Inheritance
Page 265
“Not even if it was on dragonback?” Eragon laughed at their surprised expressions. “Arya and Fírnen have agreed to carry you to Ellesméra while Saphira and I fetch the dragon eggs from where they’re hidden.”
“How long would the flight to Ellesméra take?” asked Roran, frowning.
“A week or so. Arya intends to visit King Orik in Tronjheim on the way. You would be warm and safe the whole while. Ismira wouldn’t be in any danger.”
Katrina looked at Roran, and he at her, and she said, “It would be nice to see Eragon off, and I’ve always heard tell of how beautiful the elves’ cities are.…”
“Are you sure you would be up to it?” asked Roran.
She nodded. “As long as you’re there with us.”
Roran was silent for a moment; then he said, “Well, I suppose Horst and the others can go on ahead without us.” A smile appeared under his beard, and he chuckled. “I never thought to see the Beor Mountains or to stand in one of the elves’ cities, but why not, eh? We might as well while we have the chance.”
“Good, that’s settled, then,” said Katrina, beaming. “We’re going to Du Weldenvarden.”
“How will we get back?” asked Roran.
“On Fírnen,” said Eragon. “Or I’m sure Arya would give you guards to escort you to Palancar Valley, if you would prefer to travel by horse.”
Roran grimaced. “No, not by horse. If I never have to ride another horse in my life, it would be too soon by half.”
“Oh? Then I take it you don’t want Snowfire anymore?” said Eragon, raising an eyebrow as he named the stallion he had given Roran.
“You know what I mean. I’m glad to have Snowfire, even if I haven’t had need of him for a while.”
“Mm-hmm.”
They stood by the window for another hour or so—as the sun set and the sky turned purple and then black and the stars came out—planning their upcoming trip and discussing the things Eragon and Saphira would need to take with them when they left Du Weldenvarden for the lands beyond. Behind them, Ismira slept peacefully in her cradle, her hands balled up in tiny fists beneath her chin.
Early the next morning, Eragon used the polished silver mirror in his room to contact Orik in Tronjheim. He had to wait for a few minutes, but eventually Orik’s face appeared before him, the dwarf running an ivory comb through his unbraided beard.
“Eragon!” Orik exclaimed with obvious delight. “How are you? It’s been too long since last we spoke.”
Feeling a bit guilty, Eragon agreed. Then he told Orik of his decision to leave and the reasons why. Orik stopped combing and listened without interrupting, his expression serious throughout. When Eragon finished, Orik said, “I will be sad to see you go, but I agree, this is what you must do. I have thought about this myself—worried about where the dragons might live—but I kept my concerns to myself, for the dragons have as much right to share the land as we do, even if we do not like it when they eat our Feldûnost and burn our villages. However, raising them elsewhere will be for the best.”
“I am glad you approve,” said Eragon. He talked to Orik about his idea for the Urgals, then, which involved the dwarves as well. This time Orik asked many questions, and Eragon could see that he was doubtful about the proposal.
After a long silence wherein Orik stared down into his beard, the dwarf said, “If you had asked this of any of the grimstnzborithn before me, they would have said no. Had you asked me at any time before we invaded the Empire, I would also have said no. But now, after having fought alongside the Urgals, and after having seen in person how helpless we were before Murtagh and Thorn and Galbatorix and that monster Shruikan … now I no longer feel the same.” He gazed up through his bushy eyebrows at Eragon. “It may cost me mine crown, but on behalf of knurlan everywhere I will accept—for their own good, whether or not they realize it.”
Again Eragon felt proud to have Orik as his foster brother. “Thank you,” he said.
Orik grunted. “My people never desired this, but I am grateful for it. When will we know?”
“Within a few days. A week at most.”
“Will we feel anything?”
“Maybe. I’ll ask Arya. Either way, I’ll contact you again once it’s done.”
“Good. Then we will speak later. Safe travels and sound stone, Eragon.”
“May Helzvog watch over you.”
* * *
The following day, they departed Ilirea.
It was a private event, devoid of fanfare, for which Eragon was grateful. Nasuada, Jörmundur, Jeod, and Elva met them outside the city’s southern gate, where Saphira and Fírnen sat side by side, pushing their heads against one another while Eragon and Arya inspected their saddles. Roran and Katrina arrived a few minutes later: Katrina carrying Ismira swaddled in a blanket, and Roran carrying two packs full of blankets, food, and other supplies, one slung over each shoulder.
Roran gave his packs to Arya, and she tied them atop Fírnen’s saddlebags.
Then Eragon and Saphira said their last farewells, which was harder for Eragon than for Saphira. His were not the only eyes with tears, however; both Nasuada and Jeod wept as they embraced him and offered him and Saphira their good wishes. Nasuada also said farewell to Roran, and she again thanked him for his help against the Empire.
At last, as Eragon, Arya, Roran, and Katrina were about to climb onto the dragons, a woman called out, “Hold there!”
“How long would the flight to Ellesméra take?” asked Roran, frowning.
“A week or so. Arya intends to visit King Orik in Tronjheim on the way. You would be warm and safe the whole while. Ismira wouldn’t be in any danger.”
Katrina looked at Roran, and he at her, and she said, “It would be nice to see Eragon off, and I’ve always heard tell of how beautiful the elves’ cities are.…”
“Are you sure you would be up to it?” asked Roran.
She nodded. “As long as you’re there with us.”
Roran was silent for a moment; then he said, “Well, I suppose Horst and the others can go on ahead without us.” A smile appeared under his beard, and he chuckled. “I never thought to see the Beor Mountains or to stand in one of the elves’ cities, but why not, eh? We might as well while we have the chance.”
“Good, that’s settled, then,” said Katrina, beaming. “We’re going to Du Weldenvarden.”
“How will we get back?” asked Roran.
“On Fírnen,” said Eragon. “Or I’m sure Arya would give you guards to escort you to Palancar Valley, if you would prefer to travel by horse.”
Roran grimaced. “No, not by horse. If I never have to ride another horse in my life, it would be too soon by half.”
“Oh? Then I take it you don’t want Snowfire anymore?” said Eragon, raising an eyebrow as he named the stallion he had given Roran.
“You know what I mean. I’m glad to have Snowfire, even if I haven’t had need of him for a while.”
“Mm-hmm.”
They stood by the window for another hour or so—as the sun set and the sky turned purple and then black and the stars came out—planning their upcoming trip and discussing the things Eragon and Saphira would need to take with them when they left Du Weldenvarden for the lands beyond. Behind them, Ismira slept peacefully in her cradle, her hands balled up in tiny fists beneath her chin.
Early the next morning, Eragon used the polished silver mirror in his room to contact Orik in Tronjheim. He had to wait for a few minutes, but eventually Orik’s face appeared before him, the dwarf running an ivory comb through his unbraided beard.
“Eragon!” Orik exclaimed with obvious delight. “How are you? It’s been too long since last we spoke.”
Feeling a bit guilty, Eragon agreed. Then he told Orik of his decision to leave and the reasons why. Orik stopped combing and listened without interrupting, his expression serious throughout. When Eragon finished, Orik said, “I will be sad to see you go, but I agree, this is what you must do. I have thought about this myself—worried about where the dragons might live—but I kept my concerns to myself, for the dragons have as much right to share the land as we do, even if we do not like it when they eat our Feldûnost and burn our villages. However, raising them elsewhere will be for the best.”
“I am glad you approve,” said Eragon. He talked to Orik about his idea for the Urgals, then, which involved the dwarves as well. This time Orik asked many questions, and Eragon could see that he was doubtful about the proposal.
After a long silence wherein Orik stared down into his beard, the dwarf said, “If you had asked this of any of the grimstnzborithn before me, they would have said no. Had you asked me at any time before we invaded the Empire, I would also have said no. But now, after having fought alongside the Urgals, and after having seen in person how helpless we were before Murtagh and Thorn and Galbatorix and that monster Shruikan … now I no longer feel the same.” He gazed up through his bushy eyebrows at Eragon. “It may cost me mine crown, but on behalf of knurlan everywhere I will accept—for their own good, whether or not they realize it.”
Again Eragon felt proud to have Orik as his foster brother. “Thank you,” he said.
Orik grunted. “My people never desired this, but I am grateful for it. When will we know?”
“Within a few days. A week at most.”
“Will we feel anything?”
“Maybe. I’ll ask Arya. Either way, I’ll contact you again once it’s done.”
“Good. Then we will speak later. Safe travels and sound stone, Eragon.”
“May Helzvog watch over you.”
* * *
The following day, they departed Ilirea.
It was a private event, devoid of fanfare, for which Eragon was grateful. Nasuada, Jörmundur, Jeod, and Elva met them outside the city’s southern gate, where Saphira and Fírnen sat side by side, pushing their heads against one another while Eragon and Arya inspected their saddles. Roran and Katrina arrived a few minutes later: Katrina carrying Ismira swaddled in a blanket, and Roran carrying two packs full of blankets, food, and other supplies, one slung over each shoulder.
Roran gave his packs to Arya, and she tied them atop Fírnen’s saddlebags.
Then Eragon and Saphira said their last farewells, which was harder for Eragon than for Saphira. His were not the only eyes with tears, however; both Nasuada and Jeod wept as they embraced him and offered him and Saphira their good wishes. Nasuada also said farewell to Roran, and she again thanked him for his help against the Empire.
At last, as Eragon, Arya, Roran, and Katrina were about to climb onto the dragons, a woman called out, “Hold there!”
