'I do,' she said, rising and studying her window. 'Look how thick the stone is around this window, Ashe.' She leaned against the wall and stuck her arm out the window. The tips of her fingers could barely curl around the outside ledge. 'Does the wall really need to be so wide?'
'It offers much protection. my lady.'
'It also offers room for a passage.'
'A very thin one,' Ashe replied.
'True,' Sarene mused, kneeling down to view the bottom edge of the window at eye level. 'It slopes upwards. The passage was constructed to angle up, passing between the bottoms of the windows on this level and the first story.'
'But the only thing in that direction is…
'The king's rooms,' Sarene finished. 'Where else would a passage lead?'
'Are you suggesting that the king takes secret excursions twice a week in the middle of the night, my lady?'
'At precisely eleven o'clock,' Sarene said. eyeing the large grandfather clock in the corner of her room. 'It's always at the same time.'
'What possible reason could he have for such a thing?'
'I don't know.' Sarene said, tapping her cheek in contemplation.
'Oh dear,' Ashe mumbled. 'My lady is concocting something, isn't she?' 'Always,' Sarene said sweetly. climbing back into bed. 'Turn down your
light-some of us want to get some sleep.'
CHAPTER 21
Hrathen sat down in his chair, wearing a red Derethi robe instead of his armor, as he often did when he was in his chambers. The knock that came at his door was expected. 'Come in,' he said. Arteth Thered entered. A man of good Fjordell stock, Thered had a strong, tall frame, dark hair, and squareish features. He was still well muscled from his days training in the monastery.
'Your Grace,' the man said, bowing and falling to his knees with a proper sign of respect.
'Arteth,' Hrathen said, lacing his fingers in front of himself. 'During my time here, I've been watching the local priests. I have been impressed with your service in Jaddeth's kingdom, and I have decided to offer you the position of head arteth of this chapel.'
Thered looked up with surprise. 'Your Grace?'
'I had thought that I would have to wait to appoint a new head arteth until a new batch of priests arrived from Fjorden,' Hrathen said. 'But, as I said, you have impressed me. I decided to offer you the position.'
And of course, he added in his mind, I don't have time to wait. I need someone to administrate the chapel now so that I can focus on other tasks.
'My lord…' the arteth said, obviously overwhelmed. 'I cannot accept this position.'
Hrathen froze. 'What?' No Derethi priest would refuse a position of such power. 'I'm sorry, my lord,' the man repeated, looking down.
'What reason have you for this decision. Arteth?' Hrathen demanded.
'I can give none, Your Grace. I just… It just wouldn't be right for me to take the position. May I withdraw?'
Hrathen waved his hand, disturbed. Ambition was such a cardinal Fjordell attribute: how had a man such as Thered lost his pride so quickly? Had Fjon really weakened the priests in Kae so soundly?
Or… was something else behind this man's refusal? A nagging voice inside of Hrathen whispered that the banished Fjon was not to blame. Dilaf-Dilaf had something to do with Thered's refusal.
The thought was probably just paranoia, but it spurred Hrathen forward with his next item of business. Dilaf had to be dealt with: despite his stunt with the Elantrian, the arteth was growing increasingly influential with the other priests. Hrathen reached into a desk drawer, pulling out a small envelope. He had made a mistake with Dilaf. While it was possible to channel a zealot's ardor, Hrathen currently had neither the time nor the energy to do so. The future of an entire kingdom depended on Hrathen's ability to focus, and he hadn't realized how much attention Dilaf would require.
It could not continue. Hrathen's world was one of control and predictability, his religion a logical exercise. Dilaf was like a boiling pot of water poured on Hrathen's ice. In the end, they would both just end up weakened and dissipated. like puffs of steam in the wind. And after they were gone, Arelon would die.
Hrathen put on his armor and left his room, entering the chapel. Several supplicants knelt in prayerful silence, and priests moved about busily. The chapel's vaulted ceilings and spirited architecture was familiar-this was where he should be most comfortable. Too often, however, Hrathen found himself fleeing up to the walls of Elantris. Though he told himself that he simply went to the walls because their height gave him a vantage over Kae, he knew that there was another reason. He went, in part, because he knew that Elantris was a place that Dilaf would never voluntarily go.
Dilaf's chamber was a small alcove much like the one Hrathen himself had occupied as an arteth many years ago. Dilaf looked up from his desk as Hrarhen pushed open the room's simple wooden door.
'My hroden?' the arteth said, standing with surprise. Hrathen rarely visited his chambers.
'I have an important task for you, Arteth,' Hrathen said. 'One I cannot trust to anyone else.'
'Of course, my hroden,' Dilaf said submissively, bowing his head. However, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. serve with devotion, knowing I am part of the chain linked to Lord Jaddeth himself.'
'Yes,' Hrathen said dismissively. 'Arteth. I need you to deliver a letter.' 'A letter?' Dilaf looked up with confusion.
'Yes,' Hrathen said flatly. 'It is vital Wyrn know of our progress here. I have written him a report, but the matters discussed therein are very delicate. If it should be lost, irreparable damage could be done. I have chosen you, my odiv, to deliver it in person.'
'That will take weeks, my hroden!'
'I know. I will have to go without your service for a time, but 1 will be comforted by the knowledge that you are engaged in a vital mission.'
Dilaf lowered his eyes, his hands falling to rest lightly on the top of his table. 'I go as my hroden commands.'
Hrathen paused, frowning slightly. It was impossible for Dilaf to escape; the hroden-odiv relationship was irrevocably binding. When one's master commanded, one obeyed. Even so, Hrathen had expected more from Dilaf. A ploy of some kind. An attempt to wiggle out of the assignment.
Dilaf accepted the letter with apparent subservience. Maybe this was what he wanted all along, Hrathen realized. A way into Fjorden. His position as odiv to a gyorn would give him power and respect in the East. Perhaps Dilaf's only purpose in antagonizing Hrathen had been to get out of Arelon.
Hrathen turned and walked back out into the chapel's hollow sermon hall. The event had been even more painless than he had hoped. He held back a sigh of relief, stepping with a bit more confidence as he walked toward his chambers.
A voice sounded from behind. Dilaf's voice. Speaking softly-yet with enough projection to be heard. 'Send out messengers.' the arteth ordered to one of the dorvens. 'We leave for Fjorden in the morning.'
Hrathen nearly kept walking. He almost didn't care what Dilaf was planning or what he did, as long as he left. However, Hrathen had spent too long in positions of leadership-too long as a political being-to let such a statement pass. Especially from Dilaf.
Hrathen spun. 'We? I ordered only you, Arteth.'
'Yes, my lord,' Dilaf said. 'However, surely you don't expect me to leave my odivs behind.'
'Odivs?' Hrathen asked. As an official member of the Derethi priesthood, Dilaf was able to swear odivs just as Hrathen had, continuing the chain that linked all men to Jaddeth. Hrathen hadn't even considered, however, that the man might call odivs of his own. When had he found the time?
'Who, Dilaf?' Hrathen asked sharply. 'Whom did you make your odiv?' 'Several people, my hroden,' Dilaf
