant back wall. No one had seen him that angry before.

"Advisors! To me!" the King shouted, then turned on his heel and stomped off the dais. All over the hall there were

muttered "Pardon's" and "Excuse me's" as the King's experts bade good-bye for the night to their ladies and trotted

toward the doorway on the east side of the room. The King headed for the chamber of his council of war. Plans would

be made tonight that would shape the destiny of the empire.

Ligne, the King's latest mistress, watched him out the door and then reached for his plate. The best piece of meat lay

untouched there, and she took great pleasure in finishing it off. She wished she were privy to the words of the

council-but she had her spies sprinkled through the experts, so she would hear soon enough. Thus far things were

proceeding exactly according to her plan.

As she licked the grease from her delicate fingers she noticed the Queen eyeing her with suspicion. Latithia, the Queen

and mother of the Princess, was out of favor with the King these days. Ligne licked the last of the juice from her hand,

then smiled brightly at the Queen, her blue eyes twinkling. The Queen looked away, and Ligne was pleased to note the

flush of Latithia's cheeks. Those seated near Ligne gave no thought to her smug smile. These days Ligne often smiled

like that.

"They weren't even mounted!" the King was shouting. "A group of slaves on foot! Only two riders! And they

escaped you?" "It was a surprising move, my Lord," the exchequer said softly. "Pezi normally doesn't move his column

until after he has a full complement of slaves. At this time of year he waits for the southern ships to dock, so he may

add spices and fish-satin to his inventory. It will surely be two more weeks until the first of the fleet arrives-" "General

Joss!" "My Lord?" "What of your spies in the trading houses? Why wasn't I informed she was being held in the

house of Ognadzu?" The King's face was very red.

Joss' eyes widened as the King grabbed his sleeve, but that was the only acknowledgment of his fear. He, too, spoke

quietly. "It was a carefully guarded secret, my Lord. It must be admitted that when it comes to keeping secrets, we are

no match for the merchants. Secrets are their stock-in-trade-" "I don't need a lecture from my head of intelligence!"

Talith bellowed. "And if you want to keep not only your headship but your head, General, you had best begin

producing!" The exchequer broke in again. "She wasn't being kept in the local house, my Lord, or we could have

stopped them. The girl was being held at Pezi's own estate, on the edge of Dragonsgate." "And how did she get there?

Exchequer? General? I take it you don't know." The King's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"We know this," Joss began. "We know that when she was taken she was in the presence of your mistress-and that

only a denizen of the palace could have spirited her past our watch." The General set his jaw and stared at his King.

Though Joss was a cruel man, he did not lack for bravery.

"You are accusing Ligne?" Talith crooned menacingly.

"I accuse no one, my Lord," answered the General. "I share only what I know." "Perhaps you should know, my Lord,"

the exchequer interrupted again, "that among those Pezi was carrying to Lamath was a certain Pelman the player."

"Pelman!" the King exploded. "Is he involved in this?" "There could be no proof of that," Joss began, but the King cut

him off.

"Pelman! Of course. He's behind this. He has masterminded this whole scheme to get back at me!" "I hardly think-"

Joss began again.

Talith interrupted. "That's right, you hardly do!" He turned his back on his Chief of Security.

Joss closed his mouth and looked at the exchequer, who seemed even more nervous tonight than usual. The

exchequer avoided his eyes, and spoke earnestly to the King. "He is a most clever adversary, my Lord. And you did

deal rather brusquely with him when you sold him to Pezi. This stealth seems so unlike the fat merchant-could it be

that Pezi and Pelman plotted this together?" "Of course," growled King Talith. "It must be." Joss snorted, and the

King turned to look angrily at him.

"Pardon, my Lord," Joss said. "I share your lack of affection for Pelman. He shows by these plays of his that he is

dangerously well informed. But Pezi would not collaborate with a traveling performer. If you wish to know who has

masterminded this capture of our Princess, look to the elders of the house of Ognadzu." "They're all in Lamath!" the

King snapped.

"So, we believe, is Bronwynn," Joss said quietly, and then paused while the King mulled over his words.

The King did not think long, but his reaction was decisive. "Get me Jagd of the house of Uda. And arrest all who wear

the blue and lime of Ognadzu." For the first time since the interview began. Joss smiled. "Jagd is waiting outside, my

Lord. I felt you might wish to see him, so I sent for him earlier. As for the arrests-they were all made this afternoon. The

family of Ognadzu is having a reunion tonight in the dungeon." "Send me Jagd!" the King bellowed, and a guard at the

chamber door stamped the butt of his pike on the marble floor and announced as the double doors opened: "Jagd of

Uda, to see the Golden King." A wizened little man in rich robes of red and purple stepped briskly into the room, and

he and the King were soon deep in a heated private discussion. As Joss stepped out of the way, he noticed once

again Kherda, the exchequer. The man stood in a comer of the chamber, forgotten now, his face inscribed with anxiety

and self-doubt. Joss watched him, and marked that expression well.

As soon as he cleared the west mouth of Dragonsgate, Pelman turned south. To go straight meant to run directly into

lands controlled by the trading houses. Though they would not be expecting him, the guards on those lands held by

the Ognadzu family would surely be suspicious of a man in rags carrying a girl in golden robes, mounted on a horse

that wore the blue and lime. Pelman would take no chance. Instead he would travel along the high southwestern rim of

the Spinal Range until he could turn west under the shelter of the Great South Fir.

Though he guessed that Pezi would not follow, he kept a cautious watch behind them as they rode through the

green-cloaked foothills. He also watched the valley below, for any unusual troop movements across the lands of the

merchant league. There was little danger yet, but Pelman knew that certain of the larger houses had discovered ways

of transmitting messages many miles without the use of a blue flyer. Pelman assumed that in the next day or two, after

Pezi reached Lamath, these hills would be covered with merchant riders. They would not allow so precious a prize as

the Lady Bronwynn to be stolen away so easily.

Pelman also glanced frequently to the sky, watching for the massive shadow of the dragon moving overhead. He

urged the horse to move faster, and soon they were galloping full speed across the hillside. The more ground put

between them and Dragonsgate, the safer Pelman would feel.

Bronwynn, too, was watching, but with wonder rather than caution. Her homeland of Chaomonous was flat and fertile,

a country of great rivers and vast fields. What few mountains she had seen were the short, round-top hills of the

southern sector of that land. Never before had she seen mountains so tall and steep and of such stark beauty, nor

valleys so wildly green. To her left, the sheer face of the Spinal Range climbed up and out of sight. To her right, the

craggy highlands of fabled Ngandib-Mar unrolled as far as she could see. Every majestic mountain peak rose out of its

own deliciously green little valley. It all seemed so close and immediate that Bronwynn felt she could reach out and

touch it. Yet when she dropped her eyes to the vast plain below them, plaidlike from the crisscross pattern of furrowed

fields and fences, she realized those hills and valleys that looked so near were really miles away. Still, somehow she

had the sensation of being in an intimate land, a manageable land, a warm, familiar, closeknit land. Her feelings

frightened her. To experience such exultation at the mere sight of this foreign place- this hereditary enemy of her

homeland-seemed somehow treasonous. This was the homeplace of squat blond slaves, she reminded herself-a land of

cannibals and witchcraft. But those craggy mountains across the valley stole her heart with their simple, powerful

beauty. It was a jolting experience, one not entirely pleasant. Unexplained melancholy seized her; and though she had

not cried once throughout the ordeal of her abduction, a stupid, senseless tear now trickled down her cheek. She

brushed it away, and closed her eyes against the splendor of the world below her.

Their horse was tiring, but it proudly carried them on, up a small rise toward a grove of wild green apple trees. Here a

stream found its way out of the mountains and dropped gaily toward the valley in a series of stepped waterfalls and

rapids. Pelman was sensitive to the horse's weariness and stopped. His own bottom felt weary as well. He reined in

under an apple tree and hopped off, bending to stretch and relax his legs before reaching up to lift Bronwynn down

from the saddle. They had said nothing to one another since they left the pass, and Pelman was not really inclined

toward conversation now. He pulled an apple from the tree and tossed it to her, then went to tend to the horse's needs.

As Pelman stripped the horse of its saddle to get at the Ognadzu colors and remove them, Bronwynn wandered

beneath the trees. She doffed her sandals, and tested the tall, moist grass with the soles of her feet. She was amazed at

the greenness of the greens, and wondered idly if her father had ever seen anything so beautiful as this land.

Her father. He needed to know that she was safe. "How are you taking me home?" she called to Pelman.

He put a finger to his lips to warn her to silence, then smiled. Pelman had a toothy, attractive smile. It encouraged trust

in the trusting, and suspicion in the suspicious. He walked toward her, pulling another apple from the tree. Then,

dropping full length on the grassy rug beside her, he began to munch the fruit.

"Well?" she added, more softly, but with just a touch of royal impatience.

"How-meaning in what direction, or by what means?" he asked.

"Either," Bronwynn shrugged. "Both." Pelman took another bite, then rolled over onto his back. He chewed for a

moment, then spat out a seed. "The fact of the matter is, I don't know." "You don't know! Then where are we going!"

Pelman thought about that for a moment. "Away," he then said simply.

"That's no answer!" Bronwynn stamped. "On the contrary, my Lady. In this case, it is the very best answer-for right

now." "I don't understand what you're talking about." "Events have been put in motion, my Lady, events in which you

play an important role. We must balance these actions with some unexpected reaction, or evil plans may succeed."

"What plans? What are you talking about?" "I don't know myself, my Lady. But since these plans have already

included your abduction and captivity, I would guess that you would prefer they be foiled." "So take me home then."

"And let you be kidnapped again?" "What difference does it make to you?" "I don't know." Pelman smiled. "Perhaps a

great deal." He took another bite out of the apple, and Bronwynn began judging the distance between herself and the

horse.

"My father always said you were crazy, Pelman. He didn't know the half of it." She strolled casually toward the stream,

watching out of the comer of her eye as the horse dropped his head down to drink.

"Your father and I have had our disagreements, it's true." Pelman nodded, gazing at the blue sky between the leaves

above him. "My major argument with Talith as an audience is that he always tends to believe he knows what you are

going to say before you say it-and then replies to what he thinks you've said, rather than to what you've actually said.

He takes it into his mind that he knows more about what's going on than anyone around him . . . which of course

leaves all around him free to do anything they wish. He is suspicious of his friends, and trusting of his enemies."

"Mmm-hmmn," she agreed, bending down to the stream to take a cupped handful of the icy water. She judged herself

to be twenty feet from the horse. Pelman, behind her, was at least another twenty feet farther from the horse than she,

and was lying on his back. Could she make it to the beast and onto it before Pelman could react and catch her? "Of

course," Pelman continued, "since he rarely listens to what others are saying, he's frequently surprised by what others

do. He is chagrined when others seem to read his mind. But it is just that Talith is so obvious in what he thinks!" "Yes,

sometimes," Bronwynn said absently, moving a step closer to the horse.

"It appears perhaps you take after him." "Why do you say that?" Bronwynn asked politely.

She had decided that three more steps would put her close enough to make her dash.

"Because you're obviously planning to try to steal the horse, and don't realize that any fool could tell." Pelman rolled

onto his stomach and smiled at her shocked expression. "As I can," he concluded. She gave Pelman her full attention

now, and tensed her muscles, ready to make the attempt anyway. "Go ahead, my Lady, if you desire. But don't be

surprised if the road back to your father proves difficult to find and dangerous to travel." "There are paths through the

mountains," she said defiantly. "Our slave raiders travel them regularly." "So do raiders from Ngandib-Mar-or had you

forgotten that slavery cuts both ways?" "I could find the path and hide, until the golden warriors of Chaomonous

approach, and then show myself!" "I don't believe even you are that naive, my Lady. The warriors of Chaomonous,

while raiding for slaves, certainly don't advertise who they are by wearing golden mail. They disguise themselves. But

assuming you should make contact with raiders from your own land-how do you think they would respond to you?"

"They would recognize me as their Princess!" Pelman chuckled. "Why are you laughing? Are you laughing at me?"

She stomped angrily.

"Bronwynn, can you imagine the reaction of a normal, sane warrior of Chaomonous to a dirty little girl he has captured

in the mountains of Ngandib-Mar, when she claims to be his Princess? Few warriors have even seen you from a

distance, my Lady. They wouldn't recognize you." "But they will come looking for me! They know by now I've been

kidnapped. My father will send his whole army after me!" "I question that. He doesn't know you have escaped. I'm

sure he will make some attempt to get you back, but most of his efforts will be aimed at the house of Ognadzu."

Bronwynn looked at him. "You mean he won't send soldiers after me?" "He doesn't know you're here. How can he?"

"Well-where does he think I am then?" "Surely he believes by this time you are being held captive at Flayh's mansion

in Lamath. That's where we were headed, you know. He will probably attempt to work through the house of Uda to get

you back, by force, or ransom, or-some way." "But I'm not there! They'll tell him, won't they?" "Why should they?

And have all Ognadzu family members in Chaomonous slaughtered in retribution?" "That is what my father would do."

Bronwynn sat in the grass and tried to reason what course of action she should take. The sun was dropping behind

the western mountains, and a cool breeze shook the leaves above them and caused several apples to drop. "I have it,"

she announced. "We go to Uda-here, in Ngandib-Mar. They do have a house here, don't they?" "Many of them,"

Pelman affirmed. "And that would be good thinking. Except . . ." "Except what?" "Why should you expect Uda to be

any more trustworthy than Pezi's house of Ognadzu? Wouldn't it make more sense for the elders of Uda to play one

side against the other while perhaps making their own deal for your sale to, say, the ruler of Ngandib?" "This is all too

complicated!" Bronwynn moaned.

"Not yet, my Lady," Pelman said. "No, as yet it is relatively simple. You are free. Things would be far more complex at

this point were that not the case. And, while it might not be of great note to you, I, too, am free-for which I am most

thankful. And even if it seems frightening to you at the moment that no one else .knows our whereabouts, I am

delighted with the situation. I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible." "But where will we go?" the girl pleaded

with him, and immediately wished she had said nothing. Bronwynn had heard herself speak, and felt she had sounded

like a frightened child. That was not at all the way the Princess, daughter of Talith, should sound.

But Pelman was kind, and he smiled a genuine, cheery smile. "Away," he answered again. Seeing the fear and concern

dance across the girl's face, he went on to add, "I am not without friends in this foreign land, my Lady. In fact, it isn't

foreign to me." "You mean you've been here before? But you're not a merchant, how could you-" "The merchants and

the raiders are not the only ones who travel the world. In my profession, you either have to change your act regularly

or else change your location. I find it much easier to change location." "Then you've performed here before?" she

asked, truly interested in him now as this new revelation sank in.

Once again he smiled, but more to himself this time than at her. Yes, he had "performed" here before. But not as

Bronwynn conceived it. He stood. "We need something more than green apples to sustain us, I think. I find it hard to

believe that Pezi would travel anywhere without a good healthy provision of food in his storage bags. I'll check."

Pelman walked to the saddle which sat now in the grass, and began to go through the sacks attached to it.

Bronwynn wandered toward the west, listening to the wind rock the branches. The sky turned pink behind the

mountains as the sun dropped swiftly behind them, and once again she was stabbed by the strange desire to be there,

on one of those distant peaks, visible only in outline now.

"Will we be going there?" she asked, hiding her hope behind an air of nonchalance. Pelman glanced up to see which

way she was looking, then smiled to himself as he gathered up the food he'd found and walked toward her.

"The mountains have witched you," he murmured as he came up behind her.

"No they haven't, what do you mean?" she said, but her protests were dreamy and vague, for her mind was far away.

"Yes they have." He sighed. "And you know what I mean." She didn't look at him, so he continued, looking now

himself on the valley darkening below them and the outline of those far cliffs against the sunset. "Don't be too

surprised, Bronwynn, at anything you see in Ngandib-Mar. It is a land of magic and witches, and powers ride on the

winds, available for use by whomever can control them." She said nothing, but watched. He looked at her-her face was

a golden-pink in the rays of the waning sun-and he could not bring himself to break that spell of wonder just yet.

Instead he spoke quietly, soothingly. "Yes, we'll go there, my Lady. I have a friend who holds some lands on the far

side of those hills. His keep will be open to us, as well as his heart. You may even find reason to remain there. You

could do worse. Much worse," he muttered to himself, then he turned his back on the valley and sat in the grass. In a

few moments the daylight was gone, and Bronwynn turned wistfully away.

The meadow was dark now, its mood of warm invitation having passed with the sunlight. "We're not staying here

tonight, are we?" she asked in a voice tinged with fear.

"Amazing," Pelman said to himself. "What a difference a little light can make. No, Bronwynn, we won't be staying here

or anywhere else tonight. We've a long way to go, and before long merchant riders will be trailing us. You'll need all

the strength you can muster. So eat, and thank Pezi for planning such a hog's feast. We have enough food here for

forty-plenty to get us to the castle of Dorlyth without having to stop." Bronwynn knelt in the grass beside him, and

they ate in silence. As she chewed, she thought over his words regarding the powers on the winds. The people of

Chaomonous laughed at such stories, and called them superstitions. Yet as Bronwynn watched the night bleed darkly

through the meadow, she felt sure that a gay, bright power had left, and that a darker, sinister power had taken its

place. She moved self-consciously closer to Pelman, trying to gain strength and comfort from being near him. Pelman,

aware, ate leisurely. There would be plenty of time to rush, to act. Now it was time to ponder-and to plan well.

In the pitch blackness above the pass there was a mighty rush of massive reptilian wings thrashing the air, ' then the

quiet plop of dragon feet touching softly down into the dusty ground. Vicia-Heinox had come home. Though no man

had ever been fool enough to attempt the pass at night, the dragon made double sure he was alone. He did not rely

solely on his keen sense of hearing, but vindictively shot great jets of heat in every direction, searing out any trace of

greenery that might have taken root between the rocks. Though hardly in harmony, the two heads had concluded that

the safety of each depended on some measure of cooperation. Having thoroughly torched the area, they turned back

to the business of settling this insane dispute.

Vicia reared back and screamed at the brilliant stars in keen frustration. Heinox growled at him: "Do I have to do that?"

Heinox shook himself to clear his ears.

"Something must be done," Vicia snarled.

"About what?" "I was talking to myself," Vicia muttered.

"I am myself," Heinox reminded Vicia, and Vicia lay down in the dirt and moaned.

"I must do something to make it clear when I mean I, and when I mean I. Ahhh!" Vicia groaned, "it's no use."

"Something must be done," Heinox agreed.

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TheProphetofLa-Math(PelmantheProphet,Book01)byRobertDonHughesChapterOneTHEREWASasayinginthelandasoldasthedustthatstoodteninchesdeepinthebackofhiscavern,asoldasthediamondsthathelovedtotossfrommouthtomouth."Twoheadsarebetterthanone,"Vicia-Heinoxwouldhearapasserbysay,andhewouldnodwithbothofhisinsageagr...

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Robert Don Hughes - Pelman 01 - The Prophet Of Lamath

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