Paolini, Christopher - Inheritance Trilogy, Book 2 - Eldest (v1.5) (73 page)

than bed near the ground, where they are most vulnerable. How, then,

would you reach them? And if you could, do you really believe that you

could defeat both Ra’zac and their two steeds, if not more? I have no

doubt you are a fearsome warrior—after all, you and Eragon share

blood—but these are foes beyond any normal human.”

Roran shook his head. “I can’t abandon Katrina. It may be futile, but I

must try to free her, even if it costs me my life.”

“It won’t do Katrina any good if you get yourself killed,” admonished

Jeod. “If I may offer a bit of advice: try to reach Surda as you’ve planned.

Once there, I’m sure you can enlist Eragon’s help. Even the Ra’zac cannot

match a Rider and dragon in open combat.”

In his mind’s eye, Roran saw the huge gray-skinned beasts the Ra’zac

rode upon. He was loath to acknowledge it, but he knew that such crea-

467

tures were beyond his ability to kill, no matter the strength of his motiva-

tion. The instant he accepted that truth, Roran finally believed Jeod’s

tale—for if he did not, Katrina was forever lost to him.

Eragon, he thought. Eragon! By the blood I’ve spilled and the gore on my

hands, I swear upon my father’s grave I’ll have you atone for what you’ve

done by storming Helgrind with me. If you created this mess, then I’ll have

you clean it up.

Roran motioned to Jeod. “Continue your account. Let us hear the rest

of this sorry play before the day grows much older.”

Then Jeod spoke of Brom’s death; of Murtagh, son of Morzan; of cap-

ture and escape in Gil’ead; of a desperate flight to save an elf; of Urgals

and dwarves and a great battle in a place called Farthen Dûr, where Er-

agon defeated a Shade. And Jeod told them how the Varden left the Beor

Mountains for Surda and how Eragon was even now deep within Du

Weldenvarden, learning the elves’ mysterious secrets of magic and war-

fare, but would soon return.

When the merchant fell silent, Roran gathered at the far end of the

study with Loring, Birgit, and Nolfavrell and asked their thoughts. Lower-

ing his voice, Loring said, “I can’t tell whether he’s lying or not, but any

man who can weave a yarn like that at knifepoint deserves to live. A new

Rider! And Eragon to boot!” He shook his head.

“Birgit?” asked Roran.

“I don’t know. It’s so outlandish. . ” She hesitated. “But it must be true.

Another Rider is the only thing that would spur the Empire to pursue us

so fiercely.”

“Aye,” agreed Loring. His eyes were bright with excitement. “We’ve

been entangled in far more momentous events than we realized. A new

Rider. Just think about it! The old order is about to be washed away, I

tell you. . You were right all along, Roran.”

“Nolfavrell?”

The boy looked solemn at being asked. He bit his lip, then said, “Jeod

seems honest enough. I think we can trust him.”

“Right, then,” said Roran. He strode back to Jeod, planted his knuckles

on the edge of the desk, and said, “Two last questions, Longshanks. What

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do Brom and Eragon look like? And how did you recognize Gertrude’s

name?”

“I knew of Gertrude because Brom mentioned that he left a letter for

you in her care. As for what they looked like: Brom stood a bit shorter

than me. He had a thick beard, a hooked nose, and he carried a carved

staff with him. And I dare say he was rather irritable at times.” Roran

nodded; that was Brom. “Eragon was. . young. Brown hair, brown eyes,

with a scar on his wrist, and he never stopped asking questions.” Roran

nodded again; that was his cousin.

Roran stuck his hammer back under his belt. Birgit, Loring, and Nol-

favrell sheathed their blades. Then Roran pulled his chair away from the

door, and the four of them resumed their seats like civilized beings.

“What now, Jeod?” asked Roran. “Can you help us? I know you’re in a

difficult situation, but we. . we are desperate and have no one else to turn

to. As an agent of the Varden, can you guarantee us the Varden’s protec-

tion? We are willing to serve them if they’ll shield us from Galbatorix’s

wrath.”

“The Varden,” said Jeod, “would be more than happy to have you.

More than happy. I suspect you already guessed that. As for help. .” He

ran a hand down his long face and stared past Loring at the rows of books

on the shelves. “I’ve been aware for almost a year that my true identity—

as well as that of many other merchants here and elsewhere who have

assisted the Varden—was betrayed to the Empire. Because of that, I ha-

ven’t dared flee to Surda. If I tried, the Empire would arrest me, and then

who knows what horrors I’d be in for? I’ve had to watch the gradual de-

struction of my business without being able to take any action to oppose

or escape it. What’s worse, now that I cannot ship anything to the

Varden and they dare not send envoys to me, I feared that Lord Risthart

would have me clapped in irons and dragged off to the dungeons, since

I’m of no further interest to the Empire. I’ve expected it every day since I

declared bankruptcy.”

“Perhaps,” suggested Birgit, “they want you to flee so they can capture

whoever else you bring with you.”

Jeod smiled. “Perhaps. But now that you are here, I have a means to

leave that they never anticipated.”

“Then you have a plan?” asked Loring.

Glee crossed Jeod’s face. “Oh yes, I have a plan. Did the four of you see

469

the ship Dragon Wing moored at port?”

Roran thought back to the vessel. “Aye.”

“The Dragon Wing is owned by the Blackmoor Shipping Company, a

front for the Empire. They handle supplies for the army, which has mo-

bilized to an alarming degree recently, conscripting soldiers among the

peasants and commandeering horses, asses, and oxen.” Jeod raised an eye-

brow. “I’m not sure what it indicates, but it’s possible Galbatorix means

to march on Surda. In any case, the Dragon Wing is to sail for Feinster

within the week. She’s the finest ship ever built, from a new design by

master shipwright Kinnell.”

“And you want to pirate her,” concluded Roran.

“I do. Not only to spite the Empire or because the Dragon Wing is re-

puted to be the fastest square-rigged ship of her tonnage, but because

she’s already fully provisioned for a long voyage. And since her cargo is

food, we’d have enough for the whole village.”

Loring uttered a strained cackle. “I ’ope you can sail her yourself, Long-

shanks, ’cause not one of us knows how to handle anything larger than a

barge.”

“A few men from the crews of my ships are still in Teirm. They’re in

the same position I am, unable to fight or flee. I’m confident they’ll jump

at a chance to get to Surda. They can teach you what to do on the Dragon

Wing. It won’t be easy, but I don’t see much choice in the matter.”

Roran grinned. The plan was to his liking: swift, decisive, and unex-

pected.

“You mentioned,” said Birgit, “that in the past year none of your ships—

nor those from other merchants who serve the Varden—have reached

their destination. Why, then, should this mission succeed when so many

have failed?”

Jeod was quick to answer: “Because surprise is on our side. The law re-

quires merchant ships to submit their itinerary for approval with the port

authority at least two weeks before departure. It takes a great deal of

time to prepare a ship for launch, so if we leave without warning, it

could be a week or more before Galbatorix can launch intercept vessels.

If luck is with us, we won’t see so much as the topmast of our pursuers.

So,” continued Jeod, “if you are willing to attempt this enterprise, this is

470

what we must do. . ”

471

ESCAPE

After they considered Jeod’s proposal from every possible angle and

agreed to abide by it—with a few modifications—Roran sent Nolfavrell

to fetch Gertrude and Mandel from the Green Chestnut, for Jeod had of-

fered their entire party his hospitality.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” said Jeod, rising, “I must go reveal to my

wife that which I should never have hidden from her and ask if she’ll ac-

company me to Surda. You may take your pick of rooms on the second

floor. Rolf will summon you when supper is ready.” With long, slow

steps, he departed the study.

“Is it wise to let him tell that ogress?” asked Loring.

Roran shrugged. “Wise or not, we can’t stop him. And I don’t think he’ll

be at peace until he does.”

Instead of going to a room, Roran wandered through the mansion, un-

consciously evading the servants as he pondered the things Jeod had said.

He stopped at a bay window open to the stables at the rear of the house

and filled his lungs with the brisk and smoky air, heavy with the familiar

smell of manure.

“Do you hate him?”

He started and turned to see Birgit silhouetted in the doorway. She

pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders as she approached.

“Who?” he asked, knowing full well.

“Eragon. Do you hate him?”

Roran looked at the darkening sky. “I don’t know. I hate him for caus-

ing the death of my father, but he’s still family and for that I love him. . I

suppose that if I didn’t need Eragon to save Katrina, I would have nothing

to do with him for a long while yet.”

“As I need and hate you, Stronghammer.”

He snorted with grim amusement. “Aye, we’re joined at the hip, aren’t

we? You have to help me find Eragon in order to avenge Quimby on the

Ra’zac.”

472

“And to have my vengeance on you afterward.”

“That too.” Roran stared into her unwavering eyes for a moment, ac-

knowledging the bond between them. He found it strangely comforting

to know that they shared the same drive, the same angry fire that quick-

ened their steps when others faltered. In her, he recognized a kindred

spirit.

Returning through the house, Roran stopped by the dining room as he

heard the cadence of Jeod’s voice. Curious, he fit his eye to a crack by the

middle door hinge. Jeod stood opposite a slight, blond woman, who Ro-

ran assumed was Helen.

“If what you say is true, how can you expect me to trust you?”

“I cannot,” answered Jeod.

“Yet you ask me to become a fugitive for you?”

“You once offered to leave your family and wander the land with me.

You begged me to spirit you away from Teirm.”

“Once. I thought you were terribly dashing then, what with your sword

and your scar.”

“I still have those,” he said softly. “I made many mistakes with you,

Helen; I understand that now. But I still love you and want you to be

safe. I have no future here. If I stay, I’ll only bring grief to your family.

You can return to your father or you can come with me. Do what will

make you the happiest. However, I beg you to give me a second chance,

to have the courage to leave this place and shed the bitter memories of

our life here. We can start anew in Surda.”

She was quiet for a long time. “That young man who was here, is he

really a Rider?”

“He is. The winds of change are blowing, Helen. The Varden are about

to attack, the dwarves are gathering, and even the elves stir in their an-

cient haunts. War approaches, and if we’re fortunate, so does Galbatorix’s

downfall.”

“Are you important among the Varden?”

473

“They owe me some consideration for my part in acquiring Saphira’s

egg.”

“Then you would have a position with them in Surda?”

“I imagine so.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and she did not draw

away.

She whispered, “Jeod, Jeod, don’t press me. I cannot decide yet.”

“Will you think about it?”

She shivered. “Oh yes. I’ll think about it.”

Roran’s heart pained him as he left.

Katrina.

That night at dinner, Roran noticed Helen’s eyes were often upon him,

studying and measuring—comparing him, he was sure, to Eragon.

After the meal, Roran beckoned to Mandel and led him out into the

courtyard behind the house.

“What is it, sir?” asked Mandel.

“I wished to talk with you in private.”

“About what?”

Roran fingered the pitted blade of his hammer and reflected on how

much he felt like Garrow when his father gave a lecture on responsibil-

ity; Roran could even feel the same phrases rising in his throat. And so one

generation passes to the next, he thought. “You’ve become quite friendly

with the sailors as of late.”

“They’re not our enemies,” objected Mandel.

“Everyone is an enemy at this point. Clovis and his men could turn on

us in an instant. It wouldn’t be a problem, though, if being with them

hadn’t caused you to neglect your duties.” Mandel stiffened and color

bloomed in his cheeks, but he did not lower himself in Roran’s esteem by

denying the charge. Pleased, Roran asked, “What is the most important

thing we can do right now, Mandel?”

474

“Protect our families.”

“Aye. And what else?”

Mandel hesitated, uncertain, then confessed, “I don’t know.”

“Help one another. It’s the only way any of us are going to survive. I

was especially disappointed to learn that you’ve gambled food with the