Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [8]
“Perhaps King Iadon would have come himself if he’d had more warning of our arrival….”
Sarene frowned, but the Seon had a point. Her early arrival, several days ahead of the main wedding party, had been intended as a prewedding surprise for Prince Raoden. She’d wanted a few days, at least, to spend time with him privately and in person. Her secrecy, however, had worked against her.
“Tell me, Ashe,” she said. “How long do Arelish people customarily wait between a person’s death and their burial?”
“I’m not sure, my lady,” Ashe confessed. “I left Arelon long ago, and I lived here for such a short time that I can’t remember many specifics. However, my studies tell me that Arelish customs are generally similar to those of your homeland.”
Sarene nodded, then waved over King Iadon’s attendant.
“Yes, my lady?” Ketol asked in a lazy tone.
“Is a funeral wake being held for the prince?” Sarene asked.
“Yes, my lady,” the attendant replied. “Outside the Korathi chapel. The burial will happen this evening.”
“I want to go see the casket.”
Ketol paused. “Uh … His Majesty asked that you be brought to him immediately….”
“Then I won’t spend long at the funeral tent,” Sarene said, walking toward her carriage.
Sarene surveyed the busy funeral tent with a critical eye, waiting as Ketol and a few of the packmen cleared a way for her to approach the casket. She had to admit, everything was irreproachable—the flowers, the offerings, the praying Korathi priests. The only oddity about the event was how crowded the tent was.
“There certainly are a lot of people here,” she noted to Ashe.
“The prince was very well liked, my lady,” the Seon replied, floating beside her. “According to our reports, he was the most popular public figure in the country.”
Sarene nodded, walking down the passageway Ketol had made for her. Prince Raoden’s casket sat at the very center of the tent, guarded by a ring of soldiers who let the masses approach only so far. As she walked, she sensed true grief in the faces of those in attendance.
So it is true, she thought. The people did love him.
The soldiers made way for her, and she approached the casket. It was carved with Aons—most of them symbols of hope and peace—after the Korathi way. The entire wooden casket was surrounded by a ring of lavish foods—an offering made on behalf of the deceased.
“Can I see him?” she asked, turning toward one of the Korathi priests—a small, kindly-looking man.
“I’m sorry, child,” the priest said. “But the prince’s disease was unpleasantly disfiguring. The king has asked that the prince be allowed dignity in death.”
Sarene nodded, turning back to the casket. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to feel, standing before the dead man she would have married. She was oddly … angry.
She pushed that emotion away for the moment, instead turning to look around the tent. It almost seemed too formal. Though the visiting people were obviously grieved, the tent, the offerings, and the decorations seemed sterile.
A man of Raoden’s age and supposed vigor, she thought. Dead of the coughing shivers. It could happen—but it certainly doesn’t seem likely.
“My … lady?” Ashe said quietly. “Is something wrong?”
Sarene waved to the Seon and walked back toward their carriage. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Something just doesn’t feel right here, Ashe.”
“You have a suspicious nature, my lady,” Ashe pointed out.
“Why isn’t Iadon having a vigil for his son? Ketol said he was holding court, as if his own son’s death didn’t even bother him.” Sarene shook her head. “I spoke with Raoden just before I left Teod, and he seemed fine. Something is wrong, Ashe, and I want to know what it is.”
“Oh, dear …” Ashe said. “You know, my lady, your father did ask me to try and keep you out of trouble.”
Sarene smiled. “Now, there’s an impossible task. Come on, we need to go meet my new father.”
Sarene leaned against the carriage window, watching the city pass as she rode toward the palace. She sat in silence for the moment, a single thought crowding