Elantris

Galladon shrugged. 'Hard to say. sule. Sometimes weeks go without a new Elantrian, but I have seen as many as five cast in at once. You came two days ago, that woman yesterday-who knows, maybe Elantris will have new flesh for the third day in a row. Kolo?'

Raoden nodded. watching the gate expectantly.

'Sule, what do you intend to do?' Galladon asked uncomfortably. 'I intend to wait.'

The newcomer was an older man, perhaps in his late forties, with a gaunt face and nervous eyes. As the gate slammed shut, Raoden climbed down from the rooftop, pausing just inside the courtyard. Galladon followed, a worried look on his face. He obviously thought Raoden might do something foolish.

He was right.

The unfortunate newcomer just stared morosely at the gate. Raoden waited for him to take a step, to make the unwitting decision that would determine who got the privilege of robbing him. The man stood where he was, watching the courtyard with nervous eyes, his thin frame pulled up inside his robes like he was trying to hide within them. After a few minutes of waiting, he finally took his first hesitant step-to the right, the same way Raoden had chosen.

'Come on,' Raoden declared, striding out of the alleyway. Galladon groaned, mumbling something in Duladen.

'Teoren?' Raoden called, choosing a common Aonic name.

The spindly newcomer looked up with surprise, then glanced over his shoulder with confusion.

'Teoren, it is you!' Raoden said, wrapping his hand around the man's shoulder. Then, in a lower voice, he continued. 'Right now you have two choices, friend. Either you do what I tell you. or you let those men in the shadows over there chase you down and beat you senseless.'

The man turned around to search the shadows with apprehensive eyes. Fortunately. at that moment, Shaor's men decided to move, their shadowed forms emerging into the light, their carnal eyes staring at the new man with hunger. It was all the encouragement the newcomer needed.

'What do I do?' the man asked with a quavering voice.

'Run!' Raoden ordered, then took off toward one of the alleys at a dash.

The man didn't need to be told twice: he bolted so quickly that Raoden was afraid he would go careering down a side alley and get lost. There was a muffled yell of surprise from behind as Galladon realized what Raoden was doing. The large Duladen man obviously wouldn't have any problems keeping up; even considering his time in Elantris, Galladon was in much better shape than Raoden.

'What in the name of Doloken do you think you are doing, you idiot?' Galladon swore.

'I'll tell you in a moment,' Raoden said, conserving strength as he ran. Again, he noticed that he didn't get out of breath, though his body did begin to grow tired. A dull feeling of fatigue began to grow within him, and of the three of them. Raoden was soon proven the slowest runner. However. he was the only one who knew where they were going.

'Right!' he yelled to Galladon and the new man, then took off down a side alley. The two men followed, as did the group of thugs, who were gaining quickly. Fortunately, Raoden's destination wasn't far away.

'Rulo.' Galladon cursed, realizing where they were going. It was one of the houses he had shown Raoden the day before, the one with the unstable staircase. Raoden sprinted through the door and up the stairs, nearly falling twice as steps gave out beneath him. Once on the roof, he used the last of his strength to push over a stack of bricks-the remnants of what had once been a planter-toppling the entire pile of crumbling clay into the stairwell just as Galladon and the newcomer reached the top. The weakened steps didn't even begin to hold the weight, collapsing to the ground with a furious crash.

Galladon walked over and looked through the hole with a critical eye. Shaor's men gathered around the fallen steps below, their feral intensity dulled a bit by realization.

Galladon raised an eyebrow. 'Now what, genius?'

Raoden walked over to the newcomer, who had collapsed after stumbling up the stairs. Raoden carefully removed each of the man's food offerings and, after tucking a certain one into his belt, he dumped the rest to the houndlike men waiting below. The sounds of battle came from below as they fought over the food.

Raoden stepped back from the hole. 'Let's just hope they realize that they're not going to get anything more out of us, and decide to leave.'

'And if they don't?' Galladon asked pointedly.

Raoden shrugged. 'We can live forever without food or water, right?'

'Yes. but I'd rather not spend the rest of eternity on the top of this building.' Then, shooting a look at the new man, Galladon pulled Raoden to the side and demanded in a low voice, 'Sule. what was the point of that? You could have just thrown them the food back in the courtyard. In fact, why 'save' him? For all we know, Shaor's men might not have even hurt him.'

'We don't know that. Besides, this way he thinks he owes me his life.'

Galladon snorted. 'So now you have another follower-at the cheap price of the hatred of an entire third of Elantris's criminal element.'

'And this is only the beginning,' Raoden said with a smile. However, despite the brave words, he wasn't quite so certain of himself. He was still amazed at how much his toe hurt, and he had scraped his hands while pushing the bricks. While not as painful as the toe, the scrapes also continued to hurt, threatening to draw his attention away from his plans.

I have to keep moving, Raoden repeated to himself. Keep working. Don't let the pain take control.

'I'M a jeweler,' the man explained. 'Mareshe is my name.'

'A jeweler.' Raoden said with dissatisfaction, his arms folded as he regarded Mareshe. 'That won't be of much use. What else can you do?'

Mareshe looked at him indignantly, as if having forgotten that he had. just a few moments ago. been cowering in fear. 'Jewelry making is an extremely useful skill, sir.'

'Not in Elantris, Galladon said, peeking through the hole to see if the thugs had decided to leave. Apparently they hadn't, for he gave Raoden a withering look.

Pointedly ignoring the Dula, Raoden turned back to Mareshe. 'What else can you do?'

'Anything.'

'That's quite broad, friend,' Raoden said. 'Could you be a bit more specific?'

Mareshe brought his hand up beside his head with a dramatic gesture. 'I. am a craftsman. An artisan. I can make anything. for Domi himself has granted me the soul of an artist.'

Galladon snorted from his seat beside the stairwell.

'How about shoes?' Raoden asked.

'Shoes?' Mareshe replied with a slightly offended tone.

'Yes, shoes.'

'I suppose I could,' Mareshe said, 'though such hardly demands the skill of a man who is a full artisan.'

'And a full id-' Galladon began before Raoden hushed him.

'Artisan Mareshe,' Raoden continued in his most diplomatic of tones. 'Elantrians are cast into the city wearing only an Arelish burial shroud. A man who could make shoes would be very valuable indeed.'

'What kind of shoes?' Mareshe asked.

'Leather ones,' Raoden said. 'It won't be an easy calling, Mareshe. You see, Elantrians don't have the luxury of trial and error-if the first pair of shoes do not fit. then they will cause blisters. Blisters that will never leave.'

'What do you mean, never leave?' Mareshe asked uncomfortably.

'We are Elantrians now, Mareshe,' Raoden explained. 'Our wounds no longer heal.'

'No longer heal…?'

'Would you care for an example, artisan?' Galladon asked helpfully. 'I can arrange one quite easily. Kolo?'

Mareshe's face turned pale, and he looked back at Raoden. 'He doesn't seem to like me very much,' he said quietly.

'Nonsense.' Raoden said, putting his arm around Mareshe's shoulder and turning him away from Galladon's grinning face. 'That's how he shows affection.' 'If you say so, Master…'

Raoden paused. 'Just call me Spirit,' he decided, using the translation of Aon Rao.

'Master Spirit.' Then Mareshe's eyes narrowed. 'You look familiar for some reason.