Christopher Paolini - Eragon [en]

Orik nodded, his beard bobbing on his chest. “In that case, would you like to visit Tronjheim’s library? It’s quite old and contains many scrolls of great value. You might find it interesting to read a history of Alagaësia that hasn’t been tainted by Galbatorix’s hand.”

With a pang, Eragon remembered how Brom had taught him to read. He wondered if he still had the skill. A long time had passed since he had seen any written words. “Yes, let’s do that.”

“Very well.”

After they ate, Orik guided Eragon through myriad corridors to their destination. When they reached the library’s carved arch, Eragon stepped through it reverently.

The room reminded him of a forest. Rows of graceful colonnades branched up to the dark, ribbed ceiling five stories above. Between the pillars, black-marble bookcases stood back to back. Racks of scrolls covered the walls, interspersed with narrow walkways reached by three twisting staircases. Placed at regular intervals around the walls were pairs of facing stone benches. Between them were small tables whose bases flowed seamlessly into the floor.

Countless books and scrolls were stored in the room. “This is the true legacy of our race,” said Orik. “Here reside the writings of our greatest kings and scholars, from antiquity to the present. Also recorded are the songs and stories composed by our artisans. This library may be our most precious possession. It isn’t all our work, though — there are human writings here as well. Yours is a short-lived — but prolific — race. We have little or nothing of the elves’. They guard their secrets jealously.”

“How long may I stay?” asked Eragon, moving toward the shelves.

“As long as you want. Come to me if you have any questions.”

Eragon browsed through the volumes with delight, reaching eagerly for those with interesting titles or covers. Surprisingly, dwarves used the same runes to write as humans. He was somewhat disheartened by how hard reading was after months of neglect. He skipped from book to book, slowly working his way deep into the vast library. Eventually he became immersed in a translation of poems by Dóndar, the tenth dwarf king.

As he scanned the graceful lines, unfamiliar footsteps approached from behind the bookcase. The sound startled him, but he berated himself for being silly — he could not be the only person in the library. Even so, he quietly replaced the book and slipped away, senses alert for danger. He had been ambushed too many times to ignore such feelings. He heard the footsteps again; only now there were two sets of them. Apprehensive, he darted across an opening, trying to remember exactly where Orik was sitting. He sidestepped around a corner and started as he found himself face to face with the Twins.

The Twins stood together, their shoulders meeting, a blank expression on their smooth faces. Their black snake eyes bored into him. Their hands, hidden within the folds of their purple robes, twitched slightly. They both bowed, but the movement was insolent and derisive.

“We have been searching for you,” one said. His voice was uncomfortably like the Ra’zac’s.

Eragon suppressed a shiver. “What for?” He reached out with his mind and contacted Saphira. She immediately joined thoughts with him.

“Ever since you met with Ajihad, we have wanted to... apologize for our actions.” The words were mocking, but not in a way Eragon could challenge. “We have come to pay homage to you.” Eragon flushed angrily as they bowed again.

Careful! warned Saphira.

He pushed back his rising temper. He could not afford to be riled by this confrontation. An idea came to him, and he said with a small smile, “Nay, it is I who pay homage to you. Without your approval I never could have gained entrance to Farthen Dûr.” He bowed to them in turn, making the movement as insulting as he could.

There was a flicker of irritation in the Twins’ eyes, but they smiled and said, “We are honored that one so... important... as yourself thinks so highly of us. We are in your debt for your kind words.”

Now it was Eragon’s turn to be irritated. “I will remember that when I’m in need.”

Saphira intruded sharply in his thoughts. You’re overdoing it.Don’t say anything you’ll regret. They will remember every word they can use against you.

This is difficult enough without you making comments! he snapped. She subsided with an exasperated grumble.

The Twins moved closer, the hems of their robes brushing softly over the floor. Their voices became more pleasant. “We have searched for you for another reason as well, Rider. The few magic users who live in Tronjheim have formed a group. We call ourselves Du Vrangr Gata, or the—”

“The Wandering Path, I know,” interrupted Eragon, remembering what Angela had said about it.

“Your knowledge of the ancient language is impressive,” said a Twin smoothly. “As we were saying, Du Vrangr Gata has heard of your mighty feats, and we have come to extend an invitation of membership. We would be honored to have one of your stature as a member. And I suspect that we might be able to assist you as well.”

“How?”

The other Twin said, “The two of us have garnered much experience in magical matters. We could guide you... show you spells we’ve discovered and teach you words of power. Nothing would gladden us more than if we could assist, in some small way, your path to glory. No repayment would be necessary, though if you saw fit to share some scraps of your own knowledge, we would be satisfied.”

Eragon’s face hardened as he realized what they were asking for. “Do you think I’m a half-wit?” he demanded harshly. “I won’t apprentice myself to you so you can learn the words Brom taught me! It must have angered you when you couldn’t steal them from my mind.”

The Twins abruptly dropped their facade of smiles. “We are not to be trifled with, boy! We are the ones who will test your abilities with magic. And that could be most unpleasant. Remember, it only takes one misconceived spell to kill someone. You may be a Rider, but the two of us are still stronger than you.”

Eragon kept his face expressionless, even as his stomach knotted painfully. “I will consider your offer, but it may—”

“Then we will expect your answer tomorrow. Make sure that it is the right one.” They smiled coldly and stalked deeper into the library.

Eragon scowled. I’m not going to join Du Vrangr Gata, no matter what they do.

You should talk to Angela, said Saphira. She’s dealt with the Twins before. Perhaps she could be there when they test you. That might prevent them from harming you.

That’s a good idea. Eragon wound through the bookcases until he found Orik sitting on a bench, busily polishing his war ax. “I’d like to return to the dragonhold.”

The dwarf slid the haft of the ax through a leather loop at his belt, then escorted Eragon to the gate where Saphira waited. People had already gathered around her. Ignoring them, Eragon scrambled onto Saphira’s back, and they escaped to the sky.

This problem must be resolved quickly. You cannot let the Twins intimidate you, Saphira said as she landed on Isidar Mithrim.

I know. But I hope we can avoid angering them.They could be dangerous enemies. He dismounted quickly, keeping a hand on Zar’roc.

So can you. Do you want them as allies?

He shook his head. Not really... I’ll tell them tomorrow that I won’t join Du Vrangr Gata.

Eragon left Saphira in her cave and wandered out of the dragonhold. He wanted to see Angela, but he didn’t remember how to find her hiding place, and Solembum was not there to guide him. He roamed the deserted corridors, hoping to meet Angela by chance.