love you, and there cannot be tyranny where there is love.'
He half smiled, his eyes unconvinced. Then, however, he regarded her with an unreadable expression. 'WeII, I suppose the time during your Trial wasn't a complete loss. I gained something very important during those weeks.'
'The supplies?' Sarene asked.
'That too.'
Sarene paused, hoIding his eyes. Then she looked back at the scuIptor. 'Who is he?'
'His name is Taan. Spirit said. 'Though you might know of him by the name Aanden.'
'The gang leader?' Sarene asked with surprise.
Spirit nodded. 'Taan was one of the most accomplished sculptors in Arelon before the Shaod took him. After coming to Elantris, he lost track of himself for a while. He came around eventually.'
They left the sculptor to his work, Spirit showing her through the last few sections of the city. They passed a large building that he referred to as 'the Hall of the Fallen.' and the sorrow in his voice kept her from asking about it, though she did see several mindless Shaod Seons floating around above its roof.
Sarene felt a sudden stab of grief. Ashe must be like that now, she thought, remembering the mad Seons she had occasionally seen floating around Elantris. Despite what she'd seen, she'd continued to hope through the night that Ashe would find her. The Korathi priests had locked her in some sort of holding cell to wait-apparently. new Elantrians were only thrown into the city once a day-and she'd stood by the window. wishing he would arrive.
She'd waited in vain. With the confusion at the wedding, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen him. Not wanting to enter the chapel, he'd gone ahead to wait for her in the throne room. When she'd arrived, had she seen him floating inside the room? Had she heard his voice, calling out amid the other shocked members of the wedding party? Or, was she simply letting hope cloud her memories?
Sarene shook her head. sighing as she let Spirit lead her away from the Hall of the Fallen. She kept looking over her shoulder, glancing upward, expecting Ashe to be there. He always had been before.
At least he isn't dead, she thought, forcing aside her grief. He's probably in the city somewhere. I can find him… maybe help him, somehow.
They continued to walk, and Sarene intentionally let herself be distracted by the scenery-she couldn't bear to think of Ashe anymore. Soon. Spirit led her past several open areas that-looking closely-Sarene realized must be fields. Tiny sprouts were appearing in careful rows piled in the dirt, and several men walked among them. searching for weeds. There was a distinct smell in the air.
Sarene paused. 'Fish?'
'Fertilizer,' Spirit said with a chuckle. 'That's one time we managed to get the better of you. We asked for trike knowing full well you would find the nearest barrel of rotten fish to include in the shipment.'
'It seems like you got the better of me more times than not,' Sarene said, remembering with shame the time she had spent gloating over her sly interpretations of the demands. It seemed no matter how twisted her attempt, the New Elantrians had found uses for all of her useless gifts.
'We don't have much choice, Princess. Everything from pre-Reod Elantris is rotten or befouled: even the srones are starting to crumble. No matter how defective you may have thought those supplies, they were still far more useful than anything left in the city.'
'I was wrong,' Sarene said morosely.
'Don't start that again,' Spirit said. 'If you begin feeling sorry for yourself. I'll lock you in a room with Galladon for an hour so that you can learn what true pessimism is.'
'Galladon?'
'He was the large fellow you met briefly hack at the gates,' Spirit explained. 'The Dula?' Sarene asked with surprise, recalling the large, broad-faced Elantrian with the thick Duladen accent.
'That's him.'
'A pessimistic Dula?' she repeated. 'I've never heard of such a thing.'
Spirit laughed again, leading her into a large, stately building. Sarene gasped in wonder at its beauty. It was lined with delicate, spiraled arches, and the floor was crafted of pale white marble. The wall reliefs were even more intricate than those on the Korathi temple in Teoras.
'It's a chapel,' she said, running her fingers over the intricate marble patterns. 'Yes, it is. How did you know that?'
'These scenes are straight out of the Do-Korath,' she said, looking up with chiding eyes. 'Someone didn't pay much attention in chapel school.' Spirit coughed to himself. 'Well
'Don't even try and convince me you didn't go,' Sarene said, turning back to the carvings. 'You're obviously a nobleman. You would have gone to church to keep up appearances, even if you weren't devout.'
'My lady is very astute. I am, of course. Domi's humble servant-but I'll admit that my mind sometimes wandered during the sermons.'
'So, who were you?' Sarene asked conversationally, finally asking the question that had bothered her ever since she first met Spirit weeks before.
He paused. 'The second son of the Lord of Ien Plantation. A very minor holding in the south of Arelon.'
It could be the truth. She hadn't bothered memorizing the names of minor
lords; it had been difficult enough to keep track of the dukes, counts, and barons. It could also be a lie. Spirit appeared to be at least a passable statesman. and he would know how to tell a convincing falsehood. Whatever he was. he had certainly learned some excellent leadership skills-attributes she had found, for the most part, lacking in the Arelish aristocracy.
'How long-' she began. turning away from the wall. Then she froze, her breath catching in her throat.
Spirit was glowing.
A spectral light grew from somewhere within; she could see the lines of his bones silhouetted before some awesome power that burned within his chest. His mouth opened in a voiceless scream; then he collapsed, quivering as the light flared.
Sarene rushed to his side. then paused. unsure what to do. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed him, lifting his head up to keep the spasms from pounding it repeatedly against the cold marble floor. And she felt something.
It brought bumps to her arms and sent a frigid shiver through her body. Something large. something impossibly immense, pressed against her. The air itself seemed to warp away from Spirit's body. She could no longer see his bones; there was too much light. It was as if he were dissolving into pure whiteness: she would have thought him gone if she hadn't felt his weight in her arms. His struggles jerked to a stop, and he fell limp.
Then he screamed.
A single note. cold and uniform. flew from his mouth in a defiant yell. The light vanished almost immediately, and Sarene was left with her heart pounding a rhythm in her breast. her arms bathed in anxious sweat, her breathing coming deeply and rapidly.
Spirit's eyes fluttered open a few moments later. As comprehension slowly returned, he smiled wanly and rested his head back against her arm. 'When I opened my eyes, I though that time I had died for certain.'
'What happened?' she asked anxiously. 'Should I go for help?'
'No, this is becoming a common occurrence.'
'Common?' Sarene asked slowly. 'For… all of us?'
Spirit laughed weakly. 'No, just me. I'm the one the Dor is intent on destroying.'
'The Dor?' she asked. 'What does Jesker have to do with this?'
He smiled. 'So, the fair princess is a religious scholar as well?'
'The fair princess knows a lot of things,' Sarene said dismissively. 'I want to know why a 'humble servant of Domi' thinks the Jesker overspirit is trying to destroy him.'
Spirit moved to sit, and she helped. 'It has to do with AonDor,' he explained with a tired voice.
'AonDor? That's a heathen legend.' There wasn't much conviction to her words-not after what she had just seen.
Spirit raised an eyebrow. 'So, it's all right for us to be cursed with bodies that won't die. but it's not possible for our ancient magic to work? Didn't I see you with a Seon?'
'That's different…' Sarene trailed off weakly, her mind turning back to Ashe.
Spirit, however, immediately drew her attention again. He raised his hand and began drawing. Lines appeared in the air. following his finger's movement.
