Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [226]
Apparently realizing they weren’t going to go anywhere soon, the Dula Galladon shuffled over to one of the chairs and seated himself. Then he closed his eyes and appeared to fall asleep. He might be unstereotypically pessimistic, but he was still a Dula. It was said that his people were so relaxed that they could fall asleep in any position at any time.
Sarene eyed the large man. Galladon didn’t seem to like her. But, then, he was so determinedly grouchy that she couldn’t tell. He seemed a well of knowledge at times, but in other areas he was completely ignorant—and totally unconcerned by that fact. He seemed to take everything in stride, but he complained about it at the same time.
By the time Ashe came back, Sarene had returned her attention to the book on political cover-ups. The Seon had to make a throat-clearing sound before she even realized he was there. Spirit looked up as well, though the Dula continued snoring until his friend elbowed him in the stomach. Then all three sets of eyes turned to Ashe.
“Well?” Sarene asked.
“It is done, my lady,” Ashe informed them. “Telrii is king.”
CHAPTER 45
Hrathen stood in the moonlight atop the Elantris City wall, curiously studying the hole. One of the stairwell barricades was broken and scarred, the boards pulled free. The hole was strikingly similar to one that might have been made by rodents—Elantrian rodents, seeking to escape from their nest. This was one of the sections of the wall kept clean by the Guard, and some slime tracks from the stairwell gave ample proof that those below had been up the wall several times.
Hrathen strolled away from the stairwell. He was probably the only one who knew about the hole; Elantris was now watched by only two or three Guards, and they rarely—if ever—patrolled the wall walk. For now, he wouldn’t tell the Guards about the hole. It didn’t matter to him if the Elantrians snuck out of their city. They wouldn’t be able to go anywhere; their appearance was too distinctive. Besides, he didn’t want to bother the people with worries about Elantris; he wanted them to remain focused on their new king, and the allegiances he would soon declare.
He walked, Elantris to his right, Kae to his left. A small concentration of lights shone in the evening’s darkness—the royal palace, now Telrii’s home. The Arelish nobility, eager to show devotion to their new king, were in near unanimous attendance at his coronation party—each man vying to prove his loyalty. The pompous former duke was obviously enjoying the attention.
Hrathen continued to stroll in the calm night, feet clinking against the stones. Telrii’s coronation had occurred with expected flair. The former duke, now king, was an easy man to understand, and men who could be understood could be manipulated. Let him enjoy his diversion for the moment. On the morrow, the time would come for payment of debts.
Telrii would undoubtedly demand more money from Hrathen before he joined Shu-Dereth. Telrii would think himself clever, and would assume that the crown gave him even greater leverage with Fjorden. Hrathen, of course, would feign indignation at the cash demands, all the while understanding what Telrii never could. Power was not in wealth, but in control—money was worthless before a man who refused to be bought. The king would never understand that the wyrnings he demanded wouldn’t give him power, but would instead put him beneath the power of another. As he glutted himself on coins, Arelon would slip away from him.
Hrathen shook his head, feeling mildly guilty. He used Telrii because the king made himself such a wonderful tool. However, there would be no conversion in Telrii’s heart—no true acceptance of Jaddeth or His empire. Telrii’s promises would be as empty as the power of his throne. And yet, Hrathen would use him. It was