One of Shaor's followers fell at their feet, knocking over a carton of grain mush. The creature's belly was sliced waist to neck. and his arms flailed awkwardly, mixing the white mush paste with the slime of the cobblestones. His lips trembled as he stared upward.
"Food. We only wanted a little food. Food . ." the madman said, beginning the mantra of a Hoed.
Sarene looked down at the creature, then took a step back. When she looked back up at Raoden. her eyes shone with the icy rage of betrayal.
"You held food back from them, didn't you?" she demanded.
Raoden nodded slowly, making no excuse. "I did."
"You tyrant!" she hissed. "You heartless despot!"
Raoden turned to look at Shaor's desperate men. In a way, she was right. "Yes. I am."
Sarene took another step backward. However, she stumbled against something. Raoden reached out to steady her, but then stopped as he realized what had tripped her. It was a sack of food, one of the overstuffed bags Raoden had prepared for the Hoed. Sarene looked down as well. realization dawning.
"I almost started trusting you," Sarene said bitterly. Then she was gone, dashing toward the gate as the soldiers fell back. Shaor's men did not follow, instead falling on the bounty that the nobles had abandoned.
Raoden stepped back from the food. Shaor's men didn't even seem to notice him as they tore into the scattered supplies, stuffing their faces with dirty hands. Raoden watched them with tired eyes. It was over. The nobles would not enter Elantris again. At least none of them had been killed.
Then he remembered Saolin. Raoden dashed across the courtyard to kneel beside his friend. The old soldier stared sightlessly into the sky, his head rocking back and forth as he mumbled, "Failed my lord. Failed my lord Spirit. Failed. failed, failed. .
Raoden moaned. bowing his head in despair. What have I done? he wondered, helplessly cradling the newly made Hoed.
Raoden stayed there, lost in sorrow until long after Shaor's men had taken the last of the food and run off. Eventually, an incongruous sound brought him out of his grief.
The gates of Elantris were opening again.
CHAPTER 29
"MY lady, are you injured?" Ashe's deep voice was wrought with concern.
Sarene tried to wipe her eyes, but the tears kept coming. "No," she said through her quiet sobs. "I'm fine."
Obviously unconvinced, the Seon floated around her in a slow semicircle, searching for any outward signs of injury. Houses and shops passed quickly beyond the carriage window as the vehicle sped them back to the palace. Eondel. the carriage's owner, had stayed behind at the gate.
"My lady," Ashe said, his tone frank. "What is wrong?"
"I was right, Ashe." she said, trying to laugh at her stupidity through the tears. "I should be happy; I was right about him all along."
"Spirit?"
Sarene nodded, then rested her head against the back of the seat, staring up at the carriage's ceiling. "He was withholding food from the people. You should have seen them. Ashe—their starvation had driven them mad. Spirit's warriors kept them away from the courtyard, but they must have finally gotten hungry enough to fight back. I can't imagine how they did it—they didn't have armor or swords, just their hunger. He didn't even try to deny it. He just stood there, watching his schemes fall apart, a stash of hoarded food at his feet."
Sarene raised her hands to her face, holding her head in frustration. "Why am I so stupid?"
Ashe pulsed with concern.
"I knew what he was doing. Why does it bother me to find out I was right?" Sarene took a deep breath, but it caught in her throat. Ashe had been right: She had allowed herself to get too caught up in Spirit and Elantris. She had become too emotionally involved to act on her suspicions.
The result was a disaster. The nobility had responded to Elantrian pain and wretchedness. Long-held prejudices had weakened, the Korathi teachings of temperate understanding proving their influence. Now, however, the nobility would only remember that they had been attacked. Sarene could only thank Domi that none of them had been hurt.
Sarene's thinking was interrupted by the sounds of armor clinking outside of her window. Recouping her composure the best she could, Sarene poked her head out the window to see what was causing the ruckus. A double line of men in chain and leather marched past her carriage, their livery black and red. It was Iadon's personal guard, and they were heading for Elantris.
Sarene felt a chill as she watched the grim-faced warriors. "Idos Domi," she whispered. There was hardness in these men's eyes—they were prepared to kill. To slaughter.
¤ ¤ ¤
AT first, the coachman resisted Sarene's commands that he drive more quickly, but few men found it easy to resist a determined Teoish princess. They arrived at the palace shortly, and Sarene hopped from the carriage without waiting for the coachman to pull down the steps.
Her reputation with the palace staff was growing, and most knew to get out of her way as she stalked through the hallways. The guards at Iadon's study were also growing used to her. and they simply sighed resignedly as they pushed open the doors for her.
The king's face fell visibly as she entered. "Whatever it is, it will wait. We have a crisis—"
Sarene slammed her open palms down on Iadon's desk. shaking the wood and knocking over the penstand. "What in the blessed name of Domi do you think you're doing?"
Iadon reddened with frustrated anger, standing. "There has been an attack on members of my court! It is my duty to respond."
"Don't preach to me about duty, Iadon." Sarene countered. "You've been looking for an excuse to destroy Elantris for ten years now—only the people's superstitions kept you back."
"Your point?" he asked coldly.
"I am nor going to be the one who gives you that excuse!" she said. "Withdraw your men."
Iadon snorted. "You of all people should appreciate the quickness of my response, Princess. It was your honor that was slighted by that attack."
"I'm perfectly capable of protecting my own honor, Iadon. Those troops move in direct opposition to everything I've accomplished these last few weeks."
"It was a fool's project, anyway," Iadon declared, dropping a collection of papers to the table. The top sheet ruffled from the motion, and Sarene could read its scribbled commands. The words "Elantris's" and "extermination" stood out, stark and foreboding.
"Go back to your room, Sarene," the king said. "This will all be over in a matter of hours."
For the first time Sarene realized how she must look, her face red and mussed from the tears, her simple monochrome dress stained with sweat and Elantris grime, and her disheveled hair pulled back into an unraveling braid.
The moment of insecurity disappeared as she looked back at the king and saw the satisfaction in his eyes. He would massacre the entire group of starving, helpless people in Elantris. He would kill Spirit. All because of her.
"You listen to me, Iadon," Sarene said, her voice sharp and cold. She held the king's eyes, drawing upon her nearly six-foot height to tower over the shorter man. "You will withdraw your soldiers from Elantris. You wild leave those people alone. Otherwise, I will begin to tell people what I know about you."
Iadon snorted.
"Defiance, Iadon?" she asked. "I think you'll feel differently when everyone knows the truth. You know they already think you a fool. They pretend to obey you, but you know—you know in that whispering part of your heart that they mock you with their obedience. You think they didn't hear about your lost ships? You think they weren't laughing to themselves at how their king would soon be as poor as a baron? Oh they knew. How will you face them, Iadon, when they learn how you really survived? When I show them how I rescued your income, how I gave you the contracts in Teod, how I saved your crown."
As she spoke, she punctuated each remark by stabbing her finger at his chest. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow as he began to crack beneath her unyielding gaze.
"You are a fool, Iadon," she hissed. "I know it, your nobles know it, and the world knows it. You have taken a great nation and squashed it in your greedy hands. You have enslaved the people and you have defiled Arelon's honor. And, despite it all, your country grows poorer. Even you. the king, are so destitute that only a gift from Teod lets you keep your crown."
Iadon shied away unnerved. The king seemed to shrink, his arrogant act withering before her anger.
"How will it look, Iadon?" she whispered. "How will it feel to have the entire court know you are indebted to a woman? A foolish girl at that? You would be revealed. Everyone would know what you are. Nothing more than an insecure. trivial, incapable invalid."
Iadon plopped down into his seat. Sarene handed him a pen.
"Repeal it," she demanded.
His fingers shook as he scribbled a countermand at the bottom of the page, then stamped it with his personal seal.
Sarene snatched up the paper, then stalked from the room. "Ashe, stop those soldiers! Tell them new orders are coming.'
"Yes, my lady," the Seon replied, shooting down the corridor toward a window, moving more quickly than even a galloping horse.
"You!" Sarene ordered, slapping the rolled-up sheet of paper against a guard's breastplate. "Take this to Elantris."
The man accepted the paper uncertainly.
"Run!" Sarene ordered.
He did.
Sarene folded her arms, watching the man dash down the hallway. Then she turned to regard the second guard. He began to twitch nervously beneath her gaze.
"Um, I'll make sure he gets there," the man stuttered, then took off behind his companion.
Sarene stood for a moment, then turned back to the king's study, pulling the doors closed. She was left with the sight of Iadon, slumped in his chair, elbows on the desktop and head cradled in his hands. The king was sobbing quietly to himself.
¤ ¤ ¤
BY the time Sarene reached Elantris, the new orders had long since arrived. Iadon's guard stood uncertainly before the gates. She told them to go home, but their captain refused, claiming that he had received orders not to attack, but he didn't have any orders to return. A short time later a courier arrived, delivering commands to do just that. The captain shot her an irritable look, then ordered his men back to the palace.
Sarene stayed a little longer, making the strenuous climb to the top of the wall to gaze down at the courtyard. Her food cart stood abandoned in the center of the square, overturned with broken boxes running in a jagged line before it. There were bodies, too-fallen members of the attacking party, their corpses rotting in the muck.
Sarene froze, her muscles stiffening. One of the corpses was still moving. She leaned over the stone railing, staring down at the fallen man. The distance was great, but she could still see the distinct lines of the man's legs—lying a dozen feet from his chest. Some powerful blow had separated him at the waist. There was no way he could have survived such a wound. Yet, insanely, his arms waved in the air with hopeless randomness.
"Merciful Domi," Sarene whispered, her hand rising to her breast, her fingers seeking out her small Korathi pendant. She scanned the courtyard with disbelieving eyes. Some of the other bodies were moving as well, despite horrible wounds.