Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [62]
Raoden’s stomach turned as he regarded what was left of his friend. He’d avoided thinking about Ien too much during his days in Elantris; he knew what happened to Seons when their masters were taken by the Shaod. He’d assumed—perhaps hoped—that Ien had been destroyed by the Shaod, as sometimes happened.
Raoden shook his head. “Ien used to be so wise. I never knew a creature, Seon or man, more thoughtful than he.”
“I’m … sorry, sule,” Galladon said solemnly.
Raoden held out his hand again, and the Seon approached dutifully, as it had once done for the young boy Raoden—a boy who hadn’t yet learned that Seons were more valuable as friends than as servants.
Does he recognize me? Raoden wondered, watching the Seon lurch slightly in the air before him. Or is it just the familiar gesture that he recognizes?
Raoden would probably never know. After hovering above the palm for a second, the Seon lost interest and floated away again.
“Oh, my dear friend,” Raoden whispered. “And I thought the Shaod had been harsh to me.”
CHAPTER 11
Only five men responded to Kiin’s request. Lukel scowled at the meager turnout. “Raoden had as many as thirty men at his meetings before he died,” the handsome merchant explained. “I didn’t expect them all to come running, but five? That’s barely even worth our time.”
“It’s enough, son,” Kiin said thoughtfully, peeking through the kitchen door. “They may be few in number, but we got the best of the lot. Those are five of the most powerful men in the nation, not to mention five of the most intelligent. Raoden had a way of attracting clever men to his side.”
“Kiin, you old bear,” one of the men called from the dining room. He was a stately man with graying lines of silver hair who wore a sharp martial uniform. “Are you going to feed us or not? Domi knows I only came because I heard you were going to fix some of your roast ketathum.”
“The pig is turning as we speak, Eondel,” Kiin called back. “And I made sure to prepare a double portion for you. Keep your stomach in check for a little while longer.”
The man laughed heartily, patting his belly—which, as far as Sarene could tell, was as flat and hard as that of a man many years younger. “Who is he?” she asked.
“The Count of Eon Plantation,” Kiin said. “Lukel, go check on the pork while your cousin and I gossip about our guests.”
“Yes, Father,” Lukel said, accepting the poker and moving to the firepit room at the back of the kitchen.
“Eondel is the only man besides Raoden that I’ve ever seen openly oppose the king and get away with it,” Kiin explained. “He’s a military genius, and owns a small personal army. There are only a couple hundred men in it, but they’re extremely well trained.”
Next Kiin pointed through the slightly open door toward a man with dark brown skin and delicate features. “That man beside Eondel is Baron Shuden.”
“Jindoeese?” Sarene asked.
Her uncle nodded. “His family took up residence in Arelon about a century ago, and they’ve amassed a fortune directing the Jindoeese trade routes through the country. When Iadon came to power, he offered them a barony to keep their caravans running. Shuden’s father passed away about five years ago, and the son is much more traditional than the father ever was. He thinks Iadon’s method of rule contradicts the heart of Shu-Keseg, which is why he’s willing to meet with us.”
Sarene tapped her cheek in thought, studying Shuden. “If his heart is as Jindoeese as his skin, Uncle, then he could be a powerful ally indeed.”
“That’s what your husband thought,” Kiin said.
Sarene pursed her lips. “Why do you keep referring to Raoden as ‘your husband’? I know I’m married. No need to keep pointing it out.”
“You know it,” Kiin said in his deep-throated rasp, “but you don’t believe it yet.”
Either Kiin didn’t see the question in her face, or he simply ignored it, for he continued with his explanations as if he hadn’t just made an infuriatingly unfair judgment.
“Beside Shuden is the Duke Roial of Ial Plantation,” Kiin said, nodding to the oldest man in the room. “His holdings include