Sarene waved off the merchants, though her efforts did little to discourage them. She was relieved to finally turn a corner and see the Korathi chapel. She resisted the urge to sprint the rest of the way, keeping her pace steady until she reached the doors to the broad building and slipped in.
She dropped a few coins—nearly the last of the money she had brought with her from Teod—into the donations box. then went looking for the priest. The chapel felt comfortable to Sarene. Unlike Derethi chapels—which were austere and formal, hung with shields, spears, and the occasional tapestry—Korathi chapels were more relaxed. A few quilts hung on the walls—probably donations from elderly patrons—and flowers and plants sat lined up beneath them, their buds peeking out in the spring weather. The ceiling was low and unvaulted, but the windows were broad and wide enough to keep the building from feeling cramped.
"Hello, child," a voice said from the side of the room. Omin, the priest, was standing next to one of the far windows, looking out at the city.
"Hello, Father Omin," Sarene said with a curtsey. "Am I bothering you?"
"Of course not, child," Omin said, waving her over. "Come, how have you been? I missed you at the sermon last night."
"I'm sorry, Father Omin," Sarene said with a slight flush. "There was a ball I had to attend."
"Ah. Do not feel guilty, child. SociaIizing is not to be underestimated, especially when one is new in town."
Sarene smiled, walking between a set of pews to join the short priest next to the window. His small stature wasn't usually so noticeable; Omin had constructed a podium at the front of the chapel to fit his size. and while he gave sermons it was hard to distinguish his height. Standing next to the man, however, Sarene couldn't help feeling that she was towering over him. He was terribly short even for an Arelene, the top of his head barely reaching her chest.
"You are troubled by something, child?" Omin asked. He was mostly bald, and wore a loose-fitting robe tied at the waist with a white sash. Other than his strikingly blue eyes. the only color on his body was a jade Korathi pendant at his neck, carved in the shape of Aon Omi.
He was a good man—something Sarene couldn't say about everyone, even priests. There were several back in Teod who absolutely infuriated her. Omin, however, was thoughtful and fatherly—even if he did have an annoying habit of letting his thoughts drift. He sometimes got so distracted that minutes would pass without his realizing someone was waiting for him to speak.
"I wasn't sure who else to ask. Father." Sarene said. "I need to do a Widow's Trial, but no one will explain what it is."
"Ah," Omin said with a nod of his shiny hairless head. "That would be confusing for a newcomer."
"Why won't anyone explain it to me?"
"It is a semireligious ceremony left over from days when the Elantrians ruled," Omin explained. "Anything involving the city is a taboo topic in Arelon, especially for the Faithful."
"Well, then how am I going to learn what is expected of me?" Sarene asked with exasperation.
"Do not get frustrated, child," Omin said soothingly. "It is taboo, but only by custom, not by doctrine. I don't think Domi would have any objection to my assuaging your curiosity."
"Thank you, Father," Sarene said with a sigh of relief.
"Since your husband died," Omin explained, "you are expected to show your grief openly, otherwise the people won't think you loved him."
"But I didn't love him—not really. I didn't even know him."
"Nonetheless, it would he proper for you to do a Trial. The severity of a Widow's Trial is an expression of how important she thought her union, and how much she respected her husband. To go without one, even for an outsider, could be a bad sign."
"But wasn't it a pagan ritual?"
"Not really," Omin said with a shake of his head. "The Elantrians started it, but it had nothing to do with their religion. It was simply an act of kindness that developed into a benevolent and worthy tradition."
Sarene raised her eyebrows. "Honestly, I am surprised to hear you speak that way about the Elantrians, Father."
Omin's eyes sparkled. "Just because the Derethi arteths hated the Elantrians doesn't mean that Domi did, child. I do not believe they were gods, and many of them had inflated opinions of their own majesty, but I had a number of friends in their ranks. The Shaod took men both good and bad, selfish and selfless. Some of the most noble men I ever knew lived in that city—I was very sorry to see what happened to them."
Sarene paused. "Was it Domi, Father? Did he curse them as they say?"
"Everything happens according to Domi's will, child," Omin answered. "However, I do not think that 'curse' is the right word. At times, Domi sees fit to send disasters upon the world: other times he will give the most innocent of children a deadly disease. These are no more curses than what happened to Elantris—they are simply the workings of the world. All things must progress, and progression is not always a steady incline. Sometimes we must fall, sometimes we will rise—some must be hurt while others have fortune, for that is the only way we can learn to rely on one another. As one is blessed, it is his privilege to help those whose lives are not as easy. Unity comes from strife, child."
Sarene paused. "So you don't think the Elantrians—what's left of them—are devils?"
"Svrakiss, as the Fjordells call them?" Omin asked with amusement. "No, though I hear that is what this new gyorn teaches. I fear his pronouncements will only bring hatred."
Sarene tapped her cheek in thought. "That may be what he wants."
"What purpose could that accomplish?"
"I don't know," Sarene admitted.
Omin shook his head again. "I cannot believe any follower of God, even a gyorn, would do such a thing." He took on an abstracted look as he considered the prospect, a slight frown on his face.
"Father?" Sarene asked. "Father?"
At the second prod Omin shook his head, as if startled to realize she was still there. "I'm sorry, child. What were we discussing?"
"You never finished telling me what a Widow's Trial was," she reminded.
Tangents were all too frequent when one was speaking with the diminutive priest.
"Ah, yes. The Widow's Trial. Put simply, child, you are expected to do some favor for the country—the more you loved your husband, and the more lofty your station, the more extravagant your Trial is supposed to be. Most women give food or clothing to the peasantry. The more personal your involvement, the better the impression you give. The Trial is a method of service—a means of bringing humility to the exalted."
"But where will I get the money?" She hadn't decided just how to go about asking her new father for a stipend.
"Money?" Omin asked with surprise. "Why, you're one of the richest people in Arelon. Didn't you know that?"
"What?"
"You inherited Prince Raoden's estate. child." Omin explained. "He was a very wealthy man—his father made sure of that. Under King Iadon's government, it would not be good for the crown prince to be any less rich than a duke. By the same token, it would be a source of extreme embarrassment to him if his daughter-in-law weren't fabulously wealthy. All you need to do is speak to the royal treasurer, and I'm certain he will take care of you."
"Thank you, Father," Sarene said, giving the little man a fond hug. "I have work to do."
"Your visit was welcome, child," Omin said, looking back at the city with contemplative eyes. "That is what I am here for." However, she could tell that soon after making the comment, he had already forgotten her presence, traveling, once again, the long roads within his mind.
¤ ¤ ¤
ASHE waited for her outside, hovering beside the door with characteristic patience.
"I don't see why you're so worried," Sarene said to him. "Omin liked Elantris: he wouldn't have anything against your entering his chapel."
Ashe pulsed slightly. He hadn't entered a Korathi chapel since the day many years ago when Seinalan, the patriarch of Shu-Korath, had thrown him out of one.
"It is all right, my lady." Ashe said. "I have a feeling that no matter what the priests may say, both of us will be happier if we stay out of one another's sight."
"I disagree," Sarene said, "but I don't want to argue it. Did you hear anything of our conversation?"
"Seons have very good ears, my lady."
"You don't have ears at all," she pointed out. "What did you think?"
"It sounds like a good way for my lady to gain some notoriety in the city."
"My thought exactly."
"One other thing, my lady. You two spoke of the Derethi gyorn and Elantris.The other night, when I was inspecting the city, I noticed the Gyorn Hrathen walking the city wall of Elantris. I have gone back several nights now, and have found him there on a couple of occasions. He appears quite friendly with the captain of the Elantris City Guard."
"What is he trying to do with that city?" Sarene said, frustrated. "It baffles me as well, my lady."
Sarene frowned, trying to piece together what she knew of the gyorn's actions and Elantris. She could make no connections. However, as she thought, something else occurred to her. Perhaps she could solve one of her other problems and inconvenience the gyorn at the same time.
"Maybe I don't need to know what he is doing to block him." she said. "It would certainly help, my lady."
"I don't have that luxury. But, we do know this: If the gyorn wants the people to hate the Elantrians, then it is my job to see the opposite happen." Ashe paused. "What are you planning, my lady?"
"You'll see," she said with a smile. "First, let's get back to my rooms. I've wanted to speak with Father for some time now."
¤ ¤ ¤
" 'ENE? I'm glad you called. I've been worried about you." Eventeo's glowing head hovered before her.
"You could have sent for me at any time, Father," Sarene said.
"I didn't want to intrude. honey. I know how you value your independence."
"Independence is second to duty right now. Father," Sarene said. "Nations are falling—we don't have time to worry about one another's feelings."
"I stand corrected," her father said with a chuckle.
"What is happening in Teod. Father?"
"It isn't good," Eventeo warned, his voice growing uncharacteristically somber. "These are dangerous times. I just had to put down another Jeskeri Mystery cult. They always seem to spring up when an eclipse is near."
Sarene shivered. The Mystery cultists were an odd bunch; one her father didn't like to deal with. There was reservation in his voice, however—something else was bothering him. "There's more, isn't there?"
"I'm afraid there is, 'Ene," her father admitted. "Something worse."
"What?"
"You know Ashgress, the Fjordell ambassador?"