Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [33]
“I am … eager to learn, Your Grace.”
“Good,” Hrathen said, looking across Kae at the enormous wall of Elantris. It rose above the city like a mountain. “Take me up there. I wish to view the fallen lords of Arelon.”
When Hrathen had first arrived at the Outer City of Kae, he had noted how indefensible it was. Now, standing atop the wall of Elantris, Hrathen could see that he had actually underestimated how pathetic Kae’s fortifications were. Beautiful, terraced steps ran up the outside of Elantris’s wall, providing outside access to the top. They were firm, stone constructions; it would be impossible to destroy them in an emergency. If Kae’s inhabitants retreated into Elantris, they would be trapped, not protected.
There were no archers. The Elantris City Guard members carried large, unwieldy spears that looked like they were far too heavy to be thrown. They held themselves with a proud air, wearing unarmored yellow-and-brown uniforms, and they obviously considered themselves far above the regular city militia. From what Hrathen had heard, however, the Guard wasn’t even really necessary to keep the Elantrians in. The creatures rarely tried to escape, and the city wall was far too large for the Guard to patrol extensively. The force was more of a public-relations operation than a true military; the people of Kae felt much more comfortable living beside Elantris when they knew a troop of soldiers watched the city. However, Hrathen suspected that in a war, the Guard members would be hard-pressed to defend themselves, let alone protect Kae’s population.
Arelon was a ripe jewel waiting to be pillaged. Hrathen had heard of the days of chaos directly following Elantris’s fall, and of the incalculable treasures that had been plundered from the magnificent city. Those valuables were now concentrated in Kae, where the new nobility lived practically unguarded. He had also heard that, despite the thievery, a large percentage of Elantris’s wealth—pieces of art too large to move easily, or smaller items that hadn’t been plundered before Iadon began enforcing the city’s isolation—remained locked within Elantris’s forbidden walls.
Only superstition and inaccessibility kept Elantris and Kae from being raped by invaders. The smaller thieving bands were still too frightened of Elantris’s reputation. The larger bands were either under Fjordell control—and therefore wouldn’t attack unless instructed to do so—or had been bribed to stay away by Kae’s nobles. Both situations were extremely temporary in nature.
And that was the basic reason Hrathen felt justified in taking extreme action to bring Arelon under Fjorden control—and protection. The nation was an egg balanced on the peak of a mountain, just waiting for the first breeze to plunge it to the hard ground below. If Fjorden didn’t conquer Arelon soon, then the kingdom would certainly collapse beneath the weight of a dozen different problems. Beyond inept leadership, Arelon suffered from an overtaxed working class, religious uncertainty, and dwindling resources. All of these factors competed to deliver the final blow.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of harsh breathing behind him. Dilaf stood on the other side of the wall walk, looking out over Elantris. His eyes were wide, like those of a man who had been punched in the stomach, and his teeth were clenched. Hrathen half expected him to start frothing at the mouth.
“I hate them,” Dilaf whispered in a harsh, almost unintelligible voice.
Hrathen crossed the wall walk to stand beside Dilaf. Since the wall had not been constructed for military purposes, there were no battlements, but both sides had raised parapets for safety. Hrathen rested against one of these, looking out to study Elantris.
There wasn’t much to see; he’d been in slums more promising than Elantris. The buildings were so decayed that it was a miracle any of them still had roofs, and the stench was