Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [221]
“Sule, the only time in the last three days I’ve seen you two apart is when one of you had to go to the privy. She’d be here now if I hadn’t snatched you when no one was looking.”
“Well,” Raoden said defensively, “she is my wife.”
“And do you ever intend to inform her of that fact?”
“Maybe,” Raoden said lightly. “I wouldn’t want her to feel any obligation.”
“No, of course not.”
“Galladon, my friend,” Raoden said, completely unruffled by the Dula’s comments, “your people would be mortified to hear how unromantic you are.” Duladen was a notorious hotbed of melodramatic romances and forbidden love.
Galladon snorted his response, showing what he thought of the average Dula’s romantic inclinations. He turned, scanning the city of Kae. “So, sule, we’re up here. What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” Raoden confessed. “You’re the one who forced me to come.”
“Yes, but it was your idea to search for a stairwell in the first place.”
Raoden nodded, remembering back to their short conversation three days ago. Has it really been that long? he wondered. He’d barely noticed. Perhaps he had been spending a little too much time with Sarene. However, he didn’t feel a bit guilty.
“There,” Galladon said, squinting and pointing at the city.
“What?” Raoden said, following the Dula’s gesture.
“I see a flag,” Galladon said. “Our missing Guards.”
Raoden could barely pick out a hint of red in the distance—a banner. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Galladon said.
Raoden squinted, recognizing the building over which the banner flew. “That’s Duke Telrii’s mansion. What could the Elantris City Guard possibly have to do with him?”
“Perhaps he’s under arrest,” Galladon said.
“No,” Raoden said. “The Guard isn’t a policing force.”
“Why would they leave the walls, then?” Galladon asked.
Raoden shook his head. “I’m not sure. Something, however, is very wrong.”
Raoden and Galladon retreated back down the stairwell, deep in thought.
There was one way to find out what was going on with the Guard. Sarene was the only Elantrian to be thrown into the city since the disappearance of the Guard. Only she could explain the current political climate of the city.
Sarene, however, still resisted talking about the outside. Something about the last few days before her exile had been extremely painful. Sensing her hurt, Raoden had avoided prying; he didn’t want to risk alienating her. The truth was, he really did enjoy his time with Sarene. Her wry wit made him smile, her intelligence intrigued him, and her personality encouraged him. After ten years of dealing with women whose only apparent thought was how good they looked in their dress—a state of forced obtuseness led by his own weak-willed stepmother—Raoden was ready for a woman who wouldn’t cower at the first sign of conflict. A woman such as he remembered his mother being, before she died.
However, that same unyielding personality was the very thing that had kept him from learning about the outside. No amount of subtle persuasion—or even direct manipulation—could pry a single unwilling fact out of Sarene’s mouth. He couldn’t afford to be delicate any longer, however. The Guard’s strange actions were troubling—any shift in power could be extremely dangerous to Elantris.
They reached the bottom of the stairwell and moved on toward the center of the city. The walk was a relatively long one, but it passed quickly as Raoden considered what they had seen. Despite the fall of Elantris, Arelon had spent the last ten years in relative peace—at least, on a national level. With an ally to the south, Teod’s armada patrolling the northern ocean, and the mountains to their east, even a weakened Arelon had faced little external danger. Internally, Iadon had kept a strong grip on military might, encouraging the nobility toward political squabbling as opposed to militaristic posings.
Raoden knew that peace couldn’t last long, even if his father refused to see that fact. Raoden’s decision to marry Sarene had been influenced greatly by the chance to enter a formal treaty