was now watched by only two or three Guards, and they rarely-if ever-patrolled the wall walk. For now, he wouldn't tell the Guards about the hole. It didn't matter to him if the Elantrians snuck out of their city. They wouldn't be able to go anywhere; their appearance was too distinctive. Besides, he didn't want to bother the people with worries about Elantris; he wanted them to remain focused on their new king, and the allegiances he would soon declare.
He walked, Elantris to his right. Kae to his left. A small concentration of lights shone in the evening's darkness-the royal palace, now Telrii's home. The Arelish nobility, eager to show devotion to their new king, were in near unanimous attendance at his coronation party-each man vying to prove his loyalty. The pompous former duke was obviously enjoying the attention.
Hrathen continued to stroll in the calm night, feet clinking against the stones. Telrii's coronation had occurred with expected flair. The former duke, now king, was an easy man to understand, and men who could be understood could be manipulated. Let him enjoy his diversion for the moment. On the morrow, the time would come for payment of debts.
Telrii would undoubtedly demand more money from Hrathen before he joined Shu-Dereth. Telrii would think himself clever, and would assume that the crown gave him even greater leverage with Fjorden. Hrathen, of course. would feign indignation at the cash demands. all the while understanding what Telrii never could. Power was not in wealth, but in control-money was worthless before a man who refused to be bought. The king would never understand that the
wyrnings he demanded wouldn't give him power, but would instead put him beneath the power of another. As he glutted himself on coins. Arelon would slip away from him.
Hrathen shook his head, feeling mildly guilty. He used Telrii because the king made himself such a wonderful tool. However, there would be no conversion in Telrii's heart-no true acceptance of Jaddeth or His empire. Telrii's promises would be as empty as the power of his throne. And yet, Hrathen would use him. It was logical, and as Hrathen had come to understand, the strength of his faith was in its logic. Telrii might not believe, but his children- raised Derethi-would. One man's meaningless conversion would provide for the salvation of a kingdom.
As he walked, Hrathen found his eyes consistently drawn toward the darkened streets of Elantris. He tried to focus his thoughts on Telrii and the impending conquest of Arelon, but another matter tickled at his mind.
Grudgingly, Hrathen admitted to himself that he had wanted to walk the wall of Elantris this night for more than one reason. He was worried about the princess. The emotion bothered him, of course, but he didn't deny that he felt it. Sarene had been a wonderful opponent, and he knew how dangerous Elantris could be. He had realized this when he gave the poisoning order, determining the risk to be worth the gain. After waiting three days, however, his resolve was beginning to waver. He needed her to live for more reason than one.
So, Hrathen watched the streets, foolishly hoping that he might see her below and console his conscience that she was unharmed. Of course, he hadn't seen anything of the sort: in fact, there didn't seem to be any Elantrians about this evening. Hrathen didn't know if they had just moved to other parts of the city, or if the place had grown so violent that they had destroyed themselves. For the princess's sake, he hoped the second was not true.
'You are the gyorn, Hrathen.' a sudden voice said.
Hrathen spun, eyes searching for the man who had approached him unseen and unheard. A Seon hovered behind him, glowing vibrantly in the darkness. Hrathen squinted, reading the Aon at its center. Dio.
'I am he,' Hrathen said cautiously.
'I come on behalf of my master, King Eventeo of Teod,' the Seon said with a melodious voice. 'He wishes to speak with you.'
Hrathen smiled. He had been wondering how long it would take Eventeo to contact him. 'I am anxious to hear what His Majesty has to say.'
The Seon pulsed as its light pulled inward. outlining the face of a man with an oval face and a full chin.
'Your Majesty,' Hrathen said with a slight nod. 'How may I serve you?'
'No need for useless civility, Gyorn,' Eventeo said flatly. 'You know what I want.'
'Your daughter.'
The king's head nodded. 'I know that somehow you have power over this sickness. What would it take for you to heal Sarene?'
'I have no power of myself,' Hrathen said humbly. 'It was Lord Jaddeth who performed the healing.'
The king paused. 'Then, what would it take for your Jaddeth to heal my daughter?'
'The Lord might be persuaded if you gave Him some form of encouragement,' Hrathen said. 'The faithless receive no miracles. Your Majesty.'
King Eventeo slowly bowed his head-he had obviously known what Hrathen would demand. He must love his daughter very much.
'It will be as you say, priest,' Eventeo promised. 'If my daughter returns safely from that city, I will convert to Shu-Dereth. I knew it was coming anyway.'
Hrathen smiled broadly. 'I will see if I can… encourage Lord Jaddeth to return the princess, Your Majesty.'
Eventeo nodded. His face was that of a man defeated. The Seon ended the contact and floated away without a word.
Hrathen smiled. the final piece of his plan falling into place. Evenreo had made a wise decision. This way, at least, he got to demand something in return for his conversion-even if it was something he would have received anyway.
Hrathen looked down at Elantris, more anxious than ever that Sarene return to him unharmed. It was beginning to appear that within the next few months he would be able to hand Wyrn not one heathen nation, but two.
CHAPTER 46
There had been times when Raoden had wished his father dead. Raoden had seen the people's suffering, and knew his father was to blame. Iadon had proven himself deceitful in his success and merciless in his determination to crush others. He had delighted in watching his nobles squabble while his kingdom collapsed. Arelon would be better off without King Iadon.
Yet, when news of his father's demise actually came, Raoden found his
emotions traitorously melancholy. His heart wanted to forget the Iadon of the Iast five years, instead remembering the Iadon of Raoden's childhood. His father had been the most successful merchant in all of Arelon- respected by his countrymen and loved by his son. He had seemed a man of honor and of strength. Part of Rao-den would always be that child who saw his father as the greatest of heroes.
Two things helped him forget the pain of loss-Sarene and the Aons. When he wasn't with one, he was with the other. New Elantris all but ran itself now; the people found their own projects to keep them busy. and there were rarely arguments that required his attention. So, he came to the library often, drawing Aons while Sarene studied.
'There is surprisingly little information here about modern Fjorden,' Sarene said, poking through a tome so large she had nearly needed Raoden's help to carry it.
'Maybe you just haven't found the right book yet,' Raoden said as he traced Aon Ehe. She sat at her customary desk, a pile of books next to her chair, and he stood with his back to the wall, practicing a new batch of Aon modifiers.
'Perhaps,' Sarene said, unconvinced. ' Everything in here seems to be about the Old Empire; only that book on historical reconstruction even mentions the Fjorden of the last hundred years. I assumed that the Elantrians would have studied other religions with care-if only to know what they were up against.'
'As I understand it, the Elantrians didn't really mind competition,' Raoden said. As he spoke his finger slipped slightly, breaking its line. The Aon held for a moment in the air, then faded away, his mistake invalidating the entire construction. He sighed before continuing his explanation. 'The Elantrians figured they were so obviously superior to anything else that they didn't need to worry about other religions. Most of them didn't even care if they were
