Elantris

Chapter 17

Sarene strode into the palace dance hall. a long black bag on her shoulder. There were several gasps from the women inside. "What?" she asked. "It's your clothing, dear," Daora finally answered. "These women aren't accustomed to such things."

"It looks like men's clothing!" Seaden exclaimed, her double chin jiggling indignantly.

Sarene looked down at her gray jumpsuit with surprise, then back at the collected women. "Well, you didn't really expect us to fight in dresses. did you?" However, after studying the women's faces. she realized that that was exactly what they had expected.

"You have a long way to go here. Cousin," Lukel warned quietly, entering behind her and taking a seat on the far side of the room.

"Lukel'?" Sarene asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I fully expect this to be the most entertaining experience of the week," he said, reclining in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. "I wouldn't miss it for all the gold in Wyrn's coffers."

"Me too." Kaise's voice declared. The small girl pushed her way past Sarene and scuttled toward the chairs. Daorn. however, darted in from the side and hopped into Kaise's chosen seat. Kaise stamped her foot with pique, then, realizing that every chair along the wall was exactly the same, chose another.

"I'm sorry." Lukel said with an embarrassed shrug. "I was stuck with them." "Be nice to your siblings, dear," Daora chided.

"Yes, Mother," Lukel responded immediately.

Slightly put off by the sudden audience, Sarene turned to her prospective students. Every woman from the embroidery circle had come-even the stately Daora and the equally scatterbrained Queen Eshen. Sarene's clothing and actions might have mortified them. but their hunger for independence was greater than their indignation.

Sarene allowed the bag to slide off her shoulder and into her hands. One side opened with some snaps. and she reached inside to whip out one of her practice swords. The long, thin blade made a slight metallic scrape as she pulled it free, and the collected women shied away.

"This is a syre." Sarene said. making a few slices in the air. "It's also called a kmeer or a jedaver, depending on which country you're in. The swords were first crafted in Jaador as light weapons for scouts, but they fell into disuse after only a few decades. Then, however. the swords were adopted by Jaadorian nobility, who favored them for their grace and delicacy. Duels are common in Jaador, and the quick, neat style of syre fencing requires a great deal of skill."

She punctuated her sentences with a few thrusts and swipes-mostly moves she would never use in a real fight. but ones that looked good nonetheless. The women were captivated.

"The Dulas were the first ones to turn fencing into a sport, rather than a means of killing the man who had decided to woo the same woman as yourself," Sarene continued. "They placed this little knob on the tip and dulled the blade's edge. The sport soon became quite popular amongst the republicans-Dula neutrality usually

kept the country out of war, and so a form of fighting that didn't have martial applications appealed to them. Along with the dulled edge and tip, they added rules that forbid the striking of certain body pans.

"Fencing skipped Arelon, where the Elantrians frowned upon anything resembling combat. but was very well received in Teod-with one notable change. It became a woman's sport. The Teoish men prefer more physical contests. such as jousting or broadsword fencing. For a woman, however, the syre is perfect. The light blade allows us to make full use of our dexterity and." she added. eyeing Lukel with a smile, "allows us to capitalize on our superior intelligence."

With that, Sarene whipped out her second blade and tossed it to the young Torena, who stood at the front of the group. The reddish-gold-haired girl caught the sword with a confused look.

"Defend yourself." Sarene warned, raising her blade and falling into an attack stance.

Torena brought up the syre clumsily, trying to imitate Sarene's posture. As soon as Sarene attacked. Torena abandoned the stance with a yelp of surprise. swinging her syre in wild two-handed sweeps. Sarene easily batted the girl's sword away and placed a thrust directly between her breasts.

"You're dead," Sarene informed her. "Fencing does not depend on strength; it requires skill and precision. Only use one hand-you'll have better control and reach that way. Turn your body a little to the side. It allows for a greater lunging distance and makes you more difficult to hit."

As she spoke, Sarene brought out a bundle of thin sticks she'd had made earlier. They were, of course, poor substitutes for a real sword. but they would do until the armorer finished the practice syres. After each woman received a weapon. Sarene began to teach them how to lunge.

It was difficult work-much more difficult than Sarene had expected. She considered herself a decent fencer. but it had never occurred to her that having knowledge was entirely different from explaining that knowledge to others. The women seemed to find ways to hold their weapons that Sarene would have thought physically impossible. They thrust wildly. were frightened of oncoming blades, and tripped over their dresses.

Eventually Sarene left them to practice their thrusts-she wouldn't trust them to spar with one another until they had proper face masks and clothing-and seated herself beside Lukel with a sigh.

"Exhausting work, Cousin?" he asked. obviously enjoying the sight of his mother trying to wield a sword in a dress.

"You have no idea." Sarene said, wiping her brow. "Are you sure you don't want to give it a try?"

Lukel raised his hands. "I may be flamboyant at times, Cousin, but I'm not stupid. King Iadon would blacklist any man who took part in such a supposedly

demeaning activity. Being on the king's bad side is fine if you happen to be Eon-del, but I'm just a simple merchant. I can't afford royal displeasure."

"I'm sure," Sarene said, watching the women trying to master their lunges. "I don't think I taught them very well."

"Better than I could have done." Lukel said with a shrug.

"I could have done better," Kaise informed from her seat. The little girl was obviously growing bored with the repetitious fighting.

"Oh really?" Lukel asked dryly.

"Of course. She didn't teach them about riposting or Proper Form, and she didn't even bother with tournament rules."

Sarene raised an eyebrow. "You know about fencing?"

"I read a book on it," Kaise said airily. Then she reached over to slap away Daorn's hand, which was poking her with a stick he had taken from Sarene's pile.

`The sad thing is she probably did," Lukel said with a sigh. "Just so she could try and impress you."

"I think Kaise must be the most intelligent little girl I've ever met," Sarene confessed.

Lukel shrugged. "She's smart, but don't let her impress you too much-she's still only a child. She may comprehend like a woman, but she still reacts like a little girl."

"I still think she's astounding," Sarene said, watching as the two children played.

"Oh, she's that," Lukel agreed. "It only takes Kaise a few hours to devour a book. and her language-learning ability is unreal. I feel sorry for Daorn sometimes. He tries his best, but I think he just feels inadequate-Kaise can be domineering. if you haven't noticed. But, smart or not, they're still children, and they're still a pain to take care of."

Sarene watched the children playing. Kaise, having stolen the stick from her brother, was proceeding to chase him around the room, cutting and thrusting in parodies of the methods Sarene had taught. As Sarene watched, her eyes fell on the doorway. It was open, and two figures watched the women practice.

The ladies fell still as Lords Eondel and Shuden, realizing they had been noticed, slipped into the room. The two men, though very different in age, were reportedly becoming good friends. Both were something of outsiders in Arelon- Shuden, a foreigner with dark skin, and Eondel, a former soldier whose very presence seemed to offend.

If Eondel's presence was distasteful to the women, however, Shuden's more than made up for it. A serious wave of blushing ran through the fencers as they realized that the handsome Jindoeese lord had been watching them. Several of the younger girls clutched friends' arms for support, whispering excitedly. Shuden himself flushed at the attention.

Eondel, however, ignored the women's reactions. He walked among the would-be fencers, his eyes contemplative. Finally, he picked up a spare length of wood, and stepped into a fencing posture and began a series of swipes and thrusts. After testing the weapon. he nodded to himself, set it aside, then moved toward one of the women.

"Hold the wood like so," he instructed, positioning her fingers. "You were gripping it so tightly you lost flexibility. Now, place your thumb along the top of the hilt to keep it pointed in the right direction, step back, and thrust."

The woman, Atara, complied-flustered that Eondel had dared touch her wrist. Her thrust, amazingly, was straight and well aimed-a fact that surprised no one more than Atara herself.

Eondel moved through the group, carefully correcting posture, grip, and stance. He took each woman in turn, giving advice to their several individual problems. After just a few brief minutes of instruction, the women's attacks were more focused and accurate than Sarene would have thought possible.

Eondel backed away from the women with a satisfied eye. "I hope you aren't offended by my intrusion, Your Highness."

"Not at all, my lord," Sarene assured him-even though she did feel a stab of jealousy. She had to be woman enough to recognize superior skill when she saw it, she told herself.

"You are obviously talented," the older man said. "But you seem to have had little experience in training others."

Sarene nodded. Eondel was a military commander-he had probably spent decades instructing novices in the basics of fighting. "You know quite a bit about fencing, my lord."

"It interests me," Eondel said, "and I have visited Duladel on numerous occasions. The Dulas refuse to recognize a man's fighting ability unless he can fence. no matter how many battles he has won."

Sarene stood. reaching over and pulling out her practice syres. "Care to spar then, my lord?" she asked offhandedly. testing one of the blades in her hand.

Eondel looked surprised. "I… I have never sparred with a woman before, Your Highness. I don't think it would be proper."

"Nonsense." she said, tossing him a sword. "Defend yourself."

Then. without giving him another chance to object, she attacked. Eondel stumbled at first, taken aback by her sudden offense. However, his warrior training soon took control, and he began to parry Sarene's attack, with amazing skill. From what he'd said, Sarene had assumed that his knowledge of fencing would be cursory. She was mistaken.

Eondel threw himself into the bout with determination. His blade whipped through the air so quickly it was impossible to follow, and only years of training and drills told Sarene where to parry. The room rang with the sound of metal

against metal, and the women paused to gawk as their two instructors moved across the floor, engaged in intense battle.

Sarene wasn't used to sparring with someone as good as Eondel. Not only was he as tall as she was-negating any advantage she had in reach-he had the reflexes and training of a man who had spent his entire life fighting. The two of them pushed through the crowd, using women. chairs, and other random objects as foils for the other's attack. Their swords cracked and whipped. lunging out and then snapping back to block.

Eondel was too good for her. She could hold him, but was so busy with defense that she had no time to attack. With sweat streaming down her face, Sarene became acutely aware that everyone in the room was watching her.

At that moment. something changed in Eondel. His stance weakened slightly, and Sarene struck reflexively. Her round tipped blade slipped past his defenses came up against his neck. Eondel smiled slightly.

"I have no choice but to yield, my lady," Eondel said.

Suddenly, Sarene felt very ashamed for putting Eondel in a situation where he had obviously let her win, lest he make her look bad in front of the others. Eondel bowed, and Sarene was left feeling silly.

They walked back to the side of the room, accepting cups from Lukel, who complimented them on the performance. As Sarene drank, something struck her. She had been treating her time here in Arelon like a contest, as she did with most political endeavors-a complex. yet enjoyable, game.

Arelon was different. Eondel had let her win because he wanted to protect her image. To him. it was no game. Arelon was his nation, his people. and he would make any sacrifice in order to protect them.

This time is different, Sarene. If you fail you won't lose a trade contract or building rights. You'll lose lives. The lives of real people. The thought was sobering.

Eondel regarded his cup, eyebrows raised skeptically. "It's only water?" he asked. turning to Sarene.

"Water is good for you, my lord."

"I'm not so sure about that," Eondel said. "Where did you get it?"

"I had it boiled and then poured between two buckets to restore its flavor," Sarene said. "I wasn't going to have the women falling over each other in drunken stupors while they tried to practice."

"Arelish wine isn't that strong, Cousin," Lukel pointed out.

"It's strong enough." Sarene replied. "Drink up, Lord Eondel. We wouldn't want you to get dehydrated."

Eondel complied, though he maintained his look of dissatisfaction.

Sarene turned back toward her students, intending to order them to their practicing-however, their attention had been captured by something else. Lord Shuden stood near the back of the room. His eyes were closed as he moved slowly

through a delicate set of motions. His taut muscles rippled as his hands spun in controlled loops, his body flowing in response. Even though his motions were slow and precise, there was sweat glistening on his skin.

It was like a dance. Shuden rook long steps. legs rising high in the air, toes pointed, before placing them on the floor. His arms were always moving, his muscles stretched tightly, as if he were struggling against some unseen force. Slowly, Shuden accelerated. As if building in tension, Shuden swept faster and faster, his steps becoming leaps, his arms whipping.

The women watched in silence, their eyes wide, more than one jaw gaping open. The only sounds came from the wind of Shuden's moves and the thumping of his feet.

He stopped suddenly, landing in a final jump. feet pounding to the ground in unison, arms outspread, hands flat. He folded his arms inward like two heavy gates swinging shut. Then he bowed his head and exhaled deeply.

Sarene let the moment hang before mumbling. "Merciful Domi. Now I'll never get them to focus."

Eondel chuckled quietly. "Shuden's an interesting lad. He complains repeatedly about the way women chase him, but he can't resist the urge to show off. Despite it all, he's still a man, and he's still rather young."

Sarene nodded as Shuden completed his ritual. then turned sheepishly as he realized how much attention he had drawn. He quickly wove his way through the women with downcast eyes, joining Sarene and Eondel.

"That was… unexpected." Sarene said as Shuden accepted a cup of water from Lukel.

"1 apologize, Lady Sarene." he replied between gulps. "Your sparring made me want to exercise. I thought everyone would be so busy practicing that they wouldn't notice me."

"Women always notice you. my friend." Eondel said with a shake of his gray-streaked head. "Next time you complain about being mauled by adoring women. I'll point out this little fiasco."

Shuden bowed his head in acquiescence. blushing again.

"What was that exercise?" Sarene asked curiously. "I've never seen anything like it."

"We call it ChayShan," Shuden explained. "It's a kind of warm-up-a way to focus your mind and body when preparing for a battle."

"It's impressive," Lukel said.

"I'm just an amateur," Shuden said with a modestly bowed head. lack speed and focus-there are men in Jindo who can move so quickly you grow dizzy watching them."

"All right, ladies," Sarene declared, turning to the women, most of whom were still staring at Shuden. "Thank Lord Shuden for his exhibition later. Right

now. you have some lunges to practice-don't think I'm going to let you leave after just a few minutes of work!"

There were several groans of complaint as Sarene took up her syre and began the practice session anew.

"They'll all be devilishly sore tomorrow," Sarene said with a smile.

"You say that with such passion, my lady, that one is inclined to think you're enjoying the prospect." Ashe throbbed slightly as he spoke.

"It will be good for them," Sarene said. "Most of those women are so pampered that they've never felt anything more serious than the prick of a stitching needle.'

"I'm sorry I missed the practice," Ashe said. 'I haven't watched a ChayShan in decades."

"You've seen one before?"

"I've seen many things, my lady," Ashe replied. "A Seon's life is very long."

Sarene nodded. They walked down a street in Kae, the enormous wall of Elantris looming in the background. Dozens of street vendors offered their wares eagerly as she passed, recognizing from her dress that she was a member of the court. Kae existed to support the Arelish nobility, and it catered to very pompous tastes. Gold-plated cups, exotic spices, and extravagant clothes all vied for her attention-though most of it just made her feel sick to her stomach.

From what she understood, these merchants were the only real middle class left in Arelon. In Kae they competed for King Iadon's favor, and hopefully a title-usually at the expense of their competitors, a few peasants, and their dignity. Arelon was quickly becoming a nation of fervent, even terrified, commercialism. Success no longer brought just wealth, and failure no longer just poverty-income determined just how close one was to being sold into virtual slavery.

Sarene waved off the merchants, though her efforts did little to discourage them. She was relieved to finally turn a corner and see the Korathi chapel. She resisted the urge to sprint the rest of the way, keeping her pace steady until she reached the doors to the broad building and slipped in.

She dropped a few coins-nearly the last of the money she had brought with her from Teod-into the donations box. then went looking for the priest. The chapel felt comfortable to Sarene. Unlike Derethi chapels-which were austere and formal, hung with shields, spears, and the occasional tapestry-Korathi chapels were more relaxed. A few quilts hung on the walls-probably donations from elderly patrons-and flowers and plants sat lined up beneath them, their buds peeking out in the spring weather. The ceiling was low and unvaulted, but the windows were broad and wide enough to keep the building from feeling cramped.

"Hello, child," a voice said from the side of the room. Omin, the priest, was standing next to one of the far windows. looking out at the city.

"Hello, Father Omin," Sarene said with a curtsey. "Am I bothering you?" "Of course not, child," Omin said, waving her over. "Come, how have you been? I missed you at the sermon last night."

"I'm sorry, Father Omin," Sarene said with a slight flush. "There was a ball I had to attend."

"Ah. Do not feel guilty, child. SociaIizing is not to be underestimated, especially when one is new in town."

Sarene smiled, walking between a set of pews to join the short priest next to the window. His small stature wasn't usually so noticeable; Omin had constructed a podium at the front of the chapel to fit his size. and while he gave sermons it was hard to distinguish his height. Standing next to the man, however, Sarene couldn't help feeling that she was towering over him. He was terribly short even for an Arelene, the top of his head barely reaching her chest.

"You are troubled by something, child?" Omin asked. He was mostly bald, and wore a loose-fitting robe tied at the waist with a white sash. Other than his strikingly blue eyes. the only color on his body was a jade Korathi pendant at his neck, carved in the shape of Aon Omi.

He was a good man-something Sarene couldn't say about everyone, even priests. There were several back in Teod who absolutely infuriated her. Omin, however, was thoughtful and fatherly-even if he did have an annoying habit of letting his thoughts drift. He sometimes got so distracted that minutes would pass without his realizing someone was waiting for him to speak.

"I wasn't sure who else to ask. Father." Sarene said. "I need to do a Widow's Trial, but no one will explain what it is."

"Ah," Omin said with a nod of his shiny hairless head. "That would be confusing for a newcomer."

"Why won't anyone explain it to me?"

"It is a semireligious ceremony left over from days when the Elantrians ruled," Omin explained. "Anything involving the city is a taboo topic in Arelon, especially for the Faithful."

"Well, then how am I going to learn what is expected of me?" Sarene asked with exasperation.

"Do not get frustrated, child," Omin said soothingly. "It is taboo, but only by custom, not by doctrine. I don't think Domi would have any objection to my assuaging your curiosity."

"Thank you, Father," Sarene said with a sigh of relief.

"Since your husband died," Omin explained, "you are expected to show your grief openly, otherwise the people won't think you loved him."

"But I didn't love him-not really. I didn't even know him."

"Nonetheless, it would he proper for you to do a Trial. The severity of a Widow's Trial is an expression of how important she thought her union, and how much she respected her husband. To go without one, even for an outsider, could be a bad sign."

"But wasn't it a pagan ritual?"

"Not really," Omin said with a shake of his head. "The Elantrians started it, but it had nothing to do with their religion. It was simply an act of kindness that developed into a benevolent and worthy tradition."

Sarene raised her eyebrows. "Honestly, I am surprised to hear you speak that way about the Elantrians, Father."

Omin's eyes sparkled. "Just because the Derethi arteths hated the Elantrians doesn't mean that Domi did, child. I do not believe they were gods, and many of them had inflated opinions of their own majesty, but I had a number of friends in their ranks. The Shaod took men both good and bad, selfish and selfless. Some of the most noble men I ever knew lived in that city-I was very sorry to see what happened to them."

Sarene paused. "Was it Domi, Father? Did he curse them as they say?"

"Everything happens according to Domi's will, child," Omin answered. "However, I do not think that 'curse' is the right word. At times, Domi sees fit to send disasters upon the world: other times he will give the most innocent of children a deadly disease. These are no more curses than what happened to Elantris-they are simply the workings of the world. All things must progress, and progression is not always a steady incline. Sometimes we must fall, sometimes we will rise-some must be hurt while others have fortune, for that is the only way we can learn to rely on one another. As one is blessed, it is his privilege to help those whose lives are not as easy. Unity comes from strife, child."

Sarene paused. "So you don't think the Elantrians-what's left of them-are devils?"

"Svrakiss, as the Fjordells call them?" Omin asked with amusement. "No, though I hear that is what this new gyorn teaches. I fear his pronouncements will only bring hatred."

Sarene tapped her cheek in thought. "That may be what he wants." "What purpose could that accomplish?"

"I don't know," Sarene admitted.

Omin shook his head again. "I cannot believe any follower of God, even a gyorn, would do such a thing." He took on an abstracted look as he considered the prospect, a slight frown on his face.

"Father?" Sarene asked. "Father?"

At the second prod Omin shook his head, as if startled to realize she was still there. "I'm sorry, child. What were we discussing?"

"You never finished telling me what a Widow's Trial was," she reminded.

Tangents were all too frequent when one was speaking with the diminutive priest.

"Ah, yes. The Widow's Trial. Put simply, child, you are expected to do some favor for the country-the more you loved your husband, and the more lofty your station, the more extravagant your Trial is supposed to be. Most women give food or clothing to the peasantry. The more personal your involvement, the better the impression you give. The Trial is a method of service-a means of bringing humility to the exalted."

"But where will I get the money?" She hadn't decided just how to go about asking her new father for a stipend.

"Money?" Omin asked with surprise. "Why, you're one of the richest people in Arelon. Didn't you know that?"

"What?"

"You inherited Prince Raoden's estate. child." Omin explained. "He was a very wealthy man-his father made sure of that. Under King Iadon's government, it would not be good for the crown prince to be any less rich than a duke. By the same token, it would be a source of extreme embarrassment to him if his daughter-in-law weren't fabulously wealthy. All you need to do is speak to the royal treasurer, and I'm certain he will take care of you."

"Thank you, Father," Sarene said, giving the little man a fond hug. "I have work to do."

"Your visit was welcome, child," Omin said, looking back at the city with contemplative eyes. "That is what I am here for." However, she could tell that soon after making the comment, he had already forgotten her presence, traveling, once again, the long roads within his mind.

As he waited for her outside, hovering beside the door with characteristic patience.

"I don't see why you're so worried," Sarene said to him. "Omin liked Elantris: he wouldn't have anything against your entering his chapel."

Ashe pulsed slightly. He hadn't entered a Korathi chapel since the day many years ago when Seinalan, the patriarch of Shu-Korath, had thrown him out of one.

"It is all right, my lady." Ashe said. "I have a feeling that no matter what the priests may say, both of us will be happier if we stay out of one another's sight."

"I disagree," Sarene said, "but I don't want to argue it. Did you hear anything of our conversation?"

"Seons have very good ears. my lady."

"You don't have ears at all," she pointed out. "What did you think?"

"It sounds like a good way for my lady to gain some notoriety in the city." "My thought exactly."

"One other thing, my lady. You two spoke of the Derethi gyorn and Elantris.

The other night, when I was inspecting the city, I noticed the Gyorn Hrathen walking the city wall of Elantris. 1 have gone back several nights now, and have found him there on a couple of occasions. He appears quite friendly with the captain of the Elantris City Guard."

"What is he trying to do with that city?" Sarene said, frustrated. "It baffles me as well, my lady."

Sarene frowned, trying to piece together what she knew of the gyorn's actions and Elantris. She could make no connections. However, as she thought, something else occurred to her. Perhaps she could solve one of her other problems and inconvenience the gyorn at the same time.

"Maybe I don't need to know what he is doing to block him." she said. "It would certainly help, my lady."

"I don't have that luxury. But, we do know this: If the gyorn wants the people to hate the Elantrians, then it is my job to see the opposite happen." Ashe paused. "What are you planning, my lady?"

"You'll see," she said with a smile. "First, let's get back to my rooms. I've wanted to speak with Father for some time now."

" ' Ene? I'm glad you called. I've been worried about you." Eventeo's glowing head hovered before her.

"You could have sent for me at any time, Father," Sarene said.

"I didn't want to intrude. honey. I know how you value your independence." "Independence is second to duty right now. Father," Sarene said. "Nations are falling-we don't have time to worry about one another's feelings."

"I stand corrected," her father said with a chuckle.

"What is happening in Teod. Father?"

"It isn't good," Eventeo warned, his voice growing uncharacteristically somber. "These are dangerous times. I just had to put down another Jeskeri Mystery cult. They always seem to spring up when an eclipse is near."

Sarene shivered. The Mystery cultists were an odd bunch. one her father didn't like to deal with. There was reservation in his voice, however-something else was bothering him. "There's more, isn't there?"

"I'm afraid there is, 'Ene," her father admitted. "Something worse." "What?"

"You know Ashgress, the Fjordell ambassador?"

"Yes," Sarene said with a frown. "What has he done? Denounced you in public?"

"No, something worse." Her father's face looked troubled. "He left."

"Left? The country? After all the trouble Fjorden went through to get representatives back in?"

"That's right. 'Ene," Eventeo said. "He took his entire entourage, made a last speech on the docks, and left us behind. There was a disturbing air of finality about the event."

"This isn't good," Sarene agreed. Fjorden had been dogmatic about keeping a presence in Teod. If Ashgress had left, he had gone in response to a personal command from Wyrn. It smelled of their having given up on Teod for good.

"I'm scared, 'Ene." The words chilled her like nothing else-her father was the strongest man she knew.

"You shouldn't say things like that."

"Only to you, 'Ene." Eventeo said. "I want you to understand how serious the situation is."

know,' Sarene said. "I understand. There's a gyorn here in Kae."

Her father muttered a few curses she had never heard him speak before.

"I think I can handle him, Father," Sarene said quickly. "We're keeping our

eyes on one another."

"Which one is it?"

"His name is Hrathen."

Her father cursed again, this time even more vehemently. "Idos Domi, Sarene! Do you know who that is? Hrathen was the gyorn assigned to Duladen the six months before it collapsed."

"I guessed that was who he was."

"I want you out of there, Sarene," Eventeo said. "That man is dangerous-do you know how many people died in the Duladen revolution? There were tens of thousands of casualties."

"I know, Father."

"I'm sending a ship for you-we'll make our stand back here, where no gyorn is welcome."

"I'm not leaving, Father," Sarene said resolutely.

"Sarene, be logical." Eventeo's voice took on the quiet, prodding tone it did every time he wanted her to do something. He usually got his way; he was one of the few who knew how to sway her. "Everyone knows the Arelish government is a mess. If this gyorn toppled Duladen, then he'll have no trouble doing the same to Arelon. You can't hope to stop him when the entire country is against you."

"I have to stay, Father, regardless of the situation."

"What loyalty do you owe them, Sarene?" Eventeo pled. "A husband you never knew? A people who are not your own?"

"I am the daughter of their king."

"You are the daughter of a king here as well. What is the difference? Here the people know and respect you."

"They know me, Father, but respect. Sarene sat back, beginning to feel sick. The old feelings were returning-the feelings that had made her willing to

leave her homeland in the first place, abandoning all she knew in favor of a foreign land.

"I don't understand, 'Ene." Her father's voice was pained.

Sarene sighed, closing her eyes. "Oh, Father, you could never see it. To you I was a delight-your beautiful, intelligent daughter. No one would dare tell you what they really thought of me."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. now speaking with the voice of a king.

"Father.' Sarene said, "I am twenty-five years old, and I am blunt, conniving, and ofttimes offensive. You must have noticed that no man ever sought my hand."

Her father didn't respond for a moment. "I thought about it." he finally admitted.

"I was the king's spinster daughter, a shrew no one wanted to touch,' Sarene said. trying-and failing-to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Men laughed at me behind my back. No one would dare approach me with romantic intentions, for it was well known that whoever did would be mocked by his peers."

"I just thought you were independent-that you didn't consider any of them worthy of your time."

Sarene laughed wryly. "You love me, Father-no parent wants to admit that his daughter is unattractive. The truth of the matter is, no man wants an intelligent wife."

"That isn't true." her father objected immediately. "Your mother is brilliant."

"You are an exception, Father, which is why you can't see it. A strong woman is not an asset in this world-not even in Teod, which I always claim is so much more advanced than the continent. It really isn't all that different, Father. They say they give their women more freedom, but there's still the impression that the freedom was theirs to 'give' in the first place.

"In Teod I an unmarried daughter. Here in Arelon, I am a widowed wife. That is an enormous distinetion. As much as I love Teod, I would have to live with the constant knowledge that no one wants me. Here, at least, I can try to convince myself that someone was willing to have me-even if it was for political reasons."

"We can find you someone else."

"I don't think so, Father," Sarene said with a shake of her head, sitting back in her chair. "Now that Teorn has children, no husband of mine would end up on the throne-which is the only reason anyone in Teod would consider marrying me. No one under Derethi control will consider marriage with a Teo. That only leaves Arelon, where my betrothal contract forbids me from marrying again. No, there is no one for me now, Father. The best I can do is make use of my situation here. At least I can command a measure of respect in Arelon without having to worry about how my actions will affect my future marriageability."

"I see," her father said. She could hear the displeasure in his voice.

"Father, do I need to remind you not to worry about me? ' she asked. "We have much larger problems to deal with."

can't help worrying about you, Leky Stick. You're my only daughter."

Sarene shook her head, determined to change the topic before she started crying. Suddenly very ashamed for destroying his idyllic vision of her. Sarene searched for anything she could say that would divert the conversation. "Uncle Kiin is here in Kae."

That did it. She heard an intake of breath from the other side of the Seon bond. "Do not mention his name to me, 'Ene."

"But-"

"No.'

Sarene sighed. -All right, then, tell me about Fjorden instead. What do you think Wyrn is planning?"

"This time I really have no idea," Eventeo said, allowing himself to be diverted. "It must be something massive. Borders are closing to Teoish merchants north and south, and our ambassadors are beginning to disappear. I am very close to calling them home."

"And your spies?"

"Are vanishing almost as quickly," her father said. "I haven't been able to get anyone into the Velding in over a month, and Domi only knows what Wyrn and the gyorns are scheming in there. Sending spies to Fjorden these days is almost the same as sending them to die."

"But you do it anyway," Sarene said quietly, understanding the source of the pain in her father's voice.

"I have to. What we find could end up saving thousands, though that doesn't make it any easier. I just wish I could get someone into Dakhor."

"The monastery?"

"Yes." Eventeo said. "We know what the other monasteries do-Rathbore trains assassins, Fjeldor spies, and most of the others simple warriors. Dakhor, however, worries me. I've heard some horrible stories about that monastery-and I can't fathom why anyone, even the Derethi, would do such things."

"Does it look like Fjorden's massing for war?"

"I can't tell-it doesn't appear so, but who knows. Wyrn could send a multi-nation army in our direction at almost a moment's notice. One small consolation is I don't think he knows we understand that fact. Unfortunately, the knowledge does put me in a difficult position."

"What do you mean?"

Her father's voice was hesitant. "If Wyrn declares holy war on us, then it will mean the end of Teod. We can't stand against the united might of the Eastern countries. 'Ene. I will not sit back and watch my people be slaughtered."

"You would consider surrendering?" Sarene asked with outrage.

"A king's duty is to protect his people. When faced with the choice of conversion or letting my people be destroyed. I think I would have to choose conversion." "You would be as spineless as the Jindoeese," Sarene said.

"The Jindoeese are a wise people. Sarene," her father said, his voice growing firm. "They did what they needed to survive."

"But that would mean giving up!"

"It would mean doing what we have to do," her father said. "I won't do anything yet. As long as there are two nations left. we have hope. However, if Arelon falls, I will be forced to surrender. We cannot fight the entire world, 'Ene, no more than one grain of sand can fight an entire ocean."

"But…" Sarene's voice trailed off. She could see her father's predicament. Fighting Fjorden on the battlefield would be an exercise in complete futility. Convert or die-both options were sickening, but conversion was obviously the more logical choice. However, a quiet voice inside her argued that it was worth dying, if death would prove that truth was more powerful than physical strength.

She had to make sure her father was never given that choice. If she could stop Hrathen. then she might be able to stop Wyrn. For a time, at least.

"I'm definitely staying, Father," she declared.

"I know, 'Ene. It will be dangerous."

"I understand. However, if Arelon does fall, then I would probably rather be dead than watch what happens in Teod."

"Be careful, and keep an eye on that gyorn. Oh, by the way-if you find out why Wyrn is sinking Iadon's ships, tell me."

"What?" Sarene asked with shock.

"You didn't know?"

"Know what?" Sarene demanded.

"King Iadon has lost nearly his entire merchant fleet. The official reports claim that the sinkings are the work of pirates, some remnant of Dreok Crushthroat's navy. However. my sources link the sinkings with Fjorden."

"So that's what it was!" Sarene said.

"What?"

"Four days ago I was at a party." Sarene explained. "A servant delivered a message to the king, and whatever it was unsettled the king a great deal."

"That would be about the right time frame." her father said. "I found out two days ago myself."

"Why would Wyrn sink innocent merchant vessels?" Sarene wondered. "Unless. Idos Domi! If the king loses his income, then he would be in danger of losing his throne!"

"Is all that nonsense about rank being tied to money true?"

"Insanely true," Sarene said. "Iadon takes away a family's title if they can't maintain their income. If lie lost his own source of wealth, it would destroy the

foundation of his rule. Hrathen could replace him with someone else-a man more willing w accept Shu-Dereth-without even bothering to start a revolution."

"It sounds feasible. Iadon asked for such a situation by concocting such an unstable basis for rule."

"It's probably Telrii," Sarene said. "That's why he spent so much money on that ball-the duke wants to show that he is financially sound. I would be very surprised if there wasn't a mountain of Fjordell gold behind his expenditures."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stop him," Sarene said. "Even though it hurts. I really don't like Iadon, Father."

"Unfortunately, it looks like Hrathen has chosen our allies for us."

Sarene nodded. "He has placed me with Elantris and Iadon-not a very enviable position."

"We all do the best with what Domi has given us."

"You sound like a priest."

"I have found reason to become very religious lately."

Sarene thought for a moment before replying, tapping her cheek as she considered his words. "A wise choice, Father. If Domi were ever going to help us, it would be now. The end of Teod means the end of Shu-Korath."

"For a time, perhaps," her father said. "Truth can never be defeated, Sarene. Even if people do forget about it occasionally."

Sarene was in bed, the lights down. Ashe hovered on the far side of the room, his light dimmed so much that he was barely an outline of Aon Ashe against the wall.

The conversation with her father had ended an hour ago, but its implications would likely plague her mind for months. She had never considered surrender an option, but now it looked almost inevitable. The prospect worried her. She knew that it was unlikely that Wyrn would let her father continue to rule. even if he did convert. She also knew that Eventeo would willingly give his life if it would spare his people.

She also thought about her own life, and her mixed memories of Teod. The kingdom contained the things she loved most-her father, brother, and mother. The forests around the port city of Teoin, the capital, were another very fond memory. She remembered the way the snow settled on the landscape. One morning she had awoken to find everything outside coated in a beautiful film of ice: the trees had looked like jewels sparkling in the winter daylight.

Yet, Teod also reminded her of pain and loneliness. It represented her exclusion from society and her humiliation before men. She had established early in life that she had a quick wit and an even quicker tongue. Both things had set her apart

from the other women-not that some of them weren't intelligent: they just had the wisdom to hide it until they were married.

Not all men wanted a stupid wife-but there also weren't a lot of men who felt comfortable around a woman they assumed was their intellectual superior. By the time Sarene had realized what she was doing to herself, she had found that the few men who might have accepted her were already married. Desperate, she had ferreted out the masculine opinion of her in court, and had been mortified to learn just how much they mocked her. After that, it had only grown worse-and she had only grown oIder. In a land where nearly every woman was at least engaged by the age of eighteen, she was an old maid by twenty-five. A very tall, gangly. argumentative old maid.

Her self-recrimination was interrupted by a noise. It didn't come from the hallway or window, however, but from inside her room. She sat up with a start. breath catching in her throat as she prepared to jump away. Only then did she realize it wasn't actually coming from her room, but from the wall beside her room. She frowned in confusion. There weren't any rooms on the other side; she was at the very edge of the palace. She had a window looking out over the city.

The noise was not repeated. and, determined to get some sleep despite her anxieties, Sarene told herself it had simply been the building settling.