Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [179]
The moment of insecurity disappeared as she looked back at the king and saw the satisfaction in his eyes. He would massacre the entire group of starving, helpless people in Elantris. He would kill Spirit. All because of her.
“You listen to me, Iadon,” Sarene said, her voice sharp and cold. She held the king’s eyes, drawing upon her nearly six-foot height to tower over the shorter man. “You will withdraw your soldiers from Elantris. You will leave those people alone. Otherwise, I will begin to tell people what I know about you.”
Iadon snorted.
“Defiance, Iadon?” she asked. “I think you’ll feel differently when everyone knows the truth. You know they already think you a fool. They pretend to obey you, but you know—you know in that whispering part of your heart that they mock you with their obedience. You think they didn’t hear about your lost ships? You think they weren’t laughing to themselves at how their king would soon be as poor as a baron? Oh they knew. How will you face them, Iadon, when they learn how you really survived? When I show them how I rescued your income, how I gave you the contracts in Teod, how I saved your crown.”
As she spoke, she punctuated each remark by stabbing her finger at his chest. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow as he began to crack beneath her unyielding gaze.
“You are a fool, Iadon,” she hissed. “I know it, your nobles know it, and the world knows it. You have taken a great nation and squashed it in your greedy hands. You have enslaved the people and you have defiled Arelon’s honor. And, despite it all, your country grows poorer. Even you, the king, are so destitute that only a gift from Teod lets you keep your crown.”
Iadon shied away unnerved. The king seemed to shrink, his arrogant act withering before her anger.
“How will it look, Iadon?” she whispered. “How will it feel to have the entire court know you are indebted to a woman? A foolish girl at that? You would be revealed. Everyone would know what you are. Nothing more than an insecure, trivial, incapable invalid.”
Iadon plopped down into his seat. Sarene handed him a pen.
“Repeal it,” she demanded.
His fingers shook as he scribbled a countermand at the bottom of the page, then stamped it with his personal seal.
Sarene snatched up the paper, then stalked from the room. “Ashe, stop those soldiers! Tell them new orders are coming.”
“Yes, my lady,” the Seon replied, shooting down the corridor toward a window, moving more quickly than even a galloping horse.
“You!” Sarene ordered, slapping the rolled-up sheet of paper against a guard’s breastplate. “Take this to Elantris.”
The man accepted the paper uncertainly.
“Run!” Sarene ordered.
He did.
Sarene folded her arms, watching the man dash down the hallway. Then she turned to regard the second guard. He began to twitch nervously beneath her gaze.
“Um, I’ll make sure he gets there,” the man stuttered, then took off behind his companion.
Sarene stood for a moment, then turned back to the king’s study, pulling the doors closed. She was left with the sight of Iadon, slumped in his chair, elbows on the desktop and head cradled in his hands. The king was sobbing quietly to himself.
By the time Sarene reached Elantris, the new orders had long since arrived. Iadon’s guard stood uncertainly before the gates. She told them to go home, but their captain refused, claiming that he had received orders not to attack, but he didn’t have any orders to return. A short time later a courier arrived, delivering commands to do just that. The captain shot her an irritable look, then ordered his men back to the palace.
Sarene stayed a little longer, making the strenuous climb to the top of the wall to gaze down at the courtyard. Her food cart stood abandoned in the center of the square, overturned with broken boxes running in a jagged line before it. There were bodies, too—fallen members of the attacking party, their corpses rotting in the muck.
Sarene froze, her muscles stiffening. One