Christopher Paolini - Inheritance

Eragon frowned. He had thought Jeod’s discovery would be more certain.

“You are to be congratulated on your research, Goodman Jeod,” said Nasuada. “You may have once again performed a great service for the Varden.” She rose from her high-backed chair and walked over to look at the map. The hem of her dress rustled as it dragged across the ground. “If we send a scout to investigate, we risk alerting the Empire to our interest in that area. Assuming the tunnel exists, it would be of little value to us then; Murtagh and Thorn would be expecting us on the other end.” She looked at Jeod. “How wide do you think this tunnel would be? How many men could fit in it?”

“I couldn’t say. It might be-”

Orik cleared his throat, then said, “The earth here is soft and claylike, with a fair bit of silt layered throughout it-horrible for tunneling. If Erst had any sense, he wouldn’t have planned to have one large channel carry away the city’s waste; he would have laid down several smaller passageways, to reduce the likelihood of a cave-in. I’d guess that none of them would be wider than a yard or so.”

“Too narrow for more than a single man to pass through at a time,” said Jeod.

“Too narrow for more than a single knurla,” added Orik.

Nasuada returned to her seat and stared at the map with unfocused eyes, as if she were gazing at something far away.

After a few moments of silence, Eragon said, “I could search for the tunnel. I know how to hide myself with magic; the sentries would never see me.”

“Perhaps,” murmured Nasuada. “But I still don’t like the idea of having you or anyone else running about. The likelihood of the Empire noticing is too high. What if Murtagh is watching? Could you fool him? Do you even know what he is capable of now?” She shook her head. “No, we must act as if the tunnel exists and make our decisions accordingly. If events prove otherwise, it won’t have cost us anything, but if the tunnel is there … it should allow us to capture Dras-Leona once and for all.”

“What have you in mind?” asked King Orrin in a tone of caution.

“Something bold; something … unexpected .”

Eragon snorted softly. “Perhaps you should consult Roran, then.”

“I have no need of Roran’s help in devising my plans, Eragon.”

Nasuada fell silent again, and everyone in the pavilion, including Eragon, waited to see what she would come up with. At last she stirred and said, “This: we send a small team of warriors to open the gates from the inside.”

“And how is anyone supposed to manage that?” demanded Orik. “It would be tricky enough if all they had to face were the hundreds of soldiers stationed in the area, but in case you have forgotten, there’s also a giant, fire-breathing lizard lounging close by, and he’s sure to take an interest in anyone foolish enough to pry open the gates. And that’s not even taking Murtagh into account.”

Before the discussion could devolve, Eragon said, “I can do it.”

The words had an immediate, chilling effect on the conversation.

Eragon expected Nasuada to reject his suggestion out of hand, but she surprised him by considering it. Then she surprised him further when she said, “Very well.”

All the arguments Eragon had built up fell away as he stared at Nasuada with astonishment. She had obviously followed the same chain of reasoning as he had.

The tent erupted in a confusion of overlapping voices as everyone began to speak at once. Arya won out over the din: “Nasuada, you cannot allow Eragon to endanger himself so. It would be unconscionable. Send some of Blodhgarm’s spellcasters instead; I know they would agree to help, and they are as mighty warriors as any you can find, including Eragon.”

Nasuada shook her head. “None of Galbatorix’s men would dare kill Eragon-not Murtagh, not the king’s pet magicians, not even the lowest of soldiers. We should use that to our advantage. Besides, Eragon is our strongest spellcaster, and it may require a great deal of strength to force open the gates. Of all of us, he has the best chance of success.”

“What if he is captured, though? He can’t hold his own against Murtagh. You know that!”

“We’ll distract Murtagh and Thorn, and that will give Eragon the opportunity he needs.”

Arya lifted her chin. “How? How will you distract them?”

“We’ll make as though to attack Dras-Leona from the south. Saphira will fly around the city, setting buildings on fire and killing soldiers on the walls. Thorn and Murtagh will have no choice but to give chase, especially since it will appear as if Eragon is riding Saphira the whole time. Blodhgarm and his fellow spellcasters can conjure up a facsimile of Eragon, as they did before. As long as Murtagh doesn’t get too close, he’ll never discover our subterfuge.”

“You are determined in this?”

“I am.”

Arya’s face hardened. “Then I will accompany Eragon.”

Relief seeped through Eragon. He had hoped she would go with him, but he had been uncertain whether to ask, for fear she would refuse.

Nasuada sighed. “You are Islanzadi’s daughter. I would not like to place you in such danger. If you were to die … Remember how your mother reacted when she thought Durza had killed you. We cannot afford to lose the help of your people.”

“My mother-” Arya clamped her lips shut, cutting herself off, then began anew: “I can assure you, Lady Nasuada, Queen Islanzadi shall not abandon the Varden, whatever may happen to me. Of that, you need have no concern. I will accompany Eragon, as will two of Blodhgarm’s spellcasters.”

Nasuada shook her head. “No, you can only take one. Murtagh is familiar with the number of elves who have been protecting Eragon. If he notices that two or more are missing, he may suspect a trap of some sort. In any event, Saphira will need as much help as she can get if she’s to keep out of Murtagh’s grasp.”

“Three people are not enough to attempt such a mission,” insisted Arya. “We would be unable to ensure Eragon’s safety, much less open the gates.”

“Then one of Du Vrangr Gata can go with you as well.”

A hint of derision colored Arya’s expression. “None of your spellcasters are strong or skilled enough. We’ll be outnumbered a hundred to one, or worse. Both ordinary swordsmen and trained magicians will be arrayed against us. Only elves or Riders-”

“Or Shades,” Orik rumbled.

“Or Shades,” Arya conceded, though Eragon could tell she was irritated. “Only those could hope to prevail against such odds. And even then it is no sure thing. Let us take two of Blodhgarm’s spellcasters. No one else is fit for the task, not among the Varden.”

“Oh, and what am I, chopped liver?”

Everyone turned to look, surprised, as Angela stepped forward from a corner at the back of the tent. Eragon had not even suspected she was there.

“What a strange expression,” said the herbalist. “Who would compare themselves to chopped liver in the first place? If you have to choose an organ, why not pick a gallbladder or a thymus gland instead? Much more interesting than a liver. Or what about chopped t-” She smiled. “Well, I suppose that’s not important.” She stopped in front of Arya and looked up at her. “Will you object if I accompany you, Alfa? I’m not a member of the Varden, not strictly speaking, but I’m still willing to round out this quartet of yours.”

Much to Eragon’s surprise, Arya bowed her head and said, “Of course, wise one. I meant no offense. It would be an honor to have you with us.”

“Good!” exclaimed Angela. “That is, assuming you don’t mind,” she said, directing her words to Nasuada.