Lyn: Greetings, Cosmere chickens! I hope you’re all staying safe and dry through the odd weather we’ve been enduring this season. Well, our weather up here in New England has been weird, anyway. Hurricanes, tropical storms, heat waves… it’s been fun (especially when my weekend job is outdoors). How’s your part of the country been, Paige?
Paige: We’ve finally had some monsoon rains, but it was overall a relatively hot and dry summer.
L: Thankfully we all have the reread to retreat to, regardless of our weather. Things aren’t going very well for anyone except for Sarene right now. Hrathen’s plans are crumbling around him, Raoden’s followers are abandoning him, and those pesky Aons still aren’t working! What’s a technically dead, exiled prince to do?
Let’s find out, shall we?
Spoiler warning: This week’s article contains some discussion from Mistborn and the Stormlight Archive. Proceed with caution if you haven’t read them yet!
Trigger warnings: Sudden death (illness), chronic pain.
Last time on “Feeding Elantris…”
Raoden and Galladon go sneaking about and learn that Shaor, leader of the most vicious gang in Elantris, is none other than a little girl… a little girl who happens to be Duke Telrii’s daughter. Dun-dun-DUNNN…
As if that weren’t enough for one reread article, Sarene begins her Widow’s Trial and attempts to feed the people of Elantris. Except that her actions will undermine everything that Raoden has worked toward since he’s been in Elantris. It will certainly affect those who have sought refuge in New Elantris, and pull them away for meals that will surely stop coming after a time. What’s more, Raoden suddenly comes face-to-face with his bride, and his friends, and nobody knows who he is. Let’s see how things progress this week!
Chapter Essentials
POV Character(s): Hrathen, Raoden
Discussion
Chapter 25
Hrathen watched with resignation as Elantris’s monsters came placidly, refusing to ingest even a single guard—let alone the princess. His demons refused to perform, and he could see the disappointment in the crowd’s faces. The princess’s move had been masterful, castrating Hrathen’s devils with one sweep of the brutal scythe known as truth.
L: Atta girl, Sarene.
P: Chalk one up for our Teo princess. She got the best of Hrathen yet again.
…a carriage pulled up alongside him. Hrathen recognized the Aon on its side: Aon Rii.
L: Aon Alert!
“The damage is done,” Telrii said insistently.
“Hardly,” Hrathen said. “Lord Telrii, it has barely been a few weeks since I arrived in Arelon. Yes, the woman has dealt us a setback, but it will prove a minor inconvenience.
L: Methinks the high priest doth protest too much. (In other words, I think Hrathen’s just covering for the fact that this really is a huge setback for him and he just doesn’t want to admit it.)
P: Oh, absolutely. He’s been dealt a hell of a blow but he would never admit such a thing, especially to Telrii. Gotta keep your failures close to the vest, else people start to talk.
“The nobility will never stand for a king who insists that they maintain their level of wealth, but who doesn’t apply the same standard to himself.”
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L: I mean… that’s fair, to be honest.
P: Sure, with the, umm… jacked up kind of monarchy that they have going on in Kae, it’s fair.
Once it was known that the king was bankrupt and Telrii was rich, certain other… pressures placed on the government would make for an easy—if abrupt—transfer in power.
The princess had countered the wrong scheme.
L: I love that he thinks that she’s overlooked this. Underestimating people left and right, Hrathen is…
P: You only think she’s countered the wrong scheme. She’s countered both of your schemes, gyorn. And even still… the Elantrians as devils thing was a pretty hefty part of your scheme and she just traipsed all over it in her feminine little slippers. Take that!
“I remember a time, just after the pirate Dreok Crushthroat assaulted Teod, when there was a wave of conversions in Arelon.”
Hrathen frowned. Something about Dilaf’s comment bothered him.
…Dreok Crushthroat had attacked Teod fifteen years before. It was possible that Dilaf would remember such a thing from his childhood, but how would he have known about Arelene conversion rates?
The arteth had to be older than Hrathen had assumed. Much older. Hrathen’s eyes widened as he studied Dilaf’s face in his mind. He had placed Dilaf as no older than twenty-five, but he could now detect hints of age.
L: And the shoe finally drops.
P: Seriously, Hrathen has been in Elantris how long at this point? And he’s only just realizing that Dilaf is older than he had first presumed. Pretty inattentive, aren’t you, Hrathen?
Dilaf had probably been in the city for years. He had probably been associating with the other priests—learning to influence them, gaining authority over them—that entire time. And given Dilaf’s ardor for Shu-Dereth, he had undoubtedly chosen the most conservative and effective of Kae’s arteths to be his associates.
And those were exactly the men Hrathen had let remain in the city when he’d first arrived. He’d sent away the less devoted men, and they would have been the ones that would have been insulted or alarmed by Dilaf’s extreme ardor. Unwittingly, Hrathen had culled the chapel’s numbers in Dilaf’s favor.
L: Oops. While he was busy trying to counter Sarene’s plans, Hrathen underestimated the snake in his own backyard.
P: It’s really rather disappointing for Hrathen to have been bamboozled this way. Someone with his rank, who had gone through the training he’s endured, he’s sure had the wool pulled over his eyes.
Over it all, there was an even more disturbing problem—something Hrathen didn’t want to confront, something even more disarming than Sarene’s Trial or Dilaf’s maneuverings. Hrathen could face external forces such as theirs, and he could be victorious.
His internal wavering, however, was something entirely different.
L: Man’s greatest enemy is himself.
P: Indeed. And he’s kind of lost the sense of who he is, or who he should be.
I have found purpose, the book read. Before, I lived, but I didn’t know why. I have direction now. It gives glory to all that I do. I serve in Lord Jaddeth’s empire, and my service is linked directly to Him. I am important.
L: Seeking glory doesn’t seem like a very noble purpose, especially for a devoted priest. But that’s judging them by real-world religious standards, not those of this fantasy world. And power/fame/glory being a motivation is a very, very human thing.
P: The search for (fortune and) glory is definitely not something you would expect from a member of the priesthood. But give someone a little power and recognition and what do they eventually want? More power and more recognition. Hrathen wants to go on the books as the one who brought Arelon under Derethi rule. High aspirations for someone who’s but a humble servant of Jaddeth.
But what of the boy Hrathen? What of the faith, the almost unthinking passion he had once felt? He could barely remember it. That part of his life had passed quickly, his faith transforming from a burning flame into a comfortable warmth.
L: Interesting. So the honeymoon period didn’t last very long for him, before fading into the more comfortable “deep attachment” phase.
P: Which might be a bit less ridiculous and more desirable than being absolutely nutters like Dilaf.
Dilaf had faith. Dilaf believed in what he was doing. What did Hrathen have?
He wasn’t certain anymore.
L: A very difficult place to be in for someone who’s religious… and in this case, especially dangerous considering the fact that an entire country’s population is depending on him.
P: They don’t even realize that he’s all that’s standing in the way of the utter destruction of their way of life.
Well… there’s also Sarene.
Chapter 25
She would respond to his comments, even converse with him, but she would not let herself be his friend.
L: Argh! Infuriating! If only she knew who he really was! (But then of course we wouldn’t get this lovely long, slow burn of revelation, culminating in that delectable moment of realization.)
P: I love this. He tries to engage with her and she treats him as a servant, there to do her bidding. Though she’s a gentle mistress, she is a princess and she’s very strong-willed. I think she’s basically making Raoden fall head over heels for her.
In a way, his own subterfuge hurt even more than his friends’ ignorance. He couldn’t tell them who he was, for news of his survival could destroy Arelon. Raoden knew very well that his own popularity exceeded that of his father—there would be some who would follow him, Elantrian or not. Civil war would serve no one, and at the end of it, Raoden would probably find himself beheaded.
L: Seems a weak justification to me. If he was worried about civil war, surely he would have been worried about it before he was an Elantrian, too? I think he just doesn’t want his friends to see him like this, and hence is making excuses to himself.
P: Possibly. He almost seems to wish that one of them would recognize him. Then he wouldn’t be responsible for the crem-storm that would likely follow. He gets to remain anonymous and be sad that nobody knows who he is.
Just wait, Raoden… just you wait. ::bounces:: Are we there yet??
The casual thought brought a sudden awareness of his pains. They were with him as always, burning his flesh and eating at his resolve. He no longer counted them, though each one had its own feeling—an unformed name, a sense of individual agony. As far as he could tell, his pain was accelerating much more quickly than anyone else’s.
L: Do we ever get an answer as to why this is…?
P: I’m quite sure that it has something to do with his healing as a child. We hear in this chapter, when Raoden is practicing his Aons, of an Elantrian who FUBARed an Aon which ended in the eventual death of the woman they had been trying to heal. So perhaps whoever healed him as a child drew their Aons just the wrong side of right and gave him a flaw of some sort. Total conjecture… but it’s possible, kolo?
They would store what items they could, then give the rest to the Hoed. Some of the fallen were able to recognize food, and Raoden hoped that regular eating would help restore their minds.
So far, it wasn’t working.
L: I love the fact that they’re trying to save them, rather than writing them off as lost beyond all hope.
P: Of course Raoden wouldn’t write them off. He’s a proto-Kaladin, who would give the stew from his pot to anyone who needed it. Even a lighteyes like Renarin.
The box contained several bales of cloth—all of which were a sickeningly bright orange.
Galladon scowled. “Sule, that has to be the most vile color I have ever seen in my life.”
“Agreed.” Raoden smiled.
“You don’t seem very disappointed.”
“Oh, I’m thoroughly revolted,” Raoden said. “I just enjoy seeing the ways she finds to spite us.”
L: Oh, he’s so smitten.
P: He really is. It’s adorable. And it’s funny that Sarene is trying to undermine “the warlords” by giving them such nonsense in response to their requests. If only she realized how petty she’s being in the grand scheme of things. But she’ll find out. ::taps foot and waits::
Fortunately Eonic the blacksmith had been one of the few Elantrians to remain true to Raoden.
L: It’s a bit discouraging that everyone turned against him so swiftly, with just a little food as a lure. Temporary easy satiation is more palatable than difficult, long work, though.
P: Yeah, to go from 100 Elantrian on his side to around 20 is quite a hit. Not to mention it weakens their strength against Shaor’s men.
“We could just let them through to the courtyard, my lord,” Saolin suggested hesitantly…
…
“No,” Raoden said. “Even if they didn’t kill some of the nobles, the Elantris City Guards would slaughter them.”
“Isn’t that what we want, sule?” Galladon asked, an evil twinkle in his eyes.
P: And so we learn why Shaor’s men haven’t overrun Sarene’s wagons of food in the courtyard. Raoden’s men have been keeping them away. Only they’re losing men and now Saolin is injured and unable to use his sword arm. THIS is what I’ve been waiting for. The disaster that is a bunch of rabid Elantrians living up to Hrathen’s expectations. I wouldn’t be surprised if Shaor’s men were skulking down side streets, accosting Elantrians after they’d gotten their share of food.
…those who had wandered into New Elantris on their own—had felt only faint loyalty to Raoden’s cause. They had left as soon as Sarene offered them something of more immediate benefit; most now lined the streets surrounding the gate, waiting for their next handout.
L: But they’ll come crawling back the minute the hand-outs stop. It’s like that Chinese proverb about fishing. “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” Although… I do prefer the Terry Pratchett version: “Give a man a fire and he’s warm for a day, but set fire to him and he’s warm for the rest of his life.”
P: Gotta love Pratchett!
But yes, they will come crawling back. It’s one reason why Sarene’s ploy, generous as it may seem, is rather cruel in the grand scheme of things.
“The hunger is psychological. Our bodies don’t need food; the Dor sustains us.”
L: Just because it’s psychological doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, unfortunately.
P: They don’t need it but they feel as if they do. And what’s more, they want it.
A dot in the center, a horizontal line running a few inches above it, and another line running down its right side—Aon Aon, the starting point of every other Aon.
L: Aon alert! This one is important, of course, as it’s the one that’s now flawed.
He completed the central box, then drew two larger circles around it. Aon Tia, the symbol for travel.
L: Two Aon alerts in a row!
…he felt the pain less when he was drawing aons.
L: Because this is his purpose, and I think deep down, he knows it.
P: As much as I want him to get there NOW, I know we need to be patient. ::drums fingers::
About ten years before the Reod, a man brought his wife to Elantris to receive treatment for her palsy. However, the Elantrian healer drew Aon Ien slightly wrong—and instead of just vanishing, the character flashed and bathed the poor woman in a reddish light. She was left with black splotches on her skin and limp hair that soon fell out. Sound familiar?”
Galladon raised an eyebrow.
“She died a short time later,” Raoden said. “She threw herself off a building, screaming that the pain was too much.”
Galladon frowned. “What did the healer do wrong?”
“It wasn’t an error so much as an omission,” Raoden said. “He left out one of the three basic lines.”
L: Ah hah! And so the seed of truth is planted!
P: He’s so close, it’s almost painful to read!!
“…our bodies are trapped in some kind of half transformation. The process began, but something blocked it—just like in that woman’s healing. The Dor is still within us, waiting for the direction and the energy to finish what it started.”
L: He’s finally found the path that will lead him to the answer, but it’s far too soon in the story to find the full answer.
P: Lots left to do, and so on. I’m counting chapters. ::sigh:: Blood and bloody ashes, we have a ways to go.
“My father was an Elantrian,” Galladon said quietly.
L: This is a chapter for truths to come out, it seems.
P: And there it is. Galladon’s secret, come to the surface at last. This is why he had a cozy little study. This is how he knows the city so well. He used to storming live there.
“He wished he had studied healing when he found my mother dying beside him in bed one morning. Some diseases strike so quickly even AonDor can’t stop them.”
L: Well, that’s depressing.
P: Seriously depressing. To be an “all powerful” being and yet to be unable to save one of the most important people in your life… yikes. Breaks your heart, it does.
“…you optimists just can’t understand that a depressed person doesn’t want you to try and cheer them up. It makes us sick.”
L: Or at the least, it doesn’t help.
P: It can help sometimes, but there are times we just want to wallow in our pain and misery.
Aon Tae—the ancient symbol that meant “open.”
L: Aon alert!
P: And a complicated one, at that!
“Over there,” Karata said, pointing at the far end of the rectangular room, where the wall held only a single mural. It depicted a large mirrorlike blue oval. An Elantrian stood facing the oval, his arms outstretched and his eyes closed. He appeared to be flying toward the blue disk.
L: Ah, the Perpendicularity on Sel. Usually a perpendicularity would be used to travel between realms, as on Roshar.
P: This is where the old man, the Hoed, has led them. To the perpendicularity, though he has no idea what it is. He only knows that it will relieve him of his pains. He was an Elantrian before the Reod. He’s been living as a “dead” Elantrian for ten years. TEN. Light.
“Have you noticed something odd about this place, sule?” Galladon asked softly.
“No slime,” Karata said.
L: Hmm. Could the power of the perpendicularity (or maybe Investment from the cognitive realm) be leaking out and powering the magic imbued in the stone?
P: Sounds as good a reason as any.
“A lantern,” Galladon said with surprise. “They line the walls.”
“But why not use Aons?” the Dula asked. “They did everywhere else.”
L: Because the perpendicularity absorbs nearby investiture, perhaps? I don’t remember the one on Scadrial doing that, but this one does appear to be unique.
Or… maybe it’s not unique. (Tin foil hat time.) Maybe it consumes the Elantrians because the Elantrians have been Invested so heavily that they are Investiture. Their very beings are sucked into it and the energy redistributed into the cognitive realm…
P: That’s… a fascinating theory! I never would have thought of it that way!
“What now?” Galladon asked.
“We put him in,” Raoden guessed, kneeling to lower the Elantrian into the pool.
…
Those eyes held Raoden’s for a moment, thanks shining therein. Then the man dissolved.
…
“When I am Hoed, bring me here. Don’t make me live in pain.”
P: And so the Perpendicularity eats the Hoed Elantrian. And takes him… Hmmm, somewhere. And we have this poignant moment of Raoden telling Galladon to take him to the pool when he becomes Hoed, because he thinks it won’t be long before he is unable to bear the pain any longer.
We’ll be leaving further speculation and discussion to you in the comments, and hope to join you there! Next week, we’ll be back with chapters 26 and 27.
Paige resides in New Mexico, of course. Between work and school and the SA5 beta read, she’s trying to work on book 3 of a YA/Crossover trilogy with just a hint of the supernatural. Links to her other writing are available in her profile.
Lyndsey lives in Connecticut and makes magic wands for a living, as well as working as the costumer for two of her local Renaissance Faires. If you enjoy queer protagonists, snarky humor, and don’t mind some salty language, check out book 1 of her fantasy series. Follow her on Facebook or TikTok!
