"A good point, my lady." Ashe noted in his deep voice. He floated in front of her painting for a moment, studying its irregular blotches and semistraight lines. "You're getting better, my lady."
"Don't patronize me."
"No, really, Your Highness. When you started painting five years ago, I could never tell what it was you were trying to depict."
"And this is a painting of . ."
Ashe paused. "A bowl of fruit?" he asked hopefully.
Sarene sighed in frustration. She was usually good at everything she tried, but the secrets of painting completely eluded her. At first, she had been astounded at her lack of talent, and she had pressed on with a determination to prove herself. Artistic technique, however, had totally refused to bow beneath her royal will. She was a master of politics, an unquestionable leader, and could grasp even Jindoeese mathematics with ease. She was also a horrible painter. Not that she let it stop her—she was also undeniably stubborn.
"One of these days, Ashe, something will click, and I'll figure out how to make the images in my head appear on canvas."
"Of course, my lady."
Sarene smiled. "Until then, let's just pretend I was trained by someone from some Svordish school of extreme abstractionism."
"Ah yes. The school of creative misdirection. Very good, my lady."
Two men entered the throne room to present their case to the king. There was little to distinguish them: both wore fashionable vests over colorful filled shirts and loose. wide-cuffed trousers. Much more interesting to Sarene was a third man. one who was brought into the room by a palace guard. He was a nondescript. light-haired man of Aonic blood dressed in a simple brown smock. It was obvious that he was horribly underfed, and there was a look of despairing hopelessness in his eyes that Sarene found haunting.
The dispute regarded the peasant. Apparently, he had escaped from one of the noblemen about three years ago, but had been captured by the second. Instead of returning the man, the second noble had kept him and put him to work. The argument wasn't over the peasant himself, however, but his children. He had married about two years ago, and had fathered two children during his stay with the second noble. Both nobles claimed ownership of the babies.
"I thought slavery was illegal in Arelon," Sarene said quietly.
"It is, my Iady," Ashe said with a confused voice. "I don't understand."
"They speak of figurative ownership, Cousin," a voice said from in front of her. Sarene peeked around the side of her canvas with surprise. Lukel. Kiin's oldest son, stood smiling beside her easel.
"Lukel! What are you doing here?"
"I'm one of the most successful merchants in the city, Cousin," he explained, walking around the canvas to regard the painting with a raised eyebrow. "I have an open invitation to the court. I'm surprised you didn't see me when you came in."
"You were there?"
Lukel nodded. "I was near the back, reacquainting myself with some old contacts. I've been out of town for some time."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I was too interested in what you were doing," he said with a smile. "I don't think anyone has ever decided to requisition the middle of Iadon's throne room to use as an art studio."
Sarene felt herself blushing. "It worked, didn't it?"
"Beautifully—which is more than I can say for the painting." He paused for a moment. "It's a horse, right?"
Sarene scowled.
"A house?" he asked.
"It is not a bowl of fruit either, my lord," Ashe said. "I already tried that."
"Well, she said it was one of the paintings in this room," Lukel said. "All we have to do is keep guessing until we find the right one."
"Brilliant deduction, Master Lukel." Ashe said.
"That's enough, you two," Sarene growled. "It's the one across from us. The one I was facing while I painted."
"That one?" Lukel asked. "But that's a picture of flowers."
"And?"
"What's that dark spot in the middle of your painting?"
"Flowers." Sarene said defensively.
"Oh." Lukel looked once more at Sarene's painting, then looked up at her model again. "Whatever you say. Cousin."
"Maybe you could explain Iadon's legal case before I turn violent, Cousin," Sarene said with threatening sweetness.
"Right. What do you want to know?"
"Our studies tell us slavery is illegal in Arelon. But those men keep referring to the peasant as their possession."
Lukel frowned, turning eyes on the two contesting nobles. "Slavery is illegal, but it probably won't be for long. Ten years ago there weren't any nobles or peasants in Arelon—just Elantrians and everyone else. Over the past decade, commoners have changed from families that owned their own land, to peasants beneath feudal lords, to indentured servants, to something more resembling ancient Fjordell serfs. It won't be much longer before they're nothing more than property."
Sarene frowned. The mere fact that the king would hear a case such as this—that he would even consider taking a man's children away from him to save some nobleman's honor—was atrocious. Society was supposed to have progressed beyond that point. The peasant watched the proceedings with dull eyes, eyes that had systematically and deliberately had the light beaten out of them.
"This is worse than I had feared." Sarene said.
Lukel nodded at her side. "The first thing Iadon did when he took the throne was eliminate individual landholding rights. Arelon had no army to speak of, but Iadon could afford to hire mercenaries, forcing the people into compliance. He declared that all land belonged to the Crown. and then he rewarded those merchants who had supported his ascension with titles and holdings. Only a few men, such as my father, had enough land and money that Iadon didn't dare try to take their property."
Sarene felt her disgust for her new father rise. Once Arelon had boasted the happiest, most advanced society in the world. Iadon had crushed that society, transforming it into a system not even Fjordell used anymore.
Sarene glanced at Iadon, then turned to Lukel. "Come." she said. pulling her cousin to the side of the room, where they could speak a little more openly. They were close enough to keep an eye on Iadon, but far enough away from other groups of people that a quiet conversation wouldn't be overheard.
"Ashe and I were discussing this earlier," she said. "How did that man ever manage to get the throne?"
Lukel shrugged. "Iadon is ... a complex man. Cousin. He's remarkably shortsighted in some areas, but he can be extremely crafty when dealing with people—that's part of what makes him a good merchant. He was head of the local merchants' guild before the Reod—which probably made him the most powerful man in the area who wasn't directly connected to the Elantrians.
"The merchants' guild was an autonomous organization—and many of its members didn't get along too well with the Elantrians. You see. Elantris provided free food for everyone in the area, something that made for a happy populace, but was terrible for the merchants."
"Why didn't they just import other things?" Sarene asked. "Something besides food?"
"The Elantrians could make almost anything, Cousin," Lukel said. "And while they didn't give it all away for free, they could provide many materials at far cheaper prices than the merchants could—especially if you consider shipping costs. Eventually, the merchants' guild struck a deal with Elantris. Getting the Elantrians to promise that they would only provide 'basic' items to the populace for free. That left the merchants' guild to import the more expensive luxury items, catering to the more wealthy crowd in the area—which, ironically, tended to be other members of the merchants' guild."
"And then the Reod struck," Sarene said, beginning to understand.
Lukel nodded. "Elantris fell, and the merchants' guild—of which Iadon was chairman—was the largest most powerful organization in the four Outer Cities. Its members were wealthy, and they were intimately familiar with the other wealthy people in the area. The fact that the guild had a history of disagreement with Elantris only strengthened its reputation in the eyes of the people. Iadon was a natural fit for king. That doesn't mean that he's a particularly good monarch, though."
Sarene nodded. Sitting on his throne. Iadon finally made his decision regarding the case. He declared with a loud voice that the runaway peasant did indeed belong to the first noble, but his children would remain with the second. "For," Iadon pointed out, "the children have been fed all this time by their current master."
The peasant didn't cry out at the decision, he simply looked down at his feet, and Sarene felt a stab of sorrow. When the man looked up. however, there was something in his eyes—something beneath the enforced subservience. Hate. There was still enough spirit left in him for that ever-powerful emotion.
"This won't go on much longer," she said quietly. "The people won't stand for it."
"The working class lived for centuries under the Fjordell feudal system," Lukel pointed out. "And they were treated worse than farm animals."
"Yes, but they were raised to it," Sarene said. "People in ancient Fjorden didn't know better—to them, the feudal system was the only system. These people are different. Ten years really isn't all that long—the Arelish peasantry can remember a time when the men they now call masters were simple shopkeepers and tradesmen. They know that there is a better life. More importantly, they know a government can collapse. making those who were once servants into masters. Iadon has put too much on them too quickly."
Lukel smiled. "You sound like Prince Raoden."
Sarene paused. "Did you know him well?"
"He was my best friend." Lukel said with a sorrowful nod. "The greatest man I have ever known."
"Tell me about him, Lukel," she requested, her voice soft.
Lukel thought for a moment, then spoke with a reminiscent voice. "Raoden made people happy. Your day could have been as sour as winter, and the prince and his optimism would arrive, and with a few gentle words he would make you realize just how silly you were being. He was brilliant as well; he knew every Aon, and couId draw them with perfection, and he was always coming up with some weird new philosophy that no one but Father could understand. Even with my training at the university in Svorden, I still couldn't follow half of his theories."
"He sounds like he was flawless."
Lukel smiIed. "In everything but cards. He always lost when we played tooledoo, even if he did talk me into paying for dinner afterward. He would have made a horrible merchant—he didn't really care about money. He would lose a game of tooledoo just because he knew I got a thrill from the victory. I never saw him sad or angry—except when he was at one of the outer plantations, visiting the people. He did that often; then he would come back to the court and speak his thoughts on the matter quite directly."
"I'll bet the king didn't think much of that," Sarene said with a slight smile.