Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [122]
“This creature, this demon, this is the thing that the Korathi priests would have you pity! You wonder why Arelon is poor compared to the nations of the East? It is because you suffer the Korathi foolishness. That is why you lack the riches and blessings found in nations like Jindo and Svorden. The Korathi are too lenient. It may not be our task to destroy these creatures, but neither is it our task to care for them! We certainly shouldn’t pity them or suffer them to live in such a grand, rich city as Elantris.”
Hrathen extinguished the torch, then waved for a priest to go and do the same for the lights illuminating the poor Elantrian. As those torches winked out, the Elantrian disappeared from view, and the crowd began to settle down.
“Remember,” Hrathen said. “The Korathi are the ones who care for the Elantrians. Even now, they still hedge when asked if the Elantrians are demons. The Korathi are afraid that the city will return to its glory, but we know better. We know that Jaddeth has pronounced His curse. There is no mercy for the damned!
“Shu-Korath is the cause of your pains. It is the thing that supports and protects Elantris. You will never be rid of the Elantrian curse as long as the Korathi priests hold sway in Arelon. So, I say to you, go! Tell your friends what you have learned, and urge them to shun Korathi heresies!”
There was silence. Then people began to call out in agreement, their dissatisfaction successfully transferred. Hrathen watched them carefully as they yelled approval, then finally began to disperse. Their vengeful hatred had mostly dissipated. Hrathen sighed with relief—there would be no midnight attacks on Korathi priests or temples. Dilaf’s speech had been too fleeting, too quick, to have done lasting damage. The disaster had been averted.
Hrathen turned, eyeing Dilaf. The arteth had left the stage after Hrathen had seized control, and now he stood watching his crowd disappear with petulant anger.
He would turn them all into zealous replicas of himself, Hrathen thought. Except, their passion would burn out quickly once the moment passed. They needed more. They needed knowledge, not just hysteria.
“Arteth,” Hrathen said sternly, catching Dilaf’s attention. “We need to speak.”
The arteth contained a glare, then nodded. The Elantrian was still screaming for death. Hrathen turned to another pair of arteths, waving toward the Elantrian. “Collect the creature and meet me in the gardens.”
Hrathen turned to Dilaf, nodding curtly toward the gate at the back of the Derethi chapel. Dilaf did as ordered, moving toward the gardens. Hrathen followed him, on the way passing the confused Elantris City Guard captain.
“My lord?” the man asked. “The young priest caught me before I got back to the city. He said you wanted the creature back. Did I do wrong?”
“You are fine,” Hrathen said curtly. “Go back to your post; we’ll deal with the Elantrian.”
The Elantrian seemed to welcome the flames, despite the terrible pain they must have caused.
Dilaf huddled to the side, watching eagerly, though it had been Hrathen’s hand—not Dilaf’s—that had dropped the torch onto the oil-soaked Elantrian. Hrathen watched the poor creature as it burned, its cries of pain finally silenced by the roaring fire. The creature’s body seemed to burn easily—too easily—within the licking flames.
Hrathen felt a stab of guilt for betraying Diren, though that emotion was foolish; the Elantrian might not have been a true devil, but he was certainly a creature that Jaddeth had cursed. Hrathen owed the Elantrian nothing.
Still, he regretted having to burn the creature. Unfortunately, Dilaf’s cuts had obviously maddened the Elantrian, and there was no sending him back to the city in his current state. The flames had been the only option.
Hrathen watched the pitiful man’s eyes until the flames consumed him completely.
“And the burning fire of Jaddeth’s displeasure shall cleanse them,” Dilaf whispered, quoting the Do-Dereth.
“Judgment belongs to Jaddeth alone, and it is executed by