Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [232]
Kiin entered with a pan of semi-boiling meat and vegetables in a red sauce. “It’s Jindoeese RaiDomo Mai. The name means ‘meat with fiery skin.’ You’re fortunate I had the proper ingredients, the Jindo RaiDel pepper had a poor crop last season, and …” He trailed off as Sarene began heaping meat onto her plate. “You don’t care, do you?” he asked with a sigh. “I could have boiled it in dishwater, and it would be the same to you.”
“I understand, Uncle,” Sarene said. “You suffer for your art.”
Kiin sat down, looking at the empty dishes scattered across the table. “Well, you certainly inherited the family appetite.”
“She’s a big girl,” Lukel said. “It takes a lot of fuel to keep that body going.”
Sarene shot him a look between bites.
“Is she slowing down at all?” Kiin asked. “I’m running out of supplies.”
“Actually,” Sarene said, “I think this should about do it. You don’t understand what it was like in there, gentlemen. I did actually enjoy myself, but there wasn’t a lot of food to be had.”
“I’m surprised there was any at all,” Lukel said. “Elantrians like to eat.”
“But they don’t actually need to,” Kiin said, “so they can afford to stockpile.”
Sarene kept eating, not looking up at her uncle and cousin. Her mind, however, paused. How did they know so much about Elantrians?
“Whatever the conditions, Princess,” Roial said, “we thank Domi for your safe return.”
“It isn’t as miraculous as it seems, Roial,” Sarene said. “Did anyone count how many days Hrathen was in Elantris?”
“Four or five,” Lukel said after a moment’s thought.
“I’d be willing to bet it was five days—exactly the same amount of time it took me to get thrown in and then be ‘healed.’”
Roial nodded. “The gyorn had something to do with this. Have you spoken with your father yet?”
Sarene felt her stomach turn. “No. I’m … going to do that soon.”
There was a knock at the door, and a few moments later Eondel entered, Shuden in tow. The young Jindo had been out riding with Torena.
As he entered, the baron’s face broke into an uncharacteristically wide smile. “We should have known you’d be back, Sarene. If anyone could be sent to hell and return untouched, it would be you.”
“Not exactly untouched,” Sarene said raising her hand to feel her bald scalp. “Did you find anything?”
“Here, my lady,” Eondel said, holding out a short blond wig. “It was the best I could find—most of the others felt so thick I would have sworn they were made of horse hair.”
Sarene looked over the wig with a critical eye—it would barely come down to her shoulders. But, it was better than baldness. In her estimation, her hair was the greatest loss incurred by her exile. It was going to take years to grow it to a decent length again.
“Too bad no one gathered up my own hair,” she said, tucking the wig away until she could find time to put it on properly.
“We didn’t exactly anticipate your return, Cousin,” Lukel said, picking at the last few pieces of meat in the pan. “It was probably still attached to your veil when we burned it.”
“Burned it?”
“Arelish custom, ’Ene,” Kiin explained. “When someone is thrown into Elantris, we burn their possessions.”
“Everything?” Sarene asked weakly.
“I’m afraid so,” Kiin said with embarrassment.
Sarene closed her eyes, exhaling. “Never mind,” she said, regarding them. “Where’s Ahan?”
“At Telrii’s palace,” Roial said.
Sarene frowned. “What’s he doing there?”
Kiin shrugged. “We figured we should send someone, at least, to make an overture to the new king. We’re going to have to work with him, so we might as well see what kind of cooperation we can expect.”
Sarene eyed her companions. Despite their obvious joy at seeing her, she sensed something in their expressions. Defeat. They had worked so hard to keep Telrii off the throne, and they had failed. Inside, Sarene barely acknowledged that she felt many of the same emotions. She felt sick. She couldn’t decide what she wanted; everything was so confused.