Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [156]
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Lordship,” Hrathen said smoothly.
Telrii nodded, calling for the coachman to stop. They weren’t even halfway to the Derethi chapel.
“My mansion is that direction,” Telrii said airily, pointing down a side street. “You can walk the rest of the way to your chapel.”
Hrathen clenched his jaw. Someday this man would have to learn proper respect for Derethi officials. For now, however, Hrathen simply climbed out of the carriage.
Considering the company, he preferred walking anyway.
“I’ve never seen this kind of response in Arelon,” one priest noted.
“Agreed,” said his companion. “I’ve been serving the empire in Kae for over a decade, and we’ve never had more than a few conversions a year.”
Hrathen passed the priests as he entered the Derethi chapel. They were minor underpriests, of little concern to him; he noticed them only because of Dilaf.
“It has been a long while,” Dilaf agreed. “Though I remember a time, just after the pirate Dreok Crushthroat assaulted Teod, when there was a wave of conversions in Arelon.”
Hrathen frowned. Something about Dilaf’s comment bothered him. He forced himself to continue walking, but he shot a glance back at the arteth. Dreok Crushthroat had attacked Teod fifteen years before. It was possible that Dilaf would remember such a thing from his childhood, but how would he have known about Arelon conversion rates?
The arteth had to be older than Hrathen had assumed. Much older. Hrathen’s eyes widened as he studied Dilaf’s face in his mind. He had placed Dilaf as no older than twenty-five, but he could now detect hints of age in the arteth’s face. Only hints, however—he was probably one of those rare individuals who seemed many years younger than they really were. The “young” Arelish priest feigned lack of experience, but his planning and scheming revealed an otherwise hidden degree of maturity. Dilaf was far more seasoned than he led people to assume.
But, what did that mean? Hrathen shook his head, pushing the door open and walking into his rooms. Dilaf’s power over the chapel was growing as Hrathen struggled to find an appropriate, and willing, new head arteth. Three more men had refused the position. That was more than just suspicious—Hrathen was certain that Dilaf had something to do with the matter.
He’s older than you assumed, Hrathen thought. He’s also had influence over Kae’s priests for a very long time.
Dilaf claimed that many of the original Derethi followers in Kae had originally come from his personal chapel in southern Arelon. How long had it been since he’d come to Kae? Fjon had been head arteth when Dilaf arrived, but Fjon’s leadership in the city had lasted a long time.
Dilaf had probably been in the city for years. He had probably been associating with the other priests—learning to influence them, gaining authority over them—that entire time. And, given Dilaf’s ardor for Shu-Dereth, he had undoubtedly chosen the most conservative and effective of Kae’s arteths to be his associates.
And those were exactly the men Hrathen had let remain in the city when he’d first arrived. He’d sent away the less devoted men, and they would have been the ones that would have been insulted or disturbed by Dilaf’s extreme ardor. Unwittingly, Hrathen had culled the chapel’s numbers in Dilaf’s favor.
Hrathen sat down at his desk, this new revelation disturbing him. No wonder he was having trouble finding a new head arteth. Those who remained knew Dilaf well; they were probably either afraid to take a position above him, or they had been bribed by him to step aside.
He can’t have that kind of influence over them all, Hrathen thought firmly. I’ll just have to keep looking. Eventually, one of the priests will take the position.
Still, he was worried about Dilaf’s startling effectiveness. The arteth held two firm grips over Hrathen. First, Dilaf still