Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [132]
Galladon frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Because AonDor was developed in Arelon and nowhere else,” Raoden said. “The text says that the farther one traveled from Elantris, the weaker the AonDor powers became. Besides—only people from Arelon are taken by the Shaod. It can take Teoish people, but only if they’re living in Arelon at the time. Oh, and it takes the occasional Dula as well.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“There’s some link between this land, the Arelish people, and the Dor, Galladon,” Raoden said. “I’ve never heard of a Fjordell getting taken by the Shaod, no matter how long he lives in Arelon. Dulas are a mixed people—half Jindo, half Aonic. Where was your farm in Duladen?”
Galladon frowned. “In the north, sule.”
“The part that borders Arelon,” Raoden said triumphantly. “It has something to do with the land, and with our Aonic bloodlines.”
Galladon shrugged. “It sounds like it makes sense, sule, but I’m just a simple farmer—what know I of such things?”
Raoden snorted, not bothering to respond to the comment. “But why? What’s the connection? Maybe the Fjordell are right—maybe Arelon is cursed.”
“Hypothesize away, sule,” Galladon said, turning back to his work. “I don’t see much empirical good to it, though.”
“All right. Well, I’ll stop theorizing as soon as you tell me where a simple farmer learned the word ‘empirical.’”
Galladon didn’t respond, but Raoden thought he could hear the Dula chuckling softly.
CHAPTER 20
“Let me see if I understand you, Princess dear,” Ahan said, holding aloft a chubby finger. “You want us to help Iadon? How foolish I am—I thought we didn’t like the fellow.”
“We don’t,” Sarene agreed. “Helping the king financially doesn’t have anything to do with our personal feelings.”
“I’m afraid I have to agree with Ahan, Princess,” Roial said with outspread hands. “Why the sudden change? What good will it do to aid the king now?”
Sarene gritted her teeth in annoyance. Then, however, she caught a twinkle in the elderly duke’s eye. He knew. The duke reportedly had a spy network as extensive as most kings’—he had figured out what Hrathen was trying to do. He had asked the question not to provoke her, but to give her an opportunity to explain. Sarene exhaled slowly, grateful for the duke’s tact.
“Someone is sinking the king’s ships,” Sarene said. “Common sense confirms what my father’s spies say. Dreok Crushthroat’s fleets couldn’t be sinking the boats—most of Dreok’s ships were destroyed fifteen years ago when he tried to take the throne of Teod, and any remnants have long since disappeared. Wyrn must be behind the sinkings.”
“All right, we accept that much,” Ahan said.
“Fjorden is also giving financial support to Duke Telrii,” Sarene continued.
“You don’t have any proof of that, Your Highness,” Eondel pointed out.
“No, I don’t,” Sarene admitted, pacing between the men’s chairs, the ground soft with new spring grass. They had eventually decided to hold this meeting in the gardens of Kae’s Korathi chapel, and so there was no table for her to circle. Sarene had managed to remain seated during the first part of the meeting, but had eventually stood. She found it easier to address others when she was on her feet—something of a nervous habit, she realized, but she also knew that her height lent her an air of authority.
“I do, however, have logical conjecture,” she said. Eondel would respond well to anything following the word “logical.” “We all attended Telrii’s party a week ago. He must have spent more on that ball than most men make in a year.”
“Extravagance isn’t always a sign of wealth,” Shuden pointed out. “I’ve seen men poor as a peasant put on dazzling shows to maintain an illusion of security in the face of collapse.” Shuden’s words rang true—a man at their own meeting, Baron Edan, was doing just what Shuden described.
Sarene frowned. “I’ve done some checking around—I had a lot of free time this last week, since none of you managed to get this meeting together, despite its urgency.” None of the noblemen would meet her eyes after