Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [49]
“Why what?” Hrathen demanded.
“Why are animals beneath humans in Mr. Jaddeth’s eyes?” she asked.
The gyorn gritted his teeth at her use of the term “Mr. Jaddeth.” “Because, unlike men, they can do nothing but follow their own lusts.”
The standard follow-up question to such a statement would have been “But men follow their lusts as well,” which would have given Hrathen an opportunity to explain the difference between a man of God and a carnal, sinful man. Sarene didn’t oblige.
“But I heard that Mr. Jaddeth rewarded arrogance,” Sarene said with confusion.
The gyorn’s eyes grew suspicious. The question was just a bit too well placed to have come from one as simple as Sarene was pretending to be. He knew, or at least suspected, that she was toying with him. However, he still had to answer the question—if not for her, then for the rest of the crowd.
“Lord Jaddeth rewards ambition, not arrogance,” he said carefully.
“I don’t understand,” Sarene said. “Isn’t ambition serving our own lusts? Why does Mr. Jaddeth reward that?”
Hrathen was losing his audience, and he knew it. Sarene’s question was a century-old theological argument against Shu-Dereth, but the crowd knew nothing of ancient disputes or scholarly refutations. All they knew was that someone was asking questions Hrathen couldn’t answer quickly enough, or interestingly enough, to hold their attention.
“Arrogance is different from carnality,” Hrathen declared in a snappish voice, making use of his commanding position to take control of the conversation. “People’s service in Jaddeth’s empire is quickly rewarded both here and in the afterlife.”
It was a masterful attempt: he managed not only to switch the topic, but to draw the crowd’s attention to another idea. Everyone found rewards fascinating. Unfortunately for him, Sarene wasn’t done yet.
“So if we serve Jaddeth, our lusts are fulfilled?”
“No one serves Jaddeth but Wyrn,” Hrathen said offhandedly as he considered how to best answer her objections.
Sarene smiled; she had been hoping he would make that mistake. It was a basic tenet of Shu-Dereth that only one man could serve Jaddeth directly; the religion was very regimented, and its structure was reminiscent of the feudal government that had once ruled in Fjorden. One served those above him, who served those above him, and so on until it reached Wyrn, who served Jaddeth directly. Everyone served Jaddeth’s empire, but only one man was holy enough to serve God directly. There was much confusion about the distinction, and it was common for the Derethi priesthood to correct it as Hrathen just had.
Unfortunately, he had also just given Sarene another opportunity.
“No one can serve Jaddeth?” she asked with confusion. “Not even you?”
It was a silly argument—a misinterpretation of Hrathen’s point, not a true attack on Shu-Dereth. In a debate of pure religious merit, Sarene would never have been able to stand against a fully-trained gyorn. However, Sarene wasn’t looking to disprove Hrathen’s teachings, just ruin his speech.
Hrathen looked up at her comment, immediately realizing his mistake. All of his former thinking and planning was now useless—and the crowd was wondering at this new question.
Nobly, the gyorn tried to cover for his mistake, attempting to bring the conversation back to more familiar grounds, but Sarene had the crowd now, and she held on to them with the viselike grip only a woman on the verge of hysterics could manage.
“What will we do?” she asked with a shake of her head. “I fear these things of priests are beyond common people such as myself.”
And it was over. The people began talking among themselves and wandering away. Most of them were laughing at the eccentricities of priests, and the abstruseness of theological