Hrathen stepped down from the podium, satisfied. He had only been preaching in Kae for a few days. but the chapel was already so packed that people had to line up at the back once the seats were full. Only a few of the newcomers were actually interested in converting; most came because Hrathen himself was a novelty. However. they would return. They could tell themselves that they were only curious-that their interest had nothing to do with religion-but they would return.
As Shu-Dereth grew more popular in Kae, the people at these first meetings would find themselves important by association. They would brag that they had discovered Shu-Dereth long before their neighbors. and as a consequence they would have to continue attending. Their pride, mixed with Hrathen's powerful sermons. would override doubts. and soon they would find themselves swearing servitude to one of the arteths.
Hrathen would have to call a new head arteth soon. He'd put off the decision for a time, waiting to see how the priests remaining in the chapel dealt with their tasks. Time was growing slim, however, and soon the local membership would be too great for Hrathen to track and organize by himself. especially considering all of the planning and preaching he had to do.
The people at the back were beginning to file out of the chapel. However, a sudden sound stopped them. Hrathen looked up at the podium with surprise. The meeting was to have ended after his sermon, but someone thought differently. Dilaf had decided to speak.
The short Arelish man screamed his words with fiery energy. In barely a few seconds, the crowd grew hushed, most of the people sliding back into their seats. They had seen Dilaf following Hrathen, and most of them probably knew he was an arteth. but Dilaf had never addressed them before. Now, however, he made himself impossible to ignore.
He disobeyed all of the rules of public speaking. He didn't vary the loudness of his voice, nor did he look members of the audience in the eyes. He didn't maintain a stately, upright posture to appear in controclass="underline" instead he hopped across the podium energetically, gesturing wildly. His face was covered with sweat: his eyes were wide and haunting.
And they listened.
They listened more acutely than they had to Hrathen. They followed Dilaf's insane jumps with their eyes, transfixed by his every unorthodox motion. Dilaf's speech had a single theme: hatred of Elantris. Hrathen could feel the audience's zeal growing. Dilaf's passion worked like a catalyst, like a mold that spread uncontrollably once it found a dank place to grow. Soon the entire audience shared in his loathing, and they screamed along with his denunciations.
Hrathen watched with concern and, admittedly, jealousy. Unlike Hrathen, Dilaf hadn't been trained in the greatest schools of the East. However. the short priest had something Hrathen lacked. Passion.
Hrathen had always been a calculating man. He was organized, careful, and attentive to detail. Similar things in Shu-Dereth-its standardized, orderly method of governing along with its logical philosophy-were what had first attracted him to the priesthood. He had never doubted the church. Something so perfectly organized couldn't help but be right.
Despite chat loyalty, Hrathen had never felt what Dilaf now expressed. Hrathen had no hatreds so severe that he wept, no loves so profound that he would risk everything in their name. He had always believed that he was the perfect follower of Jaddeth; that his Lord needed levelheadedness more than He needed unbridled ardor. Now. however. he wondered.
Dilaf had more power over this audience than Hrathen ever had. Dilaf's hatred of Elantris wasn't logical-it was irrational and feral-but they didn't care. Hrathen could spend years explaining to them the benefits of Shu-Dereth and never get the reaction they now expressed. Part of him scoffed, trying to convinee himself that the power of Dilaf's words wouldn't last, that the passion of the moment would be lost in the mundanity of life-but another. more truthful part of him was simply envious. What was wrong with Hrathen that. in thirty years of serving Jaddeth's kingdom, he had never once felt as Dilaf seemed to at every moment?
Eventually, the arteth fell silent. The room remained completely quiet for a long moment after Dilaf's speech. Then they burst into discussion, excited, speaking as they began to trail from the chapel. Dilaf stumbled off the podium and collapsed onto one of the pews near the front of the room.
"That was well done," a voice noted from beside Hrathen. Duke Telrii watched the sermons from a private booth at the side of the chapel. "Having the short man speak after yourself was a wonderful move, Hrathen. I was worried
when I saw people growing bored. The young priest refocused everyone's attention."
Hrathen hid his annoyance at Telrii's use of his name rather than his title; there would be rime to change such disrespect at a later date. He also restrained himself from making a comment about the audience's supposed boredom during his sermon.
"Dilaf is a rare young man." Hrathen said instead. "There are two sides to every argument, Lord Telrii: the logical and the passionate. We have to make our attack from both directions if we are to be victorious."
Telrii nodded.
"So, my lord, have you considered my proposal?"
Telrii hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. "It is tempting. Hrathen. Very tempting. I don't think there is any man in Arelon who could refuse it, let alone myself."
"Good. I will contact Fjorden. We should be able to begin within the week."
Telrii nodded, the birthmark on his neck looking like a large bruise in the shadows. Then, gesturing to his numerous attendants, the duke made his way out the side door to the chapel, disappearing into the twilight. Hrathen watched the door shut, then walked over to Dilaf, who was still sprawled on the pew.
"That was unexpected. Arteth," he said. "You should have spoken with me first."
"It was not planned, my lord, Dilaf explained. "I suddenly felt the need to speak. It was only done in your service, my hroden."
"Of course," Hrathen said, dissatisfied. Telrii was right: Dilaf's addition had been valuable. As much as Hrathen wanted to reproach the arteth, he could not. He would be negligent in his service to Wyrn if he didn't use every tool at his command to convert the people of Arelon, and Dilaf had proven himself a very useful tool. Hrathen would need the arteth to speak at later meetings. Once again, Dilaf had left him without many choices.
"Well, it is done," Hrathen said with calculated dismissiveness. "And they appear to have liked it. Perhaps I will have you speak again sometime. However. you must remember your place, Arteth. You are my odiv; you do not act unless I specifically tell you. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly, my lord Hrathen."
Hrathen quietly shut the door to his personal chambers. Dilaf was not there; Hrathen would never let him see what was about to take place. In this Hrathen could still feel superior to the young Arelish priest. Dilaf would never rise to the highest ranks of the priesthood, for he could never do what Hrathen was about to do-something known only to the gyorns and Wyrn.
Hrathen sat in his chair quietly, preparing himself. Only after a half hour of meditation did he feel controlled enough to act. Taking a measured breath, Hrathen rose from his seat and moved to the large trunk in the corner of his room. It was topped with a stack of folded tapestries, carefully draped to obscure. Hrathen moved the tapestries reverently, then reached beneath his shirt to pull forth the gold chain that encircled his neck. At the end of the chain was a small key. With this he opened the trunk, revealing the contents-a small metal box.