Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [50]
Hrathen watched his carefully arranged gathering dribble away. He didn’t try speaking again; he probably knew that if he yelled or fumed, he would only do more damage than good.
Surprisingly, the gyorn turned away from the scattering people and nodded appreciatively at Sarene. It wasn’t a bow, but it was the most respectful gesture she had ever received from a Derethi priest. It was an acknowledgment of a battle well won, a concession given to a worthy opponent.
“You play a dangerous game, Princess,” he said softly in his slightly accented voice.
“You’ll find I am very good at games, Gyorn,” she replied.
“Until the next round, then,” he said, waving for a shorter, light-haired priest to follow him as he climbed down from the wall. In this other man’s eyes there was no hint of respect or even tolerance. They burned with hatred, and Sarene shivered as he focused them on her. The man’s teeth were clenched tightly, and Sarene got the feeling that there wasn’t much holding the man back from grabbing her by the neck and hurling her off the side of the wall. She grew dizzy just thinking about it.
“That one worries me,” Ashe observed by her side. “I have seen such men before, and my experience has not been favorable. A dam so poorly constructed must eventually collapse.”
Sarene nodded. “He was Aonic—not a Fjordell. He looks like a page or attendant of Hrathen’s.”
“Well, let us hope that the gyorn can keep his pet under control, my lady.”
She nodded, but her response was cut off by a sudden peal of laughter from beside her. She looked down to find Kaise rolling on the ground with mirth; apparently, she had managed to hold her outburst until the gyorn was out of sight.
“Sarene,” she said between gasps of breath, “that was wonderful! You were so stupid! And his face … he got even redder than Papa after he finds out I’ve eaten all of his sweets. His face almost matched his armor!”
“I didn’t like him at all,” Daorn said solemnly from beside Sarene. He stood near an open part of the parapet, looking down toward Hrathen as the man descended the enormous flight of stairs to the city. “He was too … hard. Didn’t he know you were only acting stupid?”
“Probably,” Sarene said, motioning for Kaise to stand up and then brushing off the girl’s pink dress. “But there was no way for him to prove it, so he had to pretend that I was serious.”
“Father says the gyorn is here to convert us all to Shu-Dereth,” Daorn said.
“Does he now?” Sarene asked.
Daorn nodded. “He also says he’s afraid Hrathen will be successful. He says the crops didn’t do well last year, and a lot of the people are without food. If the planting this month doesn’t go well, next winter will be even harder, and hard times make people willing to accept a man who preaches change.”
“Your father is a wise man, Daorn,” Sarene said. Her confrontation with Hrathen had been little more than sport; people’s minds were fickle, and they would quickly forget this day’s debate. Whatever Hrathen had been doing was only part of something much larger—something to do with Elantris—and Sarene needed to discover what his intentions were. Finally remembering her original reason for visiting the wall, Sarene took her first good look at the city below.
It had once been beautiful. The feel of the city, how the buildings worked together, the way the roads crossed—the entire mass was … intentional. Art on a grand scale. Most of the arches had collapsed, many of the domed roofs had fallen, and even some of the walls looked as if they had little time left. Still, she could tell one thing. Elantris had been beautiful, once.
“They’re so sad,” Kaise said next to her, on her tiptoes so she could see over the side of the stone safety wall.
“Who?”
“Them,” Kaise said, pointing to the streets below.
There were people down there—huddled forms that barely moved. They were