Roran blinked. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t know that dragons were so intelligent.” A grim smile twisted his lips. “First Ra’zac and magicians, now dwarves, Riders, and talking dragons. It seems the whole world has gone mad.”
“It does seem that way.”
“I saw you fight that other Rider. Did you wound him? Is that why he fled?”
“Wait. You’ll hear.”
When they reached the pavilion Eragon was searching for, he swept back the flap and ducked inside, followed by Roran and Saphira, who pushed her head and neck in after them. In the center of the tent, Nasuada sat on the edge of the table, letting a maid remove her twisted armor while she carried on a heated discussion with Arya. The cut on her thigh had been healed.
Nasuada stopped in the middle of her sentence as she spotted the new arrivals. Running toward them, she threw her arms around Eragon and cried, “Where were you? We thought you were dead, or worse.”
“Not quite.”
“The candle still burns,” murmured Arya.
Stepping back, Nasuada said, “We couldn’t see what happened to you and Saphira after you landed on the plateau. When the red dragon left and you didn’t appear, Arya tried to contact you but felt nothing, so we assumed. .” She trailed off. “We were just debating the best way to transport Du Vrangr Gata and an entire company of warriors across the river.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just so tired after the fight, I forgot to lower my barriers.” Then Eragon brought Roran forward. “Nasuada, I would like to introduce my cousin, Roran. Ajihad may have mentioned him to you before. Roran, Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden and my liegelord. And this is Arya Svit-kona, the elves’ ambassador.” Roran bowed to each of them in turn.
“It is an honor to meet Eragon’s cousin,” said Nasuada.
“Indeed,” added Arya.
After they finished exchanging greetings, Eragon explained that the entire village of Carvahall had arrived on theDragon Wing, and that Roran was the one responsible for killing the Twins.
Nasuada lifted a dark eyebrow. “The Varden are in your debt, Roran, for stopping their rampage. Who knows how much damage the Twins would have caused before Eragon or Arya could have confronted them? You helped us to win this battle. I won’t forget that. Our supplies are limited, but I will see that everyone on your ship is clothed and fed, and that your sick are treated.”
Roran bowed even lower. “Thank you, Lady Nasuada.”
“If I weren’t so pressed for time, I would insist upon knowing how and why you and your village evaded Galbatorix’s men, traveled to Surda, and then found us. Even just the bare facts of your trek make an extraordinary tale. I still intend to learn the specifics — especially since I suspect it concerns Eragon — but I must deal with other, more urgent matters at the moment.”
“Of course, Lady Nasuada.”
“You may go, then.”
“Please,” said Eragon, “let him stay. He should be here for this.”
Nasuada gave him a quizzical look. “Very well. If you want. But enough of this dawdling. Jump to the meat of the matter and tell us about the Rider!”
Eragon began with a quick history of the three remaining dragon eggs — two of which had now hatched — as well as Morzan and Murtagh, so that Roran would understand the significance of his news. Then he proceeded to describe his and Saphira’s fight with Thorn and the mysterious Rider, paying special attention to his extraordinary powers. “As soon as he spun his sword around, I realized wehad dueled before, so I threw myself at him and tore off his helm.” Eragon paused.
“It was Murtagh, wasn’t it?” asked Nasuada quietly.
“How. .?”
She sighed. “If the Twins survived, it only made sense that Murtagh had as well. Did he tell you what really happened that day in Farthen Dûr?” So Eragon recounted how the Twins betrayed the Varden, recruited the Urgals, and kidnapped Murtagh. A tear rolled down Nasuada’s cheek. “It’s a pity that this befell Murtagh when he has already endured so much hardship. I enjoyed his company in Tronjheim and believed he was our ally, despite his upbringing. I find it hard to think of him as our enemy.” Turning to Roran, she said, “It seems I am also personally in your debt for slaying the traitors who murdered my father.”
Fathers, mothers, brothers, cousins,thought Eragon.It all comes down to family. Summoning his courage, he completed his report with Murtagh’s theft of Zar’roc and then his final, terrible secret.
“It can’t be,” whispered Nasuada.
Eragon saw shock and revulsion cross Roran’s face before he managed to conceal his reactions. That, more than anything else, hurt Eragon.
“Could Murtagh have been lying?” asked Arya.
“I don’t see how. When I questioned him, he told me the same thing in the ancient language.”
A long, uncomfortable silence filled the pavilion.
Then Arya said, “No one else can know about this. The Varden are demoralized enough by the presence of a new Rider. And they’ll be even more upset when they learn it’s Murtagh, whom they fought alongside and came to trust in Farthen Dûr. If word spreads that Eragon Shadeslayer is Morzan’s son, the men will grow disillusioned and few people will want to join us. Not even King Orrin should be told.”
Nasuada rubbed her temples. “I fear you’re right. A new Rider. .” She shook her head. “I knew it was possible for this to occur, but I didn’t really believe it would, since Galbatorix’s remaining eggs had gone so long without hatching.”
“It has a certain symmetry,” said Eragon.
“Our task is doubly hard now. We may have held our own today, but the Empire still far outnumbers us, and now we face not one but two Riders, both of whom are stronger than you, Eragon. Do you think you could defeat Murtagh with the help of the elves’ spellcasters?”
“Maybe. But I doubt he’d be foolish enough to fight them and me together.”
For several minutes, they discussed the effect Murtagh could have on their campaign and strategies to minimize or eliminate it. At last Nasuada said, “Enough. We cannot decide this when we are bloody and tired and our minds are clouded from fighting. Go, rest, and we shall take this up again tomorrow.”
As Eragon turned to leave, Arya approached and looked him straight in the eye. “Do not allow this to trouble you overmuch, Eragon-elda. You are not your father, nor your brother. Their shame is not yours.”
“Aye,” agreed Nasuada. “Nor imagine that it has lowered our opinion of you.” She reached out and cupped his face. “I know you, Eragon. You have a good heart. The name of your father cannot change that.”
Warmth blossomed inside Eragon. He looked from one woman to the next, then twisted his hand over his chest, overwhelmed by their friendship. “Thank you.”
Once they were back out in the open, Eragon put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath of the smoky air. It was late in the day, and the garish orange of noon had subsided into a dusky gold light that suffused the camp and battlefield, giving it a strange beauty. “So now you know,” he said.
Roran shrugged. “Blood always tells.”
“Don’t say that,” growled Eragon. “Don’t ever say that.”
Roran studied him for several seconds. “You’re right; it was an ugly thought. I didn’t mean it.” He scratched his beard and squinted at the bloated sun resting upon the horizon. “Nasuada wasn’t what I expected.”
That forced a tired chuckle out of Eragon. “The one you were expecting was her father, Ajihad. Still, she’s as good a leader as he was, if not better.”
“Her skin, is it dyed?”
“No, that’s the way she is.”
Just then, Eragon felt Jeod, Horst, and a score of other men from Carvahall hurrying toward them. The villagers slowed as they rounded a tent and glimpsed Saphira. “Horst!” exclaimed Eragon. Stepping forward, he grasped the smith in a bear hug. “It’s good to see you again!”
Horst gaped at Eragon, then a delighted grin spread across his face. “Blast if it isn’t good to see you as well, Eragon. You’ve filled out since you left.”
“You mean since I ran away.”