Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [214]
Sarene nodded thankfully, accepting the scarf and tying it around her scalp. Spirit waited for her outside, wearing a pair of red trousers and a yellow shirt. He smiled as she approached.
“I feel like an insane rainbow,” Sarene confessed, looking down at the menagerie of colors.
Spirit laughed, holding out his hand and leading her deeper into the city. Unconsciously, she found herself judging his height. He’s tall enough for me, she thought almost offhandedly, if only barely. Then, realizing what she was doing, she rolled her eyes. The entire world was toppling around her, and all she could do was size up the man walking next to her.
“… get used to the idea that we all look like secabirds in the spring,” he was saying. “The colors don’t bother you all that much once you wear them for a while. Actually, after the dull monotones of old Elantris, I find them quite refreshing.”
As they walked, Spirit explained New Elantris to her. It wasn’t very large, perhaps fifty buildings in all, but its compact nature made it feel more unified. Though there couldn’t have been many people in the town—five or six hundred at most—there always seemed to be motion around her. Men worked on walls or roofs, women sewed or cleaned—even children ran in the streets. It had never occurred to her that the Shaod would take children as well as adults.
Everyone greeted Spirit as he passed, calling out with welcoming smiles. There was true acceptance in their voices, displaying a level of loving respect Sarene had rarely seen given to a leader; even her father, who was generally well liked, had his dissenters. Of course, it was easier with such a small population, but she was still impressed.
At one point they walked by a man of indecipherable age—it was hard to put years with faces in Elantris—sitting on a stone block. He was short with a large belly, and he didn’t greet them. His inattention, however, was not a sign of incivility—he was just focused on the small object in his hand. Several children stood around the man, watching his bent-over work with eager eyes. As Sarene and Spirit passed, the man held the object out to one of the children; it was a beautifully carved stone horse. The girl clapped ecstatically, accepting the piece with exuberant fingers. The children ran off as the sculptor reached down to select another rock from the ground. He began to scrape at the stone with a short tool; as Sarene peered closely at his fingers, she realized what it was.
“One of my nails!” she said. “He’s using one of the bent nails I sent you.”
“Hmm?” Spirit asked. “Oh, yes. I have to tell you, Sarene, we had quite a time figuring out what to do with that particular box. It would have taken far too much fuel to melt them all down, even assuming we had the tools for smelting. Those nails were one of your more clever adaptations.”
Sarene flushed. These people were fighting to survive in a city deprived of resources, and she had been so petty as to send them bent nails. “I’m sorry. I was afraid you would make weapons out of the steel.”
“You were right to be wary,” Spirit said. “I did, after all, betray you in the end.”
“I’m sure you had a good reason,” she said quickly.
“I did,” he said with a nod. “But that didn’t matter much at the time, did it? You were right about me. I was—am—a tyrant. I kept food back from a part of the population, I broke our agreement, and I caused the deaths of some fine men.”
Sarene shook her head, her voice growing firm. “You are not a tyrant. This community proves that—the people love you, and there cannot be tyranny where there is love.”
He half smiled, his eyes unconvinced. Then, however, he regarded her with an unreadable expression. “Well, I suppose the time during your Trial wasn’t a complete loss. I gained something very important during those weeks.”
“The supplies?” Sarene asked.
“That too.”
Sarene paused, holding his eyes. Then she looked back at the sculptor. “Who is he?”
“His name is Taan,” Spirit said. “Though you might know of him by the name Aanden.”
“The gang leader?” Sarene asked with surprise.