“And they are very quick to tell you so, my lady,” Ashe said. “I doubt many of them would know what to do in a battle, though they seem quite proficient at cards and drinking. They tend to keep their uniforms well pressed, however.”
“Typical of a ceremonial guard,” Sarene said, picking through the row of black garments, her skin quivering at the thought of donning yet another flat, colorless monstrosity of a dress. As much as she respected the memory of Raoden, she couldn’t possibly wear black again.
Ashe bobbed in the air at her comment. “I am afraid, my lady, that Arelon’s most ‘elite’ military group hardly does the country any credit. Yet, they are the city’s most informed experts regarding Elantris.”
“And what did they have to say?”
Ashe drifted over to the closet, watching as she rifled through her choices. “Not much. People in Arelon don’t talk to Seons as quickly as they once did. There was a time, I barely recall, when the population loved us. Now they are … reserved, almost frightened.”
“They associate you with Elantris,” Sarene said, glancing longingly toward the dresses she had brought with her from Teod.
“I know, my lady,” Ashe said. “But we had nothing to do with the fall of the city. There is nothing to fear from a Seon. I wish … But, well, that is irrelevant. Despite their reticence, I did get some information. It appears that Elantrians lose more than their human appearance when the Shaod takes them. The guards seem to think that the individual completely forgets who he or she used to be, becoming something more like an animal than a human. This certainly seems the case for the Elantrian Seons I spoke to.”
Sarene shivered. “But, Elantrians can talk—some asked you for food.”
“They did,” Ashe said. “The poor souls hardly even seemed animal; most of them were crying or mumbling in some way. I’m inclined to think they had lost their minds.”
“So the Shaod is mental as well as physical,” Sarene said speculatively.
“Apparently, my lady. The guards also spoke of several despotic lords that rule the city. Food is so valuable that the Elantrians vigorously attack anyone bearing it.”
Sarene frowned. “How are the Elantrians fed?”
“They aren’t, as far as I can tell.”
“Then how do they live?” Sarene asked.
“I do not know, my lady. It is possible that the city exists in a feral state, with the mighty living upon the weak.”
“No society could survive like that.”
“I don’t believe they have a society, my lady,” Ashe said. “They are a group of miserable, cursed individuals that your God appears to have forgotten—and the rest of the country is trying very hard to follow His example.”
Sarene nodded thoughtfully. Then, determined, she pulled off her black dress and rifled through the clothing at the back of her closet. She presented herself for Ashe’s appraisal a few minutes later.
“What do you think?” she asked, twirling. The dress was crafted of a thick, golden material that was almost metallic in its shine. It was overlaid with black lace, and had a high, open collar, like a man’s. The collar was constructed from a stiff material, which was matched in the cuffs. The sleeves were very wide, as was the body of the dress, which billowed outward and continued all the way to the floor, hiding her feet. It was the kind of dress that made one feel regal. Even a princess needed reminders once in a while.
“It isn’t black, my lady,” Ashe pointed out.
“This part is,” Sarene objected, pointing to the long cape at the back. The cape was actually part of the dress, woven into the neck and shoulders so carefully that it seemed to grow from the lace.
“I don’t think that the cape is enough to make it a widow’s dress, my lady.”
“It will have to do,” Sarene said, studying herself in the mirror. “If I wear one more of those dresses Eshen gave me, then you’ll have to throw me into Elantris for going insane.”
“Are you certain the front is … appropriate?”
“What?” Sarene said.
“It’s rather low-cut, my lady,”
“I’ve seen much worse, even here in Arelon.”
“Yes, my lady, but those were all unmarried women.”
Sarene smiled. Ashe was always so sensitive—especially in regards to her. “I have to at least wear it once—I’ve never had the chance. I got it in from Duladel the week before I left Teod.”
“If you say so, my lady,” Ashe said, pulsing slightly. “Is there anything else you would like me to try and find out?”
“Did you visit the dungeons?”
“I did,” Ashe said. “I’m sorry, my lady—I found no secret alcoves hiding half-starved princes. If Iadon locked his son away, then he wasn’t foolish enough to do it in his own palace.”
“Well, it was worth a look,” Sarene said with a sigh. “I didn’t think you would find anything—we should probably be searching for the assassin who wielded the knife instead.”
“True,” Ashe said. “Perhaps you might try prompting the queen for information? If the prince really was killed by an intruder, she might know something.”
“I’ve tried, but Eshen is … well, it’s not hard to get information out of her. Getting her to stay on topic, however … Honestly, how a woman like that ended up married to Iadon is beyond me.”
“I suspect, my lady,” Ashe said, “that the arrangement was more financial than it was social. Much of Iadon’s original governmental funds came from Eshen’s father.”
“That makes sense,” Sarene said, smiling slightly and wondering what Iadon thought of the bargain now. He’d gotten his money, true, but he’d also ended up spending several decades listening to Eshen’s prattle. Perhaps that was why he seemed so frustrated by women in general.
“Regardless,” Sarene said, “I don’t think the queen knows anything about Raoden—but I’ll keep trying.”
Ashe bobbed. “And, what shall I do?”
Sarene paused. “Well, I’ve been thinking about Uncle Kiin lately. Fath
er never mentions him anymore. I was wondering—do you know if Kiin was ever officially disinherited?”
“I don’t know, my lady,” Ashe said. “Dio might know; he works much more closely with your father.”
“See if you can dig anything up—there might be some rumors here in Arelon about what happened. Kiin is, after all, one of the most influential people in Kae.”
“Yes, my lady. Anything else?”
“Yes,” Sarene decided with a wrinkle of her nose. “Find someone to take those black dresses away—I’ve decided I won’t be needing them anymore.”
“Of course, my lady,” Ashe said with a suffering tone.
Sarene glanced out the carriage window as it approached Duke Telrii’s mansion. Reports said that Telrii had been very free with ball invitations, and the number of carriages on the road this evening seemed to confirm the information. Torches lined the pathway, and the mansion grounds were brilliantly lit with a combination of lanterns, torches, and strange colorful flames.
“The duke has spared no expense,” Shuden noted.
“What are they, Lord Shuden?” Sarene asked, nodding toward one of the bright flames, which burned atop a tall metal pole.
“Special rocks imported from the south.”
“Rocks that burn? Like coal?”
“They burn much more quickly than coal,” the young Jindoeese lord explained. “And they are extremely expensive. It must have cost Telrii a fortune to light this pathway.” Shuden frowned. “This seems extravagant, even for him.”
“Lukel mentioned that the duke is somewhat wasteful,” Sarene said, remembering her conversation in Iadon’s throne room.
Shuden nodded. “But he’s far more clever than most will credit. The duke is easy with his money, but there is usually a purpose behind his frivolity.” Sarene could see the young baron’s mind working as the coach pulled to a stop, as if trying to discern the exact nature of the aforementioned “purpose.”
The mansion itself was bursting with people. Women in bright dresses accompanied men in the straight-coated suits that were the current masculine fashion. The guests only slightly outnumbered the white-clothed servants who bustled through the crowd, carrying food and drink or changing lanterns. Shuden helped Sarene from the carriage, then led her into the main ballroom with a gait that was practiced at navigating crowds.