Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [88]
Sarene smiled. “We find things to do, Your Majesty. Some women like to embroider, though others of us find different pursuits.”
“Like what?” asked Torena, the unmarried daughter of Lord Ahan—though Sarene still found it hard to believe that a person so slight of frame could have come from a pair as bulbous as Ahan and Seaden. Torena was normally quiet during these gatherings, her wide brown eyes watching the proceedings with a spark that hinted at a buried intelligence.
“Well, the king’s courts are open to all, for one thing,” Sarene said nonchalantly. Her heart sang, however: this was the kind of opportunity she had been anticipating with excitement.
“You would go listen to the cases?” Torena asked, her quiet, high-pitched voice growing increasingly interested.
“Often,” Sarene said. “Then I would talk about them with my friends.”
“Did you fight one another with swords?” asked the overweight Seaden, her face eager.
Sarene paused, a little taken aback. She looked up to find nearly every head in the room staring at her. “What makes you ask that?”
“That’s what they say about women from Teod, dear,” Daora said calmly, the only woman who was still working on her needlepoint.
“Yes,” Seaden said. “We’ve always heard it—they say that women in Teod kill one another for the sport of the men.”
Sarene raised an eyebrow. “We call it fencing, Lady Seaden. We do it for our own amusement, not that of our men—and we definitely do not kill one another. We use swords, but the tips have little knobs on them, and we wear thick clothing. I’ve never heard of anyone suffering an injury greater than a twisted ankle.”
“Then it’s true?” little Torena breathed with amazement. “You do use swords.”
“Some of us,” Sarene said. “I rather enjoyed it, actually. Fencing was my favorite sport.” The women’s eyes shone with an appalling level of bloodlust—like the eyes of hounds that had been locked in a very small room for far too long. Sarene had hoped to instill a measure of political interest in these women, to encourage them to take an active role in the management of the country, but apparently that was too subtle an approach. They needed something more direct.
“I could teach you, if you wanted,” Sarene offered.
“To fight?” Atara asked, astounded.
“Of course,” Sarene said. “It’s not that difficult. And please, Lady Atara, we call it fencing. Even the most understanding of men gets a bit uncomfortable when he thinks of women ‘fighting.’”
“We couldn’t …” Eshen began.
“Why not?” Sarene asked.
“Swordplay is frowned upon by the king, dear,” Daora explained. “You’ve probably noticed that none of the noblemen here carry swords.”
Sarene frowned. “I was going to ask about that.”
“Iadon considers it too commonplace,” Eshen said. “He calls fighting peasant’s work. He’s studied them rather a lot—he’s a fine leader, you know, and a fine leader has to know a lot about a lot of things. Why, he can tell you what the weather is like in Svorden at any time of the year. His ships are the most sturdy, and fastest in the business.”
“So none of the men can fight?” Sarene asked with amazement.
“None except for Lord Eondel and perhaps Lord Shuden,” Torena said, her face taking on a dreamy look as she mentioned Shuden’s name. The young, dark-skinned nobleman was a favorite among the women of court, his delicate features and impeccable manners capturing even the most steady of hearts.
“Don’t forget Prince Raoden,” Atara added. “I think he had Eondel teach him to fight just to spite his father. He was always doing things like that.”
“Well, all the better,” Sarene said. “If none of the men fight, then King Iadon can’t very well object to our learning.”
“What do you mean?” Torena asked.
“Well, he says it’s beneath him,” Sarene explained. “If that’s true, then it should be perfect for us. After all,