Eragon
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Jeod’s face cleared. “I see. . . . But why have you come here? I don’t know where the Ra’zac might be hiding, and anyone who does won’t tell you.”
Standing, Brom reached into his robe and pulled out the Ra’zac’s flask. He tossed it to Jeod. “There’s Seithr oil in there—the dangerous kind. The Ra’zac were carrying it. They lost it by the trail, and we happened to find it. We need to see Teirm’s shipping records so we can trace the Empire’s purchases of the oil. That should tell us where the Ra’zac’s lair is.”
Lines appeared on Jeod’s face as he thought. He pointed at the books on the shelves. “Do you see those? They are all records from my business.One business. You have gotten yourself into a project that could take months. There is another, greater problem. The records you seek are held in this castle, but only Brand, Risthart’s administrator of trade, sees them on a regular basis. Traders such as myself aren’t allowed to handle them. They fear that we will falsify the results, thus cheating the Empire of its precious taxes.”
“I can deal with that when the time comes,” said Brom. “But we need a few days of rest before we can think about proceeding.”
Jeod smiled. “It seems that it is my turn to help you. My house is yours, of course. Do you have another name while you are here?”
“Yes,” said Brom, “I’m Neal, and the boy is Evan.”
“Eragon,” said Jeod thoughtfully. “You have a unique name. Few have ever been named after the first Rider. In my life I’ve read about only three people who were called such.” Eragon was startled that Jeod knew the origin of his name.
Brom looked at Eragon. “Could you go check on the horses and make sure they’re all right? I don’t think I tied Snowfire to the ring tightly enough.”
They’re trying to hide something from me. The moment I leave they’re going to talk about it.Eragon shoved himself out of the chair and left the room, slamming the door shut. Snowfire had not moved; the knot that held him was fine. Scratching the horses’ necks, Eragon leaned sullenly against the castle wall.
It’s not fair,he complained to himself.If only I could hear what they are saying. He jolted upright, electrified. Brom had once taught him some words that would enhance his hearing.Keen ears aren’t exactly what I want, but I should be able to make the words work. After all, look what I could do with brisingr!
He concentrated intensely and reached for his power. Once it was within his grasp, he said, “Thverr stenr un atra eka hórna!” and imbued the words with his will. As the power rushed out of him, he heard a faint whisper in his ears, but nothing more. Disappointed, he sank back, then started as Jeod said, “—and I’ve been doing that for almost eight years now.”
Eragon looked around. No one was there except for a few guards standing against the far wall of the keep. Grinning, he sat on the courtyard and closed his eyes.
“I never expected you to become a merchant,” said Brom. “After all the time you spent in books. And finding the passageway in that manner! What made you take up trading instead of remaining a scholar?”
“After Gil’ead, I didn’t have much taste for sitting in musty rooms and reading scrolls. I decided to help Ajihad as best I could, but I’m no warrior. My father was a merchant as well—you may remember that. He helped me get started. However, the bulk of my business is nothing more than a front to get goods into Surda.”
“But I take it that things have been going badly,” said Brom.
“Yes, none of the shipments have gotten through lately, and Tronjheim is running low on supplies. Somehow the Empire—at least I think it’s them—has discovered those of us who have been helping to support Tronjheim. But I’m still not convinced that it’s the Empire. No one sees any soldiers. I don’t understand it. Perhaps Galbatorix hired mercenaries to harass us.”
“I heard that you lost a ship recently.”
“The last one I owned,” answered Jeod bitterly. “Every man on it was loyal and brave. I doubt I’ll ever see them again. . . . The only option I have left is to send caravans to Surda or Gil’ead—which I know won’t get there, no matter how many guards I hire—or charter someone else’s ship to carry the goods. But no one will take them now.”
“How many merchants have been helping you?” asked Brom.
“Oh, a good number up and down the seaboard. All of them have been plagued by the same troubles. I know what you are thinking; I’ve pondered it many a night myself, but I cannot bear the thought of a traitor with that much knowledge and power. If there is one, we’re all in jeopardy. You should return to Tronjheim.”
“And take Eragon there?” interrupted Brom. “They’d tear him apart. It’s the worst place he could be right now. Maybe in a few months or, even better, a year. Can you imagine how the dwarves will react? Everyone will be trying to influence him, especially Islanzadi. He and Saphira won’t be safe in Tronjheim until I at least get them through tuatha du orothrim.”
Dwarves!thought Eragon excitedly.Where is this Tronjheim? And why did he tell Jeod about Saphira? He shouldn’t have done that without asking me!
“Still, I have a feeling that they are in need of your power and wisdom.”
“Wisdom,” snorted Brom. “I’m just what you said earlier—a crotchety old man.”