I can’t afford to let this opportunity pass, Hrathen thought. If only he had more time. Fewer than eighty days remained of his three-month deadline. If he had been given even a year, he could have worked with more delicacy and precision. Unfortunately, he had no such luxury, and a blunt attack using Telrii was his best bet for a smooth change in leadership.
“Why don’t you tell me what is bothering you?” Hrathen said.
“Yes, well,” Telrii said carefully. “I’m just not sure that I want to work with Fjorden.”
Hrathen raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have that uncertainty before.”
Telrii eyed Hrathen from beneath his hood. In the dark moonlight, it looked like his birthmark was simply a continuation of the shadows, and it gave his features an ominous cast—or, at least, it would have, had his extravagant costume not ruined the effect.
Telrii simply frowned. “I heard some interesting things at the party tonight, Gyorn. Are you really the one who was assigned to Duladel before its collapse?”
Ah, so that’s it, Hrathen thought. “I was there.”
“And now you’re here,” Telrii said. “You wonder why a nobleman is made uncomfortable by that news? The entire Republican class—the rulers of Duladel—were slaughtered in that revolution! And my sources claim that you had a great deal to do with that.”
Perhaps the man wasn’t as foolish as Hrathen thought. Telrii’s concern was a valid one; Hrathen would have to speak with delicacy. He nodded toward Telrii’s guards, who stood a short distance down the wall walk. “Where did you get those soldiers, my lord?”
Telrii paused. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Humor me,” Hrathen said.
Telrii turned, glancing at the soldiers. “I recruited them away from the Elantris City Guard. I hired them to be my bodyguards.”
Hrathen nodded. “And, how many such guards do you employ?”
“Fifteen,” Telrii said.
“How would you judge their skill?”
Telrii shrugged. “Good enough, I suppose. I’ve never actually seen them fight.”
“That’s probably because they never have fought,” Hrathen said. “None of the soldiers here in Arelon have ever seen combat.”
“What is your point, Gyorn?” Telrii asked testily.
Hrathen turned, nodding toward the Elantris City Guard post, lit in the distance by torches at the base of the wall. “The Guard is what, five hundred strong? Perhaps seven hundred? If you include local policing forces and personal guards, such as your own, there are perhaps a thousand soldiers in the city of Kae. Added to Lord Eondel’s legion, you still have well below fifteen hundred professional soldiers in the vicinity.”
“And?” Telrii asked.
Hrathen turned. “Do you really think that Wyrn needs a revolution to take control of Arelon?”
“Wyrn doesn’t have an army,” Telrii said. “Fjorden only has a basic defense force.”
“I didn’t speak of Fjorden,” Hrathen said. “I spoke of Wyrn, Regent of all Creation, leader of Shu-Dereth. Come now, Lord Telrii. Let us be frank. How many soldiers are there in Hrovell? In Jaador? In Svorden? In the other nations of the East? These are people who have sworn themselves Derethi. You don’t think they would rise up at Wyrn’s command?”
Telrii paused.
Hrathen nodded as he saw understanding growing in the duke’s eyes. The man didn’t understand the half of it. The truth was, Wyrn didn’t even need an army of foreigners to conquer Arelon. Few outside the high priesthood understood the second, more powerful force Wyrn had at his call: the monasteries. For centuries, the Derethi priesthood had been training its monks in war, assassination, and … other arts. Arelon’s defenses were so weak that a single monastery’s personnel could probably conquer the country.
Hrathen shivered at the thought of the … monks trained inside of Dakhor Monastery gaining access to defenseless Arelon. He glanced down at his arm, the place where—beneath his plate armor—he bore the marks of his time there. These were not things that could be explained to Telrii, however.
“My lord,” Hrathen said frankly, “I am here in Arelon because Wyrn wants to give the people a chance for peaceful conversion. If he wanted to crush the country, he could. Instead, he sent me. My only intention is to find a way to convert the people of Arelon.”
Telrii nodded slowly.
“The first step in converting this country,” Hrathen said, “is making certain that the government is favorable to the Derethi cause. This would require a change in leadership—it would require putting a new king on the throne.”
“I have your word, then?” Telrii said.
“You will have the throne,” Hrathen said.
Telrii nodded—this was obviously what he had been waiting for. Hrathen’s promises before had been vague, but he could no longer afford to be uncommitted. His promises gave Telrii verbal proof that Hrathen was trying to undermine the throne—a calculated risk, but Hrathen was very good at such calculations.
“There will be those who oppose you,” Telrii warned.
“Such as?”
“The woman, Sarene,” Telrii said. “Her supposed idiocy is an obvious act. My informants say that she’s taken an unhealthy interest in your activities, and she was asking about you at my party this evening.”
Telrii’s astuteness surprised Hrathen. The man seemed so pretentious, so flagrant—yet there was obviously a measure of competence to him. That could be an advantage or a disadvantage.
“Do not worry about the girl,” Hrathen said. “Just take the money we have provided and wait. Your opportunity will come soon. You heard of the news the king received tonight?”
Telrii paused, then nodded.
“Things are moving along as promised,” Hrathen said. “Now we just have to be patient.”
“Very well,” Telrii said. He still had his reservations, but Hrathen’s logic—mixed with the outright promise of the throne—had obviously been enough to sway him. The duke nodded with uncustomary respect to Hrathen. Then he waved to his guards, moving to walk away.
“Duke Telrii,” Hrathen said, a thought occurring to him.
Telrii paused, turning back.
“Do your soldiers still have friends in the Elantris City Guard?” Hrathen asked.
Telrii shrugged. “I assume so.”
“Double your men’s pay,” Hrathen said, too quietly for Telrii’s bodyguards to hear. “Speak well of the Elantris City Guard to them, and give them time off
to spend with their former comrades. It might be … beneficial to your future to have it known amongst the Guard that you are a man who rewards those that give him allegiance.”
“You’ll provide the funds to pay my men extra?” Telrii asked carefully.
Hrathen rolled his eyes. “Very well.”
Telrii nodded, then walked off to join his guards.
Hrathen turned, leaning against the wall, looking back out over Kae. He would have to wait for a short period before returning to the steps and descending. Telrii was still worried about proclaiming Derethi allegiance, and hadn’t wanted to be seen openly meeting with Hrathen. The man was overly worried, but perhaps it was better for him to appear religiously conservative for the moment.
It disturbed Hrathen that Telrii had mentioned Sarene. For some reason, the pert Teoish princess had decided to oppose Hrathen, though he had given her no overt reason to do so. It was ironic, in a way; she didn’t know it, but Hrathen was her greatest ally, not her dire enemy. Her people would convert one way or another. Either they would respond to Hrathen’s humane urgings, or they would be crushed by the Fjordell armies.
Hrathen doubted he would ever be able to convince her of that truth. He saw the mistrust in her eyes—she would immediately assume that whatever he said was a lie. She loathed him with the irrational hatred of one who subconsciously knew that her own faith was inferior. Korathi teachings had withered in every major nation to the East, just as they would in Arelon and Teod. Shu-Korath was too weak; it lacked virility. Shu-Dereth was strong and powerful. Like two plants competing for the same ground, Shu-Dereth would strangle Shu-Korath.
Hrathen shook his head, waited for a safe period of time, then finally turned to walk back along the wall toward the steps that ran down into Kae. As he arrived, he heard an echoing thump from below, and he paused in surprise. It sounded like the city gates had just been closed.