Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [256]
Sarene chuckled softly. “When Kiin first introduced Roial to me, he said he wasn’t sure if the duke helped us because he loved Arelon, or because he was just bored.”
“Many people took Roial’s craftiness as a sign of deceitfulness,” Raoden said. “They were wrong; Roial was clever, and he enjoyed intrigue, but he was a patriot. He taught me to believe in Arelon, even after its many stumbles.”
“He was like a wily old grandfather,” Sarene said. “And he almost became my husband.”
“I still can’t believe that,” Raoden said. “I loved Roial … but to imagine him married? To you?”
Sarene laughed. “I don’t think we believed it either. Of course, that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have gone through with it.”
Raoden sighed, rubbing her shoulder. “If only I had known what capable hands I was leaving Arelon in. It would have saved me a great deal of worry.”
“And New Elantris?” Sarene asked. “Is Karata watching it?”
“New Elantris watches itself without much trouble,” Raoden said. “But, I did send Galladon back this morning with instructions to begin teaching the people AonDor. If we fail here, I don’t want to leave Elantris unable to protect itself.”
“There probably isn’t much time left.”
“Time enough to make sure they learn an Aon or two,” Raoden said. “They deserve to know the secret to their power.”
Sarene smiled. “I always knew you would find the answer. Domi doesn’t let your kind of dedication go wasted.”
Raoden smiled. The night before, she had made him draw several dozen Aons to prove that they actually worked. Of course, they hadn’t been enough to save Roial.
A rock of guilt burned in Raoden’s chest. If he had known the proper modifiers, he might have been able to save Roial. A gut wound took a long time to kill a man; Raoden could have healed each organ separately, then sealed the skin. Instead, he had been able only to draw a general Aon that affected Roial’s entire body. The Aon’s power, already weak, had been diluted so much by the broad target that it did no good.
Raoden had stayed up late memorizing modifiers. AonDor healing was a complex, difficult art, but he was determined to make certain no one else died because of his inability. It would take months of memorizing, but he would learn the modifier for every organ, muscle, and bone.
Sarene turned back to her contemplation of the city. She retained a strong grip on Raoden’s waist—Sarene did not like heights, especially if she didn’t have something to hold on to. Looking over at the top of her head, Raoden suddenly remembered something from the night’s studies.
Reaching out, he pulled off her wig. It resisted as the glue held, then fell away, revealing the stubble underneath. Sarene turned with questioning, annoyed eyes, but Raoden was already drawing.
It wasn’t a complex Aon; it required him only to stipulate a target, how the target was to be affected, and a length of time. When he finished, her hair began to grow. It went lethargically, sliding out of her head like a breath slowly exhaled. In a few minutes, however, it was finished—her long golden hair once again reaching to the middle of her back.
Sarene ran disbelieving fingers through the hair. Then she looked up at Raoden with teary eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, pulling him close. “You have no idea what that means.”
After a moment, she pulled back, staring at him with intent, silvery gray eyes. “Show yourself to me.”
“My face?” Raoden asked.
Sarene nodded.
“You’ve seen it before,” he said hesitantly.
“I know, but I’m getting too used to this one. I want to see the real you.”
The determination in her eyes stopped him from arguing further. With a sigh, he reached up, tapping the collar of his undershirt with his index finger. To him, nothing changed, but he could feel Sarene stiffen as the illusion fell away. He felt suddenly ashamed, and hurriedly began to draw the Aon again, but she stopped him.
“It isn’t as horrid as you think, Raoden,” she said, running her fingers across his face. “They say your bodies are like corpses, but that isn’t true. Your skin may be