“If you do, I’m sure it will be for a good reason, and I’m sure we will be grateful for your help.”
“Would you? No doubt I would believe my reasons were just, but that’s the trap, isn’t it? The belief that I know better and that because I have this power at my disposal, I have a responsibility to act.” Remembering her words from before, he echoed them back to her: “For the good of the many. If I was wrong, though, who could stop me? I could end up becoming Galbatorix, despite my best intentions. As it is, my power makes people tend to agree with me. I’ve seen it in my dealings throughout the Empire.… If you were in my position, would you be able to resist the temptation to meddle, just a little, in order to make things better? My presence here unbalances things, Nasuada. If I am to avoid becoming what I hate, then I have to leave.”
Nasuada lifted her chin. “I could order you to stay.”
“I hope you don’t. I would prefer to leave in friendship, not anger.”
“So you will answer to no one but yourself?”
“I will answer to Saphira and to my conscience, as I always have.”
The edge of Nasuada’s lip curled. “A man of conscience-the most dangerous kind in the world.”
Once more, the sounds of the fountain filled the gap in their conversation.
Then Nasuada said, “Do you believe in the gods, Eragon?”
“Which gods? There are many.”
“Any of them. All of them. Do you believe in a power higher than yourself?”
“Other than Saphira?” He smiled in apology as Nasuada frowned. “Sorry.” He thought seriously for a minute, then said, “Perhaps they exist; I don’t know. I saw … I’m not sure what I saw, but I may have seen the dwarf god Guntera in Tronjheim when Orik was crowned. But if there are gods, I don’t think very highly of them for leaving Galbatorix on the throne for so long.”
“Perhaps you were the gods’ instrument for removing him. Did you ever consider that?”
“Me?” He laughed. “I suppose it could be, but either way, they certainly don’t care very much whether we live or die.”
“Of course not. Why should they? They are gods.… Do you worship any of them, though?” The question seemed of particular importance to Nasuada.
Again Eragon thought for a while. Then he shrugged. “There are so many, how could I know which ones to choose?”
“Why not the creator of them all, Unulukuna, who offers life ever lasting?”
Eragon could not help but chuckle. “As long as I don’t fall sick and no one kills me, I may live for a thousand years or more, and if I live that long, I can’t imagine I would want to continue on after death. What else can a god offer me? With the Eldunari, I have the strength to do most anything.”
“The gods also provide the chance to see those we love again. Don’t you want that?”
He hesitated. “I do, but I don’t want to endure for an eternity. That seems even more frightening than someday passing into the void, as the elves believe.”
Nasuada appeared troubled. “So you do not hold yourself accountable to anyone other than Saphira and yourself.”
“Nasuada, am I a bad person?”
She shook her head.
“Then trust me to do what I believe is right. I hold myself accountable to Saphira and the Eldunari and all of the Riders who are yet to be, and also to you and Arya and Orik and everyone else in Alagaesia. I need no master to punish me in order to behave as I ought. If I did, I would be no more than a child who obeys his father’s rules only because he fears the whip, and not because he actually means good.”
She gazed at him for several seconds. “Very well, then, I will trust you.”
The splashing of the fountain once more achieved prominence. Overhead, the light from the sinking sun picked out cracks and flaws in the underside of the stone shelf.
“What if we need your help?” she asked.
“Then I’ll help. I won’t abandon you, Nasuada. I’ll bind one of the mirrors in your study with a mirror of my own, so that you will always be able to reach me, and I’ll do the same for Roran and Katrina. If trouble arises, I’ll find a way to send assistance. I may not be able to come myself, but I will help.”
She nodded. “I know you will.” Then she sighed, unhappiness plain on her face.
“What?” he asked.
“It was all going so well. Galbatorix is dead. The last of the fighting has settled down. We were going to finally solve the problem of the magicians. You and Saphira were going to lead them and the Riders. And now … I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“It’ll sort out; I’m sure. You’ll find a way.”
“It would be easier with you here.… Will you at least agree to teach the name of the ancient language to whomever we choose to lead the magicians?”
Eragon did not have to think about it, since he had already considered the possibility, but he paused while he tried to find the right words. “I could, but in time, I think we would come to regret it.”
“So you won’t.”
He shook his head.
Frustration crossed her face. “And why not? What are your reasons now?”
“The name is too dangerous to bandy about lightly, Nasuada. If a magician full of ambition but lacking scruples got hold of it, he or she could wreak an incredible amount of havoc. With it, they could destroy the ancient language. Not even Galbatorix was mad enough to do that, but an untrained, power-hungry magician? Who knows what might happen? Right now, Arya, Murtagh, and the dragons are the only ones besides me who know the name. Better to leave it at that.”
“And when you go, we will be dependent upon Arya, should we have need of it.”
“You know she will always help. If anything, I would worry about Murtagh.”
Nasuada seemed to turn inward. “You needn’t. He’s no threat to us. Not now.”
“As you say. If your goal is to keep the spellcasters in check, then the name of the ancient language is one piece of information that is better to withhold.”
“If that is truly the case, then … I understand.”
“Thank you. There’s something else you should know as well.”
Nasuada’s expression grew wary. “Oh?”
He told her, then, about the idea that had recently occurred to him concerning the Urgals. When he finished, Nasuada was quiet for a while. Then she said, “You take much upon yourself.”
“I have to. No one else can.… Do you approve? It seems the only way to ensure peace in the long run.”
“Are you sure it’s wise?”
“Not entirely, but I think we have to try.”
“The dwarves as well? Is that really necessary?”
“Yes. It’s only right. It’s only fair. And it will help maintain the balance among the races.”
“What if they don’t agree?”
“I’m sure they will.”
“Then do as you see fit. You don’t need my approval-you’ve made that clear enough-but I agree that it seems necessary. Otherwise, twenty, thirty years from now, we may be facing many of the problems our ancestors faced when they first arrived in Alagaesia.”
He bowed his head slightly. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
“When do you plan on leaving?”
“When Arya does.”
“So soon?”
“There’s no reason to wait longer.”
Nasuada leaned against the railing, her eyes fixed on the fountain below. “Will you return to visit?”
“I’ll try, but … I don’t think so. When Angela cast my fortune, she said I would never return.”
“Ah.” Nasuada’s voice sounded thick, as if she were hoarse. She turned and faced him directly. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
She pressed her lips together, as if struggling not to cry. Then she stepped forward and embraced him. He hugged her back, and they stood like that for several seconds.
They parted then, and he said, “Nasuada, if y
ou ever tire of being queen, or you want a place to live in peace, come join us. You’ll always be welcome in our hall. I cannot make you immortal, but I could prolong your years far beyond what most humans enjoy, and they would be spent in good health.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the offer, and I won’t forget it.” However, he had a feeling that she would never be able to bring herself to leave Alagaesia, no matter how old she was. Her sense of duty was too strong.
Then he asked, “Will you give us your blessing?”
“Of course.” She took his head between her hands, kissed him upon his brow, and said, “My blessings upon you and Saphira. May peace and good fortune be with you wherever you go.”
“And with you,” he said.
She kept her hands upon him for another moment; then she released him, and he opened the glass door and exited through her study, leaving her standing alone upon the balcony.
BLOOD PRICE
As Eragon made his way down a flight of steps on his way toward the main entrance of the building, he happened upon the herbalist, Angela, sitting cross-legged in the dark alcove of a door. She was knitting what appeared to be a blue and white hat with strange runes along its lower part, the meaning of which was lost on him. Next to her lay Solembum, his head propped up in her lap and one of his heavy paws resting atop her right knee.
Eragon stopped, surprised. He had not seen either of them since-it took him a moment to remember-since shortly after the battle in Uru’baen. Thereafter, they had seemed to disappear.
“Greetings,” said Angela without looking up.
“Greetings,” replied Eragon. “What are you doing here?”
“Knitting a hat.”
“That I can see, but why here?”
“Because I wanted to see you.” Her needles clacked with swift regularity, their motion as entrancing as the flames of a fire. “I heard tell that you, Saphira, the eggs, and the Eldunari are leaving Alagaesia.”
“As you predicted,” he retorted, frustrated that she had been able to discover what ought to have been the deepest secret. She could not have eavesdropped upon him and Nasuada-his wards would have prevented it-and so far as he knew, no one had told her or Solembum about the existence of the eggs or the Eldunari.
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think to see you off.”
“How did you find out? From Arya?”
“Her? Ha! Hardly. No, I have my own ways of gathering information.” She paused in her knitting and looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. “Not that I’ll share them with you. I have to keep some secrets, after all.”
“Humph.”
“Humph yourself. If you’re going to be that way, I’m not sure why I bothered coming.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just feeling a bit … uneasy.” After a moment, Eragon said, “Why did you want to see me?”
“I wanted to say farewell and to wish you luck on your journey.”
“Thank you.”
“Mmh. Try not to let yourself get too wrapped up in your head wherever you settle. Make sure you get out in the sun often enough.”
“I will. What of you and Solembum? Will you stay here for a while and watch over Elva? You mentioned you would.”
The herbalist snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “Stay? How can I stay when Nasuada seems intent on spying on every magician in the land?”
“You heard about that as well?”
She gave him a look. “I disapprove. I disapprove very much. I will not be treated like a child who has done something naughty. No, the time has come for Solembum and me to relocate to more friendly climes: the Beor Mountains, perhaps, or Du Weldenvarden.”
Eragon hesitated for a moment and then said, “Would you like to come with Saphira and me?”
Solembum opened one eye and studied him for a second before closing it again.
“That’s very kind of you,” said Angela, “but I think we will decline. At least, for the time being. Sitting around guarding the Eldunari and training new Riders seems boring … although, raising a clutch of dragons is sure to prove exciting. But no; for the time being, Solembum and I will stay in Alagaesia. Besides, I want to keep an eye on Elva for the next few years, even if I can’t watch over her in person.”
“Haven’t you had your fill of interesting events?”
“Never. They’re the spice of life.” She held up her half-finished hat. “How do you like it?”
“It’s nice. The blue is pretty. But what do the runes say?”
“Raxacori-Oh, never mind. It wouldn’t mean anything to you anyway. Safe travels to you and Saphira, Eragon. And remember to watch out for earwigs and wild hamsters. Ferocious things, wild hamsters.”
He smiled despite himself. “Safe travels to you as well, and to you, Solembum.”
The werecat’s eye opened again. Safe travels, Kingkiller.
Eragon left the building and picked his way through the city until he arrived at the house where Jeod and his wife, Helen, now lived. It was a stately hall, with high walls, a large garden, and bowing servants stationed within the entryway. Helen had done exceedingly well. By provisioning the Varden-and now Nasuada’s kingdom-with much-needed supplies, she had quickly built up a trading company larger than the one Jeod had once owned in Teirm.
Eragon found Jeod washing up in preparation for their evening meal. After refusing an offer to dine with them, Eragon spent a few minutes explaining to Jeod the same things he had explained to Nasuada. At first Jeod was surprised and somewhat upset, but in the end, he agreed that it was necessary for Eragon and Saphira to leave with the other dragons. As with Nasuada and the herbalist, Eragon also invited Jeod to accompany them.
“You tempt me sorely,” said Jeod. “But my place is here. I have my work, and for the first time in a long while, Helen is happy. Ilirea has become our home, and neither of us wants to pick up and move elsewhere.”
Eragon nodded, understanding.
“But you … you’re going to travel where few but the dragons or Riders have ever gone. Tell me, do you know what lies to the east? Is there another sea?”
“If you travel far enough.”
“And before that?”
Eragon shrugged. “Empty land for the most part, or so the Eldunari say, and I have no reason to think that’s changed in the past century.”
Then Jeod moved closer to him and lowered his voice. “Since you are leaving … I will tell you this. Do you remember when I told you about the Arcaena, the order devoted to preserving knowledge throughout Alagaesia?”
Eragon nodded. “You said that Heslant the Monk belonged to them.”
“As do I.” At Eragon’s look of surprise, Jeod made a sheepish gesture and ran his hand through his hair. “I joined them long ago, when I was young and looking for a cause to serve. I’ve provided them with information and manuscripts throughout the years, and they’ve helped me in return. Anyway, I thought you should know. Brom was the only other person I’ve told.”
“Not even Helen?”
“Not even her.… Anyway, when I finish writing my account of you and Saphira and the rise of the Varden, I’ll send it to our monastery in the Spine, and it will be included as a number of new chapters in Domia abr Wyrda. Your story will not be forgotten, Eragon; that much, at least, I can promise you.”
Eragon found the knowledge strangely affecting. “Thank you,” he said, and grasped Jeod by the forearm.
“And you, Eragon Shadeslayer.”
Afterward, Eragon made his way back to the hall, where he and Saphira had been living along with Roran and Katrina, who were waiting to eat with him.
All through supper, the talk was of Arya and Firnen. Eragon held his tongue about his plans for departure until after the food was gone and the three of them-and the baby-had retired to a room overlooking the courtyard, where Saphira lay napping with Firnen. There they sat drinking wine and tea and watching as the sun descended toward the distant horizon.
When an appropriate amount of time had passed, Eragon broach
ed the subject. As he expected, Katrina and Roran reacted with dismay and tried to convince him to change his mind. It took Eragon nearly an hour to lay out his reasons to them, for they argued every point and refused to concede until he answered their objections in exacting detail.
Finally, Roran said, “Blast it, you’re family! You can’t leave!”
“I have to. You know it as well as I do; you just don’t want to admit it.”
Roran struck his fist against the table between them and then strode over to the open window, the muscles in his jaw clenching.
The baby squalled, and Katrina said, “Shh, now,” and patted her on the back.
Eragon joined Roran. “I know it isn’t what you want. I don’t want it either, but I have no choice.”
“Of course you have a choice. You of all people have a choice.”
“Aye, and this is the right thing to do.”
Roran grunted and crossed his arms.
Behind them, Katrina said, “If you leave, you won’t be able to be an uncle to Ismira. Is she supposed to grow up without ever knowing you?”
“No,” said Eragon, going back to her. “I’ll still be able to talk with her, and I’ll see to it that she’s well protected; I may even be able to send her presents from time to time.” He knelt and held out a finger, and the girl wrapped a hand around it and tugged with precocious strength.
“But you won’t be here.”
“No … I won’t be here.” Eragon gently extricated his finger from Ismira’s grip and returned to stand by Roran. “As I said, you could join me.”
The muscles in Roran’s jaw shifted. “And give up Palancar Valley?” He shook his head. “Horst and the others are already preparing to return. We’ll rebuild Carvahall as the finest town in the whole Spine. You could help; it would be like before.”
“I wish I could.”
Below, Saphira uttered a throaty gurgle and nuzzled the side of Firnen’s neck. The green dragon snuggled closer to her.
In a low voice, Roran said, “Is there no other way, Eragon?”
“Not that Saphira or I can think of.”
Inheritance i-4 Page 82
