'Remember,' Hrathen said. 'The Korathi are the ones who care for the Elantrians. Even now, they still hedge when asked if the Elantrians are demons. The Korathi are afraid that the city will return to its glory, but we know better. We know that Jaddeth has pronounced His curse. There is no mercy for the damned!
'Shu-Korath is the cause of your pains. It is the thing that supports and protects Elantris. You will never be rid of the Elantrian curse as long as the Korathi priests hold sway in Arelon. So. I say to you. go! Tell your friends what you have learned, and urge them to shun Korathi heresies!'
There was silence. Then people began to call out in agreement. their dissatisfaction successfully transferred. Hrathen watched them carefully as they yelled approval, then finally began to disperse. Their vengeful hatred had mostly dissipated. Hrathen sighed with relief-there would be no midnight attacks on Korathi priests or temples. Dilaf's speech had been too fleeting, too quick, to have done lasting damage. The disaster had been averted.
Hrathen turned, eyeing Dilaf. The arteth had left the stage after Hrathen had seized control, and now he stood watching his crowd disappear with petulant anger.
He would turn them all into zealous replicas of himself Hrathen thought. Except, their passion would burn out quickly once the moment passed. They needed more. They needed knowledge, not just hysteria.
'Arteth,' Hrathen said sternly, catching Dilaf's attention. 'We need to speak.'
The arreth contained a glare, then nodded. The Elantrian was still screaming for death. Hrathen turned to another pair of arteths, waving toward the Elantrian. 'Collect the creature and meet me in the gardens.'
Hrathen turned to Dilaf, nodding curtly toward the gate at the back of the Derethi chapel. Dilaf did as ordered, moving toward the gardens. Hrathen followed him, on the way passing the confused Elantris City Guard captain.
'My lord?' the man asked. 'The young priest caught me before I got back to the city. He said you wanted the creature back. Did I do wrong?'
'You are fine,' Hrathen said curtly. 'Go back to your post; we'll deal with the Elantrian.'
The Elantrian seemed to welcome the flames, despite the terrible pain they must have caused.
Dilaf huddled to the side, watching eagerly, though it had been Hrathen's hand-not Dilaf's-that had dropped the torch onto the oil-soaked Elantrian. Hrathen watched the poor creature as it burned, its cries of pain finally silenced by the roaring fire. The creature's body seemed to burn easily-too easily-within the licking flames.
Hrathen felt a stab of guilt for betraying Diren, though that emotion was foolish: the Elantrian might not have been a true devil, but he was certainly a creature that Jaddeth had cursed. Hrathen owed the Elantrian nothing.
Still, he regretted having to burn the creature. Unfortunately, Dilaf's cuts had obviously maddened the Elantrian, and there was no sending him back to the city in his current state. The flames had been the only option.
Hrathen watched the pitiful man's eyes until the flames consumed him completely.
'And the burning fire of Jaddeth's displeasure shall cleanse them,' Dilaf whispered, quoting the Do- Dereth.
'Judgment belongs to Jaddeth alone, and it is executed by his only servant Wyrn,' Hrathen quoted, using a different passage from the same book. 'You should not have forced me to kill this creature.'
'It was inevitable,' Dilaf said. 'Eventually all things must bow before Jaddeth's will-and it is his will that all of Elantris burn. I was simply following fate.'
'You nearly lost control of that crowd with your ravings, Arteth,' Hrathen snapped. 'A riot must be very carefully planned and executed, otherwise it will just as likely turn against its creators as their enemies.'
'I… got carried away,' Dilaf said. 'But, killing one Elantrian would not have made them riot.'
'You don't know that. Besides, what of Iadon?'
'How could he object?' Dilaf said. 'It is his own order that escaping Elantrians can be burned. He would never take a stand in favor of Elantris.'
'But he could rake a stand against us!' Hrathen said. 'You were wrong to bring this creature to the meeting.'
'The people deserved to see what they are to hate.'
'The people are not ready for that yet,' Hrathen said harshly. 'We want to keep their hatred formless. If they start to tear up the city, Iadon will put an end to our preaching.
Dilaf's eyes narrowed. 'You sound as if you are trying to avoid the inevitable, my hroden. You fostered this hatred-are you unwilling to accept responsibility for the deaths it will cause? Hate and loathing cannot remain 'formless' for long-they will find an outlet.'
'But that outlet will come when I decide it,' Hrathen said coldly. 'I am aware of my responsibility. Arteth, though I question your understanding of it. You just told me that killing this Elantrian was fated by Jaddeth-that you were simply following Jaddeth's fate by forcing my hand. Which is it to be? Would the deaths I cause in riot be my doing. or simply the will of God? How can you be an innocent servant while I must accept full accountability for this city's people?'
Dilaf exhaled sharply. He knew, however, when he had been defeated. He bowed curtly, then turned and entered the chapel.
Hrathen watched the arreth go. fuming quietly. Dilaf's action this night had been foolish and impulsive. Was he trying to undermine Hrathen's authority, or was he simply acting on his zealous passions? If it was the second, the near riot was Hrathen's own fault. He had. after all, been so proud of himself for using Dilaf as an effective tool.
Hrathen shook his head, releasing a tense breath. He had defeated Dilaf this evening, but the tension was growing between them. They couldn't afford to get into visible arguments. Rumors of dissension in the Derethi ranks would erode their credibility.
I will have to do something about the arteth, Hrathen decided with resignation. Dilaf was becoming too much of a liability.
His decision made, Hrathen turned to leave. As he did, however, his eyes fell again on the Elantrian's charred remains, and he shuddered despite himself. The man's willful acceptance of immolation brought memories to Hrathen's mind-memories he had long tried to banish. Images of pain, of sacrifice, and of death.
Memories of Dakhor.
He turned his back on the charred bones, walking toward the chapel. He still had one other task to complete this evening.
The Seon floated free from its box, responding to Hrathen's command. Mentally, Hrathen chided himself-this was the second time in one week he had used the creature. Reliance on the Seon was something to be avoided. However. Hrathen could think of no other way to accomplish his goal. Dilaf was right: Time was very scarce. Fourteen days had already passed since his arrival in Arelon, and he had spent a week traveling before that. Only seventy days remained of his original allotment, and, despite the size of the night's congregation, Hrathen had converted only a tiny fraction of Arelon.
Only one fact gave him hope: Arelon's nobility was concentrated in Kae. To be away from Iadon's court was political suicide; the king granted and took away titles willfully, and a high profile was necessary to assure a firm place in the aristocracy. Wyrn didn't care if Hrathen converted the masses or not; as long as the nobility bowed, the country was considered Derethi.
So, Hrathen had a chance, bur he still had much work to do. An important piece of it lay in the man Hrathen was about to call. His contact was not a gyorn, which made Hrathen's use of the Seon a little unorthodox. However, Wyrn had never directly commanded him not to call other people with his Seon, so Hrathen was able to rationalize the use.
The Seon responded promptly, and soon Forton's large-eared, mouselike face appeared in its light.
'Who is it?' he asked in the harsh Fjordell dialect spoken in the country of Hrovell.
'It is I, Forton.'
'My lord Hrathen?' Forton asked with surprise. 'My lord, it has been a long time.'
'I know, Forton. I trust you are well.'
The man laughed happily, though the laugh quickly turned to a wheeze. For-ton had a chronic cough-a condition caused. Hrathen was certain, by the various substances the man was fond of smoking.
'Of course. my lord,' Forton said through his coughing. 'When am I not well?' Forton was a man utterly contented with his life-a condition that was also caused by the various substances he was fond of smoking. 'What
