“No, Papa, she’s just
hungry,”
Kaise announced.
“Oh, is that all. Well, sit down, Sarene, I’ll have lunch out in a few moments.”
The meal proceeded in much the same way as dinner had the night before, Kaise complaining about the slowness, Daorn trying to act more mature than his sister, and Lukel teasing them both mercilessly—as was the solemn duty of any elder brother. Adien made his appearance late, looking distracted as he mumbled
some numbers softly to himself. Kiin brought out several steaming platters of food, apologizing for his wife’s absence because of a prior engagement.
The meal was delightful—the food good, the conversation enjoyable. Until, that was, Lukel took it upon himself to inform the family of Sarene’s painting talents.
“She was engaged in some sort of new-abstractionism,” her cousin proclaimed with a completely serious voice.
“Is that so?” Kiin asked.
“Yes,” Lukel said. “Though I can’t quite say what kind of statement she was trying to make by representing a flower patch with a brown smudge that only vaguely resembles a horse.”
Sarene blushed as the table laughed. However, it wasn’t over—Ashe chose that moment to betray her as well.
“She calls it the school of creative misdirection,” the Seon explained solemnly in his deep, stately voice. “I believe the princess feels empowered by crafting art that completely baffles one’s ability to distinguish what the subject could be.”
This was too much for Kiin, who nearly collapsed from laughter. Sarene’s torment was soon over, however, as the topic of conversation met with a slight change—the source of which was of some interest to the princess.
“There’s no such thing as a school of creative misdirection,” Kaise informed them.
“There isn’t?” her father asked.
“No. There’s the impressionist school, the neorepresentational school, the abstract derivational school, and the revivationist school. That’s it.”
“Oh, is that so?” Lukel asked with amusement.
“Yes,” Kaise pronounced. “There was the realist movement, but that’s the same as the neorepresentational school. They just changed names to sound more important.”
“Stop trying to show off for the princess,” Daorn mumbled.
“I’m not showing off,” Kaise huffed. “I’m being
educated.”
“You are too showing off,” Daorn said. “Besides, the realist school is
not
the same as the neorepresentational school.”
“Daorn, stop grumbling at your sister,” Kiin ordered. “Kaise, stop showing off.”
Kaise scowled, then sat back with a sullen look on her face and began mumbling incoherently.
“What’s she doing?” Sarene asked with confusion.
“Oh, she’s cursing at us in Jindoeese,” Daorn said offhandedly. “She always does that when she loses an argument,”
“She thinks she can save face by speaking in other languages,” Lukel said. “As if that proves that she’s actually more intelligent than the rest of the world.”
With that, the torrent of words from the small blond girl’s mouth changed directions. With a start, Sarene realized Kaise was now muttering in Fjordell. Kaise wasn’t done, however; she topped of the tirade with a brief, but biting, accusation in what sounded like Duladen.
“How many languages does she speak?” Sarene asked in amazement.
“Oh, four or five, unless she’s learned a new one while I wasn’t looking,” Lukel said. “Though she’s going to have to stop soon. Svordish scientists claim that the human mind can only maintain six languages before it starts to jumble them.”
“It’s one of little Kaise’s life quests to prove them wrong,” Kiin explained in his deep, scratchy voice. “That, and to eat every morsel of food to be found in all of Arelon.”
Kaise stuck out her chin at her father with a dismissive sniff, then turned back to her meal.
“They’re both so … well informed,” Sarene said with surprise.
“Don’t be too impressed,” Lukel said. “Their tutors have been covering art history lately, and the two of them have been working hard to prove they can outdo one another.”
“Even so,” Sarene said.
Kaise, still displeased at her loss, mumbled something over her meal.
“What was that?” Kiin asked with a firm tone.
“I said, ‘If the prince were here,
he
would have listened to me.’ He always took my side.”
“He just
sounded
like he was agreeing with you,” Daorn said. “That is called sarcasm, Kaise.”
Kaise stuck out her tongue at her brother. “He thought I was beautiful, and he loved me. He was waiting for me to grow up so he could marry me. Then I would be queen, and I’d throw you all in the dungeon until you admitted that I was right.”
“He wouldn’t have married you, stupid,” Daorn said with a scowl. “He married Sarene.”
Kiin must have noticed the way Sarene’s face fell when the prince’s name came up, for he quickly hushed the two children with hard looks. However, the damage had been done. The more she learned of him, the more Sarene remembered the prince’s soft, encouraging voice traveling hundreds of miles through the Seon to speak with her. She thought of the rambling way his letters told her of life in Arelon, explaining how he was preparing a place for her. She had been so excited to meet him that she had decided to leave Teod a week early. Not early enough, apparently.
Perhaps she should have listened to her father. He had been hesitant to agree to the marriage, even though he knew Teod needed a solid alliance with the new Arelish government. Though the two countries were descendants of the same
racial and cultural heritage, there had been little contact between Teod and Arelon during the last decade. The uprisings after the Reod threatened anyone associated with the Elantrians—and that certainly included the Teoish royalty. But with Fjorden pushing the boundaries of its influence again—this time instigating the collapse of the Duladen Republic—it became obvious that Teod needed to either reacquaint itself with its ancient ally, or face Wyrn’s hordes alone.
And so Sarene had suggested the marriage. Her father had objected at first, but then had bowed beneath its utter practicality. There was no stronger bond than that of blood, especially when the marriage involved a crown prince. Never mind that a royal marriage contract forbade Sarene to ever marry again; Raoden was young and strong. They all assumed he would live for decades.
Kiin was talking to her. “What was that, Uncle?” she asked.
“I just wanted to know if there was anything you wanted to see in Kae. You’ve been here a couple of days; it’s probably time someone gave you a tour. I’m sure Lukel would be happy to show you the sights.”
The thin man raised his hands. “Sorry, Father. I’d love to show our beautiful cousin around the town, but Jalla and I have to go discuss the purchase of some silk for shipment to Teod.”
“Both of you?” Sarene asked with surprise.
“Of course,” Lukel said, dropping his napkin to the table and rising. “Jalla’s a fierce bargainer.”
“That be the only reason he married me,” the Svorden woman confessed with her thick accent and a slight smile. “Lukel is a merchant. Profit in everything, even marriage.”
“That’s right,” Lukel said with a laugh, taking his wife’s hand as she rose. “The fact that she’s brilliant and beautiful didn’t even enter into it. Thanks for the meal, Father. It was delicious. Good day, all.”
With that the couple left, staring into each other’s eyes as they walked. Their exit was followed by a series of gagging sounds from Daorn. “Ugh. Father, you should speak to them. They’re so dopey-eyed they make it hard to eat.”
“Our dear brother’s mind has turned to mush,” Kaise agreed.
“Be patient, children,” Kiin said. “Lukel has only been married for a month now. Give him a while longer, and he’ll turn back to normal.”
“I hope so,” Kaise said. “He’s making me sick.” Of course, she didn’t
look
very sick to Sarene; she was still packing down the food with a vengeance.
Beside Sarene, Adien continued to mumble in his way. He didn’t seem to say much, except to quote numbers—that, and the occasional word that sounded a lot like “Elantris.”
“I would like to see the town, Uncle,” Sarene said, the boy’s comments reminding her of something. “Especially Elantris—I want to know what all of the furor is about.”
Kiin rubbed his chin. “Well,” he said, “I suppose the twins can show you. They know how to get to Elantris, and it will keep them out of my hair for a little while.”
“Twins?”
Kiin smiled. “It’s Lukel’s nickname for them.”
“One we hate,” Daorn said. “We aren’t twins—we don’t even look alike.”
Sarene studied the two children, with their similar bobs of blond hair and their identical determined expressions, and smiled. “Not at all,” she agreed.
The wall of Elantris stood over Kae like a disapproving sentry. Walking at its base, Sarene finally realized how truly formidable it was. She had once visited Fjordell, and had been impressed by many of that nation’s fortified cities—but even they couldn’t compete with Elantris. The wall was so high, its sides so smooth, that it obviously hadn’t been crafted by normal human hands. There were enormous, intricate Aons carved into its sides—many of which Sarene didn’t recognize, and she liked to consider herself well educated.
The children led her to a massive set of stone stairs that ran up the side of the outer wall. Magnificently carved, with archways and frequent viewing platforms, the stairs themselves were sculpted with a certain regality. There was also a sense of … arrogance about the tiered stairway. It was obviously part of the original Elantris city design, and proved that the massive walls had been constructed not as a means of defense, but as a means of separation. Only people supremely confident in themselves would craft such an amazing fortification, then place a wide set of stairs on the outside, leading up to the top.
That confidence had been proven unjustified, for Elantris had fallen. Yet, Sarene reminded herself, it hadn’t been invaders who had claimed the city, but something else. Something not yet understood. The Reod.
Sarene paused along a stone railing about halfway up to the top of the wall, looking out over the city of Kae. The smaller city stood like a little brother to the grand Elantris—it tried so hard to prove its significance, but next to the massive city it couldn’t help but seem inferior. Its buildings might have been impressive somewhere else, but they seemed tiny—petty, even—when compared with the majesty of Elantris.
Petty or not, Sarene told herself, Kae will have to be my focus. Elantris’s day has passed
.
Several little bubbles of light floated along the outside of the wall—some of the first Seons Sarene had seen in the area. She was excited at first, but then remembered the stories. Once, Seons had been unaffected by the Shoad—but that had changed with the fall of Elantris. When a person was taken by the Shaod now, their Seon—if they had one—gained a kind of madness. The Seons by the wall
floated aimlessly, like lost children. She knew without asking that the city was where such maddened Seons gathered, once their masters had fallen.
She looked away from the Seons, nodded to the children, and continued her trek up the enormous set of stairs. Kae would be her focus, true, but she still wanted to see Elantris. There was something about it—its size, its Aons, its reputation—that she had to experience for herself.
As she walked, she was able to reach out and rub her hand across the groove of a carved Aon sculpted into the side of the city wall. The line was as wide as her hand. There were no gaps where stone met stone. It was as she had read: the entire wall was one seamless piece of rock.
Except, it was no longer flawless. Pieces of the enormous monolith were crumbling and cracking, especially near the top. As they neared the end of their climb there were places where great chunks of the wall had torn away, leaving jagged wounds in the stone reminiscent of bite marks. Still, the wall was impressive, especially when one was standing on top of it, looking down at the ground below.
“Oh my,” Sarene said, feeling herself grow dizzy.
Daorn pulled against the back of her dress urgently. “Don’t get too close, Sarene.”
“I’m all right,” she said with a dazed voice. She did, however, let him pull her back.
Ashe hovered next to her, glowing with concern. “Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea, my lady. You know how you are with heights.”
“Nonsense,” Sarene said, recovering. Then she noticed for the first time the large gathering on the wall’s top a short distance away. There was a piercing voice rising over the group—one she couldn’t quite make out. “What’s that?”
The twins exchanged mutual shrugs of confusion. “I don’t know,” Daorn said.
“This place is usually empty, except for the guards,” Kaise added.
“Let’s have a look,” Sarene said. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she recognized the voice’s accent. As they approached the back of the crowd, Sarene confirmed her suspicion.
“It’s the gyorn!” Kaise said excitedly. “I wanted to see him.” And she was gone, shooting in to the crowd. Sarene could hear muffled cries of surprise and annoyance as the little girl pushed her way to the front of the group. Daorn shot his sister a longing look and took a step forward, but then looked back at Sarene and instead decided to remain beside her like a dutiful guide.
Daorn needn’t have worried about seeing the gyorn, however. Sarene was a bit more reserved than her young cousin, but she was just as determined to get close enough to hear Hrathen. So, her small guard at her side, Sarene politely—but resolutely—made her way through the crowd until she was standing at the front.
Hrathen stood on a small overlook built into the Elantris wall. His back was
to the crowd, but he was angled in such a way as to let his words reach them. His speech was obviously intended for their ears, and not those down below. Sarene spared barely a glance for Elantris itself—she would study it later.
“Look at them!” Hrathen commanded, gesturing toward Elantris. “They have lost their right to be men. They are animals, having no will or desire to serve Lord Jaddeth. They know no God, and can follow only after their lusts.”