The Prophet Of Lamath

by Hughes, Robert Don

  "Pay him no mind, he won't talk to me, either," Dorlyth said.

  Pelman glanced again at the broad muscular back now turned to him and sighed. Then he chuckled quietly. "Looks like his mother, doesn't he?" Pelman observed.

  Dorlyth cocked his head, and regarded those gleaming shoulders skeptically. "That chunk of meat?" Dorlyth mused. Pelman grinned at him. "Well, maybe in coloring." The hairy warrior's face expressed amusement mixed with fierce pride. It told Pelman something he already knew-that Dorlyth loved this spirited young battler, above his land, above his castle, above his very life.

  Dorlyth rejoiced at the rippling of the lad's muscles as he honed and polished the giant blade. He thrilled when he watched the lad whirl the heavy weapon around his head as if it were nothing more than a butcher's cleaver. He had trained Rosha in every battle art he'd learned himself through his long years of conflict, and had come finally to admit that the boy was a more natural fighter than he had ever been. In that admission his pride commingled with his fear, for he knew the lad was afraid of nothing that frightened other men, and Doriyth knew how necessary fear was to self-preservation. How could he teach the boy his limits? Again and again Doriyth had worked these worries through his mind, and again and again forced himself to acknowledge that Rosha was nearly grown and would need to find his own way through the world. Yet as he sat and watched the boy now, he wished that he could shape the powers as Pelman did and force time to stand still.

  "Not even I can stop time," Pelman said, and Doriyth jumped as if he'd been slapped.

  "Have you taken up mind reading since your last visit?" Doriyth asked indignantly.

  "I could always read yours, my friend." Pelman gestured toward Rosha. "He'll soon be ready to go." "Let's not rush it, shall we?" Doriyth snapped, standing. "He still has things to learn." "Such as?" "How to talk, for one." "I t-talk all right," Rosha stammered fiercely, twisting around to look at his father.

  "All right for a butterfly!" Doriyth bellowed, then flapped his arms in the air. "Flit, flit, can't sit down on a word and make it stick!" It was incredible to Pelman how swiftly the boy was out of his chair, how gracefully he danced across the floor, and how effortlessly he brought the five-foot blade to his father's throat. His face was a violent red, and his mouth was screwed up as he fought to spew forth a stream of invective that just wouldn't come.

  His father didn't flinch. He just glanced over at Pelman and murmured, "You see? You tease him about his speech and he wants to chop your head off." His eyes shifted back to lock with his son's angry glare.

  "Even mine?" he asked quietly. Rosha dropped his sword point to the stone floor, and followed it down with his eyes. When he looked back up at his father, there was a trace of a grin on his severe lips. He shook his head.

  Pelman sighed deeply, and patted his chest. "That shocked me." "That's what you get for throwing fireballs at unsuspecting warriors," Doriyth grunted. He grabbed the drape and flung it shut. This time the candles blew out, and Doriyth groaned at the nuisance. "Pelman, would you mind . . ." he began, but already in the middle of the dark room there was the beginning of a turquoise glow that grew into a sphere of blue-green flame. The ball touched all the candles in turn, setting a blue flame on each. The three men became engrossed in the beauty of its dancing movement.

  "How lovely!" Bronwynn exclaimed, her face alive with wonder, and immediately all eyes were fixed on her instead. Were he inclined toward speech, Rosha would have used those same words to describe his vision of her as she stepped through the doorway. She was not a tall girl, but short would not describe her either, for that has connotations of stubbiness about it, and there was nothing stubby about the Princess of Chaomonous. Except, perhaps, for her nose, which was turned up in a saucy peak, and covered with youthful freckles. The rest of her face was a lady's face. Her mouth was small and her lips full, and she pouted them together now for maximum effect. They glistened in the flickering candlelight, for she had licked them just prior to stepping into the room. Her eyes and chin were proud as she turned her head to survey the furnishings, and Rosha thought he'd never seen eyes so startlingly blue on anyone save his mother. She wore his mother's old robes-clothes treasured lovingly by his father in these long years since her passing-and in her regal bearing, Bronwynn did them justice. They were the orange-red color of a robin's breast, and the golden brown hair awash on her shoulders in carefully cultivated disarray somehow made that color more vibrant and exciting than Rosha could recall it ever being before. One could say without exaggeration that he was taken with her. Nor was that fact lost on his father and on Pelman.

  "How did you do that?" she asked, her gaze of girlish admiration reserved for Pelman alone, shutting the others out.

  Pelman cleared his throat, for the drama of her entrance had affected him as well. He felt the warmth of that look with some discomfort. "The-the powers I spoke of-" "Then you are a sorcerer!" she squealed, clapping her hands in delight.

  "I-shape the powers-sometimes. That's all." "That's ain I would think that's quite enough, wouldn't you?" She aimed this at Dorlyth, who chuckled.

  It struck him that the spell of enchantment she had so suddenly woven around the three of them showed that this girl had some magic of her own. "Surely." Dorlyth shrugged. "I've said it myself. But who can tell a sorcerer anything?" "Do it again," Bronwynn pleaded, floating elegantly across the room to position herself in front of Pelman.

  "Later," he muttered, embarrassed. He took her by the hand and turned her around to introduce her to the others. "This is Dorlyth mod Karis, Lord of this castle and a member of the Federation of the Mar." Dorlyth nodded his head graciously, and Bronwynn smiled. For the first time since she had been so rudely ripped from Ligne's chambers over a week ago, she felt some control over her own destiny. At least she controlled this situation.

  "We welcome you to our humble keep, my Lady, and feel honored by the presence of such a renowned visitor." Dorlyth summoned all of his practiced charm. "It is our hope that you will find the same pleasure in the Mar of Ngandib that we find in looking on your radiant face." Bronwynn's smile faltered, and she whispered to Pelman, "Are all Maris this courteous?" "Hardly." Pelman smiled, winking over her head at his friend, who managed to stifle a grin. "And this-" Pelman gestured to the young man hidden in the shadows at the far end of the room. "This is Rosha mod Dorlyth, son of Dorlyth mod Karis." "Mod?" she asked.

  "Loosely, it means 'son of.' " "Very loosely, my lady," Dorlyth broke in grandly. "Mod means 'treasure of,' and the son of a Mari is his dearest treasure. This, my Lady, is my treasure, Rosha." It was an honest declaration, and true, but it trained those radiant eyes directly on the young man and stole away his tongue.

  "Hello," she said, with just the right combination of shyness and flirtation to stun him further. He just gazed at her, his mind racing frantically through his vocabulary, looking for words he could say without stuttering. Bronwynn waited for a moment, then leaned toward him and cocked her head. "Hello?" she said again, a question this time, and Rosha found himself leaning toward her, too. He straightened up self-consciously, struggling to swallow, and managed a quick smile.

  "My Lady, would you like a drink before-" Dorlyth began, but Bronwynn had already started toward Rosha and was speaking to him again.

  "I suppose your father more than makes up for your lack of charm, but you could at least give me a greeting." Her tone was slightly taunting, but still quite flirtatious. That was the way the women of Talith's court related to men, especially to her father, and Bronwynn was pleased to find that it worked equally well in Ngandib-Mar. But she didn't realize just how powerfully her attention affected Rosha, as a cauldron mixed of frustration and pleasure bubbled within him, growing hotter with every step she took. Finally he could hold his tongue no longer, and he gave in to attempted speech. She was surprised when the torrent of fragmented words exploded from his lips.

  "I-I-I am-m-m-you-y-glad t-t-to-to be N-nngandib-M-mar. Glad!" "You're what?" she said flatly. H
e swallowed, and forced his lips by an act of sheer will to re-form the words he had tried to say.

  "I-I am g-g-glad you ha-ha-have c-c-come-" Here he stopped for a breath, then: "to N-ngandib-M-mar." It was not a pretty sight, this boy fighting to give this small greeting. But it certainly didn't warrant the cackle of derisive laughter that broke from Bronwynn's lips.

  "Bronwynn!" Pelman snapped, eyes flashing angrily as he crossed the room to her.

  "But he talks so funny!" she giggled in response to Pelman's scolding.

  The player grabbed her by the arm and spun her around to face him. "Just because you are the daughter of the King, you feel you have the right to-" "Please!" They both looked back at Rosha, surprised at the firmness and character he'd given to the word. He stood with both hands outstretched to her, indicating very eloquently to Pelman that he wanted to deal with her himself. Bronwynn received a brief cold glance from Pelman, before he turned and stalked away. She looked back at Rosha, who had forced his lips into a frozen smile.

  "I-sometimes-have-a hard-time-s-s-saying- what-I feel," he gasped, mouthing each word slowly and punching it out in triumph over his halting lips. "I-can't-talk-very well." "I-can tell," Bronwynn said nervously, wishing she could get this over with and get back to the two older men. She smiled faintly and began to turn away, but he stopped her.

  "Wait." She hesitated, looking at him. "I-would- 1-like to-t-talk-to you-better. I-I'm sorry." He shrugged, and grinned, then he picked up his shirt and strolled out of the room.

  Pelman and Dorlyth exchanged a look.

  The young lady spun around and announced, "I'm hungry." Dorlyth chuckled. "I'm not surprised. The kitchen is below us, my Lady. May I escort you to its table?" He extended his hand to her, and Bronwynn offered her own.

  But before he led her from the room, she reached back to offer her other hand to Pelman. "Aren't you coming, too?" Pelman took her hand, and the three of them walked together to dinner.

  Much later in the day Pelman wandered through a quiet glade near the castle, tracing the route of a small stream he had followed many times before. He had finally managed to get free from the little lady. She had shadowed him all day. She played now with the falcons in Dorlyth's aviary, finding in these savage, swooping birds of prey some strangely comforting feeling of communion. The way her gaze had followed him from place to place gave Pelman the clear impression that she was the hunter and he the hunted. He thanked the powers for inspiring him to introduce her to her fellow predators. Dorlyth's bird handler had thrilled her by giving her a little falconet, and as Bronwynn had stroked the hooded bird and cooed to it softly, Pelman had slipped out the cage door. He hoped he had covered his tracks well. He needed some time alone.

  The stream turned into a heavily wooded area, and Pelman waded in to follow it into the trees. Twenty feet farther on it twisted and turned through a series of large rocks. Pelman pulled himself up onto one of these and stretched across it. The day had finally warmed up, but now in the late afternoon it was cooling off again, and Pelman wrapped himself tightly in his robe and wished he'd not gotten his feet wet. "Still," he said to himself, "it's worth getting wet to have a little quiet." "I'm here," someone said, and Pelman jerked upright and looked around.

  "Who's there?" he demanded, his hand raising slowly above his head, ready to call from the air some powerful defense if need be.

  "What?" the voice said, and it was as if someone spoke inside his head.

  Pelman could see no one, and the voice came from no direction. Understanding suddenly slashed through him, and he fell on his knees on the rock and fought to clear his mind completely of any words.

  "Yes, I'm back," the voice said. "I thought I heard someone at the door, and went to check it." There was silence for a moment. "No, there was no one there. But I had the clear impression someone was speaking to me-someone besides the two of you." His eyes shut against the light, bands clasped tightly over his ears to cut off the sound of the gaily trickling stream, Pelman strained to hold all thought in check until the danger of discovery was past. Someone was using a tremendous coalition of the powers to communicate his thoughts to others. It was something Pelman had never before experienced-unless ... It seemed he had dreamed something of this feeling the night before. He had tumbled into bed as soon as they had arrived, even though the sun had not completely set. But for all of his exhaustion from the strain of the long ride from Dragonsgate, he had still slept fitfully.

  Now as he squeezed his eyes shut, that field of vision behind his eyelids, normally black or dark red, turned a hot, bright blue. The energy coursed through him so powerfully that he feared some bodily harm, yet he still clung tightly to his thoughts and focused his mind on receiving more of the signal.

  "I know you say that's impossible, Flayh, but you forget that I am in Ngandib-Mar. Things are possible here that aren't elsewhere." Pelman realized there was another side to this conversation, possibly two, but he only heard the one. He held his mind in check still, waiting until the voice moved on to discuss something besides his uninvited presence. At last it did.

  "I know I'm getting old," Tohn mod Neelis was saying, "but I'm not senile. Maybe I'm just more cautious than you two." "I hear nothing other than you and Jagd," Flayh snarled. "Jagd? What of you?" "I hear nothing either. Leave it, Tohn. It's your imagination." "Perhaps so. I've been sick this whole day, ever since your announcement that I may have Pelman to contend with." "I take it you haven't seen Pelman?" Flayh said coldly.

  "Of course I haven't! This is a big country, dear cousin. You think I can search the breadth of it in a day?" "You can attempt it," Flayh snapped. "Gentlemen," said Jagd calmly, "is it wise to waste our energies bickering when it is evident we have so much to discuss?" Flayh sat back in his chair. This registered on the pyramids of the other two by his face growing smaller. "So report, Tohn," he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

  "The search for Pelman and the girl is continuing. It appears they moved south, following the foothills of the Spinal Range to the edge of the Great South Fir. There they may have turned west, or they may have moved south into the forest proper." "They may have?" Flayh growled. "Don't you know?" "Not yet, no!" Tohn thundered back, wishing the little man were really across the table from him so that he could wring his wrinkled neck. Flayh feels free to say anything he chooses, Tohn thought to himself. This distance makes him feel secure. But let him bring himself to the Mar, and Flayh will see how Maris deal with obnoxious upstarts.

  "There was much traffic through the area night before last," Tohn continued, eyes boring down into Flayh's. "It appears every slaver along the Chaon-Mari border was in action. The paths crisscross one another in a matrix of confusion-" "I thought your riders were competent," Flayh sneered.

  "They are competent! And we will find them!" "Please!" Jagd yelled, losing his temper. "I'm tired of this! If you two continue this family quarrel I intend to break the link!" Flayh hid his frustration and asked coolly, "Do you think they are heading back to Chaomonous?" "I hope so," Tohn breathed.

  "As do I," Jagd smiled, "for I've laced those woods with red-and-purple riders. Pelman will not expect trouble from the house of Uda-he may even seek help from us since he thinks his enemy is Ognadzu. Yes, I hope he is coming this direction." "But I doubt he will," said Flayh. "After all, he is powerless in Chaomonous. In the Mar he's a powershaper, with some leverage to make things happen. We tingling sensation throughout his body. It was strangely soothing, and for some reason he felt no inclination to do anything but relax and remain silent. He stood rooted where he was in the water, like the stump of an ancient swamp tree. Pelman ducked back into his unorthodox position and struggled to regain the lost link. For some reason, Dorlyth now saw his friend's silly contortions as the most natural sight in the forest.

  "There, it happened again!" Tohn broke in. "Didn't you feel it?" "Feel what?" Flayh demanded.

  "Yes, what?" Jagd echoed.

  "Another-presence. Someone listening in on our conversatio
n!" "I have told you, Tohn, that is impossible!" said Flayh.

  "Impossible? How could you know? How could you say what is possible or not possible with this magic device? I didn't make it, I don't know what its capabilities are. Can you really believe you do?" Tohn was less angry than he was frightened. He decided he didn't like the magical instrument. It seemed to invade his most private thoughts, and to broadcast his desires. It revealed more to these other men than he chose to reveal. He preferred the old methods, the messenger birds and the fire signals. They were more polite-and more dignified.

  "I know what my trading captains have told me," Flayh was saying, "and not all are liars like my nephew. The man from whom they purchased these three objects swore to them that messages could not be intercepted. I question whether anyone is listening in, cousin Tohn. I fear you have simply developed what those hill people call a conscience. A worthless thing, Tohn, especially when you begin to listen to it. You've grown so isolated from the real world you've forgotten that conscience is a luxury we merchants cannot afford." "I'm tired, Flayh, and I'm not well. I will break this link now-" "No!" "-and I will consider your suggestion." "Don't break the link, Tohn," Flayh threatened.