"Why don't you tell me what is bothering you?" Hrathen said.
"Yes. well," Telrii said carefully. "I'm just not sure that I want to work with Fjorden."
Hrathen raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have that uncertainty before."
Telrii eyed Hrathen from beneath his hood. In the dark moonlight. it looked like his birthmark was simply a continuation of the shadows, and it gave his features an ominous cast—or, at least, it would have, had his extravagant costume not ruined the effect.
Telrii simply frowned. "I heard some interesting things at the party tonight, Gyorn. Are you really the one who was assigned to Duladel before its collapse?"
Ah, so that's it. Hrathen thought. "I was there."
"And now you're here," Telrii said. "You wonder why a nobleman is made uncomfortable by that news? The entire Republican class—the rulers of Duladelwere slaughtered in that revolution! And my sources claim that you had a great deal to do with that."
Perhaps the man wasn't as foolish as Hrathen thought. Telrii's concern was a valid one; Hrathen would have to speak with delicacy. He nodded toward Telrii's guards, who stood a short distance down the wall walk. "Where did you get those soldiers. my lord?"
Telrii paused. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Humor me," Hrathen said.
Telrii turned, glancing at the soldiers. "I recruited them away from the Elantris City Guard. I hired them to be my bodyguards."
Hrathen nodded. "And, how many such guards do you employ?"
"Fifteen," Telrii said.
"How would you judge their skill?"
Telrii shrugged. "Good enough, I suppose. I've never actually seen them fight."
"That's probably because they never have fought." Hrathen said. "None of the soldiers here in Arelon have ever seen combat."
"What is your point, Gyorn?" Telrii asked testily.
Hrathen turned, nodding toward the Elantris City Guard post, lit in the distance by torches at the base of the wall. "The Guard is what, five hundred strong? Perhaps seven hundred? If you include local policing forces and personal guards, such as your own, there are perhaps a thousand soldiers in the city of Kae. Added to Lord Eondel's legion, you still have well below fifteen hundred professional soldiers in the vicinity."
"And?' Telrii asked.
Hrathen turned. "Do you really think that Wyrn needs a revolution to take control of Arelon?"
"Wyrn doesn't have an army," Telrii said. "Fjorden only has a basic defense force."
"I didn't speak of Fjorden," Hrathen said. "I spoke of Wyrn, Regent of all Creation, leader of Shu-Dereth. Come now, Lord Telrii. Let us be frank. How many soldiers are there in Hrovell? In Jaador? In Svorden? In the other nations of the East? These are people who have sworn themselves Derethi. You don't think they would rise up at Wyrn's command?"
Telrii paused.
Hrathen nodded as he saw understanding growing in the duke's eyes. The man didn't understand the half of it. The truth was, Wyrn didn't even need an army of foreigners to conquer Arelon. Few outside the high priesthood understood the second, more powerful force Wyrn had at his call: the monasteries. For centuries. the Derethi priesthood had been training its monks in war, assassination, and ... other arts. Arelon's defenses were so weak that a single monastery's personnel could probably conquer the country.
Hrathen shivered at the thought of the ... monks trained inside of Dakhor Monastery gaining access to defenseless Arelon. He glanced down at his arm. the place where—beneath his plate armor—he bore the marks of his time there. These were not things that could be explained to Telrii, however.
"My lord." Hrathen said frankly. "I am here in Arelon because Wyrn wants to give the people a chance for peaceful conversion. If he wanted to crush the country, he could. Instead, he sent me. My only intention is to find a way to convert the people of Arelon."
Telrii nodded slowly.
"The first step in converting this country." Hrathen said, "is making certain that the government is favorable to the Derethi cause. This would require a change in leadership—it would require putting a new king on the throne."
"I have your word, then?" Telrii said.
"You will have the throne," Hrathen said.
Telrii nodded—this was obviously what he had been waiting for. Hrathen's promises before had been vague, but he could no longer afford to be uncommitted. His promises gave Telrii verbal proof that Hrathen was trying to undermine the throne—a calculated risk, but Hrathen was very good at such calculations.
"There will be those who oppose you." Telrii warned.
"Such as?"
"The woman, Sarene," Telrii said. "Her supposed idiocy is an obvious act. My informants say that she's taken an unhealthy interest in your activities, and she was asking about you at my party this evening."
Telrii's astuteness surprised Hrathen. The man seemed so pretentious, so flagrant—yet there was obviously a measure of competence to him. That could be an advantage or a disadvantage.
"Do not worry about the girl." Hrathen said. "Just take the money we have provided and wait. Your opportunity will come soon. You heard of the news the king received tonight?"
Telrii paused, then nodded.
"Things are moving along as promised," Hrathen said. "Now we just have to be patient."
"Very well," Telrii said. He still had his reservations, but Hrathen's logic—mixed with the outright promise of the throne—had obviously been enough to sway him. The duke nodded with uncustomary respect to Hrathen. Then he waved to his guards, moving to walk away.
"Duke Telrii," Hrathen said, a thought occurring to him.
Telrii paused, turning back.
"Do your soldiers still have friends in the Elantris City Guard?" Hrathen asked.
Telrii shrugged. "I assume so."
"Double your men's pay," Hrathen said, too quietly for Telrii's bodyguards to hear. "Speak well of the Elantris City Guard to them, and give them time off to spend with their former comrades. It might be ... beneficial to your future to have it known amongst the Guard that you are a man who rewards those that give him allegiance."
"You'll provide the funds to pay my men extra?" Telrii asked carefully. Hrathen rolled his eyes. "Very well."
Telrii nodded, then walked off to join his guards.
Hrathen turned, leaning against the wall, looking back out over Kae. He would have to wait for a short period before returning to the steps and descending. Telrii was still worried about proclaiming Derethi allegiance, and hadn't wanted to be seen openly meeting with Hrathen. The man was overly worried, but perhaps it was better for him to appear religiously conservative for the moment.
It disturbed Hrathen that Telrii had mentioned Sarene. For some reason the pert Teoish princess had decided to oppose Hrathen though he had given her no overt reason to do so. It was ironic, in a way; she didn't know it. but Hrathen was her greatest ally, not her dire enemy. Her people would convert one way or another. Either they would respond to Hrathen's humane urgings, or they would be crushed by the Fjordell armies.
Hrathen doubted he would ever he able to convince her of that truth. He saw the mistrust in her eyes—she would immediately assume that whatever he said was a lie. She loathed him with the irrational hatred of one who subconsciously knew that her own faith was inferior. Korathi teachings had withered in every major nation to the East, just as they would in Arelon and Teod. Shu-Korath was too weak: it lacked virility. Shu-Dereth was strong and powerful. Like two plants competing for the same ground, Shu-Dereth would strangle Shu-Korath.
Hrathen shook his head. waited for a safe period of time, then finally turned to walk back along the wall toward the steps that ran down into Kae. As he arrived, he heard an echoing thump from below, and he paused in surprise. It sounded like the city gates had just been closed.
"What was that?" Hrathen asked, approaching several guards who stood in a ring of glittering torchlight.
The guards shrugged, though one pointed at two forms walking through the darkened courtyard below. "They must have caught someone trying to escape."
Hrathen wrinkled his brow. "Does that happen often?"
The guard shook his head. "Most of them are too mindless to try escaping. Every once in a while, one tries to scurry away. But we always catch 'em."
"Thank you," Hrathen said, leaving the guards behind as he began the long descent to the city below. At the foot of the stairs he found the main guardhouse. The captain was inside, his eyes drowsy as if he had just awakened.
"Trouble. Captain?" Hrathen asked.
The captain turned with surprise. "Oh, it's you, Gyorn. No, no trouble. Just one of my lieutenants doing something he shouldn't have."
"Letting some Elantrians back into the city?" Hrathen asked.
The captain frowned, but nodded. Hrathen had met the man several times, and at each encounter he had fostered the captain's greed with a few coins. This man was nearly his.
"Next time, Captain," Hrathen said, reaching onto his belt and pulling out a pouch. "I can offer you a different option."
The captain's eyes shone as Hrathen began to pull gold wyrnings—stamped with Wyrn Wulfden's head—out of the pouch.
"I have been wanting to study one of these Elantrians up close, for theological reasons," Hrathen explained, setting a pile of coins on the table. "I would be appreciative if the next captured Elantrian found his way to my chapel before being thrown back into the city."
"That can probably be arranged, my lord," the captain said, slipping the coins off the table with an eager hand.
"No one would have to know about it, of course," Hrathen said. "Of course. my lord."
CHAPTER 16
RAODEN had once tried to set Ien free. He had been a young boy then, simple of mind but pure of intention. He had been learning about slavery from one of his tutors, and had somehow gotten it into his mind that the Seons were being held against their will. He had gone to Ien tearfully that day, demanding that the Seon accept his freedom.
"But I am free, young master," Ten had replied to the crying boy.
"No you're not" Raoden had argued. "You're a slave—you do whatever people tell you."
"I do it because I want to. Raoden."
"Why? Don't you want to be free?"
"I want to serve, young master," Ten explained, pulsing reassuringly. "My freedom is to be here, with you."
`I don't understand."
"You look at things as a human, young master," Ten said with his wise, indulgent voice. "You see rank and distinction; you try to order the world so that everything has a place either above you or beneath you. To a Seon, there is no above or beneath. there are only those we love. And we serve those we love."
"But you don't even get paid!" had been Raoden's indignant response.
"But I do, young master. My payment is that of a father's pride and a mother's love. My wages come from the satisfaction of seeing you grow."
It had been many years before Raoden understood those words, but they had always remained in his mind. As he had grown and learned, listening to countless Korathi sermons on the unifying power of love, Raoden had come to see Seons in a new way. Not as servants, or even as friends. but as something much more deep and more powerful. It was as if the Seons were an expression of Domi himself, reflections of God's love for his people. Through their service, they were much closer to heaven than their supposed masters could ever really understand.