Elantris (Elantris 1)

“Roial invited him for some reason,” Lukel muttered.

“Has Roial gone mad?” Sarene asked, perhaps more loudly than she should have. “What if that cursed Dula is a spy?”

“A spy for whom?” Kaloo asked merrily. “I don’t think your pompous king has the political acumen to hire spies—and let me assure you, no matter how much I exasperate you, Princess, I bother Fjordells even more. That gyorn would rather stab himself in the chest than pay me for information.”

Sarene flushed with embarrassment, an action that only sent Kaloo into another peal of laughter.

“I think, Sarene, you will find Citizen Kaloo’s opinions helpful,” Roial said. “This man sees things differently from Arelenes, and he also has a fresh opinion of events in Kae. I seem to remember that you yourself used a similar argument when you first joined us. Do not discount Kaloo’s value because he happens to be a little more eccentric than you find comfortable.”

Sarene frowned, but allowed herself to be rebuked. The duke’s observations held weight; it would be helpful to have a new perspective. For some reason Roial seemed to trust Kaloo. She could sense a mutual respect between them. Grudgingly, she admitted that perhaps the duke had seen something in Kaloo that she hadn’t. The Dula had, after all, been staying with Roial for several days.

Ahan was late, as usual. Shuden and Eondel spoke quietly at one end of the table, their subdued conversation a stark contrast to Kaloo’s vibrant narrative. Kiin had provided appetizers—crackers with some sort of creamy white glaze atop them. Despite her insistences that he not prepare dinner, Kiin had obviously been unable to let this many people congregate without giving them something to eat. Sarene smiled; she doubted that other treasonous conspiracies enjoyed gourmet snacks.

A few moments later, Ahan waddled in, not bothering to knock. He plopped himself down in his customary seat and proceeded to attack the crackers.

“We’re all here, then,” Sarene said, speaking sharply to interrupt Kaloo. All heads turned toward her as she stood. “I trust you all have given our predicament much thought. Does anyone want to start?”

“I will,” Ahan said. “Maybe Telrii can be persuaded not to convert to Shu-Dereth.”

Sarene sighed. “I thought we discussed this, Ahan. Telrii isn’t debating whether or not to convert; he’s waiting to see how much money he can get out of Wyrn.”

“If only we had more troops,” Roial said with a shake of his head. “With a proper army, we could intimidate Telrii. Sarene, what chance is there of getting aid from Teod?”

“Not much,” Sarene said, sitting. “Remember, my father swore himself to Shu-Dereth. Besides, Teod has a wonderful navy, but few ground troops. Our country has a small population—we survive by sinking our enemies before they land.”

“I hear there are resistance fighters in Duladel,” Shuden suggested. “They harass caravans occasionally.”

All eyes turned toward Kaloo, who raised his hands palms forward. “Trust me, my friends, you do not want their help. The men of which you speak are mostly former republicans, like myself. They can duel one another with fine proficiency, but a syre isn’t much good against a trained solider, especially if he has five friends beside him. The resistance only survives because the Fjordells are too lazy to chase it out of the swamps.”

Shuden frowned. “I thought they were hiding in the caves of the Duladen Steppes.”

“There are several pockets of them,” Kaloo said smoothly, though Sarene detected a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Who are you? she thought as the conversation moved forward.

“I think we should bring the people into it,” Lukel said. “Telrii has indicated that he intends to maintain the plantation system. If we encourage the common people to our cause, they should be willing to rise against him.”

“It could work,” Eondel said. “Lady Sarene’s plan to sharecrop my peasants has given them a taste of freedom, and they’ve grown far more self-confident over the last few months. But, it would take a great deal of time—you don’t train men to fight overnight.”

“Agreed,” Roial said. “Telrii will be Derethi long before we finish, and Hrathen’s proclamation will be law.”

“I could pretend to be Derethi for a while,” Lukel said. “If only while I’m planning the king’s demise.”

Sarene shook her head. “If we give Shu-Dereth that kind of foothold in Arelon, we’ll never be free of it.”

“It’s only a religion, Sarene,” Ahan said. “I think we should focus on real problems.”

“You don’t think Shu-Dereth is a ‘real problem,’ Ahan?” Sarene asked. “Why don’t you try and explain that to Jindo and Duladel?”

“She’s right,” Roial said. “Fjorden embraced Shu-Dereth as a vehicle for domination. If those priests convert Arelon, then Wyrn will rule here no matter who we put on the throne.”

“Then raising an army of peasants is out?” Shuden asked, bringing the conversation back on topic.

“Too time-consuming,” Roial said.

“Besides,” Kaloo noted, “I don’t think you want to throw this country into war. I’ve seen what a bloody revolution can do to a nation—it breaks the people’s spirit to fight one another. The men in the Elantris City Guard might be fools, but they are still your countrymen. Their blood would be on your hands.”

Sarene looked up at the comment, made without a hint of Kaloo’s normal flamboyance. Something about him made her increasingly suspicious.

“Then what?” Lukel said with exasperation. “We can’t fight Telrii and we can’t wait for him to convert. What do we do?”

“We could kill him,” Eondel said quietly.

“Well?” Sarene asked. She hadn’t expected that suggestion to come out quite so early in the meeting.

“It has merits,” Kiin agreed, showing a cold dispassion that Sarene had never seen in him before. “Assassinating Telrii would solve a lot of problems.”

The room fell quiet. Sarene felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she studied the men. They knew what she knew. She had determined long before the meeting began that this was the only way.

“Ah, one man’s death to save a nation,” Kaloo whispered.

“It seems the only alternative,” Kiin said with a shake of his head.

“Perhaps,” the Dula said. “Though I wonder if we aren’t underestimating the people of Arelon.”

“We already discussed this,” Lukel said. “We don’t have enough time to rally the peasants.”

“Not just the peasants, young Lukel,” Kaloo said, “but the nobility. Have you not sensed their hesitance to back Telrii? Have you not seen the discomfort in their eyes? A king with no support is no king at all.”

“And the Guard?” Kiin asked pointedly.

“I wonder if we couldn’t turn them,” Kaloo said. “Certainly they could be persuaded to see that what they have done is not right.”

“You” had become “we.” Sarene’s brow furled; she almost had it. There was something familiar about his words….

“It’s an interesting suggestion,” Roial said.

“The Guard and the nobility support Telrii because they don’t see another alternative,” Kaloo explained. “Lord Roial was shamed by the failed wedding, and Lady Sarene was thrown into Elantris. Now, however, the embarrassment has been removed. Perhaps if we can show the Guard the ultimate result of their decision—occupation by Fjorden and a virtual enslavement of our people—they will realize that they supported the wrong man. Give men an honest choice, and I believe they will choose wisely.”

That was it. Sarene knew that faith somewhere—that pure belief in the basic goodness of all men. And, when she suddenly realized where she had seen it before, she couldn’t stop herself from jumping up and yelping in surprise.

Raoden cringed, immediately recognizing his mistake. He had let go of Kaloo too quickly, allowing too much of his true self to show. The others hadn’t noticed the change, but Sarene—dear suspicious Sarene—hadn’t been so lax. He l

ooked into her shocked, wide eyes, and knew that she knew. Somehow, despite their short time together, she had recognized him when his best friends could not.

Uh-oh, he thought to himself.

“Sarene?” Roial asked. “Princess, are you all right?”

Sarene looked around sheepishly, standing in front of her chair. She quickly forgot her embarrassment, however, as her eyes fell on the furtive Kaloo.

“No, my lord, I don’t think so,” she said. “I think we need a break.”

“We haven’t really been going that long …” Lukel said.

Sarene silenced him with a look, and no one else braved her wrath.

“A break it is,” Roial said slowly.

“Good,” Kiin said, rising from his seat. “I have some Hraggish meatwraps cooling out back. I’ll go get them.”

Sarene was so flustered that she barely even considered chastising her uncle for preparing a meal when she had expressly told him not to. She shot Kaloo a telling look, then stalked away from the table, apparently on her way to the privy. She waited in Kiin’s study for a moment before the hapless impostor finally strolled around the corner.

Sarene grabbed his shirt and all but threw him against the wall as she pressed her face up against his.

“Spirit?” she demanded. “What in the name of Gracious Domi are you doing here?”

Spirit looked to the side apprehensively. “Not so loudly, Sarene! How do you think those men would react if they discovered they’d been sitting with an Elantrian?”

“But … how?” she asked, her anger turning to excitement as she realized it really was him. She reached up to wiggle his nose, which was far too long to be his real one. She was surprised when her fingers passed through the tip as if it weren’t there.

“You were right about the Aons, Sarene,” Spirit said quickly. “They’re maps of Arelon—all I had to do was add one line, and the entire system started working again.”

“One line?”

“The Chasm,” Spirit explained. “It caused the Reod. It was enough of a change in the landscape that its presence needs to be reflected in the Aons.”

“It works!” Sarene said. Then she released his shirt and gave him a bitter punch to the side. “You’ve been lying to me!”

“Ow!” Spirit complained. “Please, no punching—my body doesn’t heal, remember?”

Sarene gasped. “That didn’t …?”

“Change when we fixed AonDor?” Spirit asked. “No. I’m still an Elantrian under this illusion. There’s something else wrong with AonDor.”

Sarene resisted the urge to punch him again. “Why did you lie to me?”

Spirit smiled. “Oh, and you’re going to try and tell me it wasn’t more fun this way?”

“Well …”

He laughed. “Only you would consider that a valid excuse, my princess. Actually, I never got the chance to tell you. Every time I tried to approach you these last few days, you ducked away—and you ignored the letter I sent you. I couldn’t just jump in front of you and drop my illusion. I actually came to Kiin’s last night in the hopes I would see you in the window.”

“You did?” Sarene asked with a smile.

“Ask Galladon,” Raoden said. “He’s back at Roial’s right now eating all of the duke’s Jaadorian candy. Did you know he had a weakness for sweets?”

“The duke or Galladon?”

“Both. Look, they’re going to wonder what’s taking us so long.”

“Let them,” Sarene said. “All the other women have been mooning over Kaloo so much, it’s about time I fell into line.”

Spirit began to chuckle, then he caught the dangerous look in her eyes and let it taper off. “It really was the only way, Sarene. I didn’t have much choice—I had to act the part.”

“I think you acted it a little too well,” she said. Then she smiled, unable to remain angry.

He obviously caught the softening in her eyes, for he untensed. “You have to admit, it was fun at times. I had no idea you were that good of a fencer.”

Sarene smiled slyly. “My talents are plentiful, Spirit. And apparently so are yours—I had no idea you were that good of an actor. I hated you!”

“It’s nice to feel appreciated,” Spirit said, letting his arms wrap around her.

Suddenly she was aware of his close proximity. His body was room temperature, and the unnatural coolness was unnerving. However, rather than pulling away, she let her head rest on his shoulder. “So, why did you come? You should be back in New Elantris, preparing your people. Why risk coming out into Kae?”

“To find you,” he said.

She smiled. That was the right answer.

“And,” he continued, “to keep you all from slaughtering each other. This country certainly is a mess, isn’t it?”

Sarene sighed. “And it’s partially my fault.”

Spirit reached up to put his hands on her neck, rotating her head so she could see into his eyes. His face was different, but those eyes were the same. Deep and blue. How had she ever mistaken him for anyone else?

“You are not allowed to berate yourself, Sarene,” he said. “I get enough of that from Galladon. You’ve done a wonderful job here—better than I could have even imagined. I assumed that these men would stop meeting after I left.”

Sarene paused, shaking herself from the trance of being lost in those eyes. “What was that you just said? After you left …?”

Voices called from the other room, and Spirit winked at her, his eyes twinkling. “We need to go back in. “But … let’s just say I have something else I need to tell you, once the meeting is through and we can speak more privately.”

She nodded in a half daze. Spirit was in Kae, and AonDor worked. She walked back into the dining room and sat down at the table, and Spirit entered the room a few moments later. One chair was still empty, however.

“Where’s Ahan?” Sarene asked.

Kiin frowned. “He left,” he declared in a bitter tone.

Lukel laughed, shooting Sarene a smile. “The count claims that something he ate didn’t agree with him. He … stepped out.”

“It’s impossible,” Kiin grumbled. “There was nothing in those crackers that could have upset his stomach.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t the crackers, Uncle,” Sarene said with a smile. “It must be something he ate before he came.”

Lukel laughed in agreement. “Domi knows, that man eats so much it’s a wonder he doesn’t end up sick every night by pure laws of probability.”

“Well, we should continue without him,” Roial said. “There’s no telling how long he will be indisposed.”

“Agreed,” Sarene said, preparing to begin again.

Roial, however, beat her to it. He stood slowly, his old body looking surprisingly weak. The duke sighed, shaking his head. “If you will all forgive me, I have something to say.”

The nobles nodded, sensing the duke’s solemnity.

“I will not lie to you; I never once debated whether or not action should be taken against Telrii. He and I have spent the last ten years as mercantile enemies. He is a flagrant, wasteful man—he will make a worse king, even, than Iadon. His willingness to even consider Hrathen’s silly proclamation was the final proof I needed.

“No, my reason for demanding more time before we met was not to wonder if we should depose Telrii. The reason I asked for more time was to wait for some … associates of mine to arrive.”

“Associates?” Sarene said.

“Assassins,” Roial said. “Men I have hired out of Fjorden. Not all the people of that country are perfectly loyal to their god—some are sworn to gold instead.”

“Where are they?” Sarene asked.

“Staying in an inn not far away,” Roial said.

“But,” Sarene said with confusion, “just last week you warned us against letting bloodshed advance our revolt.”

Roial bowed his head. “The guilt was speaking, dear Sarene, for I had already sent for these men. Howe

ver, I have changed my mind. This young man from Dula—”

Roial was interrupted by the sound of feet clomping in the entry hallway: Ahan had returned. Odd, Sarene thought to herself as she turned, I didn’t hear the front door close.

When she turned, it was not Ahan she found standing in the doorway. Instead, she was confronted by a group of armed soldiers with a well-dressed man at their front. King Telrii.

Sarene jumped up, but her yell of surprise was lost among other similar exclamations. Telrii stepped to the side, allowing a dozen men in Elantris City Guard uniforms to fill the room. They were followed by the portly Count Ahan.

“Ahan!” Roial said. “What have you done?”

“I finally got you, old man,” the count said gleefully, his jowls shaking. “I told you I would. Joke about how my caravans to Svorden are doing now, you cursed old idiot. We’ll see how yours do while you spend the next few years in prison.”

Roial shook a mournful, white-haired head. “You fool … Didn’t you realize when this stopped being a game? We aren’t playing with fruits and silks anymore.”

“Protest if you will,” Ahan said with a triumphant shake of his finger. “But you have to admit, I got you! I’ve been waiting to do this for months—I could never get Iadon to believe me. Can you believe that he actually thought you incapable of betraying him? He claimed your old friendship went too deep.”

Roial sighed, regarding Telrii, who was smiling broadly, obviously enjoying the exchange. “Oh, Ahan,” Roial said. “You have always been so fond of acting without thought.”

Sarene was stunned. She couldn’t move, or even speak. Traitors were supposed to be men with dark eyes and sour dispositions. She couldn’t connect that image with Ahan. He was arrogant and impetuous, but she liked him. How could someone she liked do something so horrible?

Telrii snapped his fingers, and a soldier stepped forward and rammed his sword directly into Duke Roial’s belly. Roial gasped, then crumpled with a moan.

“Thus are the judgments of your king,” Telrii said.