Elantris (14 page)

Sarene felt herself blushing. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Beautifully—which is more than I can say for the painting.” He paused for a moment. “It’s a horse, right?”

Sarene scowled.

“A house?” he asked.

“It is not a bowl of fruit either, my lord,” Ashe said. “I already tried that.”

“Well, she said it was one of the paintings in this room,” Lukel said. “All we have to do is keep guessing until we find the right one.”

“Brilliant deduction, Master Lukel,” Ashe said.

“That’s enough, you two,” Sarene growled. “It’s the one across from us. The one I was facing while I painted.”

“That one?” Lukel asked. “But that’s a picture of flowers.”

“And?”

“What’s that dark spot in the middle of your painting?”

“Flowers,” Sarene said defensively.

“Oh.” Lukel looked once more at Sarene’s painting, then looked up at her model again. “Whatever you say, Cousin.”

“Maybe you could explain Iadon’s legal case before I turn violent, Cousin,” Sarene said with threatening sweetness.

“Right. What do you want to know?”

“Our studies tell us slavery is illegal in Arelon, but those men keep referring to the peasant as their possession.”

Lukel frowned, turning eyes on the two contesting nobles. “Slavery is illegal, but it probably won’t be for long. Ten years ago there weren’t any nobles or peasants in Arelon—just Elantrians and everyone else. Over the past decade, commoners have changed from families that owned their own land, to peasants beneath feudal lords, to indentured servants, to something more resembling ancient Fjordell serfs. It won’t be much longer before they’re nothing more than property.”

Sarene frowned. The mere fact that the king would hear a case such as this—that he would even consider taking a man’s children away from him to save some nobleman’s honor—was atrocious. Society was supposed to have progressed beyond that point. The peasant watched the proceedings with dull eyes, eyes that had systematically and deliberately had the light beaten out of them.

“This is worse than I had feared,” Sarene said.

Lukel nodded at her side. “The first thing Iadon did when he took the throne was eliminate individual landholding rights. Arelon had no army to speak of, but Iadon could afford to hire mercenaries, forcing the people into compliance. He declared that all land belonged to the Crown, and then he rewarded those merchants who had supported his ascension with titles and holdings. Only a few men, such as my father, had enough land and money that Iadon didn’t dare try to take their property.”

Sarene felt her disgust for her new father rise. Once Arelon had boasted the happiest, most advanced society in the world. Iadon had crushed that society, transforming it into a system not even Fjordell used anymore.

Sarene glanced at Iadon, then turned to Lukel. “Come,” she said, pulling her cousin to the side of the room, where they could speak a little more openly. They were close enough to keep an eye on Iadon, but far enough away from other groups of people that a quiet conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

“Ashe and I were discussing this earlier,” she said. “How did that man ever manage to get the throne?”

Lukel shrugged. “Iadon is … a complex man, Cousin. He’s remarkably shortsighted in some areas, but he can be extremely crafty when dealing with people—that’s part of what makes him a good merchant. He was head of the local merchants’ guild before the Reod—which probably made him the most powerful man in the area who wasn’t directly connected to the Elantrians.

“The merchants’ guild was an autonomous organization—and many of its members didn’t get along too well with the Elantrians. You see, Elantris provided free food for everyone in the area, something that made for a happy populace, but was terrible for the merchants.”

“Why didn’t they just import other things?” Sarene asked. “Something besides food?”

“The Elantrians could make almost anything, Cousin,” Lukel said. “And while they didn’t give it all away for free, they could provide many materials at far cheaper prices than the merchants could—especially if you consider shipping costs. Eventually, the merchants’ guild struck a deal with Elantris, getting the Elantrians to promise that they would only provide ‘basic’ items to the populace for free. That left the merchants’ guild to import the more expensive luxury items, catering to the more wealthy crowd in the area—which, ironically, tended to be other members of the merchants’ guild.”

“And then the Reod struck,” Sarene said, beginning to understand.

Lukel nodded. “Elantris fell, and the merchants’ guild—of which Iadon was chairman—was the largest, most powerful organization in the four Outer Cities. Its members were wealthy, and they were intimately familiar with the other wealthy people in the area. The fact that the guild had a history of disagreement with Elantris only strengthened its reputation in the eyes of the people. Iadon was a natural fit for king. That doesn’t mean that he’s a particularly good monarch, though.”

Sarene nodded. Sitting on his throne, Iadon finally made his decision regarding the case. He declared with a loud voice that the runaway peasant did indeed belong to the first noble, but his children would remain with the second. “For,” Iadon pointed out, “the children have been fed all this time by their current master.”

The peasant didn’t cry out at the decision, he simply looked down at his feet, and Sarene felt a stab of sorrow. When the man looked up, however, there was something in his eyes—something beneath the enforced subservience. Hate. There was still enough spirit left in him for that ever-powerful emotion.

“This won’t go on much longer,” she said quietly. “The people won’t stand for it.”

“The working class lived for centuries under the Fjordell feudal system,” Lukel pointed out. “And they were treated worse than farm animals.”

“Yes, but they were raised to it,” Sarene said. “People in ancient Fjorden didn’t know better—to them, the feudal system was the only system. These people are different. Ten years really isn’t all that long—the Arelish peasantry can remember a time when the men they now call masters were simple shopkeepers and tradesmen. They know that there is a better life. More importantly, they know a government can collapse, making those who were once servants into masters. Iadon has put too much on them too quickly.”

Lukel smiled. “You sound like Prince Raoden.”

Sarene paused. “Did you know him well?”

“He was my best friend,” Lukel said with a sorrowful nod. “The greatest man I have ever known.”

“Tell me about him, Lukel,” she requested, her voice soft.

Lukel thought for a moment, then spoke with a reminiscent voice. “Raoden made people happy. Your day could have been as sour as winter, and the prince and his optimism would arrive, and with a few gentle words he would make you realize just how silly you were being. He was brilliant as well; he knew every Aon, and could draw them with perfection, and he was always coming up with some weird new philosophy that no one but Father could understand. Even with my training at the university in Svorden, I still couldn’t follow half of his theories.”

“He sounds like he was flawless.”

Lukel smiled. “In everything but cards. He always lost when we played tooledoo, even if he did talk me into paying for dinner afterward. He would have made a horrible merchant—he didn’t really care about money. He would lose a game of tooledoo just because he knew I got a thrill from the victory. I never saw him sad, or angry—except when he was at one of the outer plantations, visiting the people. He did that often; then he would come back to the court and speak his thoughts on the matter quite directly.”

“I’ll bet the king didn’t think much of that,” Sarene said with a slight smile.

“He hated it,” Lukel said. “Iadon tried everything short of banishing Raoden to keep him quiet, but nothing worked. The prince would find a way to work his opinion into any and every royal ruling. He was the crown prince, and so court laws—written by Iadon himself—gave Raoden a chance to speak his mind in every matter brought before the king. And let me tell you, Princess, you don’t know what a scolding is until you’ve had one from Raoden. The man could be so stern at times that even the stone walls would shrivel beneath his tongue.”

Sarene sat back, enjoying the image of Iadon being denounced by his own son before the entire court.

“I miss him,” Lukel said quietly. “This country needed Raoden. He was beginning to make some real differences; he had gathered quite a following amongst the nobles. Now the group is fragmenting without his leadership. Father and I are trying to hold them together, but I’ve been gone so long that I’m out of touch. And, of course, few of them trust Father.”

“What? Why not?”

“He has something of a reputation for being a scoundrel. Besides, he doesn’t have a title. He’s refused every one the king tried to give him.”

Sarene’s brow furled. “Wait a moment—I thought Uncle Kiin opposed the king. Why would Iadon try to give him a title?”

Lukel smiled. “Iadon can’t help it. The king’s entire government is built on the idea that monetary success is justification for rule. Father is extremely successful, and the law says that money equals nobility. You see, the king was foolish enough to think that everyone rich would think the same way he does, and so he wouldn’t have any opposition as long as he gave titles to everyone affluent. Father’s refusal to accept a title is really a way of undermining Iadon’s sovereignty, and the
king knows it. As long as there’s even one rich man who isn’t technically a nobleman, the Arelish aristocratic system is flawed. Old Iadon nearly has a fit every time Father appears in court.”

“He should come by more often then,” Sarene said wickedly.

“Father finds plenty of opportunities to show his face. He and Raoden met nearly every afternoon here in the court to play a game of ShinDa. It was an unending source of discomfort to Iadon that they chose to do this in his own throne room, but again, his own laws proclaimed that the court was open to everyone his son invited, so he couldn’t throw them out.”

“It sounds like the prince had a talent for using the king’s own laws against him.”

“It was one of his more endearing traits,” Lukel said with a smile. “Somehow Raoden would twist every one of Iadon’s new decrees until they turned around and slapped the king in the face. Iadon spent nearly every moment of the last five years trying to find a way to disinherit Raoden. It turns out Domi solved that problem for him in the end.”

Either Domi
, Sarene thought with growing suspicion,
or one of Iadon’s own assassins….
“Who inherits now?” she asked.

“That’s not exactly certain,” Lukel said. “Iadon probably plans to have another son—Eshen is young enough. One of the more powerful dukes would probably be next in line. Lord Telrii or Lord Roial.”

“Are they here?” Sarene asked, scanning the crowd.

“Roial isn’t,” Lukel said, “but that’s Duke Telrii over there.” Lukel nodded toward a pompous-looking man standing near the far wall. Lean and strong-postured, he might have been handsome had he not displayed signs of gross indulgence. His clothing sparkled with sewn-in gemstones, and his fingers glittered gold and silver. As he turned, Sarene could see that the left side of his face was marred by a massive, purplish birthmark.

“Let us hope the throne never falls to him,” Lukel said. “Iadon is disagreeable, but at least he’s fiscally responsible. Iadon is a miser. Telrii, however, is a spender. He likes money, and he likes those who give it to him. He’d probably be the richest man in Arelon if he weren’t so lavish—as it is, he’s a poor third, behind the king and Duke Roial.”

Sarene frowned. “The king would have disinherited Raoden, leaving the country with no visible heir? Doesn’t he know anything about succession wars?”

Lukel shrugged. “Apparently, he’d rather have no heir than risk leaving Raoden in charge.”

“He couldn’t have things like freedom and compassion ruining his perfect little monarchy,” Sarene said.

“Exactly.”

“These nobles who followed Raoden. Do they ever meet?”

“No,” Lukel said with a frown. “They’re too afraid to continue without the prince’s protection. We’ve convinced a few of the more dedicated ones to gather one last time tomorrow, but I doubt anything will come of it.”

“I want to be there,” Sarene said.

“These men don’t like newcomers, Cousin,” Lukel warned. “They’ve grown very jumpy—they know their meetings could be considered treasonous.”

“It’s the last time they plan to meet anyway. What are they going to do if I show up? Refuse to come anymore?”

Lukel paused, then smiled. “All right, I’ll tell Father, and he’ll find a way to get you in.”

“We can both tell him over lunch,” Sarene said, taking one last dissatisfied look at her canvas, then walking over to pack up her paints.

“So you’re coming to lunch after all?”

“Well, Uncle Kiin did promise he’d fix Fjordell revertiss. Besides, after what I’ve learned today, I don’t think I can sit here and listen to Iadon’s judgments much longer. I’m liable to start throwing paints if he makes me much more angry.”

Lukel laughed. “That probably wouldn’t be a good idea, princess or not. Come on, Kaise is going to be ecstatic that you’re coming. Father always fixes better food when we have company.”

Lukel was right.

“She’s
here!
” Kaise declared with an enthusiastic squeal as she saw Sarene walk in. “Father, you have to fix lunch!”

Jalla appeared from a nearby doorway to meet her husband with a hug and a brief kiss. The Svordish woman whispered something to Lukel in Fjordell, and he smiled, rubbing her shoulder affectionately. Sarene watched with envy, then steeled herself with gritted teeth. She was a royal Teoish princess; it wasn’t her place to complain about the necessities of state marriages. If Domi had taken her husband before she even met him, then He obviously wanted to leave her mind clear for other concerns.

Uncle Kiin emerged from the kitchen, stuffed a book in his apron, then gave Sarene one of his crushing hugs. “So you couldn’t stay away after all. The lure of Kiin’s magical kitchen was too much for you, eh?”