Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [72]
“Weren’t either of you even a little suspicious when you heard the prince was dead?” Sarene asked, contemplatively sipping her wine. “It came at such a convenient time. Iadon has the benefit of an alliance with Teod, but now he doesn’t have to worry about Raoden producing any heirs.”
Roial looked at Kiin, who shrugged. “I think we have to at least consider the possibility, Roial.”
Roial nodded regretfully. “So what do we do? Try and find proof that Iadon executed his son?”
“Knowledge will bring strength,” Sarene said simply.
“Agreed,” Kiin said. “You, however, are the only one of us with free access to the palace.”
“I’ll poke around and see what I can uncover.”
“Is it possible he isn’t dead?” Roial asked. “It would have been easy enough to find a look-alike for the casket—the coughing shivers is a very disfiguring disease.”
“It’s possible,” Sarene said doubtfully.
“But you don’t believe it.”
Sarene shook her head. “When a monarch decides to destroy a rival, he usually makes sure to do so in a permanent way. There are too many stories about lost heirs that reappear after twenty years in the wilderness to claim their rightful throne.”
“Still, perhaps Iadon isn’t as brutal as you assume,” Roial said. “He was a better man, once—never what I would call a good man, but not a bad one either. Just greedy. Something’s happened to him over the last few years, something that has … changed him. Still, I think there remains enough compassion in Iadon to keep him from murdering his own son.”
“All right,” Sarene said. “I’ll send Ashe to search through the royal dungeons. He’s so meticulous he’ll know the name of every rat in the place before he’s satisfied.”
“Your Seon?” Roial realized. “Where is he?”
“I sent him to Elantris.”
“Elantris?” Kiin asked.
“That Fjordell gyorn is interested in Elantris for some reason,” Sarene explained. “And I make it my business never to ignore what a gyorn finds interesting.”
“You seem to be rather preoccupied with a single priest, ’Ene,” Kiin said.
“Not a priest, Uncle,” Sarene corrected. “A full gyorn.”
“Still only one man. How much damage can he do?”
“Ask the Duladen Republic,” Sarene said. “I think this is the same gyorn who was involved in that disaster.”
“There’s no sure evidence that Fjorden was behind the collapse,” Roial noted.
“There is in Teod, but no one else would believe it. Just believe me when I tell you that this single gyorn could be more dangerous than Iadon.”
The comment struck a lull in the conversation. Time passed silently, the three nobles drinking their wine in thought until Lukel entered, having traveled to retrieve his mother and siblings. He nodded to Sarene and bowed to the duke before pouring himself a cup of wine.
“Look at you,” Lukel said to Sarene as he took a seat. “A confident member of the boys’ club.”
“Leader of it, more truthfully,” Roial noted.
“Your mother?” Kiin asked.
“Is on her way,” Lukel said. “They weren’t finished, and you know how Mother is. Everything must be done in its proper order; no rushing allowed.”
Kiin nodded, downing the last of his wine. “Then you and I should get to cleaning before she returns. We wouldn’t want her to see what a mess our collected noble friends have made of the dining room.”
Lukel sighed, giving Sarene a look that suggested he sometimes wished he lived in a traditional household—one with servants, or at least women, to do such things. Kiin was already moving, however, and his son had no choice but to follow.
“Interesting family,” Roial said, watching them go.
“Yes. A little odd even by Teoish standards.”
“Kiin had a long life on his own,” the duke observed. “It accustomed him to doing things by himself. He once hired a cook, I hear, but grew frustrated with the woman’s methods. I seem to recall that she quit before he had the heart to fire her—she claimed she couldn’t work in such a demanding environment.