The first wild man appeared out of the evening's darkness. He moved furtively, his stance nervous and bestial. He cradled a ripped sack. a couple of handfuls of grain clutched within.
Raoden motioned for his warriors to move back. "What do you want?" he asked the madman.
The man stared back dumbly.
"I know you understand me," Raoden said. "You can't have been in here long-six months at the most. That's not enough to forget language, even if you want to convince yourself that it is."
The man held up the sack, his hands glistening with slime.
"What?" Raoden insisted.
"Cook." the man finally said.
The grain they'd dropped had been seed corn, hardened over the winter to be planted in spring. Though they had most certainly tried, Shaor's men wouldn't have been able to chew or swallow it without great pain.
And so. Raoden had hoped that somewhere in the back of their abandoned minds, these men would remember that they had once been human. Hoped that they would recall civilization, and the ability to cook. Hoped they would confront their humanity.
"I won't cook your food for you." Raoden said. "But I will let you do it yourself."
CHAPTER 32
So, you've returned to wearing black, have you, my dear?" Duke Roial asked as he helped her into the carriage.
Sarene looked down at her dress. It wasn't one that Eshen had sent her, but something she'd asked Shuden to bring up on one of his caravans through Duladel. Less full than most current trends in Arelish fashion, it hugged rightly to her form. The soft velvet was embroidered with tiny silver patterns. and rather than a cape it had a short mantle that covered her shoulders and upper arms.
"It's actually blue, Your Grace," she said. "I never wear black."
"Ah." The older man was dressed in a white suit with a deep maroon undercoat. The outfit worked well with his carefully styled head of white hair.
The coachman closed the door and climbed into his place. A short moment later they were on their way to the ball.
Sarene stared out at the dark streets of Kae. her mood tolerant, but unhappy. She couldn't, of course, refuse to attend the ball-Roial had agreed to throw it at her suggestion. However, she had made those plans a week ago, before events in Elantris. The last three days had been devoted to reflection; she has spent them trying to work through her feelings and reorganize her plans. She didn't want to bother with a night of frivolities, even if there was a point behind it.
"You look at ill-ease, Your Highness," Roial said.
"I haven't quite recovered from what happened the other day, Your Grace," she said, leaning back in her seat.
"The day was rather overwhelming," he agreed. Then, leaning his head out the carriage's window. he checked the sky. "It is a beautiful night for our purposes."
Sarene nodded absently. It no longer mattered to her whether the eclipse would be visible or not. Ever since her tirade before Iadon, the entire court had begun to step lightly around her. Instead of growing angry as Kiin had predicted, Iadon simply avoided her. Whenever Sarene entered a room. heads turned away and eyes looked down. It was as if she were a monster-a vengeful Svrakiss sent to torment them.
The servants were no better. Where they had once been subservient, now they
ger.
cringed. Her dinner had come late, and though the cook insisted it was because one of her serving women had suddenly run off, Sarene was certain it was simply because no one wanted to face the fearful princess's wrath. The entire situation was putting Sarene on edge. Why, in the blessed name of Domi, she wondered, does everyone in this country feel so threatened by an assertive woman?
Of course. this time she had to admit that woman or not, what she had done to the king had been too forward. Sarene was just paying the price for her loss of temper.
"AII right, Sarene," Roial decIared. "That is enough."
Sarene started, Iooking up at the elderly duke's stern face. "Excuse me, Your Grace?"
"I said it's enough. By all reports, you've spent the last three days moping in your room. I don't care how emotionally disturbing that attack in Elantris was, you need to get over it-and quickly. We're almost to my mansion."
"Excuse me?" she said again, taken aback.
"Sarene," Roial continued. his voice softening, "we didn't ask for your leadership. You wiggled your way in and seized control. Now that you've done so. you can't just leave us because of injured feelings. When you accept authority, you must be willing to take responsibility for it at all times-even when you don't particularly feel like it."
Suddenly abashed by the duke's wisdom, Sarene lowered her eyes in shame. "I'm sorry."
"Ah, Princess," Roial said. "we've come to rely on you so much in these last few weeks. You crept into our hearts and did what no one else, even myself. could have done-you unified us. Shuden and Eondel all but worship you, Lukel and Kiin stand by your side like two unmoving stones, I can barely unravel your delicate schemes, and even Ahan describes you as the most delightful young woman he's ever met. Don't leave us now-we need you."
Flushing slightly, Sarene shook her head as the carriage pulled up Roial's drive. "But what is left, Your Grace? Through no cleverness of my own, the Derethi gyorn has been neutralized, and it appears that Iadon has been quelled. It seems to me that the time of danger has passed."
Roial raised a bushy white eyebrow. "Perhaps. But Iadon is more clever than we usually credit. The king has some overwhelming blind spots, but he was capable enough to seize control ten years ago, and he has kept the aristocracy at one an-other's throats all this time. And as for the gyorn."
Roial looked out the carriage window, toward a vehicle pulling up next to them. Inside was a short man dressed completely in red; Sarene recognized the young Aonic priest who had served as Hrathen's assistant.
Roial frowned. "I think we may have traded Hrathen for a foe of equal dan-
"Him?" Sarene asked with surprise. She'd seen the young man with Hrathen, of course-even remarked on his apparent fervor. However, he could hardly be as dangerous as the calculating gyorn, could he?
"I've been watching that one," the duke said. "His name is Dilaf-he's Arelish. which means he was probably raised Korathi. I've noticed that those who turn away from a faith are often more hateful toward it than any outsider could be."
"You might be right, Your Grace," Sarene admitted. "We'll have to change our plans. We can't deal with this one the same way we did Hrathen."
Roial smiled. a slight twinkle in his eyes. "That's the girl I remember. Come; it wouldn't do for me to be late to my own party."
Roial had decided to have the eclipse-observation party on the grounds behind his house-an action necessitated by the relative modesty of his home. For the third-richest man in Arelon, the duke was remarkably frugal.
"I've only been a duke for ten years. Sarene," Roial had explained when she first visited his home. "but I've been a businessman all my life. You don't make money by being wasteful. The house suits me-I fear I'd get lost in anything larger."
The grounds surrounding the home. however, were extensive-a luxury Roial admitted was a bit extravagant. The duke was a lover of gardens, and he spent more time outside wandering his grounds than he did in his house.
Fortunately, the weather had decided to comply with the duke's plans, providing a warm breeze from the south and a completely cloudless sky. Stars splattered the sky like specks of paint on a black canvas, and Sarene found her eyes tracing the constellations of the major Aons. Rao shone directly overhead, a large square with four circles at its sides and a dot in the center. Her own Aon, Ene, crouched barely visible on the horizon. The full moon rose ponderously toward its zenith. In just a few hours it would vanish completely-or, at least. that was what the astronomers claimed.