Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [246]
Getting the clothing had been a little difficult—requiring Raoden, in another illusion, to go purchase it from the Arelene Market. Since his official arrival, however, he’d been able to get some better-tailored outfits. He thought he played a fairly good Dula, though not everyone was convinced.
“I think Sarene’s suspicious,” Raoden said, finishing the Aon and watching it spin around him and mold to his face.
“She’s a bit more skeptical than most.”
“True,” Raoden said. He intended to tell her who he was as soon as possible, but she had resisted any attempts by “Kaloo” to get her alone; she’d even refused the letter he’d sent, returning it unopened.
Fortunately, things were going better with the rest of the nobility. Since Raoden had left Elantris two days before, entrusting New Elantris to Karata’s care, he had managed to wiggle his way into Arelish high society with an ease that surprised even him. The nobles were too busy worrying about Telrii’s rule to question Kaloo’s background. In fact, they had latched on to him with startling vigor. Apparently, the sense of free-willed silliness he brought to gatherings gave the nobles a chance to laugh and forget the chaos of the last few weeks. So he soon became a necessary guest at any function.
Of course, the true test was going to be getting himself into Roial and Sarene’s secret meetings. If he was ever going to do any good for Arelon, he needed to be admitted into that special group. They were the ones who were working to determine the fate of the country. Galladon was skeptical about Raoden’s chances—of course, Galladon was skeptical about everything. Raoden smiled to himself; he was the one who had actually started the meetings. It seemed ironic that he should now be forced to work to regain admittance.
Kaloo’s face once again masking his own, Raoden pulled on his green gloves—articles that held the illusion that made his arms seem non-Elantrian—then spun and twirled for Galladon. “And the magnificent Kaloo returns.”
“Please, sule, not in private. I come close enough to strangling you in public.”
Raoden chuckled. “Ah, what a life. Loved by all women, envied by every man.”
Galladon snorted. “Loved by all of the women but one, you mean.”
“Well, she did invite me to spar with her any time I wanted,” Raoden said, smiling as he walked over to pull open the drapes.
“Even if it was just to get another chance to impale you,” Galladon said. “You should be glad she hit you on the face, where the illusion covered the wound. If she’d stabbed through your clothing, it would have been very difficult to explain why your cut didn’t bleed. Kolo?”
Raoden slid open the balcony door, walking out to look over Roial’s gardens. He sighed as Galladon joined him. “Tell me this. Why is it that every time I meet her, Sarene is determined to hate me?”
“Must be love,” Galladon said.
Raoden laughed wryly. “Well, at least this time it’s Kaloo she hates, rather than the real me. I suppose I can forgive her for that—I’ve almost gotten to the point where I hate him too.”
A knock came at the door, drawing their attention. Galladon looked at him and he nodded. Their costumes and faces were complete. Galladon, playing the part of a servant, walked over and unlocked the door. Roial stood outside.
“My lord,” Raoden said, approaching with outreached arms and a broad smile. “I trust your day has been as fine as my own!”
“It has, Citizen Kaloo,” Roial said. “May I come in?”
“Certainly, certainly,” Raoden said. “It is, after all, your house. We are so unspeakably indebted to your kindness that I know I shall never manage to repay you.”
“Nonsense, citizen,” Roial said. “Though, speaking of payments, you will be pleased to know that I made a good trade on those lamp mounts you gave me. I deposited your credit in an account at my bank—it should be enough to see that you live comfortably for several years at least.”
“Excellent!” Raoden