What took you so long?' 'I couldn't find Spirit, my lady.' Ashe explained, floating into her carriage window. 'So I had to deliver the message to Master Galladon. After that, I went to check on King Telrii.'
Sarene tapped her cheek with annoyance. 'How is he doing, then?' 'Galladon or the king, my lady?'
'The king.'
'His Majesty is quite busy lounging in his palace while half of Arelon's nobility waits outside,' the Seon said with a disapproving tone. 'I believe his largest current complaint is that there aren't enough young women left on the palace staff.'
'We've exchanged one idiot for another,' Sarene said with a shake of her head. 'How did that man ever acquire enough wealth to become a duke?'
'He didn't, my lady,' Ashe explained. 'His brother did most of the work. Telrii inherited upon the man's death.'
Sarene sighed. leaning back as the carriage hit a bump. 'Is Hrathen there?' 'Often, my lady.' Ashe said. 'Apparently, he visits the king on a daily basis.' 'What are they waiting for?' Sarene asked with frustration. 'Why doesn't
Telrii just convert?'
'No one is certain, my lady.'
Sarene frowned. The continued game left her baffled. It was well known that Telrii had attended Derethi meetings, and there was no reason for him to maintain an illusion of Korathi conservatism. 'No new news on that proclamation the gyorn has supposedly drafted?' she asked with trepidation.
'No, my lady,' came the blessed reply. Rumors claimed that Hrathen had drawn up a bill that would force all of Arelon to convert to Shu-Dereth or face incarceration. Though the merchants put on a face of normalcy, holding the spring Arelene Market, the entire city was on edge with a sense of tense anxiety.
Sarene could easily imagine the future. Soon Wyrn would send a fleet of priests into Arelon, followed closely by his warrior monks. Telrii, at first a sympathizer, then a convert, would eventually become less than a pawn. In just a few years Arelon wouldn't be just a country of Derethi believers, but a virtual extension of Fjorden itself.
Once Hrathen's bill passed. the priest would waste no time in arresting Sarene and the others. They would be locked away or, more likely, executed. After that, there would be no one to oppose Fjorden. The entire civilized world would belong to Wyrn, a final fulfillment of the Old Empire's dream.
And yet, despite all of this, her allies debated and talked. None of them believed that Telrii would actually sign a document forcing conversion: such atrocities didn't happen in their world. Arelon was a peaceful kingdom: even the so-called riots of a decade past hadn't been that destructive-unless one was an Elantrian. Her friends wanted to move carefully. Their caution was understandable, laudable even, but their timing was terrible. It was a good thing she had an opportunity to practice fencing this day. She needed to release a little aggression.
As if in response to her thoughts. the carriage pulled to a halt in front of Roial's manor. In the wake of Telrii's move into the palace, the women had relocated their fencing practice to the old duke's gardens. The weather of late had been warm and breezy, as if spring had decided to stay this time, and Duke Roial had welcomed them.
Sarene had been surprised when the women insisted that they continue the fencing practice. However, the ladies had shown strength in their resolve. This one meeting would continue. every second day, as it had for over a month now. Apparently, Sarene wasn't the only one who needed an opportunity to work out her frustration with a sword.
She climbed out of the carriage, dressed in her usual white jumpsuit and wearing her new wig. As she rounded the building, she could make out the sounds of lyres clashing in the background. With shade and a wooden floor, Roial's garden pavilion was a perfect place for practice. Most of the women had already arrived, and they greeted Sarene with smiles and curtsies. None of them had quite gotten over her sudden return from Elantris: now they regarded her with even more respect, and fear, than they had before. Sarene nodded back with polite affection. She liked these women, even if she could never be one of them.
Seeing them. however, reminded her of the strange loss she still felt at having left Elantris behind. It wasn't just Spirit; Elantris was the one place where she could remember feeling unconditional acceptance. She had not been a princess, she had been something far better-a member of a community where every individual was vital. She had felt warmth from those motley-skinned Elantrians, a willingness to accept her into their lives and give her part of themselves.
There, in the center of the most cursed city in the world, Spirit had constructed a society that exemplified Korathi teachings. The church taught of the blessings of unity; it was ironic that the only people who practiced such ideals were those who had been damned.
Sarene shook her head, snapping her sword forward in a practice thrust, beginning her warm-ups. She had spent her adult life in an unending quest to find acceptance and love. When, at long last, she had finally found both, she had left them behind.
She wasn't sure how long she practiced-she fell into her forms easily once the warm-ups were finished. Her thoughts rotated around Elantris, Domi, her feelings, and the indecipherable ironies of life. She was sweating heavily by the time she realized the other women had stopped sparring.
Sarene looked up with surprise. Everyone was huddled at one side of the pavilion. chattering among themselves and looking at something Sarene couldn't see. Curious, she edged her way to the side until her superior height gave her a good look at the object of their attention. A man.
He was dressed in fine blue and green silks, a feathered hat on his head. He
had the creamy brown skin of a Duladen aristocrat-not as dark as Shuden's, but not as light as Sarene's. His features were round and happy, and he had a foppish, unconcerned air. Duladen indeed. The dark-skinned servant at his side was massive and bulky, like most Dulas of lower birth. She had never seen either man before.
'What is going on here?' Sarene demanded.
'His name is Kaloo. my lady.' Ashe explained, floating over to her. 'He arrived a few moments ago. Apparently, he's one of the few Duladen Republicans that escaped the massacre last year. He has been hiding in southern Arelon until just recently, when he heard that King Iadon was looking for a man to take Baron Edan's holdings.'
Sarene frowned something about the man bothered her. The women suddenly burst into laughter at one of his comments, giggling as if the Dula were an old and favored member of the court. By the time the laughter died down, the Dula had noticed Sarene.
'Ah,' Kaloo said, bowing ornately. 'This must be the Princess Sarene. They say you are the most fair woman in all of Opelon.'
'You should not believe all of the things that people say, my lord,' Sarene replied slowly.
'No,' he agreed, looking up into her eyes. 'Only the ones that are true.'
Despite herself, Sarene started to blush. She did not like men who could do that to her. 'I'm afraid you have caught us off guard, my lord,' Sarene said through narrowed eyes. 'We have been exercising quite vigorously, and are in no position to receive you like proper ladies.'
'I apologize for my abrupt arrival, Your Highness,' Kaloo said. Despite the polite words, he appeared unconcerned that he had interrupted an obviously private gathering. 'Upon arriving in this glorious city, I first paid my respects to the palace-but was told that I would have to wait for at least a week to see the king himself. I put my name on the lists, then had my coachman drive me around your lovely city. I had heard of the illustrious Duke Roial, and decided to pay him a visit. How surprised I was to find all these lovelies in his gardens!'
Sarene snorted, but her rebuttal was interrupted by the arrival of Duke Roial. Apparently, the old man had finally realized that his property had been invaded by a roving Dula. As the duke approached, Kaloo gave another one of his silly bows, sweeping his large, floppy hat out in front of him. Then he launched into praises of the duke, telling Roial how honored he was to meet such a venerable man.
'I don't like him,' Sarene declared quietly to Ashe.
'Of course not, my lady,' Ashe said. 'You never have gotten along very well with Duladen aristocrats.'
'It's more than that,' Sarene insisted. 'Something about him seems false. He doesn't have an accent.'
'Most Republic citizens spoke Aonic quite fluently, especially if they lived near the border. I have met several Dulas in my time without hint of an accent.'
Sarene just frowned. As she watched the man perform. she realized what it was. Kaloo was too stereotypical. He represented everything a Duladen aristocrat was said to be-foolishly haughty, overdressed and
