Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [199]
“Is it good?” Sarene asked. Her mother was the daughter of a Teoish diplomat, and had spent most of her growing years in Jindo. As a result, she had picked up some very odd dietary preferences—ones she forced upon the entire palace and its staff.
“It’s horrible.”
“Pity,” Sarene said. “Now, where did I put that butter?”
Her father groaned.
“Father,” Sarene chided. “You know you need to lose weight.” While the king was nowhere as large—in either muscle or fat—as his brother Kiin, he was more portly than he was stocky.
“I don’t see why,” Eventeo said. “Did you know that in Duladel they consider fat people attractive? They don’t care about Jindoeese notions of health, and they’re perfectly happy. Besides, where has it been proven that butter makes you fat?”
“You now what the Jindos say, Father,” Sarene said. “If it burns, it isn’t healthy.”
Eventeo sighed. “I haven’t had a cup of wine in ten years.”
“I know, Father. I used to live with you, remember?”
“Yes, but she didn’t make you stay away from alcohol.”
“I’m not overweight,” Sarene pointed out. “Alcohol burns.”
“So does Hraggish weed soup,” Eventeo replied, his voice turning slightly impish. “At least, it does if you dry it out. I tried.”
Sarene laughed. “I doubt Mother responded very well to that little experiment.”
“She just gave me one of her looks—you know how she is.”
“Yes,” Sarene said, recalling her mother’s features. Sarene had spent far too much time on diplomatic missions in the last few years to suffer from homesickness now, but it would be nice to be back in Teod—especially considering the seemingly endless series of surprises and disasters that had filled the last few weeks.
“Well, ’Ene, I have to go hold court,” her father finally said. “I’m glad you occasionally take the time to call your poor old father—especially to let him know when you’ve overthrown an entire nation. Oh, one more thing. As soon as we found out about Iadon’s suicide, Seinalan commandeered one of my fastest ships and set sail for Arelon. He should be arriving within a few days.”
“Seinalan?” Sarene asked with surprise. “What part does the patriarch have in all this?”
“I don’t know—he wouldn’t tell me. But, I really have to go, ’Ene. I love you.”
“I love you too, Father.”
“I’ve never met the patriarch,” Roial confessed from his seat in Kiin’s dining room. “Is he much like Father Omin?”
“No,” Sarene said firmly. “Seinalan is a self-serving egotist with enough pride to make a Derethi gyorn look humble.”
“Princess!” Eondel said with indignation. “You’re talking about the father of our Church!”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like him,” Sarene said.
Eondel’s face whitened as he reached reflexively for the Aon Omi pendant around his neck.
Sarene scowled. “You don’t have to ward off evil, Eondel. I’m not going to reject Domi just because He put a fool in charge of His Church; fools need to have a chance to serve too.”
Eondel’s eyes turned down toward his hand; then he lowered it with an embarrassed look. Roial, however, was laughing quietly to himself.
“What?” Sarene demanded.
“It’s just that I was considering something, Sarene,” the old man said with a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone, male or female, that’s quite as opinionated as you are.”
“Then you’ve lived a sheltered life, my duke,” Sarene informed. “And where is Lukel, anyway?”
Kiin’s table wasn’t as comfortable as Roial’s study, but for some reason they all felt most at home in Kiin’s dining room. While most people added personal touches to their study or reception room, Kiin’s love was his food, and the dining room the place where he shared his talent. The room’s decorations—mementos from Kiin’s travels including everything from dried vegetables to a large, ornamental axe—were comfortingly familiar. There was never any discussion about it; they all just naturally came to this room when they met.
They had to wait a few more moments before Lukel finally decided to return. Eventually, they heard the door open and close, then her cousin’s amiable face popped in the