Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [218]
Sarene smiled, picturing the solemn Seon—essentially, a pagan creation—arguing with the head of the Korathi religion. “You didn’t arrive too late to see me get thrown into the city, Ashe. You arrived too early. Apparently, they only throw people in before a certain time of day, and the marriage happened quite late. I spent the night in the chapel, and they brought me to Elantris this afternoon.”
“Ah,” the Seon said, bobbing with comprehension.
“In the future you can probably find me here, in the clean section of the city.”
“This is an interesting place,” Ashe said. “I had never been here before—it is well masked from the outside. Why is this area different from the others?”
“You’ll see,” she said. “Come back tomorrow.”
“Come back, my lady?” Ashe asked indignantly. “I don’t intend to leave you.”
“Just briefly, my friend,” Sarene said. “I need news from Kae, and you need to let the others know I am all right.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Sarene paused for a moment. Spirit had gone through great efforts to make sure no one on the outside knew of New Elantris; she couldn’t betray his secret so offhandedly, even if she did trust the people Ashe would tell. “Tell them you found me, but don’t tell them any of what you see in here.”
“Yes, my lady,” Ashe said, his voice confused. “Just a moment, my lady. Your father wishes to speak with you.” The Seon began to pulse, then his light melted, dripping and reforming into Eventeo’s large oval head.
“’Ene?” Eventeo asked with frantic concern.
“I’m here, Father.”
“Oh, thank Domi!” he said. “Sarene, are you unharmed?”
“I’m fine, Father,” she assured him, strength returning. She suddenly knew that she could do anything and go anywhere as long as she had the promise of Eventeo’s voice.
“Curse that Seinalan! He didn’t even try to let you free. If I weren’t so devout, I’d behead him without a second thought.”
“We must be fair, Father,” Sarene said. “If a peasant’s daughter can be cast into Elantris, then a king’s daughter shouldn’t be exempt.”
“If my reports are true, then no one should be thrown into that pit.”
“It’s not as bad as you think, Father,” Sarene said. “I can’t explain, but things are more hopeful than anticipated.”
“Hopeful or not, I’m getting you out of there.”
“Father, no!” Sarene said. “If you bring soldiers to Arelon you’ll not only leave Teod undefended, but you’ll alienate our only ally!”
“It won’t be our ally for long, if my spy’s predictions are accurate,” Eventeo said. “Duke Telrii is waiting a few days to consolidate power, but everyone knows he’ll soon take the throne—and he is on very friendly terms with that Gyorn Hrathen. You tried, ’Ene, but Arelon is lost. I’m going to come get you—I won’t really need all that many men—and then I’m going to fall back and prepare for an invasion. No matter how many men Wyrn raises, he’ll never get them past our armada. Teod has the finest ships on the sea.”
“Father, you might have given up on Arelon, but I can’t.”
“Sarene,” Eventeo said warningly, “do not start that again. You are no more Arelish than I—”
“I mean it, Father,” Sarene said firmly. “I will not leave Arelon.”
“Idos Domi, Sarene, this is lunacy! I am your father and your king. I am going to bring you back, whether you want to come or not.”
Sarene calmed herself; force would never work with Eventeo. “Father,” she said, letting love and respect sound in her voice, “you taught me to be bold. You made me into something stronger than the ordinary. At times I cursed you, but mostly I blessed your encouragement.