Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [230]
He pulled on her arm again, attempting to lead her toward the gates. She resisted, pulling against him with equal strength. “I’m not going.”
Raoden turned with surprise. “But you have to go—this is Elantris, Sarene. No one wants to be here.”
“I don’t care,” she insisted, voice defiantly firm. “I’m going to stay.”
“Arelon needs you.”
“Arelon will be better off without me. If I hadn’t interfered, Iadon would still be alive, and Telrii wouldn’t have the throne.”
Raoden fell still. He wanted her to stay—he longed for her to stay. But he would do whatever it took to get her out of Elantris. The city was death.
The gates were opening; the gyorn had recognized his prey.
Sarene regarded Raoden with wide eyes, her hand reaching up toward him. The splotches had nearly completely vanished now. She was beautiful.
“You think we can afford to feed you, Princess?” Raoden said, forcing harshness into his voice. “You assume we will waste food on a woman who is not one of us?
“That won’t work, Spirit,” Sarene shot back. “I can see the truth in your eyes.”
“Then believe this truth,” Raoden said. “Even with severe rationing, New Elantris only has enough food for a few more weeks. We raise crops, but it will be months before we can harvest them. During that time we will starve. All of us—the men the women and the children. We will starve unless someone on the outside can get us more supplies.”
She hesitated, then she was in his arms, pulling close against his chest. “Curse you,” she hissed. “Domi curse you.”
“Arelon does need you, Sarene,” he whispered back. “If what you say is right, and a Fjordell sympathizer is on the throne, there may not be much time left for Elantris. You know what the Derethi priests would do to us if they had their way. Things have gone very wrong in Arelon, Sarene, and you are the only one I trust to fix them.”
She looked into his eyes. “I will return.”
Men in yellow and brown churned around them, pulling the two apart. They shoved Raoden aside, and he fell back against the slick cobblestones as the figures pulled Sarene away. Raoden was left lying on his back, feeling the slime squish beneath him, looking up at a man in bloodred armor. The gyorn stood quietly for a moment, then turned and followed Sarene out of the city. The gates slammed shut behind him.
CHAPTER 47
The gates slammed shut. This time they didn’t lock Sarene in Elantris, but out of it. Emotions snapped at her soul like a pack of angry wolves, each one demanding her attention. Five days before, she had though her life ruined. She had wished, prayed, and begged for Domi to heal her. Now she found herself craving to return to her damnation, as long as Spirit was there.
Domi, however, had made the decision for her. Spirit was right: She could no more live in Elantris than he could exist outside of the city. The worlds, and the demands of their flesh, were far too different.
A hand fell on her shoulder. Shaking off her numbness, Sarene turned. There weren’t many men she had to crane her neck to look up at. Hrathen.
“Jaddeth has preserved you, Princess,” he said in a lightly accented voice.
Sarene shook his arm away. “I don’t know how you did this, priest, but I know one thing with absolute certainty. I owe your god nothing.”
“Your father thinks differently, Princess,” Hrathen said, his face hard.
“For a man whose religion claims to spread truth, priest, your lies are strikingly vulgar.”
Hrathen smiled thinly. “Lies? Why don’t you go and speak with him? In a way, it could be said that you gave us Teod. Convert the king, and often you convert the kingdom as well.”
“Impossible!” Sarene said, growing uncertain. Gyorns were usually far to wily to tell direct falsehoods.
“You fought with wisdom and cleverness,