Christopher Paolini - Inheritance

“And with you,” he said.

She kept her hands upon him for another moment; then she released him, and he opened the glass door and exited through her study, leaving her standing alone upon the balcony.

As Eragon made his way down a flight of steps on his way toward the main entrance of the building, he happened upon the herbalist, Angela, sitting cross-legged in the dark alcove of a door. She was knitting what appeared to be a blue and white hat with strange runes along its lower part, the meaning of which was lost on him. Next to her lay Solembum, his head propped up in her lap and one of his heavy paws resting atop her right knee.

Eragon stopped, surprised. He had not seen either of them since-it took him a moment to remember-since shortly after the battle in Uru’baen. Thereafter, they had seemed to disappear.

“Greetings,” said Angela without looking up.

“Greetings,” replied Eragon. “What are you doing here?”

“Knitting a hat.”

“That I can see, but why here?”

“Because I wanted to see you.” Her needles clacked with swift regularity, their motion as entrancing as the flames of a fire. “I heard tell that you, Saphira, the eggs, and the Eldunari are leaving Alagaesia.”

“As you predicted,” he retorted, frustrated that she had been able to discover what ought to have been the deepest secret. She could not have eavesdropped upon him and Nasuada-his wards would have prevented it-and so far as he knew, no one had told her or Solembum about the existence of the eggs or the Eldunari.

“Well, yes, but I didn’t think to see you off.”

“How did you find out? From Arya?”

“Her? Ha! Hardly. No, I have my own ways of gathering information.” She paused in her knitting and looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. “Not that I’ll share them with you. I have to keep some secrets, after all.”

“Humph.”

“Humph yourself. If you’re going to be that way, I’m not sure why I bothered coming.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just feeling a bit … uneasy.” After a moment, Eragon said, “Why did you want to see me?”

“I wanted to say farewell and to wish you luck on your journey.”

“Thank you.”

“Mmh. Try not to let yourself get too wrapped up in your head wherever you settle. Make sure you get out in the sun often enough.”

“I will. What of you and Solembum? Will you stay here for a while and watch over Elva? You mentioned you would.”

The herbalist snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “Stay? How can I stay when Nasuada seems intent on spying on every magician in the land?”

“You heard about that as well?”

She gave him a look. “I disapprove . I disapprove very much. I will not be treated like a child who has done something naughty. No, the time has come for Solembum and me to relocate to more friendly climes: the Beor Mountains, perhaps, or Du Weldenvarden.”

Eragon hesitated for a moment and then said, “Would you like to come with Saphira and me?”

Solembum opened one eye and studied him for a second before closing it again.

“That’s very kind of you,” said Angela, “but I think we will decline. At least, for the time being. Sitting around guarding the Eldunari and training new Riders seems boring … although, raising a clutch of dragons is sure to prove exciting. But no; for the time being, Solembum and I will stay in Alagaesia. Besides, I want to keep an eye on Elva for the next few years, even if I can’t watch over her in person.”

“Haven’t you had your fill of interesting events?”

“Never. They’re the spice of life.” She held up her half-finished hat. “How do you like it?”

“It’s nice. The blue is pretty. But what do the runes say?”

“Raxacori-Oh, never mind. It wouldn’t mean anything to you anyway. Safe travels to you and Saphira, Eragon. And remember to watch out for earwigs and wild hamsters. Ferocious things, wild hamsters.”

He smiled despite himself. “Safe travels to you as well, and to you, Solembum.”

The werecat’s eye opened again. Safe travels, Kingkiller .

Eragon left the building and picked his way through the city until he arrived at the house where Jeod and his wife, Helen, now lived. It was a stately hall, with high walls, a large garden, and bowing servants stationed within the entryway. Helen had done exceedingly well. By provisioning the Varden-and now Nasuada’s kingdom-with much-needed supplies, she had quickly built up a trading company larger than the one Jeod had once owned in Teirm.

Eragon found Jeod washing up in preparation for their evening meal. After refusing an offer to dine with them, Eragon spent a few minutes explaining to Jeod the same things he had explained to Nasuada. At first Jeod was surprised and somewhat upset, but in the end, he agreed that it was necessary for Eragon and Saphira to leave with the other dragons. As with Nasuada and the herbalist, Eragon also invited Jeod to accompany them.

“You tempt me sorely,” said Jeod. “But my place is here. I have my work, and for the first time in a long while, Helen is happy. Ilirea has become our home, and neither of us wants to pick up and move elsewhere.”

Eragon nodded, understanding.

“But you … you’re going to travel where few but the dragons or Riders have ever gone. Tell me, do you know what lies to the east? Is there another sea?”

“If you travel far enough.”

“And before that?”

Eragon shrugged. “Empty land for the most part, or so the Eldunari say, and I have no reason to think that’s changed in the past century.”

Then Jeod moved closer to him and lowered his voice. “Since you are leaving … I will tell you this. Do you remember when I told you about the Arcaena, the order devoted to preserving knowledge throughout Alagaesia?”

Eragon nodded. “You said that Heslant the Monk belonged to them.”

“As do I.” At Eragon’s look of surprise, Jeod made a sheepish gesture and ran his hand through his hair. “I joined them long ago, when I was young and looking for a cause to serve. I’ve provided them with information and manuscripts throughout the years, and they’ve helped me in return. Anyway, I thought you should know. Brom was the only other person I’ve told.”

“Not even Helen?”

“Not even her.… Anyway, when I finish writing my account of you and Saphira and the rise of the Varden, I’ll send it to our monastery in the Spine, and it will be included as a number of new chapters in Domia abr Wyrda . Your story will not be forgotten, Eragon; that much, at least, I can promise you.”

Eragon found the knowledge strangely affecting. “Thank you,” he said, and grasped Jeod by the forearm.

“And you, Eragon Shadeslayer.”

Afterward, Eragon made his way back to the hall, where he and Saphira had been living along with Roran and Katrina, who were waiting to eat with him.

All through supper, the talk was of Arya and Firnen. Eragon held his tongue about his plans for departure until after the food was gone and the three of them-and the baby-had retired to a room overlooking the courtyard, where Saphira lay napping with Firnen. There they sat drinking wine and tea and watching as the sun descended toward the distant horizon.

When an appropriate amount of time had passed, Eragon broached the subject. As he expected, Katrina and Roran reacted with dismay and tried to convince him to change his mind. It took Eragon nearly an hour to lay out his reasons to them, for they argued every point and refused to concede until he answered their objections in exacting detail.

Finally, Roran said, “Blast it, you’re family! You can’t leave!”