Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [100]
“What was that?” Hrathen asked, approaching several guards who stood in a ring of glittering torchlight.
The guards shrugged, though one pointed at two forms walking through the darkened courtyard below. “They must have caught someone trying to escape.”
Hrathen wrinkled his brow. “Does that happen often?”
The guard shook his head. “Most of them are too mindless to try escaping. Every once in a while, one tries to scurry away, but we always catch ’em.”
“Thank you,” Hrathen said, leaving the guards behind as he began the long descent to the city below. At the foot of the stairs he found the main guardhouse. The captain was inside, his eyes drowsy as if he had just awakened.
“Trouble, Captain?” Hrathen asked.
The captain turned with surprise. “Oh, it’s you, Gyorn. No, no trouble. Just one of my lieutenants doing something he shouldn’t have.”
“Letting some Elantrians back into the city?” Hrathen asked.
The captain frowned, but nodded. Hrathen had met the man several times, and at each encounter he had fostered the captain’s greed with a few coins. This man was nearly his.
“Next time, Captain,” Hrathen said, reaching onto his belt and pulling out a pouch, “I can offer you a different option.”
The captain’s eyes shone as Hrathen began to pull gold wyrnings—stamped with Wyrn Wulfden’s head—out of the pouch.
“I have been wanting to study one of these Elantrians up close, for theological reasons,” Hrathen explained, setting a pile of coins on the table. “I would be appreciative if the next captured Elantrian found his way to my chapel before being thrown back into the city.”
“That can probably be arranged, my lord,” the captain said, slipping the coins off the table with an eager hand.
“No one would have to know about it, of course,” Hrathen said.
“Of course, my lord.”
CHAPTER 16
Raoden had once tried to set Ien free. He had been a young boy then, simple of mind but pure of intention. He had been learning about slavery from one of his tutors, and had somehow gotten it into his mind that the Seons were being held against their will. He had gone to Ien tearfully that day, demanding that the Seon accept his freedom.
“But I am free, young master,” Ien had replied to the crying boy.
“No you’re not!” Raoden had argued. “You’re a slave—you do whatever people tell you.”
“I do it because I want to, Raoden.”
“Why? Don’t you want to be free?”
“I want to serve, young master,” Ien explained, pulsing reassuringly. “My freedom is to be here, with you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You look at things as a human, young master,” Ien said with his wise, indulgent voice. “You see rank and distinction; you try to order the world so that everything has a place either above you or beneath you. To a Seon, there is no above or beneath, there are only those we love. And we serve those we love.”
“But you don’t even get paid!” had been Raoden’s indignant response.
“But I do, young master. My payment is that of a father’s pride and a mother’s love. My wages come from the satisfaction of seeing you grow.”
It had been many years before Raoden understood those words, but they had always remained in his mind. As he had grown and learned, listening to countless Korathi sermons on the unifying power of love, Raoden had come to see Seons in a new way. Not as servants, or even as friends, but as something much more deep and more powerful. It was as if the Seons were an expression of Domi himself, reflections of God’s love for his people. Through their service, they were much closer to heaven than their supposed masters could ever really understand.
“You’re finally free, my friend,” Raoden said with a wan smile as he watched Ien float and bob. He still hadn’t been able to get even a flicker of recognition from the Seon, though Ien did seem to stay in Raoden’s general vicinity. Whatever the Shaod had done to Ien, it had taken away more than just his voice. It had broken his mind.
“I think I know what’s wrong with him,” Raoden said to Galladon,