Christopher Paolini - Inheritance

“You’ll have to wait for the rest of our council to find out,” said Eragon. “But I am glad to see you again.” And he clapped Orik on the shoulder.

Roran arrived on foot soon afterward, looking grim and dusty. He gripped Eragon’s arm and welcomed him, then pulled him aside and said, “Can you stop them from hearing us?” He motioned with his chin toward Orik and the elves.

It took Eragon only a few seconds to cast a spell that shielded them from listeners. “Done.” At the same time, he separated his mind from Glaedr and the other Eldunari, although not from Saphira.

Roran nodded and looked off over the fields. “I had some words with King Orrin while you were gone.”

“Words? How so?”

“He was being a fool, and I told him so.”

“I take it he didn’t react very kindly.”

“You could say that. He tried to stab me.”

“He what ?!”

“I managed to knock his sword out of his hand before he could land a blow, but if he had had his way, he would have killed me.”

“Orrin?” Eragon had trouble imagining the king doing any such thing. “Did you hurt him badly?”

For the first time, Roran smiled: a brief expression that quickly vanished under his beard. “I scared him, which might be worse.”

Eragon grunted and clenched the pommel of Brisingr. He realized that he and Roran were mirroring each other’s posture; they both had their hands on their weapons, and they both stood with their weight on the opposite leg. “Who else knows of this?”

“Jormundur-he was there-and whomever Orrin has told.”

Frowning, Eragon began to pace back and forth as he tried to decide what to do. “The timing of this couldn’t be worse.”

“I know. I wouldn’t have been so blunt with Orrin, but he was about to send ‘royal greetings’ to Galbatorix and other such nonsense. He would have put us all in danger. I couldn’t allow that to happen. You would have done the same.”

“Maybe so, but this just makes things all the more difficult. I’m the leader of the Varden now. An attack on you or any of the other warriors under my command is the same as an attack on me. Orrin knows that, and he knows we’re of the same blood. He might as well have thrown a gauntlet in my face.”

“He was drunk,” said Roran. “I’m not sure he was thinking of that when he drew his sword.”

Eragon saw Arya and Blodhgarm giving him curious glances. He stopped pacing and turned his back to them.

“I’m worried about Katrina,” Roran added. “If Orrin is angry enough, he might send his men after me or her. Either way, she could get hurt. Jormundur already posted a guard at our tent, but that’s not enough protection.”

Eragon shook his head. “Orrin wouldn’t dare hurt her.”

“No? He can’t harm you, and he doesn’t have the stomach to confront me directly, so what does that leave? An ambush. Knives in the dark. Killing Katrina would be an easy way for Orrin to have his revenge.”

“I doubt that Orrin would resort to knives in the dark-or harming Katrina.”

“You can’t say for sure, though.”

Eragon thought for a moment. “I’ll place some spells on Katrina to keep her safe, and I’ll let Orrin know that I’ve placed them. That should put a stop to any plans he might have.”

The tension in Roran seemed to drain away. “I’d appreciate that.”

“I’ll give you some new wards as well.”

“No, save your strength. I can take care of myself.”

Eragon insisted, but Roran kept refusing. Finally, Eragon said, “Blast it! Listen to me. We’re about to go into battle against Galbatorix’s men. You have to have some protection, if only against magic. I’m going to give you wards whether you like it or not, so you might as well smile and thank me for them!”

Roran glowered at him, then he grunted and raised his hands. “Fine, as you wish. You never did know when it was sensible to give up.”

“Oh, and you do?”

A chuckle came from within the depths of Roran’s beard. “I suppose not. I guess it runs in the family.”

“Mmh. Between Brom and Garrow, I don’t know who was the more stubborn.”

“Father was,” said Roran.

“Eh … Brom was as-No, you’re right. It was Garrow.”

They exchanged grins, remembering their life on the farm. Then Roran shifted his stance and gave Eragon an odd, sideways look. “You seem different than before.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do. You seem more sure of yourself.”

“Perhaps it’s because I understand myself better than I once did.”

To that, Roran had no answer.

Half an hour later, Jormundur and King Orrin rode up together. Eragon greeted Orrin as politely as ever, but Orrin responded with a curt reply and avoided his gaze. Even from a distance of several feet, Eragon could smell wine on his breath.

Once they were all assembled before Saphira, Eragon began. First, he had everyone swear oaths of secrecy in the ancient language. Then he explained the concept of an Eldunari to Orik, Roran, Jormundur, and Orrin, and he recounted a brief history of the dragons’ gemlike hearts with the Riders and Galbatorix.

The elves appeared uneasy with Eragon’s willingness to discuss the Eldunari before the others, but none protested, which pleased him. He had earned that much trust, at least. Orik, Roran, and Jormundur reacted with surprise, disbelief, and dozens of questions. Roran in particular acquired a sharp gleam in his eye, as if the information had given him a host of new ideas on how to kill Galbatorix.

Throughout, Orrin was surly and remained stridently unconvinced of the existence of the Eldunari. In the end, the only thing that quelled his doubts was when Eragon removed Glaedr’s heart of hearts from the saddlebags and introduced the dragon to the four of them.

The awe they displayed at meeting Glaedr gratified Eragon. Even Orrin seemed impressed, although after exchanging a few words with Glaedr, he turned on Eragon and said, “Did Nasuada know of this?”

“Yes. I told her at Feinster.”

As Eragon expected, the admission displeased Orrin. “So once again the two of you chose to ignore me. Without the support of my men and the food of my nation, the Varden would have had no hope of confronting the Empire. I’m the sovereign ruler of one of only four countries in Alagaesia, my army makes up a goodly portion of our forces, and yet neither of you deemed it appropriate to inform me of this!”

Before Eragon could respond, Orik stepped forward. “They did not tell me about it either, Orrin,” the dwarf king rumbled. “And mine people have helped the Varden for longer than yours. You should not take offense. Eragon and Nasuada did what they thought was best for our cause; they meant no disrespect.”

Orrin scowled and looked as if he was going to continue arguing, but Glaedr preempted him by saying, They did as I asked, King of the Surdans. The Eldunari are the greatest secret of our race, and we do not share it lightly with others, even kings .

“Then why have you chosen to do so now?” demanded Orrin. “You could have gone into battle without ever revealing yourself.”

In answer, Eragon recounted the story of their trip to Vroengard, including their encounter with the storm at sea and the sight they had witnessed at the very top of the clouds. Arya and Blodhgarm seemed the most interested in that part of his story, whereas Orik was the most uncomfortable.

“Barzul, but that sounds a nasty experience,” he said. “It makes me shiver just to think of it. The ground is the proper place for a dwarf, not the sky.”

I agree , said Saphira, which caused Orik to scowl suspiciously and twist the braided ends of his beard.

Resuming his tale, Eragon told of how he, Saphira, and Glaedr had entered the Vault of Souls, though he refrained from divulging that this had required their true names. And when he at last revealed what the vault had contained, there was a moment of shocked silence.