Eldest
Page 104
Without turning around, she asked, “Have you received copies of our latest reports from the Empire?”
“I have.” He joined her at the window.
“What’s your opinion of them?
“That they’re too meager and incomplete to extract any meaningful conclusions.”
“They’re the best we have, though. Give me your suspicions and your hunches. Extrapolate from the known facts like you would if this were one of your experiments.” She smiled to herself. “I promise that I won’t attach meaning to what you say.”
She had to wait for his reply, and when it came, it was with the dolorous weight of a doomsday prophecy. “Increased taxes, emptied garrisons, horses and oxen confiscated throughout the Empire . . . It seems that Galbatorix gathers his forces in preparation to confront us, though I cannot tell whether he means to do it in offense or defense.” Revolving shadows cooled their faces as a cloud of starlings whirled across the sun. “The question that weighs upon my mind now is, how long will it take him to mobilize? For that will determine the course of our strategies.”
“Weeks. Months. Years. I cannot predict his actions.”
He nodded. “Have your agents continued to spread tidings of Eragon?”
“It has become increasingly dangerous, but yes. My hope is that if we inundate cities like Dras-Leona with rumors of Eragon’s prowess, when we actually reach the city and they see him, they will join us of their own accord and we can avoid a siege.”
“War is rarely so easy.”
She let the comment pass uncontested. “And how fares the mobilization of your own army? The Varden, as always, are ready to fight.”
Orrin spread his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s difficult to rouse a nation, Nasuada. There are nobles who I must convince to back me, armor and weapons to be constructed, supplies to be gathered. . . .”
“And in the meantime, how do I feed my people? We need more land than you allotted us—”
“Well, I know it,” he said.
“—and we’ll only get it by invading the Empire, unless you fancy making the Varden a permanent addition to Surda. If so, you’ll have to find homes for the thousands of people I brought from Farthen Dûr, which won’t please your existing citizens. Whatever your choice, choose quickly, because I fear that if you continue to procrastinate, the Varden will disintegrate into an uncontrollable horde.” She tried not to make it sound like a threat.
Nevertheless, Orrin obviously did not appreciate the insinuation. His upper lip curled and he said, “Your father never let his men get out of hand. I trust you won’t either, if you expect to remain leader of the Varden. As for our preparations, there’s a limit to what we can do in so short a time; you’ll just have to wait until we are ready.”
She gripped the windowsill until veins stood out on her wrists and her fingernails sank into the crevices between the stones, yet she allowed none of her anger to color her voice: “In that case, will you lend the Varden more gold for food?”
“No. I’ve given you all the money I can spare.”
“How will we eat, then?”
“I would suggest that you raise the funds yourself.”
Furious, she gave him her widest, brightest smile—holding it long enough to make him shift with unease—and then curtsied as deeply as a servant, never letting her demented grimace waver. “Farewell then, Sire. I hope that the rest of your day is as enjoyable as our conversation was.”
Orrin muttered an unintelligible response as she swept back to the laboratory’s entrance. In her anger, Nasuada caught her right sleeve on a jade bottle and knocked it over, cracking the stone and releasing a flood of yellow liquid that splattered her sleeve and soaked her skirt. She flicked her wrist in annoyance without stopping.
Farica rejoined her in the stairwell, and together they traversed the warren of passageways to Nasuada’s chambers.
HANGING BY ATHREAD
Throwing open the doors to her rooms, Nasuada strode to her desk, then dropped into a chair, blind to her surroundings. Her spine was so rigid that her shoulders did not touch the back. She felt frozen by the insoluble quandary the Varden faced. The rise and fall of her chest slowed until it was imperceptible.I have failed, was all she could think.
“Ma’am, your sleeve!”
Jolted from her reverie, Nasuada looked down to find Farica beating at her right arm with a cleaning rag. A wisp of smoke rose from the embroidered sleeve. Alarmed, Nasuada pushed herself out of the chair and twisted her arm, trying to find the cause of the smoke. Her sleeve and skirt were disintegrating into chalky cobwebs that emitted acrid fumes.
“Get me out of this,” she said.
She held her contaminated arm away from her body and forced herself to remain still as Farica unlaced her overgown. The handmaid’s fingers scrabbled against Nasuada’s back with frantic haste, fumbling with the knots, and then finally loosening the wool shell that encased Nasuada’s torso. As soon as the overgown sagged, Nasuada yanked her arms out of the sleeves and clawed her way free of the robe.
Panting, she stood by the desk, clad only in her slippers and linen chemise. To her relief, the expensive chainsil had escaped harm, although it had acquired a foul reek.
“Did it burn you?” asked Farica. Nasuada shook her head, not trusting her tongue to respond. Farica nudged the overgown with the tip of her shoe. “What evil is this?”
“One of Orrin’s foul concoctions,” croaked Nasuada. “I spilled it in his laboratory.” Calming herself with long breaths, she examined the ruined gown with dismay. It had been woven by the dwarf women of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum as a gift for her last birthday and was one of the finest pieces in her wardrobe. She had nothing to replace it, nor could she justify commissioning a new dress, considering the Varden’s financial difficulties.Somehow I will have to make do without.
“I have.” He joined her at the window.
“What’s your opinion of them?
“That they’re too meager and incomplete to extract any meaningful conclusions.”
“They’re the best we have, though. Give me your suspicions and your hunches. Extrapolate from the known facts like you would if this were one of your experiments.” She smiled to herself. “I promise that I won’t attach meaning to what you say.”
She had to wait for his reply, and when it came, it was with the dolorous weight of a doomsday prophecy. “Increased taxes, emptied garrisons, horses and oxen confiscated throughout the Empire . . . It seems that Galbatorix gathers his forces in preparation to confront us, though I cannot tell whether he means to do it in offense or defense.” Revolving shadows cooled their faces as a cloud of starlings whirled across the sun. “The question that weighs upon my mind now is, how long will it take him to mobilize? For that will determine the course of our strategies.”
“Weeks. Months. Years. I cannot predict his actions.”
He nodded. “Have your agents continued to spread tidings of Eragon?”
“It has become increasingly dangerous, but yes. My hope is that if we inundate cities like Dras-Leona with rumors of Eragon’s prowess, when we actually reach the city and they see him, they will join us of their own accord and we can avoid a siege.”
“War is rarely so easy.”
She let the comment pass uncontested. “And how fares the mobilization of your own army? The Varden, as always, are ready to fight.”
Orrin spread his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s difficult to rouse a nation, Nasuada. There are nobles who I must convince to back me, armor and weapons to be constructed, supplies to be gathered. . . .”
“And in the meantime, how do I feed my people? We need more land than you allotted us—”
“Well, I know it,” he said.
“—and we’ll only get it by invading the Empire, unless you fancy making the Varden a permanent addition to Surda. If so, you’ll have to find homes for the thousands of people I brought from Farthen Dûr, which won’t please your existing citizens. Whatever your choice, choose quickly, because I fear that if you continue to procrastinate, the Varden will disintegrate into an uncontrollable horde.” She tried not to make it sound like a threat.
Nevertheless, Orrin obviously did not appreciate the insinuation. His upper lip curled and he said, “Your father never let his men get out of hand. I trust you won’t either, if you expect to remain leader of the Varden. As for our preparations, there’s a limit to what we can do in so short a time; you’ll just have to wait until we are ready.”
She gripped the windowsill until veins stood out on her wrists and her fingernails sank into the crevices between the stones, yet she allowed none of her anger to color her voice: “In that case, will you lend the Varden more gold for food?”
“No. I’ve given you all the money I can spare.”
“How will we eat, then?”
“I would suggest that you raise the funds yourself.”
Furious, she gave him her widest, brightest smile—holding it long enough to make him shift with unease—and then curtsied as deeply as a servant, never letting her demented grimace waver. “Farewell then, Sire. I hope that the rest of your day is as enjoyable as our conversation was.”
Orrin muttered an unintelligible response as she swept back to the laboratory’s entrance. In her anger, Nasuada caught her right sleeve on a jade bottle and knocked it over, cracking the stone and releasing a flood of yellow liquid that splattered her sleeve and soaked her skirt. She flicked her wrist in annoyance without stopping.
Farica rejoined her in the stairwell, and together they traversed the warren of passageways to Nasuada’s chambers.
HANGING BY ATHREAD
Throwing open the doors to her rooms, Nasuada strode to her desk, then dropped into a chair, blind to her surroundings. Her spine was so rigid that her shoulders did not touch the back. She felt frozen by the insoluble quandary the Varden faced. The rise and fall of her chest slowed until it was imperceptible.I have failed, was all she could think.
“Ma’am, your sleeve!”
Jolted from her reverie, Nasuada looked down to find Farica beating at her right arm with a cleaning rag. A wisp of smoke rose from the embroidered sleeve. Alarmed, Nasuada pushed herself out of the chair and twisted her arm, trying to find the cause of the smoke. Her sleeve and skirt were disintegrating into chalky cobwebs that emitted acrid fumes.
“Get me out of this,” she said.
She held her contaminated arm away from her body and forced herself to remain still as Farica unlaced her overgown. The handmaid’s fingers scrabbled against Nasuada’s back with frantic haste, fumbling with the knots, and then finally loosening the wool shell that encased Nasuada’s torso. As soon as the overgown sagged, Nasuada yanked her arms out of the sleeves and clawed her way free of the robe.
Panting, she stood by the desk, clad only in her slippers and linen chemise. To her relief, the expensive chainsil had escaped harm, although it had acquired a foul reek.
“Did it burn you?” asked Farica. Nasuada shook her head, not trusting her tongue to respond. Farica nudged the overgown with the tip of her shoe. “What evil is this?”
“One of Orrin’s foul concoctions,” croaked Nasuada. “I spilled it in his laboratory.” Calming herself with long breaths, she examined the ruined gown with dismay. It had been woven by the dwarf women of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum as a gift for her last birthday and was one of the finest pieces in her wardrobe. She had nothing to replace it, nor could she justify commissioning a new dress, considering the Varden’s financial difficulties.Somehow I will have to make do without.
