"I've been busy."
Galladon snorted, mumbling something under his breath.
"What was that?"
"I said, 'A two-headed Perrin would never leave its nest."
Raoden smiled; he knew the Jindoeese proverb. Ferrins were talkative birds, and could often be heard screaming at one another across the Jindoeese marshes. The saying was used in reference to a person who had found a new hobby. Or a new romance.
"Oh. come now," Raoden said, eyeing Galladon. "I'm not that bad."
"Stile, the only time in the last three days I've seen you two apart is when one of you had to go to the privy. She'd be here now if I hadn't snatched you when no one was looking."
"Well," Raoden said defensively, "she is my wife."
"And do you ever intend to inform her of that fact?"
"Maybe," Raoden said lightly. "I wouldn't want her to feel any obligation." "No, of course not."
"Galladon, my friend," Raoden said, completely unruffled by the Dula's comments, "your people would be mortified to hear how unromantic you are." Du-laden was a notorious hotbed of melodramatic romances and forbidden love.
Galladon snorted his response, showing what he thought of the average Dula's romantic inclinations. He turned, scanning the city of Kae. "So, sule, we're up here. What do we do now?"
"I don't know," Raoden confessed. "You're the one who forced me to come."
"Yes. but it was your idea to search for a stairwell in the first place."
Raoden nodded, remembering back to their short conversation three days ago. Has it really been that long? he wondered. He'd barely noticed. Perhaps he had been spending a little too much time with Sarene. However, he didn't feel a bit guilty.
"There." Galladon said, squinting and pointing at the city.
"What?" Raoden said, following the Dula's gesture.
"I see a flag," Galladon said. "Our missing Guards."
Raoden could hardy pick out a hint of red in the distance-a banner. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," Galladon said.
Raoden squinted, recognizing the building over which the banner flew "That's Duke Telrii's mansion. What could the Elantris City Guard possibly have to do with him?"
"Perhaps he's under arrest." Galladon said.
"No," Raoden said. "The Guard isn't a policing force."
"Why would they leave the walls, then?" Galladon asked.
Raoden shook his head. -I'm not sure. Something, however, is very wrong."
Raoden and Galladon retreated back down the stairwell, deep in thought.
There was one way to find out what was going on with the Guard. Sarene was the only Elantrian to be thrown into the city since the disappearance of the Guard. Only she could explain the current political climate of the city.
Sarene, however, still resisted talking about the outside. Something about the last few days before her exile had been extremely painful. Sensing her hurt, Rao-den had avoided prying; he didn't want to risk alienating her. The truth was, he really did enjoy his time with Sarene. Her wry wit made him smile. her intelligence intrigued him, and her personality encouraged him. After ten years of dealing with women whose only apparent thought was how good they looked in their dress-a state of forced obtuseness led by his own weak-willed stepmother-Raoden was ready for a woman who wouldn't cower at the first sign of conflict. A woman such as he remembered his mother being, before she died.
However, that same unyielding personality was the very thing that had kept him from learning about the outside. No amount of subtle persuasion-or even direct manipulation-could pry a single unwilling fact out of Sarene's mouth. He couldn't afford to be delicate any longer, however. The Guard's strange actions were troubling-any shift in power could be extremely dangerous to Elantris.
They reached the bottom of the stairwell and moved on toward the center of the city. The walk was a relatively long one. but it passed quickly as Raoden considered what they had seen. Despite the fall of Elantris. Arelon had spent the last ten years in relative peace-at least, on a national level. With an ally to the south, Teod's armada patrolling the northern ocean, and the mountains to their east. even a weakened Arelon had faced little external danger. Internally. Iadon had kept a strong grip on military might, encouraging the nobility toward political squabbling as opposed to militaristic posings.
Raoden knew that peace couldn't last long, even if his father refused to see that fact. Raoden's decision to marry Sarene had been influenced greatly by the chance to
me.
enter a formal treaty with Teod-giving Arelon at least partial access to the Teoish armada. Arelenes weren't accustomed to battle: they had been bred for pacifism by centuries of Elantrian protection. The current Wyrn would have to be a fool not to strike soon. All he needed was an opening.
Internal strife would provide chat opening. If the Guard had decided to betray the king, civil conflict would throw Arelon into chaos once again, and the Fjordells were infamous for capitalizing on such events. Raoden had to find out what was happening beyond those walls.
EventuaIly, he and GaIIadon reached their destination. Not New EIantris, but the squat, unassuming building that was the passage to the holy place. Galladon hadn't said a word when he'd found out that Raoden had taken Sarene to the library: the Dula had actually looked as if he'd expected such a development.
A few moments later, Raoden and Galladon strode into the underground library. Only a few of the wall lamps burned-an effort to save fuel-but Raoden could easily make out Sarene's form sitting in one of the cubicles at the back, leaned over a book just where he had left her.
As they approached, her face became more distinct, and Raoden wasn't able to keep himself from remarking again at her beauty. The dark-splotched skin of an Elantrian was prosaic to him now: he didn't really notice it anymore. Actually, Sarene's body seemed to be adapting remarkably well to the Shaod. Further signs of degeneration were usually visible after just a few days-wrinkles and creases appearing in the skin, the body's remaining flesh color dulling to a pallid white. Sarene showed none of this-her skin was as smooth and vibrant as the day she had entered Elantris.
She claimed that her injuries didn't continue hurting the way they should-though Raoden was certain that that was just because she had never lived outside of New Elantris. Many of the more recent newcomers never experienced the worst of Elantrian pain, the work and positive atmosphere keeping them from focusing on their injuries. The hunger hadn't come upon her either-but, again, she had the fortune of coming at a time when everyone had the opportunity to eat at least once a day. Their supplies wouldn't last more than a month, but there was no reason to stockpile. Starvation was not deadly to Elantrians, just uncomfortable.
Most beautiful were her eyes-the way she studied everything with keen interest. Sarene didn't just look, she examined. When she spoke, there was thought behind her words. That intelligence was what Raoden found most attractive about his Teoish princess.
She looked up as they approached, an excited smile on her face. "Spirit! You are never going to guess what I found."
"You're right," Raoden confessed with a smile-unsure how to approach the topic of information about the outside. "Therefore, you might as well just tell
Sarene held up the book, showing him the spine, which read Seor's Encyclopedia of Political Myths. Though Raoden had shown Sarene the library in an effort to sate her interest in AonDor, she'd postponed that study as soon as she had realized that there was an entire shelf of books on politicaI theory. Part of the reason for her shift in interest probably had to do with her annoyance at AonDor. She couldn't draw Aons in the air: she couldn't even get the lines to start appearing behind her fingers. Raoden had been perplexed at first, but Galladon had explained that such a thing wasn't uncommon. Even before the Reod, it had taken some Elantrians years to learn AonDor: if one began even the first line with an improper slant, nothing would appear. Raoden's own immediate success was nothing short of extraordinary.