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“I have often found that no matter the circumstance, it is most useful to be oneself,” Shuden said. “The more faces we try to wear, the more confused they become.”
“Dream on, Elantris,” Hrathen whispered, turning to stroll along the top of the great wall that enclosed the city. “Remember what you used to be and try to hide your sins beneath the blanket of darkness. Tomorrow the sun will rise, and all will be revealed once again.”
“My freedom is to be here, with you.”
“You look at things as a human, young master,” Ien said with his wise, indulgent voice. “You see rank and distinction; you try to order the world so that everything has a place either above you or beneath you. To a seon, there is no above or beneath, there are only those we love. And we serve those we love.”
“Yes, free,” Raoden said. “For eternity man has struggled just to fill his mouth. Food is life’s one desperate pursuit, the first and the last thought of carnal minds. Before a person can dream, he must eat, and before he can love, he must fill his stomach. But we are different. At the price of a little hunger, we can be loosed from the bonds that have held every living thing since time began.”
“We can be strong in the face of kings and priests, my lady,” Ashe replied, “but to live is to have worries and uncertainties. Keep them inside, and they will destroy you for certain—leaving behind a person so callused that emotion can find no root in your heart.”
“One cannot separate truth from actions, Hrathen,” Omin said with a shake of his bald head. “Physically inevitable or not, truth stands above all things. It is independent of who has the best army, who can deliver the longest sermons, or even who has the most priests. It can be pushed down, but it will always surface. Truth is the one thing you can never intimidate.”
Then he remembered Saolin. Raoden dashed across the courtyard to kneel beside his friend. The old soldier stared sightlessly into the sky, his head rocking back and forth as he mumbled, “Failed my lord. Failed my lord Spirit. Failed, failed, failed…”
For once, the burdens and agonies of his body seemed insignificant compared to those of his soul.
She had proven to the people that no matter how much their hunger hurt, simply feeding their bellies wasn’t enough. Joy was more than just an absence of discomfort.
Raoden set his jaw firmly. He had only a single hope—his belief in the rational nature of the human soul.
Why, in the blessed name of Domi, she wondered, does everyone in this country feel so threatened by an assertive woman?
Power was not in wealth, but in control—money was worthless before a man who refused to be bought.
AT first Raoden stayed away from the library, because it reminded him of her. Then he found himself drawn back to it—because it reminded him of her.
There, in the center of the most cursed city in the world, Spirit had constructed a society that exemplified Korathi teachings. The church taught of the blessings of unity; it was ironic that the only people who practiced such ideals were those who had been damned.
Hope was like a small rodent cowering in the corner of his soul, frightened by the anger, the rage, and the despair. Yet every time he tried to grab hold of it, the hope slipped to another part of his heart.
“No,” Sarene said. “When you speak of this man, let it be known that he died in our defense. Let it be said that after all else, Hrathen, gyorn of Shu-Dereth, was not our enemy. He was our savior.”
