He turned. intending to praise Sarene for the clue. However, his words choked in his mouth. Something was wrong. The dark splotches on the princess's skin were the wrong color: they were a mixture of blues and purple. like bruises. They seemed to fade before his eyes.
"Merciful Domi!" he exclaimed. "Galladon, look at her!"
The Dula turned with alarm, then his face changed from worried to awed. "What?" the princess demanded, shooting them nervous looks.
"What did you do, sule?" Galladon asked.
"Nothing!" Raoden insisted, looking at the place where his Aon had been. "Something else must be healing her."
Then he made the connection. Sarene had never been able to draw Aons. She had complained of being cold, and she still insisted that her wounds didn't hurt. Raoden reached out and felt Sarene's face. Her flesh was warm—too warm, even for a new Elantrian whose body hadn't completely cooled yet. He pushed the scarf off her head with trembling fingers, and felt the nearly invisible blond stubble on her scalp.
"Idos Domi." he whispered. Then he grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the library.
¤ ¤ ¤
"SPIRIT, I don't understand," she protested as they entered the courtyard before Elantris's gate.
"You were never an Elantrian, Sarene," he said. "It was a trick—the same one that gyorn used to appear as if he were an Elantrian. Somehow Hrathen can make it seem that you've been taken by the Shaod when you haven't."
"But—" she objected.
"Think, Sarene!" Raoden said, spinning her around to look him in the eyes. The gyorn preached on the wall above them, his loud voice garbled by the distance. "Your wedding to Roial would have put an opponent of Shu-Dereth on the throne. Hrathen had to stop that wedding—and he did it in the most embarrassing way he could contrive. You don't belong here."
He pulled on her arm again. attempting to lead her toward the gates. She resisted. pulling against him with equal strength. "I'm not going."
Raoden turned with surprise. "But you have to go—this is Elantris, Sarene. No one wants to be here."
"I don't care," she insisted, voice defiantly firm. "I'm going to stay."
"Arelon needs you."
"Arelon will be better off without me. If I hadn't interfered, Iadon would still be alive, and Telrii wouldn't have the throne."
Raoden fell still. He wanted her to stay—he longed for her to stay. But he would do whatever it took to get her out of Elantris. The city was death. The gates were opening: the gyorn had recognized his prey.
Sarene regarded Raoden with wide eyes, her hand reaching up toward him. The splotches had nearly completely vanished now. She was beautiful.
"You think we can afford to feed you. Princess?" Raoden said, forcing harshness into his voice. "You assume we will waste food on a woman who is not one of us?"
"That won't work, Spirit," Sarene shot back. "I can see the truth in your eyes."
"Then believe this truth," Raoden said. "Even with severe rationing, New Elantris only has enough food for a few more weeks. We raise crops, but it will be months before we can harvest them. During that time we will starve. All of us—the men the women and the children. We will starve unless someone on the outside can get us more supplies."
She hesitated, then she was in his arms, pulling close against his chest. "Curse you," she hissed. "Domi curse you."
"Arelon does need you, Sarene," he whispered back. "If what you say is right, and a Fjordell sympathizer is on the throne, there may not be much time left for Elantris. You know what the Derethi priests would do to us if they had their way. Things have gone very wrong in Arelon, Sarene, and you are the only one I trust to fix them."
She looked into his eyes. "I will return."
Men in yellow and brown churned around them, pulling the two apart. They shoved Raoden aside. and he fell back against the slick cobblestones as the figures pulled Sarene away. Raoden was left lying on his back, feeling the slime squish beneath him, looking up at a man in bloodred armor. The gyorn stood quietly for a moment, then turned and followed Sarene out of the city. The gates slammed shut behind him.
CHAPTER 47
THE gates slammed shut. This time they didn't lock Sarene in Elantris, but out of it. Emotions snapped at her soul like a pack of angry wolves, each one demanding her attention. Five days before, she had though her life ruined. She had wished, prayed, and begged for Domi to heal her. Now she found herself craving to return to her damnation, as long as Spirit was there.
Domi, however, had made the decision for her. Spirit was right: She could no more live in Elantris than he could exist outside of the city. The worlds, and the demands of their flesh, were far too different.
A hand fell on her shoulder. Shaking off her numbness, Sarene turned. There weren't many men she had to crane her neck to look up at. Hrathen.
"Jaddeth has preserved you, Princess," he said in a lightly accented voice.
Sarene shook his arm away. "I don't know how you did this, priest, but I know one thing with absolute certainty. I owe your god nothing."
"Your father thinks differently, Princess." Hrathen said, his face hard.
"For a man whose religion claims to spread truth, priest, your lies are strikingly vulgar."
Hrathen smiled thinly. "Lies? Why don't you go and speak with him? In a way, it could be said that you gave us Teod. Convert the king, and often you convert the kingdom as well."
"Impossible!" Sarene said, growing uncertain. Gyorns were usually far to wily to tell direct falsehoods.
"You fought with wisdom and cleverness, Princess," Hrathen said, taking a slow step forward and extending his gauntleted hand. "But true wisdom knows when further fighting is pointless. I have Teod. and Arelon will soon be mine as well. Do not be like the stonelark, ever trying to dig a pit in the sand's wet beaches and ever having your work destroyed by the tide. Embrace Shu-Dereth, and let your efforts become more than vanity."
"I will die first!"
"You already have," the gyorn pointed our. "And I brought you back." He took another step forward. and Sarene shied back, pulling her hands up against her chest.
Steel whipped in the sunlight, and suddenly the point of Eondel's sword was at Hrathen's neck. Sarene felt herself enfolded in enormous, powerful arms, a scratchy voice crying out in joy beside her.
"Blessed be Domi's name!" Kiin praised, lifting her off the ground with his hug.
"Blessed be Jaddeth's name." Hrathen said, sword tip still pressed against his flesh. "Domi left this one to rot."
"Say no more, priest." Eondel said, angling his sword threateningly.
Hrathen snorted. Then moving more quickly than Sarene's eyes could track, the gyorn bent backward and pulled his head out of the sword's range. He kicked at the same time, smashing his foot into Eondel's hand and knocking the weapon free.
Hrathen spun, crimson cape billowing, bloodred hand plucking the sword from the air. Steel reflected sunlight as Hrathen spun the weapon. He snapped its tip against the cobblestones, holding it as a king would his scepter. Then, he let it drop, the hilt falling back into Eondel's stunned hand. The priest stepped forward, passing the confused general.
"Time moves like a mountain, Sarene," Hrathen whispered, so close that his breastplate nearly brushed against Kiin's protective arms. "It comes so slowly that most don't even notice its passing. It will, however, crush those who don't move before it."
With that he spun, his cape fluttering against both Eondel and Kiin as he marched away.
Kiin watched Hrathen go, hatred in his eyes. Finally, he turned to Eondel. "Come, General. Let's take Sarene home to rest."
"There is no time for rest, Uncle." Sarene said. "I need you to gather our allies. We must meet as soon as possible."
Kiin raised an eyebrow. "There will be time enough for that later. 'Ene. You're in no condition—"
"I've had a fine vacation, Uncle," she declared, "but there is work to be done. Perhaps when it is finished, I'll be able to escape back to Elantris. For now, we need to worry about stopping Telrii from giving our country to Wyrn. Send messengers to Roial and Ahan. I want to meet with them as soon as possible."
Her uncle's face looked utterly dumbfounded.
"Well, she seems all right," Eondel noted. smiling.
¤ ¤ ¤
THE cooks in her father's household had learned one thing: When Sarene wanted to eat, she could eat.
"You'd better move faster, Cousin," Lukel said as she finished her fourth plate. "You looked like you almost had time to taste that one."
Sarene ignored him, motioning for Kiin to bring in the next delicacy. She had been told that if one starved oneself long enough, the stomach would shrink, thereby reducing the amount of food one could ear. The man who had invented that theory would have thrown up his hands in despair if he could have seen Sarene feasting.
She sat at the table across from Lukel and Roial. The elderly duke had just arrived, and when he had seen Sarene, she thought for a moment he was going to collapse from the shock. Instead, he had breathed a prayer to Domi, seating himself speechlessly in the chair across from her.
"I can honestly say that I have never seen a woman eat this much," Duke Roial noted appreciatively. There was still a hint of disbelieving wonder in his eyes as he looked at her.
"She's a Teoish giantess," Lukel said. "I don't think it's fair to make comparisons between Sarene and regular women."
"If I weren't so busy eating, I'd respond to that," Sarene said, waving her fork at them. She hadn't realized exactly how hungry she was until she'd entered Kiin's kitchen, where the lingering scents of past banquets hung in the air like a delectable fog. She was only now appreciating how useful it was to have a world-traveled chef as an uncle.
Kiin entered with a pan of semi-boiling meat and vegetables in a red sauce. "It's Jindoeese RaiDomo Mai. The name means 'meat with fiery skin.' You're fortunate I had the proper ingredients, the Jindo RaiDel pepper had a poor crop last season, and . . ." He trailed off as Sarene began heaping meat onto her plate. "You don't care, do you?" he asked with a sigh. "I could have boiled it in dishwater, and it would be the same to you."
"I understand, Uncle." Sarene said. "You suffer for your art."
Kiin sat down, looking at the empty dishes scattered across the table. "Well, you certainly inherited the family appetite."
"She's a big girl," Lukel said.
"It takes a lot of fuel to keep that body going." Sarene shot him a look between bites.
"Is she slowing down at all?" Kiin asked. "I'm running out of supplies."
"Actually," Sarene said, "I think this should about do it. You don't understand what it was like in there, gentlemen. I did actually enjoy myself, but there wasn't a lot of food to be had."
"I'm surprised there was any at all." Lukel said. "Elantrians like to eat."
"But they don't actually need to," Kiin said, "so they can afford to stockpile."