Sarene frowned. “You people are so backward.”
“Not backward, Your Highness,” Ahan said. “Just traditional. If you like, we could arrange to have some men invite you.”
“Wouldn’t that look bad?” Sarene asked. “Me, not even a week widowed, accompanying some young bachelor to a party?”
“She has a point,” Kiin noted.
“Why don’t you all take me?” Sarene asked.
“Us?” Roial asked.
“Yes, you,” Sarene said. “Your Lordships are old enough that people won’t talk too much—you’ll just be introducing a young friend to the joys of court life.”
“Many of these men are married, Your Highness,” Shuden said.
Sarene smiled. “What a coincidence. So am I.”
“Don’t worry about our honor, Shuden,” Roial said. “I’ll make the princess’s intentions known, and as long as she doesn’t go with any one of us too often, no one will infer much from it.”
“Then it’s settled,” Sarene decided with a smile. “I’ll be expecting to hear from each of you, my lords. It’s essential that I get to these parties—if I am ever going to fit into Arelon, then I’ll need to get to know the aristocracy.”
There was general agreement, and the conversation turned to other topics, such as the upcoming lunar eclipse. As they spoke, Sarene realized that her question about the mysterious “Trial” hadn’t yielded much information. She would have to corner Kiin later.
Only one man wasn’t enjoying the conversation or, apparently, the meal. Lord Edan had filled his plate, but had barely taken a few bites. Instead, he poked at his food with dissatisfaction, mixing the different dishes into an adulterated mush only vaguely resembling the delicacies Kiin had prepared.
“I thought we had decided not to meet anymore,” Edan finally blurted out, the comment forcing its way into the conversation like an elk wandering into the middle of a pack of wolves. The others paused, turning toward Edan.
“We had decided not to meet for a while, Lord Edan,” Eondel said. “We never intended to stop meeting completely.”
“You should be happy, Edan,” Ahan said, waving a fork topped with a chunk of pork. “You, of all people, should be eager to keep these meetings going. How long is it before the next taxing period arrives?”
“I believe it is on the first day of Eostek, Lord Ahan,” Eondel said helpfully. “Which would put it just under three months away.”
Ahan smiled. “Thank you, Eondel—you’re such a useful man to have around. Always knowing things that are proper and such. Anyway … three months, Edan. How are the coffers doing? You know how picky the king’s auditors are….”
Edan squirmed even more beneath the count’s brutal mockery. It appeared that he was quite aware of his time constraints—yet, at the same time, he seemed to be trying to forget his troubles in the hope that they would disappear. The conflict was visible in his face, and Ahan seemed to take great pleasure in watching.
“Gentlemen,” Kiin said, “we are not here to squabble. Remember that we all have much to gain from reform—including stability for our country and freedom for our people.”
“The good baron does bring up a valid concern, however,” Duke Roial said, sitting back in his chair. “Despite this young lady’s promise of aid, we are completely exposed without Raoden. The people loved the prince—even if Iadon had discovered our meetings, he could never have taken action against Raoden.”
Ahan nodded. “We don’t have the power to oppose the king anymore. We were gaining strength before—it probably wouldn’t have been long before we had enough of the nobility to go public. Now, however, we have nothing.”
“You still have a dream, my lord,” Sarene said quietly. “That is hardly nothing.”
“A dream?” Ahan said with a laugh. “The dream was Raoden’s, my lady. We were just along to see where he took us.”
“I can’t believe that, Lord Ahan,” Sarene said with a frown.
“Perhaps Her Highness would tell us what that dream is?” Shuden requested, his voice inquisitive but not argumentative.
“You are intelligent men, dear lords,” Sarene replied. “You have the brains and the experience to know that a country cannot withstand the stress that Iadon is placing on it. Arelon is not a business to be run with a grip of steel—it is much more than its production minus its costs. The dream, my lords, is an Arelon whose people work with her king, instead of against him.”
“A fine observation, Princess,” Roial said. His tone, however, was dismissive. He turned to the others, and they continued talking—every one of them politely ignoring Sarene. They had allowed her into the meeting, but they obviously didn’t intend to let her join the discussion. She sat back with annoyance.
“… having a goal is not the same thing as having the means to accomplish it,” Roial was saying. “I believe that we should wait—to let my old friend run himself into a corner before we move in to help.”
“But Iadon will destroy Arelon in the process, Your Grace,” Lukel objected. “The more time we give him, the harder it will be to recover.”
“I do not see another option,” Roial said with raised hands. “We cannot continue to move against the king in the way we were.”
Edan jumped slightly at the proclamation, sweat forming on his brow. He was finally beginning to realize that, dangerous or not, continuing to meet was a much better choice than waiting for Iadon to strip him of rank.
“You have a point, Roial,” Ahan grudgingly admitted. “The prince’s original plan will never work now. We won’t be able to pressure the king unless we have at least half of the nobility—and their fortunes—on our side.”
“There is another way, my lords,” Eondel said with a hesitant voice.
“What is that, Eondel?” the duke asked.
“It would take me less than two weeks to gather the legion from their watch-points along the nation’s highways. Monetary might isn’t the only kind of power.”
“Your mercenaries could never stand against Arelon’s armies,” Ahan scoffed. “Iadon’s military might be small compared to those of some kingdoms, but it’s far larger than your few hundred men—especially if the king calls in the Elantris City Guard.”
“Yes, Lord Ahan, you are correct,” Eondel agreed. “However, if we strike quickly—while Iadon is still ignorant of our intentions—we could get my legion into the palace and take the king hostage.”
“Your men would have to fight their way into the king’s quarters,” Shuden said. “Your new government would be born out of the blood of the old, as Iadon’s rule was birthed from the death of Elantris. You would set the cycle again for another fall, Lord Eondel. As soon as one revolution achieves its goal, another will begin to scheme. Blood, death, and coups will only lead to further chaos. There must be a way to persuade Iadon without resorting to anarchy.”
“There is,” Sarene said. Annoyed eyes turned her direction. They still assumed she was simply there to listen. They should have known better.
“I agree,” Roial said, turning away from Sarene, “and that way is to wait.”
“No, my lord,” Sarene countered. “I am sorry, but that is not the answer. I have seen the people of Arelon, and while there is still hope in their eyes, it is growing weak. Give Iadon time, and he will create the despondent peasants he desires.”
Roial’s mouth turned downward. He had probably intended to be in control, now that Raoden was gone. Sarene hid her smile of satisfaction: Roial had been the first to allow her in, and therefore he would have to let her speak. Refusing to listen now would show that he had been wrong to grant her his support.
“Speak, Princess,” the old man said with reservation.
“My lords,” Sarene said in a frank voice, “you have been trying to find a way to overthrow Iadon’s system of rule, a system that equates wealth with ability to lead. You claim it is unwieldy and unfair—that its foolishness is a torture to the Arelish people.”
“Yes,” Roial said curtly. “And?”
“Well, if Iadon’s system is so bad, why worry about overthrowing it? Why not let the system overthrow itself?”
“What do you mean, Lady Sarene?” Eondel asked with interest.
“Turn Iadon’s own creation against him, and force him to acknowledge its faults. Then, hopefully, you can work out one that is more stable and satisfactory.”
“Interesting, but impossible,” Ahan said with a shake of his many-jowled face. “Perhaps Raoden could have done it, but we are too few.”
“No, you’re perfect,” Sarene said, rising from her chair and strolling around the table. “What we want to do, my lords, is make the other aristocrats jealous. That won’t work if we have too many on our side.”
“Speak on,” Eondel said.
“What is the biggest problem with Iadon’s system?” Sarene asked.
“It encourages the lords to treat their people brutally,” Eondel said. “King Iadon threatens the noblemen, taking away the titles of those who do not produce. So, in turn, the lords grow desperate, and they beat extra effort out of their people.”