Raoden rubbed his finger against the plate, feeling the lines of Aon Ashe. Something catastrophic must have happened-an event lost in just ten brief years time. Something so terrible it caused the land to shatter and gods to stumble. However, without an understanding of how AonDor had worked, he couldn't even begin to imagine what had caused it to fail. He turned from the plate and considered the two squat bookcases. It was unlikely that any of the books contained direct explanations of AonDor. However, if they had been written by Elantrians, then maybe they would have references to the magic. References that could lead the careful reader to an understanding of how AonDor worked. Maybe.
His thoughts were interrupted by a pain from his stomach. It wasn't like hunger he had experienced on the outside. His stomach didn't rumble. Yet, the pain was there-somehow even more demanding. He had gone three days now
without food, and the hunger was beginning to grow insistent. He was only just beginning to see why it. and the other pains, were enough to reduce men to the beasts that had attacked him on his first day.
"Come." he said to Galladon. "There is something we need to do."
The square was much as it had been the day before: grime, moaning unfortunates, tall unforgiving gates. The sun was almost three-quarters finished with its trek through the sky. It was time for new inductees to be cast into Elantris.
Raoden studied the square, watching from atop a building beside Galladon. As he looked, he realized that something was different. There was a small crowd gathered on top of the wall.
"Who's that?" Raoden asked with interest, pointing to a tall figure standing high on the wall above Elantris's gates. The man's arms were outstretched. and his bloodred cloak was flapping in the wind. His words were hardly audible from such a distance, but it was obvious that he was yelling.
Galladon grunted in surprise. "A Derethi gyorn. I didn't know there was one here in Arelon."
"A gyorn? As in high priest?" Raoden squinted, trying to make out the details of the figure far above them.
"I'm surprised one would come this far east," Galladon said. "They hated Arelon even before the Reod."
"Because of the Elantrians?"
Galladon nodded. "Though not so much because of Elantrian worship, no matter what they claim. The Derethi have a particular loathing for your country because their armies never figured a way to get through those mountains to attack you."
"What do you suppose he's doing up there?" Raoden asked.
"Preaching. What else would a priest do? He's probably decided to denounce Elantris as some sort of judgment from his god. I'm surprised it took them so long."
"People have been whispering it for years," Raoden said. "but no one had the courage to actually teach such things. They're secretly afraid that the Elantrians are just testing them-that they will return to their former glory someday and punish all the unbelievers."
"Still?" Galladon asked. "I would have thought such beliefs would be gone after ten years."
Raoden shook his head. "Even yet there are many who pray for, or fear, the Elantrians' return. The city was strong, Galladon. You can't know how beautiful it once was."
"I know, stile," Galladon said. -I didn't spend all of my life in Duladel."
The priest's voice rose to a crescendo, and he delivered one final wave of screams before spinning around and disappearing from view. Even from a distance, Raoden could hear the hate and anger in the gyorn's voice. Galladon was right: This man's words had been no blessing.
Raoden shook his head, looking from the wall to the gates. "Galladon," he asked, "what are the chances of someone being thrown in here today?"
Galladon shrugged. "Hard to say. sule. Sometimes weeks go without a new Elantrian, but I have seen as many as five cast in at once. You came two days ago, that woman yesterday-who knows, maybe Elantris will have new flesh for the third day in a row. Kolo?"
Raoden nodded. watching the gate expectantly.
"Sule, what do you intend to do?" Galladon asked uncomfortably. "I intend to wait."
The newcomer was an older man, perhaps in his late forties, with a gaunt face and nervous eyes. As the gate slammed shut, Raoden climbed down from the rooftop, pausing just inside the courtyard. Galladon followed, a worried look on his face. He obviously thought Raoden might do something foolish.
He was right.
The unfortunate newcomer just stared morosely at the gate. Raoden waited for him to take a step, to make the unwitting decision that would determine who got the privilege of robbing him. The man stood where he was, watching the courtyard with nervous eyes, his thin frame pulled up inside his robes like he was trying to hide within them. After a few minutes of waiting, he finally took his first hesitant step-to the right, the same way Raoden had chosen.
"Come on," Raoden declared, striding out of the alleyway. Galladon groaned, mumbling something in Duladen.
"Teoren?" Raoden called, choosing a common Aonic name.
The spindly newcomer looked up with surprise, then glanced over his shoulder with confusion.
"Teoren, it is you!" Raoden said, wrapping his hand around the man's shoulder. Then, in a lower voice, he continued. "Right now you have two choices, friend. Either you do what I tell you. or you let those men in the shadows over there chase you down and beat you senseless."
The man turned around to search the shadows with apprehensive eyes. Fortunately. at that moment, Shaor's men decided to move, their shadowed forms emerging into the light, their carnal eyes staring at the new man with hunger. It was all the encouragement the newcomer needed.
"What do I do?" the man asked with a quavering voice.
"Run!" Raoden ordered, then took off toward one of the alleys at a dash.
The man didn't need to be told twice: he bolted so quickly that Raoden was afraid he would go careering down a side alley and get lost. There was a muffled yell of surprise from behind as Galladon realized what Raoden was doing. The large Duladen man obviously wouldn't have any problems keeping up; even considering his time in Elantris, Galladon was in much better shape than Raoden.
"What in the name of Doloken do you think you are doing, you idiot?" Galladon swore.
"I'll tell you in a moment," Raoden said, conserving strength as he ran. Again, he noticed that he didn't get out of breath, though his body did begin to grow tired. A dull feeling of fatigue began to grow within him, and of the three of them. Raoden was soon proven the slowest runner. However. he was the only one who knew where they were going.
"Right!" he yelled to Galladon and the new man, then took off down a side alley. The two men followed, as did the group of thugs, who were gaining quickly. Fortunately, Raoden's destination wasn't far away.
"Rulo." Galladon cursed, realizing where they were going. It was one of the houses he had shown Raoden the day before, the one with the unstable staircase. Raoden sprinted through the door and up the stairs, nearly falling twice as steps gave out beneath him. Once on the roof, he used the last of his strength to push over a stack of bricks-the remnants of what had once been a planter-toppling the entire pile of crumbling clay into the stairwell just as Galladon and the newcomer reached the top. The weakened steps didn't even begin to hold the weight, collapsing to the ground with a furious crash.
Galladon walked over and looked through the hole with a critical eye. Shaor's men gathered around the fallen steps below, their feral intensity dulled a bit by realization.
Galladon raised an eyebrow. "Now what, genius?"
Raoden walked over to the newcomer, who had collapsed after stumbling up the stairs. Raoden carefully removed each of the man's food offerings and, after tucking a certain one into his belt, he dumped the rest to the houndlike men waiting below. The sounds of battle came from below as they fought over the food.