The men I am forced to work with . . . Hrathen thought with an inward sigh. Iadon, at least, had been businesslike.
"Ah, Hrathen," Telrii said with a smile. "Welcome."
"Your Majesty," Hrathen said, masking his disgust. "I was hoping we could speak in private."
Telrii sighed. "Very well," he said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the attendants. They left, pulling the outer doors closed.
"Now," Telrii said, "why have you come? Are you interested in the tariffs on your merchants setting up for the Arelene Market?"
Hrathen frowned. "I have more important matters to consider, Your Majesty. As do you. I have come to collect on the promises of our allegiance."
"Promises, Hrathen?" Telrii asked idly. "I made no promises."
And so the game began. "You are to join the Derethi religion." Hrathen said. "That was the deal."
"I made no such deal, Hrathen," Telrii said. "You offered me funds: I accepted them. You have my gratitude for the support, as I said that you would."
"I will not squabble with you, merchant," Hrathen said, wondering how much money Telrii would demand to "remember" their agreement. "I am no sycophant to be baited. If you do not do as Jaddeth expects, then I will find someone else. Do not forget what happened to your predecessor."
Telrii snorted. "Don't take credit for something you had no hand in, priest. Iadon's fall was, as I recall, caused by the Teoish princess. You were in Elantris at the time. Now, if Fjorden wishes a Derethi on the throne of Arelon, that can probably be arranged. There will be, however, a price."
Finally, Hrathen thought. He clenched his jaw, feigning anger, and waited a moment. Then he sighed. "Very well. How much—"
"However," TeIrii interrupted, "it is not a price you can pay."
Hrathen froze. "Excuse me?"
"Yes," Telrii said. "My price must be paid by someone with a little more ... authority than yourself. You see, I've learned that Derethi priests cannot appoint men to their own position in the Church hierarchy."
Hrathen felt a chill grow within him as he connected the pieces of Telrii's statements. "You can't possibly be serious," he whispered.
"I know more than you assume, Hrathen," Telrii said. "You think me a fool, ignorant of the ways of the East? Kings bow to gyorns. What power will I hold if I let you make me into nothing more than a Derethi slave? No, that will not do for me. I don't plan to bow anytime one of your priests comes to visit. I will convert to your religion, but I will do so only with the promise of an ecclesiastic rank to match my civil one. Not just King Telrii, but Gyorn Telrii."
Hrathen shook his head in wonder. How easily this man claimed that he was not "ignorant" of the ways of the East, yet even Fjordell children knew enough doctrine to laugh at such a ridiculous suggestion. "My lord Telrii," he said with amusement. "You have no idea—"
"I said, Hrathen," Telrii interrupted, "that there is nothing you can do for me. I have sought to deal with a higher power."
Hrathen's apprehension returned. "What are you saying?"
"Wyrn," Telrii said with a wide smile. "I sent him a messenger several days ago, informing him of my demand. You are no longer necessary. Hrathen. You may withdraw."
Hrathen stood, stunned. The man had sent a letter to Wyrn himself ... Telrii had made demands of the Regent of All Creation? "You are a foolish, foolish man," Hrathen whispered finally realizing the severity of his problems. When Wyrn received that message ...
"Go!" Telrii repeated pointing toward the door.
Slightly dazed, Hrathen did as commanded.
CHAPTER 49
AT first Raoden stayed away from the library, because it reminded him of her.
Then he found himself drawn back to it—because it reminded him of her.
Instead of thinking about his loss, Raoden focused on the connection Sarene had made. He studied Aon after Aon, noticing other features of the landscape in their forms. Aon Eno, the character for water, included a wiggling line that matched the meanderings of the Aredel River. The character for wood—Aon Dii—included several circles that represented the southern forests.
The Aons were maps of the land, each one a slightly different rendering of the same general picture. Each one had the three basic lines—the coast line, the mountain line, and the dot for Lake Alonoe. Many often had a line at the bottom to represent the Kalomo River, which separated Arelon from Duladel.
Some of the features completely baffled him, however. Why did Aon Mea, the character for thoughtfulness have an X that crossed somewhere in the middle of the Eon County? Why was Aon Rii specked with two dozen seemingly random dots? The answers might have been held in one of the library's tomes, bur so far he had found nothing in the way of explanation.
The Dor attacked him at least twice a day now. Each battle seemed like it would be his last, and each time he seemed a little weaker when the fight was through—as if his energy were a finite well, dribbling a little lower with each confrontation. The question was not whether he would fall or not, but whether he would find the secret before he did.
¤ ¤ ¤
RAODEN pounded the map with frustration. Five days had passed since Sarene's departure, and he still couldn't find the answer. He was beginning to feel that he would continue for eternity, agonizingly close to the secret of AonDor yet forever unable to find it.
The large map, now hung from the wall near his desk, fluttered as he pushed it flat, studying its lines. Its edges were worn with age, and the ink was beginning to fade. The map had lived through Elantris's glory and collapse: how he wished it could speak, whisper to him the mysteries it knew.
He shook his head, sitting down in Sarene's chair, his foot knocking over one of her book stacks. With a sigh. he leaned back in the chair and began to draw—seeking solace in the Aons.
He had recently moved on to a new, more advanced AonDor technique. The texts explained that Aons were more powerful when drawn with attention not only to line length and slant. but line width as well. While they would still work if the lines were all the same width, variance in the proper locations added extra control and strength.
So, Raoden practiced as they instructed, using his fifthfinger to draw small lines and his thumb to construct larger ones. He could also use tools—such as a stick or a quill—to draw the lines. Fingers were the convention, but form mattered far more than the utensils used. After all, the Elantrians had used AonDor to carve permanent symbols into rock and stone—and had even constructed them from wire, pieces of wood, and a host of other materials. Apparently, it was difficult to create AonDor characters from physical materials, but the Aons still had their same effect, regardless of whether they were drawn in the air or smelted from steel.
His practice was futile. It didn't matter how efficient his Aons were; none of them worked. He used his fingernails to draw some lines so delicate that they were nearly invisible; he drew others with three fingers side by side—exactly as instructed in his texts. And it was pointless. All his memorization. all of his work. Why had he even bothered?
Feet snapped in the hallway. Mareshe's newest technological advance was shoes with thick leather soles, studded with nails. Raoden watched through his translucent Aon as the door opened and Galladon entered.
"Her Seon just stopped by again, sule." the Dula said.
"Is he still here?"
Galladon shook his head. "He left almost immediately—he wanted me to tell you that she's finally convinced the lords to rebel against King Telrii."
Sarene had been sending her Seon to give them daily reports of her activities—a service that was a mixed blessing. Raoden knew he should listen to what was happening on the outside, but he longed for the stress-free relative ignorance of before. Then, he had only needed to worry about Elantris; now he had to fret over the entire kingdom—a fact he had to stomach along with the painful knowledge that there was nothing he could do to help.
"Did Ashe say when the next supply dump would come?"
"Tonight."
"Good," Raoden said. "Did he say if she would come herself?"
"Same stipulations as before, sule," Galladon said with a shake of his head.
Raoden nodded, keeping the melancholy out of his face. He didn't know what means Sarene was using to deliver the supplies, but for some reason Raoden and the others weren't allowed to retrieve the boxes until after their deliverers had gone.
"Stop moping. sule," Galladon said with a grunt. "It doesn't suit you—it takes a fine sense of pessimism to brood with any sort of respectability."
Raoden couldn't help smiling. "I'm sorry. It just seems that no matter how hard I push against our problems, they just push back equally."
"Still no progress with AonDor?"
"No," Raoden said. "I checked older maps with new ones, looking for changes in the coast or the mountain range. but nothing seems to have changed. I've tried drawing the basic lines with slightly different slants, but that's fruitless. The lines won't appear unless I put them at exactly the right slant—the same slant as always. Even the lake is in the same place, unchanged. I can't see what is different."
"Maybe none of the basic lines have changed. sule," Galladon said. "Perhaps something needs to be added."
"I considered that—but what? I know of no new rivers or lakes, and there certainly aren't any new mountains in Arelon." Raoden finished his Aon—Aon Ehe—with a dissatisfied stroke of his thumb. He looked at the Aon's center. the core that represented Arelon and its features. Nothing had changed.
Except. When the Reod occurred the land cracked. "The Chasm!" Raoden exclaimed.
"The Chasm?" Galladon said skeptically. "That was caused by the Reod, Sule, not the other way around."
"But what if it wasn't?" Raoden said with excitement. "What if the earthquake came just before the Reod? It caused the crack to the south. and suddenly all of the Aons were invalid—they all needed an extra line to function. All of AonDor, and therefore Elantris, would have fallen immediately."
Raoden focused on the Aon hanging just before him. With a hesitant hand, he swiped his finger across the glowing character in an approximation of where the Chasm stood. Nothing happened—no line appeared. The Aon flashed and disappeared.
"I guess that is that. sule," Galladon said.
"No," Raoden said, starting the Aon again. His fingers whipped and spun. He moved with a speed even he hadn't realized he'd achieved, re-creating the Aon in a matter of seconds. He paused at the end, hand hovering at the bottom, below the three basic lines. He could almost feel ...
He stabbed the Aon and slashed his finger through the air. And a small line streaked across the Aon behind it.
Then it hit him. The Dor attacked with a roaring surge of power, and this time it hit no wall. It exploded through Raoden like a river. He gasped, basking in its power for just a moment. It burst free like a beast that had been kept trapped in a small space for far too long. It almost seemed ... joyful.