Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [63]
Sarene raised an eyebrow. “Why does he come, then?”
“Roial is a good man,” Kiin explained. “Friendship or not, he knows that Iadon’s rule has been horrible for this nation. That, and I suspect he also comes because of boredom.”
“He engages in traitorous conferences simply because he’s bored?” Sarene asked incredulously.
Her uncle shrugged. “When you’ve been around as long as Roial, you have trouble finding things to keep you interested. Politics is so ingrained in the duke that he probably can’t sleep at night unless he’s involved in at least five different wild schemes—he was governor of Iald before the Reod, and was the only Elantris-appointed official to remain in power after the uprising. He’s fabulously wealthy—the only way Iadon keeps ahead is by including national tax revenues in his own earnings.”
Sarene studied the duke as the group of men laughed at one of Roial’s comments. He seemed different from other elderly statesmen she had met: Roial was boisterous instead of reserved, almost more mischievous than distinguished. Despite the duke’s diminutive frame, he dominated the conversation, his thin locks of powder-white hair bouncing as he laughed. One man, however, didn’t seem captivated by the duke’s company.
“Who is that sitting next to Duke Roial?”
“The portly man?”
“Portly?” Sarene said with a raised eyebrow. The man was so overweight his stomach bulged over the sides of his chair.
“That’s how we fat men describe one another,” Kiin said with a smile.
“But Uncle,” Sarene said with a sweet grin. “You’re not fat. You’re … robust.”
Kiin laughed a scratchy-throated chuckle. “All right, then. The ‘robust’ gentleman next to Roial is Count Ahan. You wouldn’t know it by watching them, but he and the duke are very good friends. Either that or they’re very old enemies. I can never remember which it is.”
“There’s a bit of a distinction there, Uncle,” Sarene pointed out.
“Not really. The two of them have been squabbling and sparring for so long that neither one would know what to do without the other. You should have seen their faces when they realized they were both on the same side of this particular argument—Raoden laughed for days after that first meeting. Apparently, he’d gone to them each separately and gained their support, and they both came to that first meeting with the belief they were outdoing the other.”
“So why do they keep coming?”
“Well, they both seem to agree with our point of view—not to mention the fact that they really do enjoy one another’s company. That or they just want to keep an eye on each other.” Kiin shrugged. “Either way they help us, so we don’t complain.”
“And the last man?” Sarene asked, studying the table’s final occupant. He was lean, with a balding head and a pair of very fidgety eyes. The others didn’t let nervousness show; they laughed and spoke together as if they were meeting to discuss bird-watching rather than treason. This last man, however, wiggled in his seat uncomfortably, his eyes in constant motion—as if he were trying to determine the easiest way to escape.
“Edan,” Kiin said, his lips turning downward. “Baron of Tii Plantation to the south. I’ve never liked him, but he’s probably one of our strongest supporters.”
“Why is he so nervous?”
“Iadon’s system of government lends itself well to greed—the better a noble does financially, the more likely he is to be granted a better title. So, the minor nobles squabble like children, each one trying to find new ways to milk their subjects and increase their holdings.
“The system also encourages financial gambling. Edan’s fortune was never very impressive—his holdings border the Chasm, and the lands nearby just aren’t very fertile. In an attempt to gain a bit more status, Edan made some risky investments—but lost them. Now he doesn’t have the wealth to back his nobility.