It had once been beautiful. The feel of the city, how the buildings worked together, the way the roads crossed-the entire mass was… intentional. Art on a grand scale. Most of the arches had collapsed, many of the domed roofs had fallen, and even some of the walls looked as if they had little time left. Still, she could tell one thing. Elantris had been beautiful, once.
"They're so sad," Kaise said next to her, on her tiptoes so she could see over the side of the stone safety wall.
"Who?"
"Them," Kaise said, pointing to the streets below.
There were people down there-huddled forms that barely moved. They were camouflaged against the dark streets. Sarene couldn't hear their groans, but she could feel them.
"No one takes care of them." Kaise said.
"How do they eat?" Sarene asked. "Someone must feed them." She couldn't make out many details about the people below-only that they were human. Or, at least, they had the forms of humans; she had read many confusing things about the Elantrians.
"No one," Daorn said from her other side. "No one feeds them. They should all be dead-there's nothing for them to eat."
"They must get it somewhere," Sarene argued.
Kaise shook her head. "They're dead. Sarene. They don't need to eat."
"They may not move much," Sarene said dismissively, "but they obviously aren't dead. Look, those ones over there are standing."
"No, Sarene. They're dead too. They don't need to eat, they don't need to sleep, and they don't age. They're all dead." Kaise's voice was uncharacteristically solemn.
`How do you know so much about it?" Sarene said, trying to dismiss the words as productions of a child's imagination. Unfortunately, these children had proven themselves remarkably well informed.
"I just do," Kaise said. "Trust me. They're dead."
Sarene felt the hair on her arms rising, and she sternly told herself not to give in to the mysticism. The Elantrians were odd, true, but they were not dead. There had to be another explanation.
She scanned the city once more, trying to put Kaise's disturbing comments out of her mind. As she did, her eyes fell on a particular pair of figures-ones who didn't appear to be as pitiful as the rest. She squinted at the figures. They were Elantrian, but one seemed to have darker skin than the other. They crouched on the top of a buiIding, and they looked mobile, unlike most of the other Elantrians she had seen. There was something… different about these two.
"My lady?" Ashe's concerned voice sounded in her ear, and she realized that she had begun to lean out over the stone parapet.
With a start, she looked down, realizing just how high up they were. Her eyes unfocused, and she began to lose her balance, transfixed by the undulating ground below…
"My lady!" Ashe's voice came again, shocking her out of her stupor.
Sarene stumbled back from the wall, squatting down and wrapping her arms
around her knees. She breathed deeply for a moment. "I'll be all right, Ashe." "We're leaving this place as soon as you regain your balance," the Seon or-
dered, his voice firm.
Sarene nodded distractedly.
Kaise snorted. "You know, considering how tall she is, you'd think she'd get used to heights."
CHAPTER 9
If Dilaf had been a dog. he would have been growling. Probably frothing at the mouth as well, Hrathen decided. The arteth was even worse than he usually was after visiting Elantris's wall. Hrathen turned to look back at the city. They had nearly reached their chapel,
but the enormous wall surrounding Elantris was still visible behind them. Atop it somewhere was the infuriating young woman who had somehow gotten the best of him this day.
"She was magnificent," Hrathen said in spite of himself. Like any of his kind, he had an unquestioned prejudice when it came to the Teoish people. Teod had banished Derethi ministers from the country fifty years ago following a small misunderstanding, and had never consented to let them back in. The Teoish king had come quite near to banishing the Fjordell ambassadors as well. There wasn't a single known Teoish member of Shu-Dereth, and the Teoish royal house was infamous for its biting denunciations of all things Derethi.
Still, it was invigorating to meet a person who could so easily foil one of his sermons. Hrathen had preached Shu-Dereth so long, had made such an art of manipulating the public mind, that he hardly found challenge in it any longer. His success in Duladel a half year ago had proven that one could even cause nations to crumble, if one were capable enough.
Unfortunately, in Duladel there had been little opposition. The Dulas themselves were too open, too accepting. to present a true challenge. In the end, with the shambles of a government dead at his feet. Hrathen had found himself disappointed. It had been almost too easy.
"Yes, she is impressive," he said.
"She is accursed above all others," Dilaf hissed. "A member of the only race hated by Lord Jaddeth."
So that was what was bothering him. Many Fjordells assumed that there was no hope for the Teos. It was foolishness, of course-a simple justification that infused Fjorden's historical enemies with theological hatred. Still, many people believed it-and apparently Dilaf was among them.
"Jaddeth hates no one but those who hare Him," Hrathen said.
"They do hate Him."
"Most of them have never even heard His name preached, Arteth," Hrathen said. "Their king, yes; he is most likely cursed for his injunction against Derethi priests. However, the people haven't even been given a chance. Once Arelon falls to Lord Jaddeth, then we can worry about penetrating Teod. The country won't last long with the rest of the civilized world pitted against it."
"It will be destroyed," Dilaf prophesied with angry eyes. "Jaddeth will not wait while our arteths preach His name against the unyielding walls of Teoish hearts."
"Lord Jaddeth can only come when all men are united beneath Fjordell rule, Arteth," Hrathen said, turning away from his contemplation of Elantris and moving to enter the chapel. "That includes the ones in Teod."
Dilaf's response was softly spoken, but every word sounded powerfully in Hrathen's ears. "Perhaps," the Arelish priest whispered. "But there is another way.
Lord Jaddeth will rise when every living soul is united-the Teoish will be no obstacle if we destroy them. When the final Teo heaves his last sigh, when the Elan-trims have been burned from the face of Sycla, then all men will follow Wyrn. Then Jaddeth will come."
The words were disturbing. Hrathen had come to save Arelon. not to burn it. It might be necessary to undermine the monarchy, and perhaps he would have to spill some noble blood, but the end result would be the redemption of an entire nation. To Hrathen. uniting all mankind meant converting them to Derethi, not murdering those who didn't believe.
Except, perhaps his way was wrong. Wyrn's patience seemed only slightly greater than Dilaf's-the three-month rime limit proved that much. Suddenly Hrathen felt an extreme sense of urgency. Wyrn meant his words: Unless Hrathen converted Arelon, the country would be destroyed.
'Great Jaddeth Below…" Hrathen whispered. invoking his deity's name-an action he reserved for only the most sacred of times. Right or wrong. he didn't want the blood of an entire kingdom-even a heretical one-on his hands. He must succeed.
Fortunately. his loss to the Teoish girl hadn't been as complete as she probably assumed. When Hrathen arrived at the meeting place-a large suite in one of Kae's finest inns-many of the nobles he had invited were waiting for him. The speech on Elantris's wall had been only one part of his plan to convert these men.
"Greetings, Lords," Hrathen said with a nod of his head.