Christopher Paolini - Inheritance

Everything Orrin said was true, Eragon thought-he was still young and inexperienced, and he did need the others’ advice-but he could not admit as much without appearing weak.

So, instead, he replied, “You may rest assured that I will consult with you when needed, but my decisions, as always, will remain my own.”

“Forgive me, Shadeslayer, but I have difficulty believing that. Your familiarity with the elves”-Orrin eyed Arya-“is commonly known. What’s more, you are an adopted member of the Ingeitum clan, and subject to the authority of their clan chief, who just so happens to be King Orik. Perhaps I am mistaken, but it seems doubtful that your decisions will be your own.”

“First, you counsel me to listen to our allies. Now you don’t. Is it perhaps that you would prefer I listen to you, and you alone?” Eragon’s anger grew as he spoke.

“I would prefer that your choices be in the best interests of our people, and not those of another race!”

“They have been,” growled Eragon. “And they will continue to be. I owe my allegiance to both the Varden and the Ingeitum clan, yes, but also to Saphira, and Nasuada, and my family as well. Many have claim on me, even as many have claim on you, Your Majesty . My foremost concern, however, is defeating Galbatorix and the Empire. It always has been, and if there is a conflict among my loyalties, that is what shall take precedence. Question my judgment, if you must, but do not question my motives. And I would thank you to refrain from implying that I’m a traitor to my kind!”

Orrin scowled, color rising in his cheeks, and he was about to utter a retort when a loud bang interrupted him as Orik struck his war hammer, Volund, against his shield.

“Enough of this nonsense!” exclaimed Orik, glowering. “You worry about a crack in the floor while the whole mountain is about to come down upon us!”

Orrin’s scowl deepened, but he did not pursue the matter further. Instead, he picked up his goblet of wine from the table and sank back into the depths of his chair, where he stared at Eragon with a dark, smoldering gaze.

I think he hates you , said Saphira.

That, or he hates what I represent. Either way, I’m an obstacle to him. He’ll bear watching .

“The question before us is simple,” said Orik. “What should we do now that Nasuada is gone?” He placed Volund flat on the table and ran his gnarled hand over his head. “Mine opinion is that our situation is the same as it was this morning. Unless we admit defeat and sue for peace, we still have only one choice: march to Uru’baen fast as our feet will carry us. Nasuada herself was never going to fight Galbatorix. That will fall to you”-he motioned toward Eragon and Saphira-“and the elves. Nasuada brought us this far, and while she will be greatly missed, we do not need her to continue. Our path allows for little deviation. Even if she were present, I cannot see her doing anything else. To Uru’baen, we must go, and that’s the end of it.”

Grimrr toyed with a small black-bladed dagger, seemingly indifferent to the conversation.

“I agree,” said Arya. “We have no other choice.”

Above them, Garzhvog’s massive head dipped, causing misshapen shadows to glide across the pavilion walls. “The dwarf speaks well. The Urgralgra will stay with the Varden as long as Firesword is war chief. With him and Flametongue to lead our charges, we will collect the debt of blood that the lack-horned betrayer, Galbatorix, still owes us.”

Eragon shifted slightly, uncomfortable.

“That’s all very well and good,” said King Orrin, “but I’ve yet to hear how we are supposed to defeat Murtagh and Galbatorix when we get to Uru’baen.”

“We have the Dauthdaert,” Eragon pointed out, for Yaela had retrieved the spear, “and with it, we can-”

King Orrin waved one hand. “Yes, yes, the Dauthdaert. It didn’t help you stop Thorn, and I can’t imagine that Galbatorix will let you come anywhere near him or Shruikan with it. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still no match for that black-hearted traitor. Blast it, Shadeslayer, you’re not even a match for your own brother, and he’s been a Rider for less time than you!”

Half brother , Eragon thought, but he held his tongue. He could find no way to rebut Orrin’s points; they were valid, each and every one, and they left him feeling shamed.

The king continued: “We entered this war with the understanding that you would find a way of countering Galbatorix’s unnatural strength. So Nasuada promised and assured us. And yet here we are, about to confront the most powerful magician in recorded history, and we’re no closer to defeating him than when we began!”

“We went to war,” Eragon said quietly, “because it was the first time since the Riders fell that we’ve had even the slightest chance of overthrowing Galbatorix. You know that.”

“What chance?” sneered the king. “We’re puppets, all of us, dancing according to Galbatorix’s whims. The only reason we’ve gotten this far is because he’s let us. Galbatorix wants us to go to Uru’baen. He wants us to bring you to him. If he cared about stopping us, he would have flown out to meet us at the Burning Plains and crushed us then and there. And once he has you in his reach, he’ll do just that: crush us.”

The air in the tent seemed to grow taut between them.

Careful , said Saphira to Eragon. He’ll leave the pack if you can’t convince him otherwise .

Arya appeared similarly worried.

Eragon spread his hands flat on the table and took a moment to gather his thoughts. He did not want to lie, but at the same time he had to find a way to inspire hope in Orrin, which was difficult when Eragon felt little himself. Is this what it was like for Nasuada all those times she rallied us to the cause, convinced us to keep going even when we couldn’t see a way clear?

“Our position isn’t quite as … precarious as you make it out to be,” said Eragon.

Orrin snorted and drank from his goblet.

“The Dauthdaert is a threat to Galbatorix,” continued Eragon, “and that’s to our advantage. He’ll be wary of it. Because of that, we can force him to do what we want, perhaps just a bit. Even if we can’t use it to kill him, we might be able to kill Shruikan. Theirs isn’t a true pairing of dragon and Rider, but Shruikan’s death would still wound him to the core.”

“It’ll never happen,” said Orrin. “He knows that we have the Dauthdaert now, and he’ll take the appropriate precautions.”

“Maybe not. I doubt Murtagh and Thorn recognized it.”

“No, but Galbatorix will when he examines their memories.”

And he’ll also know of Glaedr’s existence, if they haven’t told him already , Saphira said to Eragon.

Eragon’s spirits sank further. He had not thought of that, but she was right. So much for any hope of surprising him. We have no more secrets .

Life is full of secrets. Galbatorix cannot predict exactly how we will choose to fight him. In that, at least, we can confound him .

“Which of the death spears have you found, O Shadeslayer?” asked Grimrr in a seemingly bored tone.

“Du Niernen-the Orchid.”

The werecat blinked, and Eragon had the impression that he was surprised, although Grimrr’s expression remained blank as ever. “The Orchid. Is that so? How very strange to find such a weapon in this age, especially that … particular weapon.”

“Why so?” asked Jormundur.

Grimrr’s small pink tongue passed over his fangs. “Niernen is notoriousss .” He drew out the end of the word into a short hiss.