Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [196]
Despite searching, his people never found Shaor’s body.
Then, the fleece of their fallen goddess lying in the slime before them, the wildmen had bowed their faces to the ground in supplication. They now did exactly as Raoden said in all things. In turn, he had rewarded them with morsels of food, just as one would a favored pet.
It disturbed him, using men like beasts. He made other efforts to restore their rational minds, but even after just two days he knew that it was a futile hope. These men had surrendered their intellect—and, regardless of whether psychology or the Dor was to blame, it would never return.
They were remarkably well behaved—docile, even. The pain didn’t seem to affect them, and they performed any duty, no matter how menial or laborious. If Raoden told them to push on a building until it fell over, he would return days later to find them still standing against the same wall, their palms pressed against the belligerent stone. Yet, despite their apparent obedience, Raoden didn’t trust them. They had murdered Saolin; they had even killed their former master. They were calm only because their god currently demanded it.
“Kayana,” Galladon declared, joining him.
“There’s not much left, is there?” Karata agreed.
The Kayana was Galladon’s name for them. It meant the “Insane.”
“Poor souls,” Raoden whispered.
Galladon nodded. “You sent for us, sule?”
“Yes, I did. Come with me.”
_______
The increased manpower of the Kayana had given Mareshe and his workers the means to reconstruct some stone furniture, thereby conserving their already dwindling wood resources. Raoden’s new table inside the chapel was the same one that he had used to make Taan remember his stonecarving days. A large crack—patched with mortar—ran down the middle, but other than that it was remarkably intact, the carvings worn but distinct.
The table held several books. The recent restoration of New Elantris required Raoden’s leadership, making it difficult for him to sneak away to the hidden library, so he had brought out several volumes. The people were accustomed to seeing him with books, and hadn’t thought to question him—even though these tomes still had leather covers on them.
He studied AonDor with increasing urgency. The pain had grown. Sometimes, it struck with such ferocity that Raoden collapsed, struggling against the agony. It was still manageable, if only barely, but it was growing worse. It had been a month and a half since he entered Elantris, and he doubted he would see another month come and go.
“I don’t see why you insist on sharing every AonDor detail with us, sule,” Galladon said, sighing as Raoden approached an open tome. “I barely understand half of what you tell us.”
“Galladon, you must force yourself to remember these things,” Raoden said. “No matter what you claim, I know you have the intellect for it.”
“Perhaps,” Galladon admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. AonDor is your hobby, not mine.”
“Listen, my friend,” Raoden said, “I know AonDor holds the secret to our curse. In time, with study, we can find the clues we need. But,” he continued, holding up a finger, “if something should happen to me, then there has to be someone to continue my work.”
Galladon snorted. “You’re about as close to becoming a Hoed as I am to being a Fjordell.”
I hide it well. “That doesn’t matter,” Raoden said. “It is foolish not to have a backup. I’ll write these things down, but I want you two to hear what I have to say.”
Galladon sighed. “All right, sule, what have you discovered? Another modifier to increase the range of an Aon?”
Raoden smiled. “No, this is far more interesting. I know why Elantris is covered with slime.”
Karata and Galladon perked up. “Really?” Karata asked, looking down at the open book. “Does it explain that here?”
“No, it’s a combination of several things,” Raoden said. “The key element, however, is right here.” He pointed to an illustration.
“Aon Ashe?” Galladon asked.
“Correct,” Raoden said. “You know that Elantrian skin was so silvery that some people claimed it glowed.