Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [138]
“My problem, not yours.”
“First that Fjordell devil starts whipping my people into mobs, now you would do the same,” the king mumbled.
“No, Father,” Sarene corrected. “I want quite the opposite—chaos would only benefit Wyrn. Believe as you wish, but it is my sole concern to see stability in Arelon.”
Iadon continued to think for a moment. “No more than ten at a time, excluding guards,” he finally said. “I don’t want mass pilgrimages going into Elantris. You will enter an hour before noon and you will be gone by an hour after noon. No exceptions.”
“Done,” Sarene agreed. “You may use my Seon to call King Eventeo to work out the details of the deal.”
“I must admit, my lady, that was rather clever.” Ashe bobbed along beside her in the hallway on the way to her room.
Sarene had stayed as Iadon spoke with Eventeo, mediating as the two worked out the deal. Her father’s voice had contained a hearty measure of “I hope you know what you’re doing, ’Ene” in it. Eventeo was a kind and good king, but he was an absolutely horrible businessman; he kept a fleet of accountants to manage the royal finances. Once Iadon had sensed her father’s inability, he struck with the enthusiasm of a raging predator, and only Sarene’s presence had kept Iadon from leaking away Teod’s entire tax revenue in a rampage of trading fervor. As it was, Iadon had managed to talk them into buying his silks for four times as much as they were worth. The king had been beaming so widely as Sarene left that he almost appeared to have forgiven her for her charade.
“Clever?” Sarene asked innocently in response to Ashe’s comment. “Me?”
The Seon bobbed, chuckling softly. “Is there anyone you can’t manipulate, my lady?”
“Father,” Sarene said. “You know he gets the better of me three times out of five.”
“He says the same thing about you, my lady,” Ashe noted.
Sarene smiled, pushing open the door to her room to prepare for bed. “It really wasn’t that clever, Ashe. We should have realized that our problems were really solutions to one another—one an offer with no catch, the other a request with no sweetener.”
Ashe made noises of displeasure as he floated around the room, “tisking,” offended at its messy state.
“What?” Sarene asked, unwrapping the black ribbon tied around her upper arm—the only remaining sign of her mourning.
“The room has not been cleaned again, my lady,” Ashe explained.
“Well, it’s not like I left it that messy in the first place,” Sarene said with a huff.
“No, Your Highness is a very tidy woman,” Ashe agreed. “However, the palace maids have been lax in their duties. A princess deserves proper esteem—if you allow them to neglect their work, it won’t be long before they stop respecting you.”
“I think you’re reading too much into it, Ashe,” Sarene said with a shake of her head, pulling off her dress and preparing her nightgown. “I’m supposed to be the suspicious one, remember?”
“This is a matter of servants, not lords, my lady,” Ashe said. “You are a brilliant woman and a fine politician, but you betray a common weakness of your class—you ignore the opinions of servants.”
“Ashe!” Sarene objected. “I always treated my father’s servants with respect and kindness.”
“Perhaps I should rephrase, my lady,” Ashe said. “Yes, you lack unkind prejudices. However, you don’t pay attention to what the servants think of you—not in the same way you are always aware of what the aristocracy thinks.”
Sarene pulled her nightgown over her head, refusing to show even a hint of petulance. “I’ve always tried to be fair.”
“Yes, my lady, but you are a child of nobility, raised to ignore those who work around you. I only suggest you remember that if the maids disrespect you, it could be as detrimental as if the lords did so.”
“All right,” Sarene said with a sigh. “Point taken. Fetch Meala for me; I’ll ask her if she knows what happened.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Ashe floated toward the window. However, before he left, Sarene made one last comment.
“Ashe?” she asked. “The people loved Raoden, didn’t they?”
“By all accounts, my