Elantris

'That's the aristocracy-the citizens and republicans. I'm a farmer; pink isn't exactly what I consider a flattering color. Kolo?' Then he looked up at Raoden with narrow eyes. 'If you make even one comment about my resembling a kathari fruit, I will take off this tunic and hang you with it.'

Raoden chuckled. 'Someday I'm going to find that scholar who told me all Dulas were even-tempered, then force him to spend a week locked in a room with you, my friend.'

Galladon grunted, declining to respond.

'Come on,' Raoden said, leading the way out of the chapel's back room. They found Karata sitting outside of the Hall of the Fallen, a length of string and a needle held in her hand. Saolin sat in front of her, his sleeve pulled back, exposing a long, deep gash running along his entire arm. There was no flowing blood. but the flesh was dark and slick. Karata was efficiently sewing the gash back together.

'Saolin!' Raoden exclaimed. 'What happened?'

The soldier looked down with embarrassment. He didn't seem pained, though

the cut was so deep a normal man would have fainted long before from pain and blood loss. 'I slipped, my lord, and one of them got to me.'

Raoden regarded the wound with dissatisfaction. Saolin's soldiers had not thinned as badly as the rest of Elantris; they were a stern group, not so quick to abandon newfound responsibility. However, their numbers had never been that great, and they barely had enough men to watch the streets leading from Shaor's territory to the courtyard. Each day while the rest of Elantris glutted themselves on Sarene's offerings, Saolin and his men fought a bitter struggle to keep Shaor's beasts from overrunning the courtyard. Sometimes, howling could be heard in the distance.

'1 am sorry, Saolin,' Raoden said as Karata stitched.

'No mind, my lord.' the soldier said bravely. However, this wound was different from previous ones. It was on his sword arm.

'My lord…' he began, looking away from Raoden's eyes.

'What is it?'

'We lost another man today. We barely kept them back. Now. without me… well. we'll have a very difficult time of it, my lord. My lads are good fighters, and they are well equipped, but we won't be able to hold out for much longer.'

Raoden nodded. 'I'll think of something.' The man nodded hopefully. and Raoden, feeling guilty, spoke on. 'Saolin. how did you get a cut like that? I've never seen Shaor's men wield anything other than sticks and rocks.'

'They've changed, my lord,' Saolin said. 'Some of them have swords now, and whenever one of my men falls they drag his weapons away from him.' Raoden raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'Really?'

'Yes. my lord. is that important?'

'Very. It means that Shaor's men aren't quite as bestial as they would have us believe. There's room enough in their minds to adapt. Some of their wildness, at least, is an act.'

'Doloken of an act,' Galladon said with a snort.

'Well, perhaps not an act,' Raoden said. 'They behave like they do because it's easier than dealing with the pain. However, if we can give them another option, they might take it.'

'We could just let them though to the courtyard, my lord,' Saolin suggested hesitantly, grunting slightly as Karata finished her stitching. The woman was proficient; she had met her husband while serving as a nurse for a small mercenary group.

'No,' Raoden said. 'Even if they didn't kill some of the nobles, the Elantris City Guards would slaughter them.'

'Isn't that what we want, sule?' Galladon asked with an evil twinkle in his eyes.

'Definitely not,' Raoden said. 'I think Princess Sarene has a secondary purpose

behind this Trial of hers. She brings different nobles with her every day, as if she wanted to acclimatize them to Elantris.'

'What good would that do?' Karata asked, speaking for the first time as she put away her sewing utensils.

'I don't know,' Raoden said. 'But it is important to her. If Shaor's men attacked the nobility, it would destroy whatever the princess is trying to accomplish. I've tried to warn her that not all Elantrians are as docile as the ones she's seen, but I don't think she believes me. We'll just have to keep Shaor's men away until Sarene is done.'

'Which will be?' Galladon asked.

'Domi only knows,' Raoden replied with a shake of his head. 'She won't tell me-she gets suspicious every time I try to probe her for information.'

'Well. sule,' Galladon said, regarding Saolin's wounded arm. 'you'd better find a way to make her stop soon- either that, or prepare her to deal with several dozen ravenous maniacs. Kolo?'

Raoden nodded.

A dot in the center, a line running a few inches above it, and another line running along its right side-Aon Aon, the starting point of every other Aon. Raoden continued to draw, his fingers moving delicately and quickly, leaving luminescent trails behind them. He completed the box around the center dot, then drew two larger circles around it. Aon Tia, the symbol for travel.

Raoden didn't stop here either. He drew two long lines extending from the corners of the box-a proscription that the Aon was to affect only him-then four smaller Aons down the side to delineate the exact distance it was to send him. A series of lines crossing the top instructed the Aon to wait to take effect until he tapped its center, indicating that he was ready.

He made each line or dot precisely: length and size was very important to the calculations. It was still a relatively simple Aon. nothing like the incredibly complex healing Aons that the book described. Still, Raoden was proud of his increasing ability. It had taken him days to perfect the four-Aon series that instructed Tia to transport him precisely ten body lengths away.

He watched the glowing pattern with a smile of satisfaction until it flashed and disappeared, completely ineffective.

'You're getting better, stile,' Galladon said, leaning on the windowsill, peering into the chapel.

Raoden shook his head. 'I have a long way to go, Galladon.'

The Dula shrugged. Galladon had stopped trying to convince Raoden that practicing AonDor was pointless. No matter what else happened, Raoden always spent a few hours each day drawing his Aons. It comforted him-he felt the pain

less when he was drawing Aons, and he felt more at peace during those few short hours than he had in a long time.

'How are the crops?' Raoden asked.

Galladon turned around, looking back at the garden. The cornstalks were still short, barely more than sprouts. Raoden could see their stems beginning to wilt. The last week had seen the disappearance of most of Galladon's workers, and now only the Dula remained to labor on the diminutive farm. Every day he made several treks to the well to bring water to his plants, but he couldn't carry much, and the bucket Sarene had given them leaked.

'They'll live,' Galladon said. 'Remember to have Karata send for some fertilizer in the next order.'

Raoden shook his head. 'We can't do that, my friend. The king mustn't find out that we're raising our own food.'

Galladon scowled. 'Well, I suppose you could order some dung instead.' 'Too obvious.'

'Well, ask for some fish then,' he said. 'Claim you've gotten a sudden craving for trike.'

Raoden sighed, nodding. He should have thought a little more before he put the garden behind his own home: the scent of rotting fish was not something he looked forward to.

'You learned that Aon from the book?' Galladon asked, leaning through the window with a leisurely posture. 'What was it supposed to do?'

'Aon Tia?' Raoden asked. 'It's a transportation Aon. Before the Reod, that Aon could move a person from Elantris to the other side of the world. The book mentions it because it was one of the most dangerous Aons.'

'Dangerous?'

'You have to be very precise about the distance it is to send you. If you tell it to transport you exactly ten feet. it will do so-no matter what happens to be ten feet away. You could easily materialize in the middle of a stone