"My Lord!" the advisors chorused in shock. "You cannot do this thing!" "Put the hood on his head and help me out of this robe!" the High Priest commanded. The advisors complied, but they voiced grave doubts throughout the operation.
"Now then!" Naquin smiled. The High Priest drew a circle in the air with his finger, and Pezi turned around twice to model his new vestments. "How does he look?" One advisor said, "Obese." Another used the term, "Fat." The other comments were similar.
"Nevertheless, the people need to see their High Priest, and so they shall." "But what do I say!" Pezi protested.
"How should I know? Make something up. That's what I would do." There was a pounding at the door, and Naquin motioned them all out. "Time to go. Have a nice time. Be sure to remember everything that happens, so you can tell me all about it. Good-bye!" He pushed them all out the door, and slammed it on all their protests. Then he looked at himself, and giggled.
He wore Pezi's clothes. Rather, the voluminous garments swallowed him up. He turned across the mosaic floor, the robes billowing around him, and thought what it must be like to be Pezi.
"The ribs," he said, "I mustn't neglect those ribs." With that he was off for the kitchen. He could not remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much.
Rosha pounded his .fist on the walls in utter frustration. Bronwynn just watched. "I don't know why you're so worried," she said. "He told us he would be back." The young warrior looked over at her with a pained expression. "How c-can you be so b-believing? What do you b-base such confidence on? On that b-book?" Bronwynn had been hugging the book to her. Now she looked down at it. "This? Partly, I suppose. Though not really. My confidence is more in those who made the book than in the book itself. No, better still, I believe in the one who taught me to read it." "You trust in P-Pelman, then?" "I trust in Pelman," she affirmed quietly.
"D-doyou . . . t-trust m-me?" Bronwynn looked up at Rosha now, wondering at the unusual tone in his voice. "Of course I trust you. What do you mean?" "You t-trust me to ... t-to fight bears, or evil in men. B-but do you t-trust me ... c-could you t-trust me, like you t-trust P-Pelman?" Bronwynn laid the book aside and got to her feet. "Why are you having such difficulty saying this, Rosha?" "You d-don't make it easy, m-my Lady . . ." He blushed and looked away from her. She put her hands on his shoulders and began to massage his rock-hard neck.
"I can't read your mind, you know," Bronwynn said, and he sighed heavily and walked away from her hands. "Are you still angry that I didn't embrace Pelman when they took him?" Rosha shook his head, and sprawled on the straw in the darkest comer of the cell. "Then what?" She came and crouched beside him, and ran a hand through his hair.
Rosha didn't look at her. He laced his fingers behind his head and gazed intently at the ceiling. After a moment he began, "I ... have so mu-so much I n-need to tell you. B-but it gets all c-closed up in-s-side me, and I c-can't speak well . . ." "Take your time," she soothed, and she stroked his head again. That helped him to look at her.
"I remember m-my m-mother, some. And I-I remember that my father loved her, m-much. I m-may know n-nothing of love, but if I d-do, then I think that . . . Hove . . . you, B-B-Bronwynn." His eyes flicked away from hers then, swiftly, and he looked for some crack or chisel mark in the cold ceiling to focus on.
"Rosha, I-" "I kn-know you are a P-Princess, b-but I n-needed to say this. N-now it's said. So." "Rosha?" He dared to look into her eyes again. Imagine his shock when he saw tears on her cheeks. "Why ... why do you cry?" Bronwynn smiled, then half chuckled. "All my life, I've wanted someone to say that to me. And you just did." Rosha nodded. Her face crinkled into a smile again, and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
"My Lady," he muttered, "you are a P-Princess-" "No, Rosha." She hopped to her feet and spun around. "I am an initiate in the Divisionist order of the Dragonfaith-can't you tell by my robe?" She dropped to her knees and took the cloth of his garment in her hands. "I see you are too. Don't the brothers say we must love each other?" She smiled impishly at him, and he returned her smile with wonder. Then her expression changed. She showed him the girl she hid inside, and her eyes asked him how he could love one such as she. Rosha's arms slipped around her slim waist in silent reply, and he pulled her to him. They lay in one another's embrace then, as they had so many times before. But their embrace was different, this day, for both knew what it signified-and they rejoiced together in the gloom of the dungeon.
Waves of cheers broke on the platform, and Pezi could not hear himself think. He pulled the jeweled hood as low onto his face as he could, and hunched his shoulders, hiding behind the rich brocade of the High Priest's vestments. His eyes shifted from side to, side, searching nervously for one who might shout out his name and expose him as a fraud to this throng. But those who watched him seemed content that he was truly their spiritual leader. They looked not at him, really, but at the robes and the hood of office. The High Priest rarely appeared in public.
The tugoliths danced impatiently in their harnesses, and demanded of Dolna that he release them and let them horn various members of the audience. The headsman stood at the top of the stairway, eyes following the progress of a small clump of uniformed men as they made their way from the dungeon gate to the platform. They surrounded a man in a bright blue robe, obviously the principal figure in this execution. The crowd swayed from side to side, carrying the soldiers back and forth, but on they came, plowing a way with shoves and curses and the occasional prick of a pike.
At last they gained the stairway, and the warder preceded Pelman up the ramp. "I have brought your prisoner," he announced to the headsman in the traditional formal language.
"What?" "I said I brought your prisoner!" "Oh! Good. I'll get the keeper of the tugoliths." "What?" "I said I would get the keeper of the tugoliths!" "Oh!" The warder plugged up his ears against the noise as the headsman went off to fetch Dolna.
"I am required to read the charges before you execute the man!" the warder yelled when Dolna stood before him, and the tugolith handler nodded. The warder pulled a scroll from inside his tunic and began to read. "Inasmuch as the King has found this man . . ." "What?" the headsman called.
"I'm trying to read the charges!" the warder yelled back.
"Oh! Just read them to yourself, we all know why the King is killing him." "What?" the warder yelled back.
The headsman waved his hand in disgust. He reached beyond the warder, pulled Pelman around to the blocks, and cupped his hand around Dolna's ear. "You can go ahead now!" Dolna nodded, and cut through Pelman's bonds. The two animals were harnessed back to back to a pair of large wooden blocks. Each block was five feet high and six feet long, and a pair of chains dangled from each end. At the end of each chain hung an ankle clamp, and now Dolna snapped the ankle chains from the blocks around Pelman's legs. "You'll have to lie on your back now!" he yelled into Pelman's ear, and the Prophet nodded and sat down where he was.
"This is a fine pair of animals!" Pelman said.
"What?" Dolna yelled back.
"These tugoliths!" Pelman yelled. "They're both beautiful animals!" "Oh!" Dolna nodded, pleased by the comment, too deafened to consider the incongruity of it. After all, these fine animals were about to tear the Prophet in half.
"Dolna?" Chimolitha called.
"Wait here!" the keeper yelled. He went around to face Chimolitha. "What is it now?" "Was that man talking about me?" the beast asked.
"Yes-he said you were nice-looking. Now leave me alone!" "Dolna?" Chimolitha called, stopping the keeper before he even got around the tugolith's forequarters.
"What?" he bellowed, finally losing his patience.
"I like him." Dolna waved the beast's comment off, and went back to Pelman's side. The crowd roared in anticipation as Dolna stooped to fix the wrist irons in place, and now Pelman gazed up into the blue sky. He alone saw the blue flyer whoosh by overhead, bound for the palace beyond.
Suddenly, Pezi the merchant was standing over him, dressed outlandishly in the ro
bes of the High Priest, and Pelman had to chuckle. Pezi frowned at him, and looked around to see if any of the crowd had noticed. They hadn't. He carefully got down onto his knees, and spoke into Pelman's face.
"Have you any last words, Prophet?" "Why are you dressed like that, Pezi? Where's the High Priest?" "He sent me in his place. Are those your last words?" "I suppose they are as good as any." "Very well. But before I give the order that will kill you, I want a little information." "What?" Pelman yelled, for the crowd was delirious with excitement.
"I need some information about where you hid the girl!" Shock danced across Pelman's visage, then he smiled.
"You don't know?" "Of course I don't know! Why would I ask you if I knew?" "Pezi, you don't know how much that pleases me. I certainly don't intend to tell you where she is." "Be reasonable, Pelman! In another minute these beasts will pull you apart! What difference should it make to you whether I find the girl or not?" "What do you want with Bronwynn? You already have your war. Isn't that what Flayh was after?" "I know little of what my uncle plans, but I know it would please him if I could bring the girl back. Come now, Pelman, cooperate with me! If you'll tell me, I promise that the house of Ognadzu will build you the finest tomb in Lamath." Pezi said this so seriously that Pelman laughed aloud.
This caused the headsman to mutter to the warder. "What are they doing? Telling jokes?" "What?" the warder shouted.
A new group of soldiers suddenly broke from the gate of the dungeon, and they made no pretense of courtesy. They clubbed people out of the way and wedged themselves into the back of the crowd, all shouting as loudly as they could for the warder. He neither heard them nor saw them.
The headsman saw them, however, for his eyes were trained to look for that." "Oh, no!" he murmured bitterly. "Not again!" Then he .rushed to Dolna and grabbed the handler's shoulder. "Give the order!" he shouted.
"The man is still with the Priest!" "This is my responsibility and I said to give the order!" "Very well then. Thuganlitha? Chimolitha?" "Yes, Dolna?" the beasts roared back in chorus.
"Pull!" "Dolna?" "Yes, Thuganlitha?" "Is that man being unkind to you?" "What man?" "That man I don't like!" "No, Thuganlitha, he's not. Now pull!" "Dolna?" "Yes, Chimolitha?" Dolna ran across the platform to get in front of the other animal. "Why am I here?" "To obey my orders, and my orders are to pull-now pull!" "But one thing." "What, Chimolitha?" Dolna groaned. "If I pull this way, and Thuganlitha pulls the other, won't it hurt that man I like?" Dolna was amazed. Chimolitha had never uttered such a long sentence before. "How did you figure that out?" "I don't know," Chimolitha said honestly. "It just popped into my mind." "But things don't just pop into a tugolith's mind," Dolna said, gazing curiously into Chimolitha's saucersized eyes. Had he been looking into Pelman's eyes instead, he might have understood a little better. Pelman was smiling.
"Are these beasts going to pull or aren't they?" the headsman shouted. Though the warder still had not noticed them, the soldiers were almost to the platform.
"Dolna, I'm going to horn that man!" Thuganlitha bellowed, and he gave a tug on the block as he tried to turn to his left to reach the headsman. That one jerk pulled Pelman's arms rigid, and he gritted his teeth against the sudden pain.
"Not until after we've finished!" Dolna yelled, running around the blocks to get in front of Thuganlitha- then he stopped. He stared in amazement as he watched Chimolitha step backward, nudging his block back with his massive hindquarters. Pelman fell back onto the platform, gasping for breath as he thanked the Power for this respite.
"Stop them! Stop them now!" the warder began shouting, but Thuganlitha would not be stopped. As he jerked around to get at the headsman, Pelman was spread-eagled again, but Chimolitha answered with a relieving nudge. "Can't you stop them?" the warder screamed at Dolna, who stood transfixed, watching Chimolitha rescue Pelman from Thuganlitha's rampage.
"I can't stop Thuganlitha now," Dolna shrugged. "He won't be satisfied until he's buried his horn in that fellow." The headsman leapt into the crowd and tried to push his way through, but as people bolted outward in panic, a solid wall of bodies formed across his path, penning him in.
"Take that man!" the warder shouted, and six soldiers jumped down into the crowd in pursuit. As they seized the headsman and buried him under their weight, Thuganlitha trumpeted and lurched forward. Pelman screamed as he felt himself being drawn in two.
The guards hustled the headsman around to stand face to face with Thuganlitha, then scattered.
"Nice beastie! Nice beastie!" The frightened man smiled in horror as that monster's eyes lidded menacingly in anticipation of the thrust. Dolna wrestled with Pelman's chains, attempting to unclasp them even as the warder read the message that the blue flyer had carried all the way from Dragonsgate. Through his pain Pelman still noticed when Pezi scampered from the platform, holding the Hood on with both hands. Then the pressure suddenly came off of his arm, as the lock clicked open in Dolna's hands. Free at last, his mind clouded. In the few seconds before he passed out, Pelman was dimly aware of the warder's words. "The Prophet is right," the warder read. "Spare him, or I'll draw you. Asher." Then there was nothing.
The day Asher wrote that message had dawned brightly on the General's marching army. There had been a quiet promise of light, then suddenly the sun had broken free from the mountains to the east, and the fabled Dragonsgate became visible in all its awesome splendor.
Asher held up a hand to stop the column and sat there for a moment, marveling. "Here is truly the center of the world," he whispered. The rocky heights rising beyond the pass looked like the citadel of a race of giants, but in Asher's mind the place was far more. Here was the home of Lord Dragon. At last he'd been privileged to view the dwelling place of his god.
Asher had selected an honor corps from among his most favored warriors. Now they rode behind him up the sharp incline, lances and swords held in readiness, heads held high with pride. The northern mouth was the steepest of the climbs, but it was a short approach, and soon they turned the comer into the heart of the pass. There Asher jerked his steed to a halt, and his heart , sprang into his throat. The dragon was immense-and he was real.
The beast stood at the far end of the pass, and suddenly Asher realized why. There in the southern mouth stood a host of golden-clad warriors, and the dragon appeared to be speaking with them! Abruptly the beast fluttered into the air, and settled to earth a scant ten feet away from the General. Asher jumped from his horse and prostrated himself on the ground, listening as he did to the honor guard following his lead. Then he snapped upright onto his knees and slammed both arms across his chest in the age-old salute of the dragon.
"See?" Vicia chortled. "See? I told you they would come, that my people would come!" "We have come. Lord Dragon, to honor you, and to defend you against infidels who exalt gold above the spirit!" Asher closed his eyes in sincere devotion, awaiting the Lord Dragon's reply.
"I told you, I told you," Vicia sang out childishly.
"Close it up, you stupid lizard," Heinox snapped, and Asher's eyes popped open. "There are thirty of them. I have an army of thousands." Had he imagined it? Or had Asher actually heard one head call the other head a lizard? "How many are you?" Vicia asked.
Asher blurted out, "Twenty thousand! But-" "There, you see?" Vicia screamed. "Now I have an army of thousands, too!" "But Lord Dragon-" Heinox swooped down into Asher's face. "Call me that again and I'll swallow you." "Don't you dare," Vicia seethed, "or I'll chew up every general you have, armor and all!" "You just do that, 'Lord Dragon,' " Heinox mocked, "and watch what I do in return!" "But Lord Dragon, we are your army!" Asher cried.
"The Chaons are my army!" Heinox roared. "You belong to this disgusting lizard I share a body with!" Asher felt faint. He stumbled to his feet and leaned against his horse. "Then-the dragon is no longer one . . . the dragon is divided?" "Yes, and will be as long as this ball of meat on a neck continues to call himself a god!" "I am a god!" Vicia roared. "You heard him say so!" "I've heard you say so
again and again. That doesn't make it any less a pile of-" "My army will prove that I am a god! Won't you, whatever your name is." Asher blinked. "The Lord Dragon does not know my name?" "How should I? What do you think I am, all-knowing or something?" "I ... am Asher." "There. This Asher will go against your Talith, and you'll see who is a god!" "Talith is here?" Asher asked.
"Yes, Talith is here," Heinox sneered, "and you had better prepare yourself to meet him, for he's about to destroy you and your nation!" "Not here he isn't," sniffed Vicia.
"Of course not here. The battle will take place in Lamath." "Think again, my scaly-eyed -friend!" Vicia snorted. "It will take place in Chaomonous! You don't expect me to allow my fields to be ravaged by your barbarians, do you?" "I certainly don't plan to let Chaomonous be despoiled by your warriors, either!" growled Heinox.
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