Brandon Sanderson - Elantris

Hrathen waved his hand dismissively. "My speech baffled one simpleminded girl. It is said the fair princess has trouble remembering which is her right hand and which is her left. I wouldn't have expected her to understand my speech-don't tell me that you, Lord Idan, were similarly lost."

Idan blushed. "Of course not. my lord. It's just that. I failed to see how conversion could grant us power."

"The power. my lord, comes in the perception of your enemy." Hrathen strolled through the room, the ever-present Dilaf at his side, and chose a seat. Some gyorns preferred to use a standing posture as a form of intimidation, but Hrathen found it more useful to sit. More often than not, sitting made his listeners-especially those who were standing-uncomfortable. One appeared more in control when one could captivate an audience without towering over them.

Sure enough. Idan and the others soon found their seats as well. Hrathen

rested his elbows on the armrests, then clasped his hands and regarded his audience in silence. His brow furled slightly as his eyes fell on one face near the back of the room. The man was older, perhaps in his late forties, and wore rich clothing. The most telling part of the man's appearance was the large purplish birthmark on the left side of his neck and face.

Hrathen hadn't invited Duke Telrii to the meeting. The duke was one of the most powerful men in AreIon, and Hrathen had kept his invitations to the younger nobles. He had assumed that he had little chance in convincing powerful men to follow him; young men impatient to move up the aristocratic ladder were usually easier to manipulate. Hrathen would have to speak carefully this night-a powerful alliance could be his reward.

"Well?" Idan finally asked. fidgeting beneath Hrathen's stare. "Who are they then? Who do you perceive as our enemy?"

"The Elantrians," Hrathen said simply. He could feel Dilaf tense by his side as he mentioned the word.

Idan's discomfort left as he chuckled. shooting looks at several of his companions. "The Elantrians have been dead for a decade, Fjordell. They are hardly a threat."

"No. my young lord," Hrathen said. "They live on."

"If you can call it that."

"I don't mean those pitiful mongrels inside the city," Hrathen said. "I mean the Elantrians that live in the people's minds. Tell me, Idan. Have you ever met a man who thought the Elantrians would return someday?"

Idan's chuckles faded away as he considered the question.

"Iadon's rule is far from absolute," Hrathen said. "He is more of a regent than a king. The people don't really expect him to be monarch for long-they're waiting for their blessed Elantrians to return. Many call the Reod false, a kind of 'test' to see who will remain true to the old pagan religion. You have all heard how people speak of Elantris in whispers."

Hrathen's words held weight. He had been in Kae for only a few days, but he had listened and researched well during that time. He was exaggerating the opinion, but he knew it existed.

"Iadon doesn't see the danger," Hrathen continued softly. "He doesn't see that his leadership is suffered, rather than accepted. As long as the people have a physical reminder of Elantris's might, they will fear-and as long as they fear something more than they fear their king, none of you will have power. Your titles came from the king; your power is connected to him. If he is impotent, then you are as well."

They were listening now. At the heart of every nobleman was an incurable insecurity. Hrathen hadn't met an aristocrat yet who wasn't at least in part convinced that the peasants laughed at him behind his back.

"Shu-Korath doesn't recognize the danger," Hrathen continued. "The Korathi do nothing to denounce the Elantrians, and therefore perpetuate the public's hope. Irrational though it may be, the people want to believe Elantris will be restored. They imagine how grand it used to be, their memories enhanced by a decade of stories-it is human nature to believe that other places and ocher times are better than the here and now. If you ever want to hold true domination over Arelon, my dear noble friends, then you must abolish your people's foolish hopes. You must find a way to free them from Elantris's grip."

Young Idan nodded enthusiastically. Hrathen pursed his lips with dissatisfaction: The boy noble had been too easily swayed. As was often the case, the most outspoken man was the least discerning. Ignoring Idan. Hrathen judged the expressions of the others. They were thoughtful, but not convinced. The more mature Telrii sat quietly at the back, rubbing the large ruby on one of his rings, watching Hrathen with a musing expression.

Their uncertainty was good. Men as fickle-minded as Idan were of no use to him; those so easily won would be lost just as quickly. "Tell me, men of Arelon," Hrathen said. changing his argument subtly, "have you traveled the countries of the East?"

There were several nods. During the last few years. the East had seen a flood of visitors from Arelon touring through the old Fjordell Empire. Hrathen strongly suspected that the new aristocracy of Arelon, even more insecure than most nobles, felt a desire to prove its level of cultured refinement by associating with kingdoms such as Svorden, the cultural epicenter of the East.

"If you have visited the powerful countries of the East, my friends, then you know of the influence available to those who align themselves with the Derethi priesthood." "Influence" was, perhaps, an understatement. No king ruled east of the Dathreki Mountains unless he professed allegiance to Shu-Dereth. and the most desirable and lucrative governmental positions always fell to those who were diligent in their worship of Jaddeth.

There was a promise implicit in Hrathen's words and-no matter what else they might discuss this night, no matter what other arguments Hrathen put forth-this was what would win their support. It was no secret that Derethi priests took a keen interest in politics; and most people knew that gaining the endorsement of the church was usually enough to insure political victory. This was the promise the noblemen had come expecting to hear, and this was why the Teoish girl's complaints hadn't affected them. Theological disputes were far from these men's minds: Shu-Dereth or Shu-Korath. it mattered little to them. All they needed was an assurance that a sudden outpouring of piety on their parts would in turn be rewarded with temporal blessings-very tangible and spendable ones.

"Enough wordplay, priest," said Ramear, one of the younger nobles. He was a hawk-faced second son of an unimportant baron, a man with a sharp Aonic nose

and a reputation for straightforwardness-a reputation he apparentIy deserved. "I want promises. Are you saying that if we convert to Derethi, you will grant us greater holdings?"

"Jaddeth rewards his followers," Hrathen said noncommittally.

'And how will he reward us?" Ramear demanded. "Shu-Dereth holds no power in this kingdom, priest."

"Lord Jaddeth holds power everywhere, friend," Hrathen said. Then, to forestall further demands, he continued. "It is true that as of yet He has few followers in Arelon. The world. however, is dynamic, and few things can stand against Jaddeth's empire. Remember Duladel, my friends. Arelon has remained untouched for so long because we haven't bothered to spare the effort it would take to convert her." A lie, but only a modest one. "The first problem is Elantris. Remove it from the people's minds, and they will gravitate toward Shu-Dereth-Shu-Korath is too tranquil, too indolent. Jaddeth will grow in the people's awareness, and as He does, they will look for role models within the ranks of the aristocracy-men who hold to the same ideals as themselves."

"And then we will be rewarded?" Ramear asked pointedly.

"The people will never suffer rulers who don't believe as they do. As recent history has shown, my friends. kings and monarchies are hardly eternal."