Her father's white head hung silently in the dark room.
"Your lessons won't be complete until you let go, Father," Sarene said quietly. "If you truly believe the ideals that you gave me, then you will allow me to make this decision."
Finally he spoke. "You love them that much, 'Ene?"
"They have become my people, Father."
"It has been less than two months."
"Love is independent of time, Father. I need to stay with Arelon. If it is to fall, I must fall with it-but I don't think it will. There has to be a way to stop Telrii."
"But you're trapped in that city, Sarene," her father said. "What can you do from there?"
"Ashe can act as messenger. I can no longer lead them, but I might be able to help. Even if I cannot, I still must stay."
"I see," her father finally said, sighing deeply. "Your life is yours. Sarene. I have always believed that-even if I forget it once in a while."
"You love me, Father. We protect what we love."
"And I do," Eventeo said. Never forget that, my daughter."
Sarene smiled. "I never have."
"Ashe," Eventeo ordered, calling the Seon's consciousness into the conversadon.
"Yes, my king," Ashe's voice said, its deep tone deferential and reverent. "You will watch and protect her. If she is injured, you will call me." "As I ever have, and ever will, my king," Ashe responded.
"Sarene, I'm still going to set the armada in a defensive pattern. Let your friends know that any ship approaching Teoish waters will be sunk without question. The entire world has Turned against us. and I cannot risk the safety of my people."
"I'll warn them, Father," Sarene promised.
"Goodnight then, 'Ene, and may Domi bless you."
HRATHEN was back in control. Like a hero from the old Svordish epics, he had descended to the underworld-physically, mentally, and spiritually-and returned a stronger man. Dilaf's hold was broken. Only now could Hrathen see that the chains Dilaf had used to bind him had been forged from Hrathen's own envy and insecurity. He had felt threatened by Dilaf's passion, for he had felt his own faith inferior. Now, however, his resolve was firm-as it had been when he first arrived in Arelon. He would be the savior of this people.
Dilaf backed down unhappily. The arteth grudgingly promised to hold no meetings or sermons without Hrathen's overt permission. And, in exchange for being officially named head arteth of the chapel, Dilaf also consented to relieve his numerous odivs from their vows, instead swearing them to the less binding position of krondet. The biggest change, however, wasn't in the arteth's actions, but in Hrathen's confidence. As long as Hrathen knew that his faith was as strong as Dilaf's, then the arteth would not be able to manipulate him.
Dilaf would not. however, relent in his pursuit of Elantris's destruction. "They are unholy!" the arteth insisted as they walked toward the chapel. This night's sermon had been extremely successful; Hrathen could now claim over
three-fourths of the local Arelish nobility as Derethi members or sympathizers. Telrii would crown himself within the week, and as soon as his rule stabilized a bit, he would announce his conversion to Shu-Dereth. Arelon was Hrathen's, and he still had a month left before Wyrn's deadline.
"The Elantrians have served their purpose, Arteth," Hrathen explained to Dilaf as they walked. It was cold this night, though not cold enough for one's breath to mist.
"Why do you forbid me to preach against them. my lord?" Dilaf's voice was bitter-now that Hrathen forbade him to speak about Elantris, the arteth's speeches seemed almost emasculated.
"Preaching against Elantris no longer has a point," Hrathen said, matching Dilaf's anger with logic. "Do not forget that our hate had a purpose. Now that I have proven Jaddeth's supreme power over Elantris, we have effectively shown that our God is true, while Domi is false. The people understand that subconsciously."
"But the Elantrians are still unholy."
`They are vile, they are blasphemous, and they are definitely unholy. But right now they are also unimportant. We need to focus on the Derethi religion itself, showing the people how to link themselves to Jaddeth by swearing fealty to yourself or one of the other arteths. They sense our power. and it is our duty to show them how to partake of it."
"And Elantris goes free?" Dilaf demanded.
"No, most certainly not," Hrathen said. "There will be time enough to deal with it after this nation-and its monarch-is firmly in Jaddeth's grasp."
Hrathen smiled to himself, turning away from the scowling Dilaf.
It's over, he realized. I actually did it-I converted the people without a bloody revolution. He wasn't finished yet, however. Arelon was his, but one nation still remained.
Hrathen had plans for Teod.
CHAPTER 43
The door had been barred shut from the inside, but the wooden portal was part of the original Elantris-subject to the same rot that infested the rest
of the city. Galladon said the mess had fallen off its hinges practically at a touch. A dark stairwell lay hidden inside. ten years of dust coating its steps. Only a single set of footprints marked the powder-footprints that could have been made only by feet as large as Galladon's.
"And it goes alI the way to the top?" Raoden asked. stepping over the sodden wreck of a door.
"Kolo," Galladon said. "And it's encased in stone the entire way, with only an occasional slit for light. One wrong step will send you tumbling down a series of stone steps as long-and as painful-as one of my hama's stories."
Raoden nodded and began climbing, the Dula following behind. Before the Reod, the stair must have been lit by Elantrian magic-but now the darkness was broken only by occasional thin spears of light from the scattered slits. The stairs circled up against the outer wall of the structure. and the lower curves were dimly visible when one peered down the center. There had been a railing once, but it had long since decayed.
They had w stop often to rest. their Elantrian bodies unable to bear the strain of vigorous exercise. Eventually, however, they reached the top. The wooden door here was newer; the Guard had probably replaced it after the original rotted away. There was no handle-it wasn't really a door. but a barricade.
"This is as far as I got, sule," Galladon said. "Climbed all the way to the top of the Doloken stairs, only to find out I needed an axe to go on."
"That's why we brought this," Raoden said. pulling out the very axe Taan had almost used to topple a building down on Raoden. The two set to work, taking turns hacking at the wood.
Even with the tool, cutting through the door was a difficult task. Raoden tired after just a few swings, and each one barely seemed to nick the wood. Eventually, however, they got one board loose and-spurred by the victory-they finally managed to break open a hole large enough to squeeze through.
The view was worth the effort. Raoden had been atop the walls of Elantris
dozens of times, but never had the sight of Kae looked so sweet. The city was quiet; it appeared as if his fears of invasion had been premature. Smiling. Raoden enjoyed the sense of accomplishment. He felt as if he had cIimbed a mountain. not a simple stairwell. The walls of Elantris were once again back in the hands of those who had created them.
"We did it," Raoden said, resting against the parapet.
"Took us long enough." Galladon noted, stepping up beside him.
"Only a few hours," Raoden said lightly, the agony of the work forgotten in the bIiss of victory.
"1 didn't mean cutting through the door. I've been trying to get you to come up here for three days."