Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [192]
The moonlight lasted only as far as the first turnoff. Sarene stood for a moment in the suffocating, dank blackness, realizing that even she would never have been foolish enough to enter the directionless maze without guidance. Fortunately, her bluff had convinced Ashe—though she wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended by the level of arrogant idiocy of which he thought her capable.
Ashe increased his light slightly. The sewer was a hollow tube, a remnant of the days when Elantris’s magic provided running water for every house in Kae. Now the sewers were used as a receptacle for trash and excrement. They were flushed out by a periodic diversion of the Aredel—something which obviously hadn’t been done in a while, for the wet muck at the bottom of the corridor came up to her ankles. She didn’t want to consider what that sludge must be composed of, but the pungent stink was an overpowering clue.
All of the tunnels looked the same to Sarene. One thing reassured her: the Seon sense of direction. It was impossible to get lost when accompanied by Ashe. The creatures always knew where they were, and could point the exact direction to any place they had ever been.
Ashe led the way, floating close to the muck’s surface. “My lady, may I be allowed to know just how you knew the king would sneak away from Roial’s party?”
“Surely you can figure it out, Ashe,” she chided.
“Let me assure you, my lady, I have tried.”
“Well, what day of the week is it?”
“MaeDal?” the Seon replied, leading her around a corner.
“Right. And what happens every week on MaeDal?”
Ashe didn’t answer immediately. “Your father plays ShinDa with Lord Eoden?” he asked, his voice laced with uncharacteristic frustration. The night’s activities—especially her belligerence—were wearing away even Ashe’s formidable patience.
“No,” Sarene said. “Every week on MaeDal at eleven o’clock I hear scrapings in the passage that runs through my wall—the one that leads to the king’s rooms.”
The Seon made a slight “ah” of understanding.
“I heard noises in the passage some other nights as well,” Sarene explained. “But MaeDal was the only consistent day.”
“So you had Roial throw a party tonight, expecting that the king would keep to his schedule,” the Seon said.
“Right,” Sarene said, trying not to slip in the muck. “And I had to make it a late party so that people would stay at least until midnight—the eclipse provided a convenient excuse. The king had to come to the party; his pride wouldn’t let him stay away. However, his weekly appointment must be important, for he risked leaving early to attend it.”
“My lady, I don’t like this,” Ashe said. “What good could the king be doing in the sewers at midnight?”
“That is exactly what I intend to find out,” Sarene said, brushing away a spiderweb. One thought drove her through muck and darkness—a possibility she was barely willing to acknowledge. Perhaps Prince Raoden lived. Maybe Iadon hadn’t confined him to the dungeons, but in the sewers. Sarene might not be a widow after all.
A noise came from ahead. “Turn down your light, Ashe,” she said. “I think I hear voices.”
He did so, becoming nearly invisible. There was an intersection just ahead, and torchlight flickered from the rightmost tunnel. Sarene approached the corner slowly, intending to peek around it. Unfortunately, she hadn’t noticed that the floor declined slightly just before the intersection, and her feet slipped. She waved desperate arms, barely stabilizing herself as she slid a few feet down the incline and came to a halt at the bottom.
The motion placed her directly in the middle of the intersection. Sarene looked up slowly.
King Iadon stared back, looking as stunned as she felt.
“Merciful Domi,” Sarene whispered. The king stood facing her behind an altar, a red-streaked knife raised in his hand. He was completely naked except for the blood smearing his chest. The remains of an eviscerated young woman lay tied to the altar, her torso sliced open from neck to crotch.
The knife dropped from Iadon’s hand, hitting the muck below with a muffled plop. Only then did