Elantris e-1

by Brandon Sanderson

  " 'Ene?" Eventeo asked with frantic concern.

  "I'm here, Father."

  "Oh, thank Domi!" he said. "Sarene, are you unharmed?"

  "I'm fine, Father," she assured him, strength returning. She suddenly knew that she could do anything and go anywhere as long as she had the promise of Eventeo's voice.

  "Curse that Seinalan! He didn't even try to let you free. If I weren't so devout, I'd behead him without a second thought."

  "We must be fair. Father," Sarene said. "If a peasant's daughter can be cast into Elantris, then a king's daughter shouldn't be exempt."

  "If my reports are true, then no one should be thrown into that pit."

  "It's not as bad as you think, Father," Sarene said. "I can't explain, but things are more hopeful than anticipated."

  "Hopeful or not, I'm getting you out of there."

  "Father, no!" Sarene said. "If you bring soldiers to Arelon you'll not only leave Teod undefended, but you'll alienate our only ally!"

  "It won't be our ally for long, if my spy's predietions are accurate," Eventeo said. "Duke Telrii is waiting a Few clays to consolidate power. but everyone knows he'll soon take the throne-and he is on very friendly terms with that Gyorn Hrathen. You tried, 'Ene. but Arelon is lost. I'm going to come get you-I won't really need all that many men-and then I'm going to fall back and prepare for an invasion. No matter how many men Wyrn raises, he'll never get them past our armada. Teod has the finest ships on the sea."

  "Father, you might have given up on Arelon. but I can't."

  "Sarene," Eventeo said warningly. "do not start that again. You are no more Arelish than I-"

  "I mean it, Father," Sarene said firmly. "I will not leave Arelon."

  "Idos Domi, Sarene, this is lunacy! I am your father and your king. I am going to bring you back, whether you want to come or not."

  Sarene calmed herself; force would never work with Eventeo. "Father," she said, letting love and respect sound in her voice, "you taught me to be bold. You made me into something stronger than the ordinary. At times I cursed you, but mostly I blessed your encouragement. You gave me the liberty to become myself. Would you deny that now by taking away my right to choose?"

  Her father's white head hung silently in the dark room.

  "Your lessons won't be complete until you let go, Father," Sarene said quietly. "If you truly believe the ideals that you gave me, then you will allow me to make this decision."

  Finally he spoke. "You love them that much, 'Ene?"

  "They have become my people, Father."

  "It has been less than two months."

  "Love is independent of time, Father. I need to stay with Arelon. If it is to fall, I must fall with it-but I don't think it will. There has to be a way to stop Telrii."

  "But you're trapped in that city, Sarene," her father said. "What can you do from there?"

  "Ashe can act as messenger. I can no longer lead them, but I might be able to help. Even if I cannot, I still must stay."

  "I see," her father finally said, sighing deeply. "Your life is yours. Sarene. I have always believed that-even if I forget it once in a while."

  "You love me, Father. We protect what we love."

  "And I do," Eventeo said. Never forget that, my daughter."

  Sarene smiled. "I never have."

  "Ashe," Eventeo ordered, calling the Seon's consciousness into the conversadon.

  "Yes, my king," Ashe's voice said, its deep tone deferential and reverent. "You will watch and protect her. If she is injured, you will call me." "As I ever have, and ever will, my king," Ashe responded.

  "Sarene, I'm still going to set the armada in a defensive pattern. Let your friends know that any ship approaching Teoish waters will be sunk without question. The entire world has Turned against us. and I cannot risk the safety of my people."

  "I'll warn them, Father," Sarene promised.

  "Goodnight then, 'Ene, and may Domi bless you."

  HRATHEN was back in control. Like a hero from the old Svordish epics, he had descended to the underworld-physically, mentally, and spiritually-and returned a stronger man. Dilaf's hold was broken. Only now could Hrathen see that the chains Dilaf had used to bind him had been forged from Hrathen's own envy and insecurity. He had felt threatened by Dilaf's passion, for he had felt his own faith inferior. Now, however, his resolve was firm-as it had been when he first arrived in Arelon. He would be the savior of this people.

  Dilaf backed down unhappily. The arteth grudgingly promised to hold no meetings or sermons without Hrathen's overt permission. And, in exchange for being officially named head arteth of the chapel, Dilaf also consented to relieve his numerous odivs from their vows, instead swearing them to the less binding position of krondet. The biggest change, however, wasn't in the arteth's actions, but in Hrathen's confidence. As long as Hrathen knew that his faith was as strong as Dilaf's, then the arteth would not be able to manipulate him.

  Dilaf would not. however, relent in his pursuit of Elantris's destruction. "They are unholy!" the arteth insisted as they walked toward the chapel. This night's sermon had been extremely successful; Hrathen could now claim over

  three-fourths of the local Arelish nobility as Derethi members or sympathizers. Telrii would crown himself within the week, and as soon as his rule stabilized a bit, he would announce his conversion to Shu-Dereth. Arelon was Hrathen's, and he still had a month left before Wyrn's deadline.

  "The Elantrians have served their purpose, Arteth," Hrathen explained to Dilaf as they walked. It was cold this night, though not cold enough for one's breath to mist.

  "Why do you forbid me to preach against them. my lord?" Dilaf's voice was bitter-now that Hrathen forbade him to speak about Elantris, the arteth's speeches seemed almost emasculated.

  "Preaching against Elantris no longer has a point," Hrathen said, matching Dilaf's anger with logic. "Do not forget that our hate had a purpose. Now that I have proven Jaddeth's supreme power over Elantris, we have effectively shown that our God is true, while Domi is false. The people understand that subconsciously."

  "But the Elantrians are still unholy."

  `They are vile, they are blasphemous, and they are definitely unholy. But right now they are also unimportant. We need to focus on the Derethi religion itself, showing the people how to link themselves to Jaddeth by swearing fealty to yourself or one of the other arteths. They sense our power. and it is our duty to show them how to partake of it."

  "And Elantris goes free?" Dilaf demanded.

  "No, most certainly not," Hrathen said. "There will be time enough to deal with it after this nation-and its monarch-is firmly in Jaddeth's grasp."

  Hrathen smiled to himself, turning away from the scowling Dilaf.

  It's over, he realized. I actually did it-I converted the people without a bloody revolution. He wasn't finished yet, however. Arelon was his, but one nation still remained.

  Hrathen had plans for Teod.

  CHAPTER 43

  The door had been barred shut from the inside, but the wooden portal was part of the original Elantris-subject to the same rot that infested the rest

  of the city. Galladon said the mess had fallen off its hinges practically at a touch. A dark stairwell lay hidden inside. ten years of dust coating its steps. Only a single set of footprints marked the powder-footprints that could have been made only by feet as large as Galladon's.

  "And it goes alI the way to the top?" Raoden asked. stepping over the sodden wreck of a door.

  "Kolo," Galladon said. "And it's encased in stone the entire way, with only an occasional slit for light. One wrong step will send you tumbling down a series of stone steps as long-and as painful-as one of my hama's stories."

  Raoden nodded and began climbing, the Dula following behind. Before the Reod, the stair must have been lit by Elantrian magic-but now the darkness was broken only by occasional thin spears of light from the scattered slits. The stairs circled up against the outer wall of the structure. and the lower curves were diml
y visible when one peered down the center. There had been a railing once, but it had long since decayed.

  They had w stop often to rest. their Elantrian bodies unable to bear the strain of vigorous exercise. Eventually, however, they reached the top. The wooden door here was newer; the Guard had probably replaced it after the original rotted away. There was no handle-it wasn't really a door. but a barricade.

  "This is as far as I got, sule," Galladon said. "Climbed all the way to the top of the Doloken stairs, only to find out I needed an axe to go on."

  "That's why we brought this," Raoden said. pulling out the very axe Taan had almost used to topple a building down on Raoden. The two set to work, taking turns hacking at the wood.

  Even with the tool, cutting through the door was a difficult task. Raoden tired after just a few swings, and each one barely seemed to nick the wood. Eventually, however, they got one board loose and-spurred by the victory-they finally managed to break open a hole large enough to squeeze through.

  The view was worth the effort. Raoden had been atop the walls of Elantris

  dozens of times, but never had the sight of Kae looked so sweet. The city was quiet; it appeared as if his fears of invasion had been premature. Smiling. Raoden enjoyed the sense of accomplishment. He felt as if he had cIimbed a mountain. not a simple stairwell. The walls of Elantris were once again back in the hands of those who had created them.

  "We did it," Raoden said, resting against the parapet.

  "Took us long enough." Galladon noted, stepping up beside him.

  "Only a few hours," Raoden said lightly, the agony of the work forgotten in the bIiss of victory.

  "1 didn't mean cutting through the door. I've been trying to get you to come up here for three days."

  "I've been busy."

  Galladon snorted, mumbling something under his breath.

  "What was that?"

  "I said, 'A two-headed Perrin would never leave its nest."

  Raoden smiled; he knew the Jindoeese proverb. Ferrins were talkative birds, and could often be heard screaming at one another across the Jindoeese marshes. The saying was used in reference to a person who had found a new hobby. Or a new romance.

  "Oh. come now," Raoden said, eyeing Galladon. "I'm not that bad."

  "Stile, the only time in the last three days I've seen you two apart is when one of you had to go to the privy. She'd be here now if I hadn't snatched you when no one was looking."

  "Well," Raoden said defensively, "she is my wife."

  "And do you ever intend to inform her of that fact?"

  "Maybe," Raoden said lightly. "I wouldn't want her to feel any obligation." "No, of course not."

  "Galladon, my friend," Raoden said, completely unruffled by the Dula's comments, "your people would be mortified to hear how unromantic you are." Du-laden was a notorious hotbed of melodramatic romances and forbidden love.

  Galladon snorted his response, showing what he thought of the average Dula's romantic inclinations. He turned, scanning the city of Kae. "So, sule, we're up here. What do we do now?"

  "I don't know," Raoden confessed. "You're the one who forced me to come."

  "Yes. but it was your idea to search for a stairwell in the first place."

  Raoden nodded, remembering back to their short conversation three days ago. Has it really been that long? he wondered. He'd barely noticed. Perhaps he had been spending a little too much time with Sarene. However, he didn't feel a bit guilty.

  "There." Galladon said, squinting and pointing at the city.

  "What?" Raoden said, following the Dula's gesture.

  "I see a flag," Galladon said. "Our missing Guards."

  Raoden could hardy pick out a hint of red in the distance-a banner. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive," Galladon said.

  Raoden squinted, recognizing the building over which the banner flew "That's Duke Telrii's mansion. What could the Elantris City Guard possibly have to do with him?"

  "Perhaps he's under arrest." Galladon said.

  "No," Raoden said. "The Guard isn't a policing force."

  "Why would they leave the walls, then?" Galladon asked.

  Raoden shook his head. -I'm not sure. Something, however, is very wrong."

  Raoden and Galladon retreated back down the stairwell, deep in thought.

  There was one way to find out what was going on with the Guard. Sarene was the only Elantrian to be thrown into the city since the disappearance of the Guard. Only she could explain the current political climate of the city.

  Sarene, however, still resisted talking about the outside. Something about the last few days before her exile had been extremely painful. Sensing her hurt, Rao-den had avoided prying; he didn't want to risk alienating her. The truth was, he really did enjoy his time with Sarene. Her wry wit made him smile. her intelligence intrigued him, and her personality encouraged him. After ten years of dealing with women whose only apparent thought was how good they looked in their dress-a state of forced obtuseness led by his own weak-willed stepmother-Raoden was ready for a woman who wouldn't cower at the first sign of conflict. A woman such as he remembered his mother being, before she died.

  However, that same unyielding personality was the very thing that had kept him from learning about the outside. No amount of subtle persuasion-or even direct manipulation-could pry a single unwilling fact out of Sarene's mouth. He couldn't afford to be delicate any longer, however. The Guard's strange actions were troubling-any shift in power could be extremely dangerous to Elantris.

  They reached the bottom of the stairwell and moved on toward the center of the city. The walk was a relatively long one. but it passed quickly as Raoden considered what they had seen. Despite the fall of Elantris. Arelon had spent the last ten years in relative peace-at least, on a national level. With an ally to the south, Teod's armada patrolling the northern ocean, and the mountains to their east. even a weakened Arelon had faced little external danger. Internally. Iadon had kept a strong grip on military might, encouraging the nobility toward political squabbling as opposed to militaristic posings.

  Raoden knew that peace couldn't last long, even if his father refused to see that fact. Raoden's decision to marry Sarene had been influenced greatly by the chance to

  me.

  enter a formal treaty with Teod-giving Arelon at least partial access to the Teoish armada. Arelenes weren't accustomed to battle: they had been bred for pacifism by centuries of Elantrian protection. The current Wyrn would have to be a fool not to strike soon. All he needed was an opening.

  Internal strife would provide chat opening. If the Guard had decided to betray the king, civil conflict would throw Arelon into chaos once again, and the Fjordells were infamous for capitalizing on such events. Raoden had to find out what was happening beyond those walls.

  EventuaIly, he and GaIIadon reached their destination. Not New EIantris, but the squat, unassuming building that was the passage to the holy place. Galladon hadn't said a word when he'd found out that Raoden had taken Sarene to the library: the Dula had actually looked as if he'd expected such a development.

  A few moments later, Raoden and Galladon strode into the underground library. Only a few of the wall lamps burned-an effort to save fuel-but Raoden could easily make out Sarene's form sitting in one of the cubicles at the back, leaned over a book just where he had left her.

  As they approached, her face became more distinct, and Raoden wasn't able to keep himself from remarking again at her beauty. The dark-splotched skin of an Elantrian was prosaic to him now: he didn't really notice it anymore. Actually, Sarene's body seemed to be adapting remarkably well to the Shaod. Further signs of degeneration were usually visible after just a few days-wrinkles and creases appearing in the skin, the body's remaining flesh color dulling to a pallid white. Sarene showed none of this-her skin was as smooth and vibrant as the day she had entered Elantris.

  She claimed that her injuries didn't continue hurting the way they should-though Raoden was certain that that was
just because she had never lived outside of New Elantris. Many of the more recent newcomers never experienced the worst of Elantrian pain, the work and positive atmosphere keeping them from focusing on their injuries. The hunger hadn't come upon her either-but, again, she had the fortune of coming at a time when everyone had the opportunity to eat at least once a day. Their supplies wouldn't last more than a month, but there was no reason to stockpile. Starvation was not deadly to Elantrians, just uncomfortable.

  Most beautiful were her eyes-the way she studied everything with keen interest. Sarene didn't just look, she examined. When she spoke, there was thought behind her words. That intelligence was what Raoden found most attractive about his Teoish princess.

  She looked up as they approached, an excited smile on her face. "Spirit! You are never going to guess what I found."

  "You're right," Raoden confessed with a smile-unsure how to approach the topic of information about the outside. "Therefore, you might as well just tell

  Sarene held up the book, showing him the spine, which read Seor's Encyclopedia of Political Myths. Though Raoden had shown Sarene the library in an effort to sate her interest in AonDor, she'd postponed that study as soon as she had realized that there was an entire shelf of books on politicaI theory. Part of the reason for her shift in interest probably had to do with her annoyance at AonDor. She couldn't draw Aons in the air: she couldn't even get the lines to start appearing behind her fingers. Raoden had been perplexed at first, but Galladon had explained that such a thing wasn't uncommon. Even before the Reod, it had taken some Elantrians years to learn AonDor: if one began even the first line with an improper slant, nothing would appear. Raoden's own immediate success was nothing short of extraordinary.

  Sarene. however. didn't see it that way. She was the type who grew annoyed when it took her longer to learn than someone else. She claimed she was drawing the Aons perfectly-and, in truth, Raoden couldn't see any flaws in her form. The characters just refused to appear-and no amount of princessly indignation could convince them to behave.