Arelon was a ripe jewel waiting to be pillaged. Hrathen had heard of the days of chaos directly following Elantris's fall, and of the incalculable treasures that had been plundered from the magnificent city. Those valuables were now concentrated in Kae, where the new nobility lived practically unguarded. He had also heard that, despite the thievery, a large percentage of Elantris's wealth-pieces of art too large to move easily, or smaller items that hadn't been plundered before Iadon began enforcing the city's isolation-remained locked within Elantris's forbidden walls.
Only superstition and inaccessibility kept Elantris and Kae from being raped by invaders. The smaller thieving bands were still too frightened of Elantris's reputation. The larger bands were either under Fjordell control-and therefore wouldn't attack unless instructed to do so-or had been bribed to stay away by Kae's nobles. Both situations were extremely temporary in nature.
And that was the basic reason Hrathen felt justified in taking extreme action to bring Arelon under Fjorden control-and protection. The nation was an egg balanced on the peak of a mountain, just waiting for the first breeze to plunge it to the hard ground below. If Fjorden didn't conquer Arelon soon, then the kingdom would certainly collapse beneath the weight of a dozen different problems. Beyond inept
leadership, Arelon suffered from an overtaxed working class, religious uncertainty, and dwindling resources. All of these factors competed to deIiver the final blow.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of harsh breathing behind him. Dilaf stood on the other side of the wall walk, looking our over Elantris. His eyes were wide. like those of a man who had been punched in the stomach, and his teeth were clenched. Hrathen half expected him to start frothing at the mouth.
"I hate them," Dilaf whispered in a harsh, almost unintelligible voice.
Hrathen crossed the wall walk to stand beside Dilaf. Since the wall had not been constructed for military purposes. there were no battlements. but both sides had raised parapets for safety. Hrathen rested against one of these, looking out to study Elantris.
There wasn't much to see; he'd been in slums more promising than Elantris. The buildings were so decayed that it was a miracle any of them still had roofs, and the stench was revolting. At first he doubted anything could possibly be alive inside the city, but then he saw some forms running furtively along the side of a building. They were crouched with their hands outstretched, as if prepared to fall on all fours. One paused. looking up, and Hrathen saw his first Elantrian.
It was bald, and at first Hrathen thought its skin was dark, like that of a member of the Jindo noble caste. However, he could see splotches of light gray on the creature's skin as well-great uneven pale masses, like lichen on a stone. He squinted, leaning forward against the parapet. He couldn't make out the Elantrian's eyes, but somehow Hrathen knew they would be wild and feral. darting around like those of an anxious animal.
The creature took off with its companions-its pack. So this is what the Reod did, Hrathen mused to himself. It made beasts out of gods. Jaddeth had simply taken what was in their hearts and showed it for the world to see. According to Derethi philosophy, the only thing that separated men from the animals was religion. Men could serve Jaddeth's empire: beasts could serve only their lusts. The Elantrians represented the ultimate flaw of human arrogance: they had set themselves up as gods. Their hubris had earned their fate. In another situation, Hrathen would have been content in leaving them to their punishment.
However, he happened to need them.
Hrathen turned to Dilaf. "The first step in taking control of a nation. Arteth. is the simplest. You find someone to hate."
"Tell me of them, Arteth," Hrathen requested, entering his room inside the chapel. "I want to know everything you know."
"They are foul, loathsome creatures," Dilaf hissed, entering behind Hrathen. "Thinking of them makes my heart grow sick and my mind feel tainted. I pray every day for their destruction.
Hrathen closed the door to his chambers, dissatisfied. It was possible for a man to be too passionate. "Arteth. I understand you have strong feelings," Hrathen said sternly, "but if you are to be my odiv you will need to see through your prejudices. Jaddeth has placed these Elantrians before us with a purpose in mind, and I cannot discover that purpose if you refuse to tell me anything useful."
Dilaf blinked, taken aback. Then, for the first time since their visit to Elantris, a level of sanity returned to his eyes. "Yes, Your Grace."
Hrathen nodded. "Did you see Elantris before its fall?"
"Yes."
"Was it as beautiful as people say?"
Dilaf nodded sullenly. "Pristine, kept white by the hands of slaves." "Slaves?"
"All of Arelon's people were slaves to the Elantrians, Your Grace. They were false gods, giving promises of salvation in exchange for sweat and labor." "And their legendary powers?"
"Lies, like their supposed divinity. A carefully crafted hoax to earn them respect and fear."
"Following the Reod, there was chaos. correct?"
"Chaos. killing, riots, and panic, Your Grace. Then the merchants seized power."
"And the Elantrians?" Hrathen asked, walking over to take a seat at his desk.
"There were few left," Dilaf said. "Most had been killed in the riots. Those remaining were confined to Elantris, as were all men that the Shaod took from that day forward. They looked much as you just saw them, wretched and subhuman. Their skin was patched with black scars, like someone had pulled away the flesh and revealed the darkness underneath."
"And the transformations? Did they abate at all after the Reod?" Hrathen asked.
"They continue, Your Grace. They happen all across Arelon."
"Why do you hate them so, Arteth?"
The question came suddenly, and Dilaf paused. "Because they are unholy." "And?"
"They lied to us, Your Grace. They made promises of eternity, bur they couldn't even maintain their own divinity. We listened to them for centuries, and were rewarded with a group of impotent, vile cripples."
"You hate them because they disappointed you," Hrathen said.
"Not me. my people. I was a follower of Derethi years before the Reod." Hrathen frowned. "Then you are convinced that there is nothing supernatural
about the Elantrians other than the fact that Jaddeth has cursed them?"
"Yes, Your Grace. As 1 said, the Elantrians created many falsehoods to rein-
force their divinity."
Hrathen shook his head, then stood and began to remove his armor. Dilaf moved to help. but Hrathen waved the arteth away. "How, then, do you explain the sudden transformation of ordinary people into Elantrians, Arteth?"
Dilaf didn't have a response.
"Hate has weakened your ability to see, Arteth," Hrathen said. hanging his breastplate on the wall beside his desk and smiling. He had just experienced a flash of brilliance: a portion of his plan suddenly fit into place. "You assume because Jaddeth did not give them powers, they did not have any."
Dilaf's face grew pale. "What you say is-"
"Not bIasphemy, Arteth. Doctrine. There is another supernatural force besides our God."
"The Svrakiss," Dilaf said quietly.
"Yes." Svrakiss. The souls of the dead men who hated Jaddeth, the opponents to all that was holy. According to Shu-Dereth, there was nothing more bitter than a soul who had had its chance and thrown it away.
"You think the Elantrians are Svrakiss?" Dilaf asked.
"It is accepted doctrine that the Svrakiss can control the bodies of the evil," Hrathen said, unbuckling his greaves. "Is it so hard to believe that all this time they have been controlling bodies of the Elantrians, making them appear as gods to fool the simpleminded and unspiritual?