Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [253]
Spirit—Raoden—hopped over the table, brushing past Lukel. He shoved the still blubbering Ahan out of his way and knelt next to Kiin—the only one who had thought to try treating Roial’s wound. Sarene watched dumbly from behind, her senses paralyzed. It was obvious that Kiin’s care would be nowhere near enough to save the duke. The sword had passed completely through the man’s body, delivering a painful wound that was certainly mortal.
“Raoden!” Duke Roial gasped. “You have returned to us!”
“Be still, Roial,” Raoden said, stabbing the air with his finger. Light burst from its tip as he began to draw.
“I should have known it was you,” the duke rambled. “All of that silly talk about trusting the people. Can you believe I actually started to agree with you? I should have sent those assassins to do their work the moment they arrived.”
“You are too good a man for that, Roial,” Spirit said, his voice taut with emotion.
Roial’s eyes focused, perceiving for the first time the Aon that Spirit was drawing above him. He breathed out in awe. “Have you returned the beautiful city as well?”
Spirit didn’t respond, instead concentrating on his Aon. He drew differently from the way he had before, his fingers moving more dexterously and quickly. He finished the Aon with a small line near the bottom. It began to glow warmly, bathing Roial in its light. As Sarene watched, the edges of Roial’s wound seemed to pull together slightly. A scratch on Roial’s face disappeared, and several of the liver spots on his scalp faded.
Then the light fell away, the wound still belching blood with each futile pump of the duke’s dying heart.
Spirit cursed. “It’s too weak,” he said, desperately beginning another Aon. “And I haven’t studied the healing modifiers! I don’t know how to target just one part of the body.”
Roial reached up with a quivering arm and grabbed Spirit’s hand. The partially completed Aon faded away as the duke’s movement caused Spirit to make a mistake. Spirit did not start again, bowing his head as if weeping.
“Do not cry, my boy,” Roial said. “Your return is blessed. You cannot save this tired old body, but you can save the kingdom. I will die in peace, knowing you are here to protect it.”
Spirit cupped the old man’s face in his hands. “You did a wonderful job with me, Roial,” he whispered, and Sarene felt intensely that she was intruding. “Without you to watch over me, I would have turned out like my father.”
“No, boy,” Roial said. “You were more like your mother from the start. Domi bless you.”
Sarene turned away then as the duke’s death turned gruesome, his body spasming and blood coming to his lips. When she turned back, blinking the tears from her eyes, Raoden was still kneeling over the old man’s corpse. Finally he took a deep breath and stood, turning to regard the rest of them with sad—but firm—eyes. Beside her, Sarene felt Shuden, Eondel, and Lukel fall to their knees, bowing their heads reverently.
“My king,” Eondel said, speaking for all of them.
“My … husband,” Sarene realized with shock.
CHAPTER 54
“He did what?” Hrathen asked with amazement.
The priest, startled by Hrathen’s sudden reaction, stuttered as he repeated the message. Hrathen cut the man off halfway through.
The Duke of Ial Plantation, dead? By Telrii’s command? What kind of random move was this? Hrathen could tell from the messenger’s face that there was more, so he motioned for the man to continue. Soon Hrathen realized that the execution hadn’t been random at all—that in fact it had been completely logical. Hrathen couldn’t believe Telrii’s fortune. Roial was said to be a crafty man; catching the duke in the act of treason had been amazingly propitious.
What the messenger related next, however, was even more shocking. The rumors said that Prince Raoden had returned from the grave.
Hrathen sat, dumbfounded, behind his desk. A tapestry fluttered on the wall as the messenger closed the door on his way out.