Ramear sat back to contemplate the priest's words. Hrathen had to be careful yet; it was quite possible that only a few of these men would end up supporting him, and he didn't want to give the others evidence against him. Lenient as he may be with regards to religion, King Iadon wouldn't suffer Hrathen's preaching long if he found it treasonous.
Later, after Hrathen sensed firm conviction in his fledgling nobles, he would give them more concrete promises. And. no matter what his opponents might say, Hrathen's promises were trustworthy: as little as he liked working with men whose allegiance could be bought. it was a firm tenet of Shu-Dereth that ambition should be rewarded. Besides, it was beneficial to have a reputation for honesty, if only so that one could lie at crucial moments.
"It will take time to unseat an entire religion and set up a new one in its place," mused Waren, a thin man with a head of nearly white blond hair. Waren was known for his strict piety; Hrathen had been rather surprised when he accompanied his cousin Idan to the meeting. It appeared that Waren's renowned faith was less a matter of religious fervor than it was one of political advantage. Winning him. and his reputation, would be a great help to Hrathen's cause.
"You would be surprised. young Lord Waren," Hrathen said. "Until very recently, Duladel was the seat of one of the world's oldest religions. Now, as far as Fjordell recorders can tell, that religion has been completely wiped out—at least in its pure form."
"Yes," Waren said, "but the collapse of the Jesker religion and the Duladen Republic are events that had been building for years, perhaps even centuries."
"But you cannot deny that when that change in power occurred, it came swiftly," Hrathen said.
Waren paused. "True."
"The fall of the Elantrians was likewise swift," Hrathen said. "Change can come with blinding speed, Lord Waren—but those who are prepared can profit quite substantially from it. You say that the fall of Jesker was building for years ... well, I suggest to you that the Korathi religion has been in decline for a similar amount of time. It used to hold much sway in the East. Now, its influence has been relegated to only Teod and Arelon."
Waren paused thoughtfully. He appeared to be a man of intelligence and shrewdness. and seemed swayed by Hrathen's logic. It was possible that Hrathen had misjudged the Arelish nobility. Most of them were as hopeless as their king, but a surprising number showed promise. Perhaps they realized just how precarious their positions were—their people starving, their aristocracy inexperienced, and the full attention of the Fjordell Empire turned upon them. When the storm hit most of Arelon would be surprised like rodents stunned by a bright light. These few lords. however, might just be worth saving.
"My lords. I hope you will review my offers with more wisdom than your king," Hrathen said. "These are difficult times, and those who don't have the Church's support will find life harsh in the coming months. Remember who and what I represent."
"Remember Elantris," a voice, Dilaf's, hissed from beside Hrathen. "Do not forget the well of desecration that pollutes our land. They sleep, and they wait, clever as always. They wait to capture you-all of you—and drag you into their embrace. You must cleanse the world of them before they cleanse it of you."
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Finally—the arteth's sudden exclamation having spoiled his rhythm—Hrathen leaned back in his chair, crossing his fingers before him to show that the meeting was at an end. The nobles left, their troubled faces showing that they understood the difficult decision Hrathen had placed before them. Hrathen studied them. deciding which ones it would be safe to contact again. Idan was his, and with him would inevitably come several of his followers. Hrathen probably had Ramear as well, assuming he met privately with the man and offered him a solid promise of backing. There were a couple of others like Ramear, and then there was Waren, whose eyes were tinged with what looked like respect. Yes, he could do grand things with that one.
They were a politically weak, relatively unimportant lot. but they were a beginning. As Shu-Dereth gained followers, increasingly important nobles would throw their weight behind Hrathen. Then, when the country finally collapsed beneath the weight of political unrest, economic uncertainty. and martial threats, Hrathen would reward his followers with positions in the new government.
The key to reaching that success was still sitting at the back of the meeting, watching quietIy. Duke Telrii's air was stateIy, his face calm, but his reputation for extravagance spoke of great potential.
"My lord Telrii, a moment please," Hrathen requested, rising. "I have a special proposal that might be of interest to you."
CHAPTER 10
"SULE, I don't think this is a good idea." Galladon's whisper was unenthusiastic as he crouched next to Raoden.
"Hush," Raoden ordered, peeking around the corner toward the courtyard. The gangs had heard about Raoden's recruitment of Mareshe, and were convinced that he intended to start his own rival gang. When Raoden and Galladon had arrived the day before to look for newcomers, they had found a group of Aanden's men waiting for them. The reception hadn't been pleasant. Fortunately, they had escaped without any broken bones or stubbed toes, but this time Raoden intended to be a little more subtle.
"What if they're waiting for us again?" Galladon asked.
"They probably are," Raoden said. "Which is why you should keep your voice down. Come on."
Raoden slipped around the corner and into an alleyway. His toe pained him as he walked, as did his scraped hands and a bruise he had picked up on his arm. In addition, the hunger called to him, a phantom passion from within.
Galladon sighed. "I'm not so bored with death that I want to abandon it in favor of an existence of pure pain. Kolo?"
Raoden turned back with tolerant eyes. "Galladon, someday you're going to get over this determined pessimism of yours, and all of Elantris will collapse from the shock."
"Pessimism?" Galladon demanded as Raoden crept down the alleyway. "Pessimism? Me? Dulas are the most lighthearted, easygoing people in Opelon! We look at each day with— Sule? Don't you dare leave when I'm defending myself!"
Raoden ignored the large Dula. He also tried to ignore his pains, sharp though they were. His new leather shoes helped immensely: despite Galladon's reservations, Mareshe had created a product to match his considerable ego. The shoes were sturdy, with a strong, protective sole, but the soft leather—from the covers of Galladon's books-fit perfectly and didn't rub.
Peeking carefully around the corner, Raoden studied the courtyard. Shaor's men weren't visible, but they were probably hiding nearby. Raoden perked up as he saw the city gate swinging open. The day had brought a new arrival. However, he was shocked when the Elantris City Guard pushed not one. but three separate white-clothed forms through the gate.
"Three?"Raoden said.
"The Shaod is unpredictable, sule," Galladon said, creeping up behind him. "This changes everything," Raoden said with annoyance.
"Good. Let's go—the others can have today's offering. Kolo?"
"What? And miss such a grand opportunity? Galladon. I'm disappointed in you."
The Dula grumbled something Raoden couldn't catch. and Raoden reached back to clap the big man reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't worry—I have a plan."
"Already?"
"We have to move quickly—any minute now one of those three is going to take a step, and then our opening will be gone."
"Doloken," Galladon muttered. "What are you going to do?"
"Nothing. You, however, are going to have a nice stroll out there in the courtyard."
What?" Galladon asked. "Sule, you've gone kayana again. If I go out there, the gangs are going to see me!'
"Exactly." Raoden said with a smile. "Just make sure you run very quickly. my friend. We wouldn't want them to catch you."
"You're serious," Galladon said with growing apprehension.
"Unfortunately. Now get moving—lead them off to the left, and I'll do the rest. We'll meet back where we left Mareshe."
Galladon huffed something about "not being worth all the dried meat in the world." but he let Raoden push him into the courtyard. A moment later a series of startled growls came from the building where Shaor's men usually hid. The feral men burst out, forgetting the three newcomers in their hatred of the man who had wronged them just a few days earlier.
Galladon shot one final withering look in Raoden's direction then took off at a dash, choosing a street at random and leading Shaor's men away. Raoden gave him a moment, then ran out into the middle of the courtyard, making a great show of breathing deeply, as if from exhaustion.
"Which way did he go?" he demanded sharply of the three confused newcomers.
"Who?" one of them finally ventured.
"The large Dula! Quickly, man, which way did he go? He has the cure!"
"The cure?" the man asked with surprise.
"Of course. It's very rare, but there should be enough for all of us, if you tell me which way he went. Don't you want to get out of here?"
The newcomer raised a wavering hand and pointed at the path Galladon had taken.
"Come on!" Raoden urged. "Unless we move quickly we'll lose him forever!" With that, he started running.
The three newcomers stood for a moment: then, Raoden's sense of urgency too much for them, they followed. All three of their first steps, therefore, were to the north-the direction that would have made them the property of Shaor's men. The other two gangs could only watch with frustration as all three dashed away.
¤ ¤ ¤
"WHAT can you do?" Raoden asked.
The woman shrugged. "Maare is my name, my lord. I was a simple housewife. I have no special skills to speak of."
Raoden snorted. "If you're like any other housewife, then you're probably more skilled than anyone here. Can you weave?"
"Of course, my lord."
Raoden nodded thoughtfully. "And you?" he asked of the next man.
"Rill, a workman, my lord. I spent most of my time building on my master's plantation."
"Hauling bricks?"
"At first, my lord," the man said. He had the wide hands and ingenuous face of a worker, but his eyes were keen and intelligent. "I spent years learning with the journeymen. I hoped that my master would send me to apprentice."
"You're very old to be an apprentice," Raoden noted.
"I know, my lord, but it was a hope. Not many of the peasantry have room for hopes anymore, even ones so simple."
Raoden nodded again. The man didn't speak like a peasant, but few people in Arelon did. Ten years ago, Arelon had been a land of opportunity, and most of its people had been at least slightly educated. Many of the men in his father's court complained that learning had ruined the peasantry for good work, selectively forgetting that they themselves had been members of the same "peasantry" a decade earlier.
"All right, how about you?" Raoden asked the next man.
The third newcomer, a well-muscled man with a nose that appeared to have been broken at least a dozen times, regarded Raoden with hesitant eyes. "Before I answer, I want to know just why I should listen to you."