Elantris

'Books! ' Raoden said with excitement.

'Should never have brought you here,' Galladon muttered. 'Now I'll never get rid of you.'

Galladon had led Raoden into what had seemed to be a deserted wine cellar, but had turned out to be something quite different indeed. The air was drier here-even though it was below ground-and much cooler as well. As if to revoke his earlier cautions about fire, Galladon had pulled a lantern from a hidden alcove and lit it with a bit of flint and steel. What the light had revealed was surprising indeed.

It looked like a learned man's study. There were Aons-the mystical ancient characters behind the Aonic language-painted all over the walls, and there were several shelves of books.

'How did you ever find this place?' Raoden asked eagerly.

'I stumbled upon it.' Galladon said with a shrug.

'All these books,' Raoden said, picking one up off its shelf. It was a bit moldy, but still legible. 'Maybe these could teach us the secret behind the Aons, Galladon! Did you ever think of that?'

'The Aons?'

'The magic of Elantris,' Raoden said. 'They say that before the Reod. Elantrians could create powerful magics just by drawing Aons.'

'Oh, you mean like this?' the large dark-skinned man asked, raising his hand. He traced a symbol in the air, Aon Deo, and his finger left a glowing white line behind it.

Raoden's eyes opened wide, and the book dropped from his stunned fingers. The Aons. Historically, only the Elantrians had been able to call upon the power locked within them. That power was supposed to be gone: it was said to have failed when Elantris fell.

Galladon smiled at him through the glowing symbol that hovered in the air between them.

CHAPTER 5

'Merciful Domi,' Sarene asked with surprise, 'where did he come from?' The gyorn strode into the king's throne room with the arrogance characteristic of his kind. He wore the shining bloodred armor of a Derethi high priest, an extravagant crimson cloak billowing out behind him, though he bore no weapon. It was a costume meant to impress-and, despite what Sarene thought of the gyorns themselves, she had to admit that their clothing was effective. Of course, it was mostly for show: even in Fjorden's martial society, few people could walk as easily as this gyorn while wearing full plate armor. The metal was probably so thin and light that it would be useless in battle.

The gyorn marched past her without a seeond glance, his eyes focused directly on the king. He was young for a gyorn, probably in his forties, and his short, well-styled black hair had only a trace of gray in it.

'You knew there was a Derethi presence in Elantris, my lady,' Ashe said, floating beside her as usual, one of only two Seons in the room. 'Why should you be surprised to see a Fjordell priest?'

'That is a full gyorn, Ashe. There are only twenty of them in the entire Fjordell Empire. There may be some Derethi believers in Kae, but not enough to warrant a visit from a high priest. Gyorns are extremely miserly with their time.'

Sarene watched the Fjordell man stride through the room. cutting through groups of people like a bird tearing through a cloud of gnats. 'Come on,' she whispered to Ashe, making her way through the peripheral crowd toward the front of the room. She didn't want to miss what the gyorn said.

She needn't have worried. When the man spoke, his firm voice boomed through the throne room. 'King Iadon.' he said, with only the slightest nod of his head in place of a bow. 'I, Gyorn Hrathen, bring you a message from Wyrn Wulf-den the Fourth. He thinks that it is time our two nations shared more than a common border.' He spoke with the thick, melodic accent of a native FjordeIl.

Iadon looked up from his ledgers with a barely masked scowI. 'What more does Wyrn want? We already have a trade treaty with Fjorden.'

'His Holiness fears for the souls of your people. Your Majesty,' Hrathen said. 'Well, then, let him convert them. I have always allowed your priests complete freedom to preach in Arelon.'

'The people respond too slowly, Your Majesty. They require a push-a sign, if you will. Wyrn thinks it is time you yourself converted to Shu-Dereth.'

This time Iadon didn't even bother masking the annoyance in his tone. 'I already believe in Shu-Korath. priest. We serve the same God.'

'Derethi is the only true form of Shu-Keseg,' Hrathen said darkly.

Iadon waved a dismissive hand. 'I care nothing for the squabbles between the two sects, priest. Go convert someone who doesn't believe-there are still plenty of Arelenes who hold to the old religion.'

'You should not dismiss the offering of Wyrn so casually,' the gyorn warned.

'Honestly. priest, do we need to go through this? Your threats hold no weight-Fjorden hasn't held any real influence for two centuries. Do you seriously think to intimidate me with how powerful you used to be?'

Hrathen's eyes grew dangerous. 'Fjorden is more powerful now than it ever was before.'

'Really?' Iadon asked. 'Where is your vast empire? Where are your armies? How many countries have you conquered in the last century? Maybe someday you people will realize that your empire collapsed three hundred years ago.'

Hrathen paused for a moment: then he repeated his introductory nod and spun around, his cloak billowing dramatically as he stalked toward the door. Sarene's prayers were not answered, however-he didn't step on it and trip himself. Just before Hrathen left, he turned to shoot one final, disappointed look at the throne room. His gaze however. found Sarene instead of the king. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she could see a slight hint of confusion as he studied her unusual height and blond Teoish hair. Then he was gone, and the room burst into a hundred prattling conversations.

King Iadon snorted and turned back to his ledgers.

'He doesn't see,' Sarene whispered. 'He doesn't understand.'

'Understand what, my lady?' Ashe asked.

'How dangerous that gyorn is.'

'His Majesty is a merchant, my lady. not a true politician. He doesn't see things the same way you do.'

'Even so,' Sarene said, speaking quietly enough that only Ashe could hear. 'King Iadon should be experienced enough to recognize that what Hrathen said-at least about Fjorden-was completely true. The Wyrns are more powerful now than they were centuries ago, even at the height of the Old Empire's power.'

'It is hard to look past military might, especially when one is a relatively new monarch,' Ashe said. 'King Iadon cannot fathom how Fjorden's army of priests could be more influential than its warriors ever were.'

Sarene tapped her cheek for a moment in thought. 'Well. Ashe, at least now you don't have to worry about my causing too much unrest amongst Kae's nobility.'

'I seriously doubt that. my lady. How else would you spend your time?'

'Oh, Ashe,' she said sweetly. 'Why would I bother with a bunch of incompetent would-be nobles when I can match wits with a full gyorn?' Then, more seriously, she continued. 'Wyrn picks his high priests well. If Iadon doesn't watch that man-and it doesn't seem like he will-then Hrathen will convert this city out from under him. What good will my sacrificial marriage do for Teod if Arelon gives itself to our enemies?'

'You may be overreacting. my lady,' Ashe said with a pulse. The words were familiar-it seemed that Ashe often felt a need to say them to her.

Sarene shook her head. 'Not this time. Today was a test, Ashe. Now Hrathen will feel justified in taking action against the king-he has convinced himself that Arelon is indeed ruled by a blasphemer. He'll try to find a way to overthrow Iadon's throne, and Arelon's government will collapse for the second time in ten years. This time it won't be the merchant class that fills the void of leadership-it will be the Derethi priesthood.'

'So you are going to help Iadon?' Ashe said with an amused tone. 'He is my sovereign king.'

'Despite your opinion that he is insufferable?'

'Anything is better than Fjordell rule. Besides, maybe I was wrong about Iadon.' Things hadn't gone too poorly between the two of them since that first embarrassing meeting. Iadon had practically ignored her at Raoden's funeral, which had suited Sarene just fine; she'd been too busy watching for discrepancies in the