by Eragon (lit)
Eragon winced. Brom’s lessons were usually intense and brutally direct. How much more can I learn at one time? suppose it’s necessary,he said ruefully.
’ll enjoy it. There is much you can learn from books and scrolls,said Jeod. He gestured at the walls. books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life.
sounds intriguing,admitted Eragon.
the scholar, aren’t you?asked Brom.
Jeod shrugged. anymore. I’m afraid I’ve degenerated into a bibliophile.
what?asked Eragon.
who loves books,explained Jeod, and resumed conversing with Brom. Bored, Eragon scanned the shelves. An elegant book set with gold studs caught his attention. He pulled it off the shelf and stared at it curiously.
It was bound in black leather carved with mysterious runes. Eragon ran his fingers over the cover and savored its cool smoothness. The letters inside were printed with a reddish glossy ink. He let the pages slip past his fingers. A column of script, set off from the regular lettering, caught his eye. The words were long and flowing, full of graceful lines and sharp points.
Eragon took the book to Brom. is this?he asked, pointing to the strange writing.
Brom looked at the page closely and raised his eyebrows in surprise. you’ve expanded your collection. Where did you get this? I haven’t seen one in ages.
Jeod strained his neck to see the book. yes, the Domia abr Wyrda. A man came through here a few years ago and tried to sell it to a trader down by the wharves. Fortunately, I happened to be there and was able to save the book, along with his neck. He didn’t have a clue what it was.
’s odd, Eragon, that you should pick up this book, the Dominance of Fate,said Brom. all the items in this house, it’s probably worth the most. It details a complete history of Alaga—starting long before the elves landed here and ending a few decades ago. The book is very rare and is the best of its kind. When it was written, the Empire decried it as blasphemy and burned the author, Heslant the Monk. I didn’t think any copies still existed. The lettering you asked about is from the ancient language.
does it say?asked Eragon.
It took Brom a moment to read the writing. ’s part of an elven poem that tells of the years they fought the dragons. This excerpt describes one of their kings, Ceranthor, as he rides into battle. The elves love this poem and tell it regularly—though you need three days to do it properly—so that they won’t repeat the mistakes of the past. At times they sing it so beautifully it seems the very rocks will cry.
Eragon returned to his chair, holding the book gently. It’s amazing that a man who is dead can talk to people through these pages. As long as this book survives, his ideas live. I wonder if it contains any information about the Ra’zac?
He browsed through the book while Brom and Jeod spoke. Hours passed, and Eragon began to drowse. Out of pity for his exhaustion, Jeod bid them good night. butler will show you to your rooms.
On the way upstairs, the servant said, you need assistance, use the bellpull next to the bed.He stopped before a cluster of three doors, bowed, then backed away.
As Brom entered the room on the right, Eragon asked, I talk to you?
just did, but come in anyway.
Eragon closed the door behind himself. and I had an idea. Is there—
Brom stopped him with a raised hand and pulled the curtains shut over the window. you talk of such things, you would do well to make sure that no unwelcome ears are present.
said Eragon, berating himself for the slip. is it possible to conjure up an image of something that you can’t see?
Brom sat on the edge of his bed. you are talking about is called scrying. It is quite possible and extremely helpful in some situations, but it has a major drawback. You can only observe people, places, and things that you’ve already seen. If you were to scry the Ra’zac, you’d see them all right, but not their surroundings. There are other problems as well. Let’s say that you wanted to view a page in a book, one that you’d already seen. You could only see the page if the book were open to it. If the book were closed when you tried this, the page would appear completely black.
can’t you view objects that you haven’t seen?asked Eragon. Even with those limitations, he realized, scrying could be very useful. I wonder if I could view something leagues away and use magic to affect what was happening there?
said Brom patiently, scry, you have to know what you’re looking at and where to direct your power. Even if a stranger was described to you, it would still be nigh impossible to view him, not to mention the ground and whatever else might be around him. You have to know what you’re going to scry before you can scry it. Does that answer your question?
Eragon thought for a moment. how is it done? Do you conjure up the image in thin air?
usually,said Brom, shaking his white head. t takes more energy than projecting it onto a reflective surface like a pool of water or a mirror. Some Riders used to travel everywhere they could, trying to see as much as possible. Then, whenever war or some other calamity occurred, they would be able to view events throughout Alaga
I try it?asked Eragon.
Brom looked at him carefully. not now. You’re tired, and scrying takes lots of strength. I will tell you the words, but you must promise not to attempt it tonight. And I’d rather you wait until we leave Teirm; I have more to teach you.
Eragon smiled. promise.
well.Brom bent over and very quietly whispered, kinto Eragon’s ear.
Eragon took a moment to memorize the words. after we’ve left Teirm, I can scry Roran. I would like to know how he’s doing. I’m afraid that the Ra’zac might go after him.
don’t mean to frighten you, but that’s a distinct possibility,said Brom. Roran was gone most of the time the Ra’zac were in Carvahall, I’m sure that they asked questions about him. Who knows, they may have even met him while they were in Therinsford. Either way, I doubt their curiosity is sated. You’re on the loose, after all, and the king is probably threatening them with terrible punishment if you aren’t found. If they get frustrated enough, they’ll go back and interrogate Roran. It’s only a matter of time.
that’s true, then the only way to keep Roran safe is to let the Ra’zac know where I am so that they’ll come after me instead of him.
that won’t work either. You’re not thinking,admonished Brom. you can’t understand your enemies, how can you expect to anticipate them? Even if you exposed your location, the Ra’zac would still chase Roran. Do you know why?
Eragon straightened and tried to consider every possibility. if I stay in hiding long enough, they might get frustrated and capture Roran to force me to reveal myself. If that didn’t work, they’d kill him just to hurt me. Also, if I become a public enemy of the Empire, they might use him as bait to catch me. And if I met with Roran and they found out about it, they would torture him to find out where I was.
good. You figured that out quite nicely,said Brom.
what’s the solution? I can’t let him be killed!
Brom clasped his hands loosely. solution is quite obvious. Roran is going to have to learn how to defend himself. That may sound hard-hearted, but as you pointed out, you cannot risk meeting with him. You may not remember this—you were half delirious at the time—but when we left Carvahall, I told you that I had left a warning letter for Roran so he won’t be totally unprepared for danger. If he has any sense at all, when the Ra’zac show up in Carvahall again, he’ll take my advice and flee.
don’t like this,said Eragon unhappily.
but you forget something.
he demanded.
is some good in all of this. The king cannot afford to have a Rider roaming around that he does not control. Galbatorix is the only known Rider alive besides yourself, but he would like another one under his command. Before he tries to kill you or Roran, he will offer you the chance to serve him. Unfortunately, if he ever gets close enough to make that proposition, it will be far too late for you to ref
use and still live.
call that some good!
’s all that’s protecting Roran. As long as the king doesn’t know which side you’ve chosen, he won’t risk alienating you by harming your cousin. Keep that firmly in mind. The Ra’zac killed Garrow, but I think it was an ill-considered decision on their part. From what I know of Galbatorix, he would not have approved it unless he gained something from it.
how will I be able to deny the king’s wishes when he is threatening me with death?asked Eragon sharply.
Brom sighed. He went to his nightstand and dipped his fingers in a basin of rose water. wants your willing cooperation. Without that, you’re worse than useless to him. So the question becomes, If you are ever faced with this choice, are you willing to die for what you believe in? For that is the only way you will deny him.
The question hung in the air.
Brom finally said, ’s a difficult question and not one you can answer until you’re faced with it. Keep in mind that many people have died for their beliefs; it’s actually quite common. The real courage is in living and suffering for what you believe.
* * *
THE WITCH AND THE WERECAT
It was late in the morning when Eragon woke. He dressed, washed his face in the basin, then held the mirror up and brushed his hair into place. Something about his reflection made him stop and look closer. His face had changed since he had run out of Carvahall just a short while ago. Any baby fat was gone now, stripped away by traveling, sparring, and training. His cheekbones were more prominent, and the line of his jaw was sharper. There was a slight cast to his eyes that, when he looked closely, gave his face a wild, alien appearance. He held the mirror at arm’s length, and his face resumed its normal semblance—but it still did not seem quite his own. A little disturbed, he slung his bow and quiver across his back, then left the room. Before he had reached the end of the hall, the butler caught up with him and said, Sir, Neal left with my master for the castle earlier. He said that you could do whatever you want today because he will not return until this evening.
Eragon thanked him for the message, then eagerly began exploring Teirm. For hours he wandered the streets, entering every shop that struck his fancy and chatting with various people. Eventually he was forced back to Jeod’s by his empty stomach and lack of money.
When he reached the street where the merchant lived, he stopped at the herbalist’s shop next door. It was an unusual place for a store. The other shops were down by the city wall, not crammed between expensive houses. He tried to look in the windows, but they were covered with a thick layer of crawling plants on the interior. Curious, he went inside.
At first he saw nothing because the store was so dark, but then his eyes adjusted to the faint greenish light that filtered through the windows. A colorful bird with wide tail feathers and a sharp, powerful beak looked at Eragon inquisitively from a cage near the window. The walls were covered with plants; vines clung to the ceiling, obscuring all but an old chandelier, and on the floor was a large pot with a yellow flower. A collection of mortars, pestles, metal bowls, and a clear crystal ball the size of Eragon’s head rested on a long counter.
He walked to the counter, carefully stepping around complex machines, crates of rocks, piles of scrolls, and other objects he did not recognize. The wall behind the counter was covered with drawers of every size. Some of them were no larger than his smallest finger, while others were big enough for a barrel. There was a foot-wide gap in the shelves far above.
A pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from the dark space, and a large, fierce cat leapt onto the counter. It had a lean body with powerful shoulders and oversized paws. A shaggy mane surrounded its angular face; its ears were tipped with black tufts. White fangs curved down over its jaw. Altogether, it did not look like any cat Eragon had ever seen. It inspected him with shrewd eyes, then flicked its tail dismissively.
On a whim, Eragon reached out with his mind and touched the cat’s consciousness. Gently, he prodded it with his thoughts, trying to make it understand that he was a friend.
You don’t have to do that.
Eragon looked around in alarm. The cat ignored him and licked a paw. Saphira? Where are you? he asked. No one answered. Puzzled, he leaned against the counter and reached for what looked like a wood rod.
That wouldn’t be wise.
Stop playing games, Saphira, he snapped, then picked up the rod. A shock of electricity exploded through his body, and he fell to the floor, writhing. The pain slowly faded, leaving him gasping for air. The cat jumped down and looked at him.
You aren’t very smart for a Dragon Rider. I did warn you.
You said that! exclaimed Eragon. The cat yawned, then stretched and sauntered across the floor, weaving its way between objects.
Who else?
But you’re just a cat! he objected.
The cat yowled and stalked back to him. It jumped on his chest and crouched there, looking down at him with gleaming eyes. Eragon tried to sit up, but it growled, showing its fangs. Do I look like other cats?
No
Then what makes you think I am one? Eragon started to say something, but the creature dug its claws into his chest. Obviously your education has been neglected. I—to correct your mistake—am a werecat. There aren’t many of us left, but I think even a farm boy should have heard of us.
I didn’t know you were real, said Eragon, fascinated. A werecat! He was indeed fortunate. They were always flitting around the edges of stories, keeping to themselves and occasionally giving advice. If the legends were true, they had magical powers, lived longer than humans, and usually knew more than they told.
The werecat blinked lazily. Knowing is independent of being. I did not know you existed before you bumbled in here and ruined my nap. Yet that doesn’t mean you weren’t real before you woke me.
Eragon was lost by its reasoning. I’m sorry I disturbed you.
I was getting up anyway, it said. It leapt back onto the counter and licked its paw. If I were you, I wouldn’t hold on to that rod much longer. It’s going to shock you again in a few seconds.
He hastily put the rod back where he had found it. What is it?
A common and boring artifact, unlike myself.
But what’s it for?
Didn’t you find out? The werecat finished cleaning its paw, stretched once more, then jumped back up to its sleeping place. It sat down, tucked its paws under its breast, and closed its eyes, purring.
Wait, said Eragon, what’s your name?
One of the werecat’s slanted eyes cracked open. I go by many names. If you are looking for my proper one, you will have to seek elsewhere. The eye closed. Eragon gave up and turned to leave. However, you may call me Solembum.
Thank you, said Eragon seriously. Solembum’s purring grew louder.
The door to the shop swung open, letting in a beam of sunlight. Angela entered with a cloth bag full of plants. Her eyes flickered at Solembum and she looked startled. says you talked with him.
can talk with him, too?asked Eragon.
She tossed her head. course, but that doesn’t mean he’ll say anything back.She set her plants on the counter, then walked behind it and faced him. likes you. That’s unusual. Most of the time Solembum doesn’t show himself to customers. In fact, he says that you show some promise, given a few years of work.
’s a compliment, coming from him. You’re only the third person to come in here who has been able to speak with him. The first was a woman, many years ago; the second was a blind beggar; and now you. But I don’t run a store just so I can prattle on. Is there anything you want? Or did you only come in to look?
to look,said Eragon, still thinking about the werecat. I don’t really need any herbs.
’s not all I do,said Angela with a grin. rich fool lords pay me for love potions and the like. I never claim that they work, but for some reason they keep coming back. But I don’t think you need those chicaneries. Would you like your fortune told? I do that, too, for all t
he rich fool ladies.
Eragon laughed. I’m afraid my fortune is pretty much unreadable. And I don’t have any money.
Angela looked at Solembum curiously. thinkShe gestured at the crystal ball resting on the counter. ’s only for show anyway—it doesn’t do anything. But I do haveWait here; I’ll be right back. She hurried into a room at the back of the shop.
She came back, breathless, holding a leather pouch, which she set on the counter. haven’t used these for so long, I almost forgot where they were. Now, sit across from me and I’ll show you why I went to all this trouble. Eragon found a stool and sat. Solembum’s eyes glowed from the gap in the drawers.
Angela laid a thick cloth on the counter, then poured a handful of smooth bones, each slightly longer than a finger, onto it. Runes and symbols were inscribed along their sides. she said, touching them gently, are the knucklebones of a dragon. Don’t ask where I got them; it is a secret I won’t reveal. But unlike tea leaves, crystal balls, or even divining cards, these have true power. They do not lie, though understanding what they say is complicated. If you wish, I will cast and read them for you. But understand that to know one’s fate can be a terrible thing. You must be sure of your decision.
Eragon looked at the bones with a feeling of dread. There lies what was once one of Saphira’s kin. To know one’s fateHow can I make this decision when I don’t know what lies in wait for me and whether I will like it? Ignorance is indeed bliss. do you offer this?he asked.
of Solembum. He may have been rude, but the fact that he spoke to you makes you special. He is a werecat, after all. I offered to do this for the other two people who talked with him. Only the woman agreed to it. Selena was her name. Ah, she regretted it, too. Her fortune was bleak and painful. I don’t think she believed it—not at first.