Inheritance
Page 88
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Nasuada shook her head. “No, you can only take one. Murtagh is familiar with the number of elves who have been protecting Eragon. If he notices that two or more are missing, he may suspect a trap of some sort. In any event, Saphira will need as much help as she can get if she’s to keep out of Murtagh’s grasp.”
“Three people are not enough to attempt such a mission,” insisted Arya. “We would be unable to ensure Eragon’s safety, much less open the gates.”
“Then one of Du Vrangr Gata can go with you as well.”
A hint of derision colored Arya’s expression. “None of your spellcasters are strong or skilled enough. We’ll be outnumbered a hundred to one, or worse. Both ordinary swordsmen and trained magicians will be arrayed against us. Only elves or Riders—”
“Or Shades,” Orik rumbled.
“Or Shades,” Arya conceded, though Eragon could tell she was irritated. “Only those could hope to prevail against such odds. And even then it is no sure thing. Let us take two of Blödhgarm’s spellcasters. No one else is fit for the task, not among the Varden.”
“Oh, and what am I, chopped liver?”
Everyone turned to look, surprised, as Angela stepped forward from a corner at the back of the tent. Eragon had not even suspected she was there.
“What a strange expression,” said the herbalist. “Who would compare themselves to chopped liver in the first place? If you have to choose an organ, why not pick a gallbladder or a thymus gland instead? Much more interesting than a liver. Or what about chopped t—” She smiled. “Well, I suppose that’s not important.” She stopped in front of Arya and looked up at her. “Will you object if I accompany you, Älfa? I’m not a member of the Varden, not strictly speaking, but I’m still willing to round out this quartet of yours.”
Much to Eragon’s surprise, Arya bowed her head and said, “Of course, wise one. I meant no offense. It would be an honor to have you with us.”
“Good!” exclaimed Angela. “That is, assuming you don’t mind,” she said, directing her words to Nasuada.
Appearing somewhat bemused, Nasuada shook her head. “If you are willing, and neither Eragon nor Arya objects, then I can think of no reason why you shouldn’t go. I can’t imagine why you’d want to, though.”
Angela tossed her curls. “Do you expect me to explain every decision I make? … Oh, very well, if it’ll satisfy your curiosity, let’s say I have a grudge against the priests of Helgrind, and I’d like the chance to do them some mischief. And besides, if Murtagh puts in an appearance, I have a trick or two up my sleeve that might give him a bit of a turn.”
“We should ask Elva to go with us as well,” said Eragon. “If anyone can help us avoid danger …”
Nasuada frowned. “Last we spoke, she made her position clear enough. I’ll not go bowing and scraping to her in an attempt to convince her otherwise.”
“I’ll talk with her,” said Eragon. “I’m the one she’s angry with, and I’m the one who should ask her.”
Nasuada plucked at the fringe of her golden dress. She rolled several strands between her fingers, then abruptly said, “Do as you wish. I dislike the thought of sending a child—even one as gifted as Elva—into battle. However, I suppose she is more than capable of protecting herself.”
“As long as the pain of those around her doesn’t overwhelm her,” said Angela. “The last few battles have left her curled in a ball, barely able to move or breathe.”
Nasuada stilled her fingers and peered at Eragon with a serious expression. “She’s unpredictable. If she does choose to go along, be careful of her, Eragon.”
“I will,” he promised.
Then Nasuada began to discuss questions of logistics with Orrin and Orik, and Eragon withdrew somewhat from the conversation, for he had little to contribute.
In the privacy of his mind, he reached out to Saphira, who had been listening, through him, to the goings-on. Well? he asked. What do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet. I thought for sure you would say something when Nasuada proposed sneaking into Dras-Leona.
I said nothing because I had nothing to say. It is a good plan.
You agree with her?!
We are no longer awkward younglings, Eragon. Our enemies may be fearsome, but so are we. It is time we remind them of that.
Does it bother you that we’ll be apart?
Of course it bothers me, she growled. Wherever you go, enemies flock to you like flies to flesh. However, you are not as helpless as you once were. And she almost seemed to purr.
Me, helpless? he said with mock outrage.
Only a little bit. But your bite is more dangerous than before.
So is yours.
Mmm.… I go to hunt. A wing-breaking storm is building, and I’ll not have a chance to eat again until after we attack.
Fly safely, he said.
As he felt her presence receding from him, Eragon returned his attention to the conversation within the tent, for he knew his life, and that of Saphira, would depend on the decisions Nasuada, Orik, and Orrin would make.
UNDER HILL AND STONE
ragon rolled his shoulders, trying to get his mail hauberk to rest comfortably under the tunic he wore to hide the armor.
Darkness lay all around them, heavy and oppressive. A thick layer of clouds obscured the moon and the stars. Without the red werelight Angela held in the palm of her hand, even Eragon and the elves would have been unable to see.
“Three people are not enough to attempt such a mission,” insisted Arya. “We would be unable to ensure Eragon’s safety, much less open the gates.”
“Then one of Du Vrangr Gata can go with you as well.”
A hint of derision colored Arya’s expression. “None of your spellcasters are strong or skilled enough. We’ll be outnumbered a hundred to one, or worse. Both ordinary swordsmen and trained magicians will be arrayed against us. Only elves or Riders—”
“Or Shades,” Orik rumbled.
“Or Shades,” Arya conceded, though Eragon could tell she was irritated. “Only those could hope to prevail against such odds. And even then it is no sure thing. Let us take two of Blödhgarm’s spellcasters. No one else is fit for the task, not among the Varden.”
“Oh, and what am I, chopped liver?”
Everyone turned to look, surprised, as Angela stepped forward from a corner at the back of the tent. Eragon had not even suspected she was there.
“What a strange expression,” said the herbalist. “Who would compare themselves to chopped liver in the first place? If you have to choose an organ, why not pick a gallbladder or a thymus gland instead? Much more interesting than a liver. Or what about chopped t—” She smiled. “Well, I suppose that’s not important.” She stopped in front of Arya and looked up at her. “Will you object if I accompany you, Älfa? I’m not a member of the Varden, not strictly speaking, but I’m still willing to round out this quartet of yours.”
Much to Eragon’s surprise, Arya bowed her head and said, “Of course, wise one. I meant no offense. It would be an honor to have you with us.”
“Good!” exclaimed Angela. “That is, assuming you don’t mind,” she said, directing her words to Nasuada.
Appearing somewhat bemused, Nasuada shook her head. “If you are willing, and neither Eragon nor Arya objects, then I can think of no reason why you shouldn’t go. I can’t imagine why you’d want to, though.”
Angela tossed her curls. “Do you expect me to explain every decision I make? … Oh, very well, if it’ll satisfy your curiosity, let’s say I have a grudge against the priests of Helgrind, and I’d like the chance to do them some mischief. And besides, if Murtagh puts in an appearance, I have a trick or two up my sleeve that might give him a bit of a turn.”
“We should ask Elva to go with us as well,” said Eragon. “If anyone can help us avoid danger …”
Nasuada frowned. “Last we spoke, she made her position clear enough. I’ll not go bowing and scraping to her in an attempt to convince her otherwise.”
“I’ll talk with her,” said Eragon. “I’m the one she’s angry with, and I’m the one who should ask her.”
Nasuada plucked at the fringe of her golden dress. She rolled several strands between her fingers, then abruptly said, “Do as you wish. I dislike the thought of sending a child—even one as gifted as Elva—into battle. However, I suppose she is more than capable of protecting herself.”
“As long as the pain of those around her doesn’t overwhelm her,” said Angela. “The last few battles have left her curled in a ball, barely able to move or breathe.”
Nasuada stilled her fingers and peered at Eragon with a serious expression. “She’s unpredictable. If she does choose to go along, be careful of her, Eragon.”
“I will,” he promised.
Then Nasuada began to discuss questions of logistics with Orrin and Orik, and Eragon withdrew somewhat from the conversation, for he had little to contribute.
In the privacy of his mind, he reached out to Saphira, who had been listening, through him, to the goings-on. Well? he asked. What do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet. I thought for sure you would say something when Nasuada proposed sneaking into Dras-Leona.
I said nothing because I had nothing to say. It is a good plan.
You agree with her?!
We are no longer awkward younglings, Eragon. Our enemies may be fearsome, but so are we. It is time we remind them of that.
Does it bother you that we’ll be apart?
Of course it bothers me, she growled. Wherever you go, enemies flock to you like flies to flesh. However, you are not as helpless as you once were. And she almost seemed to purr.
Me, helpless? he said with mock outrage.
Only a little bit. But your bite is more dangerous than before.
So is yours.
Mmm.… I go to hunt. A wing-breaking storm is building, and I’ll not have a chance to eat again until after we attack.
Fly safely, he said.
As he felt her presence receding from him, Eragon returned his attention to the conversation within the tent, for he knew his life, and that of Saphira, would depend on the decisions Nasuada, Orik, and Orrin would make.
UNDER HILL AND STONE
ragon rolled his shoulders, trying to get his mail hauberk to rest comfortably under the tunic he wore to hide the armor.
Darkness lay all around them, heavy and oppressive. A thick layer of clouds obscured the moon and the stars. Without the red werelight Angela held in the palm of her hand, even Eragon and the elves would have been unable to see.
