"He wasn't. He was a sculptor."
"You knew him?"
"I met him once," Raoden said with a nod. Then he looked back at Galladon with inquisitive eyes. "Where did you hear the rumors about him?"
"Can we move back first, sule?" Galladon requested. "I'd rather not end up a participant in one of Aanden's mock trials and executions."
"Mock?"
"Everything's mock but the axe."
"Ah. Good idea—I've seen all I needed to."
The two men moved back, and as soon as they were a few streets away from the university, Galladon answered Raoden's question. "I talk to people. sule; that's where I get my information. Granted, the great majority of the city's people are Hoed, but there're enough conscious ones around to talk with. Of course, my mouth is what got me in trouble with you. Maybe if I'd kept it shut I'd still be sitting on those steps enjoying myself, rather than spying on one of the most dangerous men in the city."
"Perhaps," Raoden said. "But you wouldn't be having half as much fun. You'd be chained to your boredom."
"I'm so glad you liberated me, sule."
"Anytime."
Raoden thought as they walked, crying to decide on a plan of action should Aanden ever come looking for him. It hadn't taken Raoden long to adjust to walking on Elantris's uneven, slime-covered streets; his still painful toe was a wonderful motivator. He was actually beginning to regard the dun-colored walls and grime as normal, which bothered him much more than the city's dirtiness ever had.
"Sule," Galladon eventually asked. "Why did you want to see Aanden? You couldn't have known you'd recognize him."
Raoden shook his head. "If Aanden had been a baron from the outside, I would have known him almost immediately."
"You're certain?"
Raoden nodded absentIy.
Galladon was silent for a few more streets, then spoke with sudden understanding. "Now, sule, I'm not very good with these Aons you Arelenes hold in such esteem, but unless I'm completely wrong, the Aon for 'spirit' is Rao."
"Yes," Raoden said hesitantly.
"And doesn't the king of Arelon have a son named Raoden?"
"He did."
"And here you are, sule, claiming to know all the barons in Arelon. You're obviously a man with a good education, and you give commands easily."
"You could say that." Raoden said.
"Then, to top it all off, you call yourself 'Spirit.' Pretty suspicious. Kolo?"
Raoden sighed. "I should have picked a different name. eh?"
"By Doloken, boy! You're telling me you're the crown prince of Arelon?"
"I was the crown prince of Arelon, Galladon," Raoden corrected. "I lost the title when I died."
"No wonder you're so frustrating. I've spent my entire life trying to avoid royalty. and here I end up with you. Burning Doloken!"
"Oh quiet down." Raoden said. "It's not like I'm really royalty—it's been in the family for less than a generation."
"That's long enough, Galladon said sullenly.
"If it helps, my father didn't think I was fit to rule. He tried everything to keep me from the throne."
Galladon snorted. "I'd be scared to see the man Iadon found fit to rule. Your father's an idiot—no offense intended."
"None taken," Raoden replied. "And I trust you'll keep my identity secret."
Galladon sighed. "If you wish."
"I do. If I'm going to do any good in Elantris, I need to win followers because they like what I'm doing. not because they feel a patriotic obligation."
Galladon nodded. "You could have at least told me, sule."
"You said we shouldn't talk about our pasts."
"True."
Raoden paused. "Of course, you know what this means."
Galladon eyed him suspiciously. "What?"
"Now that you know who I was, you have to tell me who you were. It's only fair."
Galladon's response was long in coming. They had almost arrived at the church before he spoke. Raoden slowed his walk, not wanting to break off his friend's narration by arriving at their destination. He needn't have worried—Galladon's declaration was brief and pointed.
"I was a farmer," he said curtly.
"A farmer?" Raoden had been expecting something more.
"And an orchard-keeper. I sold my fields and bought an apple farm because I figured it would be easier—you don't have to replant trees every year."
"Was it?" Raoden asked. "Easier, I mean?"
Galladon shrugged. "I thought it was, though I know a couple of wheat farmers that would argue with me until the sun set. Kolo?" The larger man looked at Raoden with an insightful eye. "You don't think I'm telling the truth about my past. do you?"
Raoden smiled, spreading his hands before him. "I'm sorry, Galladon, but you just don't seem like a farmer to me. You have the build for it, but you seem too .. ."
"Intelligent?" Galladon asked. "Sule, I've seen some farmers with minds so sharp you could have used their heads to scythe grain."
"I don't doubt that you have," Raoden said. "But, intelligent or not, those types still tend to be uneducated. You are a learned man. Galladon."
"Books, sule, are a wonderful thing. A wise farmer has time to study, assuming he lives in a country such as Duladen, where men are free."
Raoden raised an eyebrow. "So, you're going to hold to this farmer story?"
"It's the truth, sule," Galladon said. "Before I became an Elantrian, I was a farmer."
Raoden shrugged. Perhaps. Galladon had been able to predict the rain, as well as do a number of other eminently practical things. Still, it seemed like there was something more, something he wasn't ready to share yet.
"All right." Raoden said appreciatively. "I believe you."
Galladon nodded curtly, his expression saying he was very glad the matter was settled. Whatever he was hiding, it wouldn't come out this day. So. instead, Raoden took the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering him since the first day he came into Elantris.
"Galladon," he asked, "where are the children?"
"Children, sule?"
"Yes, if the Shaod strikes randomly, then it should strike children as well as adults."
Galladon nodded. "It does. I've seen babes barely old enough to walk get thrown in those gates."
"Then where are they? I only see adults."
"Elantris is a harsh place, sule," Galladon said quietly as they strode through the doors to Raoden's broken-down church. "Children don't last very long here."
"Yes. but—Raoden cur himself off as he saw something flicker in the corner of his eye. He turned with surprise.
"A Seon," Galladon said, noticing the glowing ball.
"Yes," Raoden said, watching the Seon float slowly through the open ceiling and spin in a lazy circle around the two men. "It's so sad how they just drift around the city like this. I ..." he trailed off, squinting slightly, trying to make out which Aon glowed at the center of the strange, silent Seon.
"Sule?" Galladon asked.
"Idos Domi," Raoden whispered. "It's Ien."
"The Seon? You recognize it?"
Raoden nodded, holding out his hand with the palm up. The Seon floated over and alighted on his proffered palm for a moment; then it began to float away, flitting around the room like a careless butterfly.
"Ien was my Seon." Raoden said. "Before I was thrown in here." He could see the Aon at Ien's center now. The character looked . . . weak, somehow. It glowed unevenly, sections of the character very dim. like .. .
Like the blotches on an Elantrian skin, Raoden realized, watching Ien float away. The Seon headed for the wall of the church, continuing on until he bounced against it. The small ball of light hovered for a moment, contemplating the wall, then spun away to float in a different direction. There was an awkwardness to the Seon's motion—as if Ien could barely keep himself upright in the air. He jerked occasionally, and constantly moved in slow, dizzy loops.
Raoden's stomach turned as he regarded what was left of his friend. He'd avoided thinking about Ien too much during his days in Elantris; he knew what happened to Seons when their masters were taken by the Shaod. He'd assumed—perhaps hoped-that Ien had been destroyed by the Shaod, as sometimes happened.
Raoden shook his head. "Ien used to be so wise. I never knew a creature, Seon or man. more thoughtful than he."
... sorry, sule," Galladon said solemnly.
Raoden held out his hand again, and the Seon approached dutifully, as it had once done for the young boy Raoden—a boy who hadn't yet learned that Seons were more valuable as friends than as servants.
Does he recognize me? Raoden wondered, watching the Seon lurch slightly in the air before him. Or is it just the familiar gesture that he recognizes?
Raoden would probably never know. After hovering above the palm for a second. the Seon lost interest and floated away again.
"Oh, my dear friend." Raoden whispered. "And I thought the Shaod had been harsh to me."
CHAPTER 11
ONLY five men responded to Kiin's request. Lukel scowled at the meager turnout. "Raoden had as many as thirty men at his meetings before he died," the handsome merchant explained. "I didn't expect them all to come running, but five? That's barely even worth our time."
"It's enough, son," Kiin said thoughtfully, peeking through the kitchen door. "They may be few in number, bur we got the best of the lot. Those are five of the most powerful men in the nation, not to mention five of the most intelligent. Raoden had a way of attracting clever men to his side."
"Kiin, you old bear,' one of the men called from the dining room. He was a stately man with graying lines of silver hair who wore a sharp martial uniform. "Are you going to feed us or not? Domi knows I only came because I heard you were going to fix some of your roast ketathum."
"The pig is turning as we speak, Eondel." Kiin called back. "And I made sure to prepare a double portion for you. Keep your stomach in check for a little while longer."
The man laughed heartily, patting his belly—which, as far as Sarene could tell, was as flat and hard as that of a man many years younger. "Who is he?" she asked.
"The Count of Eon Plantation," Kiin said. "Lukel, go check on the pork while your cousin and I gossip about our guests."
"Yes, Father," Lukel said, accepting the poker and moving to the firepit room at the back of the kitchen.
"Eondel is the only man besides Raoden that I've ever seen openly oppose the king and get away with it." Kiin explained. "He's a military genius, and owns a small personal army. There are only a couple hundred men in it, bur they're extremely well trained."
Next Kiin pointed through the slightly open door toward a man with dark brown skin and delicate features. "Thar man beside Eondel is Baron Shuden."
"Jindoeese?" Sarene asked.
Her uncle nodded. "His family took up residence in Arelon about a century ago, and they've amassed a fortune directing the Jindoeese trade routes through the country. When Iadon came to power, he offered them a barony to keep their caravans running. Shuden's father passed away about five years ago, and the son is much more traditional than the father ever was. He thinks Iadon's method of rule contradicts the heart of Shu-Keseg, which is why he's willing to meet with us.