Eldest
Page 161
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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 creatures were beyond his ability to kill, no matter the strength of his motivation. 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 capture 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 Eragon 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 warfare, 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. Lowering 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 moremomentous 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. Ithink 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 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 Nolfavrell 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 protection? 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 haven’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 destruction 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 the shipDragon Wing moored at port?”
Roran thought back to the vessel. “Aye.”
“TheDragon Wing is owned by the Blackmoor Shipping Company, a front for the Empire. They handle supplies for the army, which has mobilized to an alarming degree recently, conscripting soldiers among the peasants and commandeering horses, asses, and oxen.” Jeod raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what it indicates, but it’s possible Galbatorix means to march on Surda. In any case, theDragon Wing is to sail for Feinster within the week. She’s the finest ship ever built, from a new design by master shipwright Kinnell.”
“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 creatures were beyond his ability to kill, no matter the strength of his motivation. 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 capture 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 Eragon 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 warfare, 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. Lowering 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 moremomentous 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. Ithink 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 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 Nolfavrell 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 protection? 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 haven’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 destruction 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 the shipDragon Wing moored at port?”
Roran thought back to the vessel. “Aye.”
“TheDragon Wing is owned by the Blackmoor Shipping Company, a front for the Empire. They handle supplies for the army, which has mobilized to an alarming degree recently, conscripting soldiers among the peasants and commandeering horses, asses, and oxen.” Jeod raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what it indicates, but it’s possible Galbatorix means to march on Surda. In any case, theDragon Wing is to sail for Feinster within the week. She’s the finest ship ever built, from a new design by master shipwright Kinnell.”
