I think, perhaps, that she needs this food as much as we do,' Raoden said, regarding the slight-framed Torena with a skeptical eye. Ahan's daughter had pulled her reddish gold hair up under a protective scarf, and she wore a simple blue dress-something she'd probably had to borrow from one of her maids, considering the average Arelish noblewoman's extravagant wardrobe.
'Be nice to her,' Sarene ordered, handing Raoden a box from the cart. 'She's the only woman brave enough to come-though she only agreed because I had Shuden ask her. If you scare that girl away, none of the others will ever come.'
'Yes. Your Highness,' Raoden said, bowing slightly. It seemed that a week's worth of distributing food together had softened her hatred of him somewhat, but she was still cold. She would respond to his comments, even converse with him. but she would not let herself be his friend.
The week had been surrealy unnerving for Raoden. He'd spent his time in Elantris accustoming himself to the strange and the new. This week, however, he had been forced to reacquaint himself with the familiar. It was worse, in a way. He could accept Elantris as a source of pain. It was entirely different to see his friends the same way.
Even now, Shuden stood next to the girl Torena, his hand on her elbow as he encouraged her to approach the line of food. Shuden had been one of Raoden's best friends; the solemn Jindo and he had spent hours at a time discussing their views on Arelon's civic problems. Now Shuden barely noticed him. It had been the same with Eondel, Kiin, Roial, and even Lukel. They had been companions to the handsome Prince Raoden, but never to the accursed creature known as Spirit.
Yet, Raoden found it hard to be bitter. He couldn't blame them for not recognizing him; he barely recognized himself anymore. with his wrinkled skin and spindly body. Even his voice was different. In a way, his own subterfuge hurt even more than his friends' ignorance. He couldn't tell them who he was, for news of his survival could destroy Arelon. Raoden knew very well that his own popularity exceeded that of his father-there would be some who would follow him. Elantrian or not. Civil war would serve no one, and at the end of it, Raoden would probably find himself beheaded.
No, he definiteIy had to remain hidden. Knowledge of his fate would only give his friends pain and confusion. However, concealing his identity required vigilance. His face and voice had changed, but his mannerisms had not. He made a point of staying away from anyone who had known him too well, trying to be cheerful and friendly, but not open.
Which was one reason why he found himself gravitating toward Sarene. She hadn't known him before, and so he could discard his act around her. In a way, it was kind of a test. He was curious to see how they would have gotten along as husband and wife, without their separate political necessities getting in the way.
His initial feelings seemed to have been correct. He liked her. Where the letters had hinted, Sarene fulfilled. She wasn't like the women he had grown accustomed to in the Arelish court. She was strong and determined. She didn't avert her eyes downward whenever a man addressed her, no matter how noble his rank. She gave orders easily and naturally, and never feigned weakness in order to draw a man's attentiveness.
Yet, the lords followed her. Eondel, Shuden, even Duke Roial-they deferred to her in judgment and responded to her commands as if she were king. There was never a look of bitterness in their eyes, either. She gave her orders courteously, and they responded naturally. Raoden could only smile in amazement. It had taken him years to earn these men's trust. Sarene had done it in a matter of weeks.
She was impressive in every attribute-intelligent, beautiful, and strong. Now, if only he could convince her not to hate him.
Raoden sighed and turned back to the work. Except for Shuden, all of the day's nobles were new to the process. Most were minor noblemen of little import, but there were a couple of important additions. Duke Telrii, for instance, stood to one side, watching the unloading process with lazy eyes. He didn't participate himself, but had brought a manservant to fill his place. Telrii obviously preferred to avoid any actual exertion.
Raoden shook his head. He had never cared much for the duke. He had once approached the man, hoping that Telrii might be persuaded to join in Raoden's opposition to the king. Telrii had simply yawned and asked how much Raoden was willing to pay for his support, then had laughed as Raoden stalked away. Rao-den had never been able to decide whether Telrii had asked the question out of actual greed. or if he had simply known how Raoden would react to the demand.
Raoden turned to the other noblemen. As usual, the newcomers stood in a small, apprehensive cluster around the cart they had unloaded. Now it was Rao-den's turn. He approached with a smile, introducing himself and shaking hands-mostly against the owners' wills. However, their tension began to wane after just a few minutes of mingling. They could see that there was at least one Elantrian who wasn't going to eat them, and none of the other food distributors had fallen to the Shaod, so they could dismiss their fears of infection.
The clot of people relaxed, falling to Raoden's affable proddings. Acclimatizing the nobles was a task he had taken upon himself. It had been obvious on the second day that Sarene had nowhere near as much influence with most aristocrats as she did with Shuden and the others of Raoden's former circle. If Raoden hadn't stepped in, that second group would probably still be standing frozen around the cart. Sarene hadn't thanked him for his efforts, but she had nodded in slight appreciation. Afterward, it had been assumed that Raoden would help each new batch of nobles as he had that second one.
It was odd to him, participating in the event that was singularly destroying everything he had worked to build in Elantris. However, beyond creating an enormous incident, there was little he could do to stop Sarene. In addition, Mareshe and Karata were receiving vital goods for their 'cooperation.' Raoden would have to do a great deal of rebuilding after Sarene's Trial finished, but the setbacks would be worth the effort. Assuming, of course. he survived long enough.
The casual thought brought a sudden awareness of his pains. They were with him as always, burning his flesh and eating at his resolve. He no longer counted them, though each one had its own feeling-an unformed name, a sense of individual agony. As far as he could tell, his pain was accelerating much more quickly than anyone else's. A scrape on his arm felt like a gash running from shoulder to fingers, and his once-stubbed toe blazed with a fire that ran all the way to his knee. It was as if he had been in Elantris a year, and not a single lonely month.
Or, maybe his pain wasn't stronger. Maybe he was just weaker than the others. Either way, he wouldn't be able to endure much longer. A day would soon come. in a month or maybe two, when he would not awaken from his pain, and they would have to lay him in the Hall of the Fallen. There, he could finally give full devotion to his jealous agony.
He pushed such thoughts away, forcing himself to start handing out food. He tried to let the work distract him, and it helped a little. However, the pain still lurked within, like a beast hiding in the shadows, its red eyes watching with intense hunger.
Each Elantrian received a small sack filled with a variety of ready-to-eat items. This day's portions were much like every other-though, surprisingly, Sarene had found some Jindoeese sourmelons. The fist-sized red fruits glistened in the crate beside Raoden, challenging the fact that they were supposed to be out of season. He dropped one fruit in every bag, followed by some steamed corn, various vegetables, and a small loaf of bread. The Elantrians accepted the offerings thankfully but greedily. Most of them scurried away from the cart as soon as they received their meal, off to eat it in solitude. They still couldn't believe that no one was going to take it away from them.
As Raoden worked, a familiar face appeared before him. Galladon wore his
Elantris rags, as well as a tattered cloak they had made from dirty Elantris scavangings. The Dula held out his sack, and Raoden carefully switched it for one filled with five times the regular allotment: it was so full it was hard to lift with one weakened Elantrian hand. Galladon received the sack with an extended arm, the side of his cloak obscuring it from casual eyes. Then he was gone, disappearing through the crowd.
Saolin, Mareshe, and Karata would come as well. and each would receive a bag like Galladon's. They would store what items they could, then give the rest to the Hoed. Some of the faIlen were abIe to recognize food, and Raoden hoped that regular eating would help restore their minds.
So far, it wasn't working.
THE gate thumped as it shut, the sound reminding Raoden of his first day in Elantris. His pain then had only been emotional, and comparatively weak at that. If he had truly understood what he was getting into, he probably would have curled up and joined the Hoed right then and there.
He turned, putting his back to the gate. Mareshe and Galladon stood in the center of the courtyard, looking down at several boxes Sarene had left behind-fulfillment of Karata's most recent demands.
