“I hope so. I’m Trianna, sorceress of Du Vrangr Gata.”
“Really? A sorceress?” he asked, intrigued.
“And battle mage and spy and anything else the Varden deem necessary. There aren’t enough magic users, so we each end up with a half-dozen tasks.” She smiled, displaying even, white teeth. “That’s why I came today. We would be honored to have you take charge of our group. You’re the only one who can replace the Twins.”
Almost without realizing it, he smiled back. She was so friendly and charming, he hated to say no. “I’m afraid I can’t; Saphira and I are leaving Tronjheim soon. Besides, I’d have to consult with Nasuada first anyway.”And I don’t want to be entangled in any more politics. . especially not where the Twins used to lead.
Trianna bit her lip. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She moved a step closer. “Perhaps we can spend some time together before you have to go. I could show you how to summon and control spirits. . It would beeducational for both of us.”
Eragon felt a hot flush warm his face. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m really too busy at the moment.”
A spark of anger flared within Trianna’s eyes, then vanished so quickly, he wondered whether he had seen it at all. She sighed delicately. “I understand.”
She sounded so disappointed — and looked so forlorn — Eragon felt guilty for rebuffing her.It can’t hurt to talk with her for a few minutes, he told himself. “I’m curious; how did you learn magic?”
Trianna brightened. “My mother was a healer in Surda. She had a bit of power and was able to instruct me in the old ways. Of course, I’m nowhere near as powerful as a Rider. None of Du Vrangr Gata could have defeated Durza alone, like you did. That was a heroic deed.”
Embarrassed, Eragon scuffed his boots against the ground. “I wouldn’t have survived if not for Arya.”
“You are too modest, Argetlam,” she admonished. “It wasyou who struck the final blow. You should be proud of your accomplishment. It’s a feat worthy of Vrael himself.” She leaned toward him. His heart quickened as he smelled her perfume, which was rich and musky, with a hint of an exotic spice. “Have you heard the songs composed about you? The Varden sing them every night around their fires. They say you’ve come to take the throne from Galbatorix!”
“No,” said Eragon, quick and sharp. That was one rumor he would not tolerate. “They might, but I don’t. Whatever my fate may be, I don’t aspire to rule.”
“And it’s wise of you not to. What is a king, after all, but a man imprisoned by his duties? That would be a poor reward indeed for the last free Rider and his dragon. No, for you the ability to go and do what you will and, by extension, to shape the future of Alagaësia.” She paused. “Do you have any family left in the Empire?”
What?“ Only a cousin.”
“Then you’re not betrothed?”
The question caught him off guard. He had never been asked that before. “No, I’m not betrothed.”
“Surely there must be someone you care about.” She came another step closer, and her ribboned sleeve brushed his arm.
“I wasn’t close to anyone in Carvahall,” he faltered, “and I’ve been traveling since then.”
Trianna drew back slightly, then lifted her wrist so the serpent bracelet was at eye level. “Do you like him?” she inquired. Eragon blinked and nodded, though it was actually rather disconcerting. “I call him Lorga. He’s my familiar and protector.” Bending forward, she blew upon the bracelet, then murmured, “Sé orúm thornessa hávr sharjalví lífs.”
With a dry rustle, the snake stirred to life. Eragon watched, fascinated, as the creature writhed around Trianna’s pale arm, then lifted itself and fixed its whirling ruby eyes upon him, wire tongue whipping in and out. Its eyes seemed to expand until they were each as large as Eragon’s fist. He felt as if he were tumbling into their fiery depths; he could not look away no matter how hard he tried.
Then at a short command, the serpent stiffened and resumed its former position. With a tired sigh, Trianna leaned against the wall. “Not many people understand what we magic users do. But I wanted you to know that there are others like you, and we will help if we can.”
Impulsively, Eragon put his hand on hers. He had never attempted to approach a woman this way before, but instinct urged him onward, daring him to take the chance. It was frightening, exhilarating. “If you want, we could go and eat. There’s a kitchen not far from here.”
She slipped her other hand over his, fingers smooth and cool, so different from the rough grips he was accustomed to. “I’d like that. Shall we—” Trianna stumbled forward as the door burst open behind her. The sorceress whirled around, only to yelp as she found herself face to face with Saphira.
Saphira remained motionless, except for one lip that slowly lifted to reveal a line of jagged teeth. Then she growled. It was a marvelous growl — richly layered with scorn and menace — that rose and fell through the hall for more than a minute. Listening to it was like enduring a blistering, hackle-raising tirade.
Eragon glared at her the whole time.
When it was over, Trianna was clenching her dress with both fists, twisting the fabric. Her face was white and scared. She quickly curtsied to Saphira, then, with a barely controlled motion, turned and fled. Acting as if nothing had happened, Saphira lifted a leg and licked a claw.It was nearly impossible to get the door open, she sniffed.
Eragon could not contain himself any longer.Why did you do that? he exploded.You had no reason to interfere!
You needed my help,she continued, unperturbed.
If I’d needed your help, I would have called!
Don’tyell at me, she snapped, letting her jaws click together. He could sense her emotions boiling with as much turmoil as his.I’ll not have you run around with a slattern who cares more for Eragon as Rider than you as a person.
She wasn’t a slattern,roared Eragon. He pounded the wall in frustration.I’m a man now, Saphira, not a hermit. You can’t expect me to ignore. . ignore women just because of who I am. And it’s certainly not your decision to make. At the very least, I might have enjoyed a conversation with her, anything other than the tragedies we’ve dealt with lately. You’re in my head enough to know how I feel. Why couldn’t you leave me alone? Where was the harm?
You don’t understand.She refused to meet his eyes.
Don’t understand! Will you prevent me from ever having a wife and children? What of a family?
Eragon.She finally fixed one great eye on him.We are intimately linked.
Obviously!
And if you pursue a relationship, with or without my blessing, and become. . attached. . to someone, my feelings will become engaged as well. You should know that. Therefore — and I warn you only once — be careful who you choose, because it will involve both of us.
He briefly considered her words.Our bond works both ways, however. If you hate someone, I will be influenced likewise. . I understand your concern. So you weren’t just jealous?
She licked the claw once more.Perhaps a little.
Eragon was the one who growled this time. He brushed past her into the room, grabbed Zar’roc, then stalked away, belting on the sword.
He wandered through Tronjheim for hours, avoiding contact with everyone. What had occurred pained him, though he could not deny the truth of Saphira’s words. Of all the matters they shared, this was the most delicate and the one they agreed upon least. That night — for the first time since he was captured at Gil’ead — he slept away from Saphira, in one of the dwarves’ barracks.
Eragon returned to their quarters the following morning. By unspoken consent, he and Saphira avoided discussing what had transpired; further argument was pointless when neither party was willing to yield ground. Besides, they were both so relieved to be reunited, they did not want to risk endangering their friendship again.
They were eating lunch — Saphira tearing at a bloody haunch — when Jarsha trotted up. Like before, he stared wide-eyed at Saphira, following her movements as she nibbled off the end of a leg bone. “Yes?” asked Eragon, wiping his chin and wondering if the Council of Elders had sent for them. He had heard nothing from them since the funeral.
Jarsha turned away from Saphira long enough to say, “Nasuada would like to see you, sir. She’s waiting in her father’s study.”
Sir!Eragon almost laughed. Only a little while ago,he would have been calling people sir, not the other way around. He glanced at Saphira. “Are you done, or should we wait a few minutes?”
Rolling her eyes, she fit the rest of the meat into her mouth and split the bone with a loud crack.I’m done.
“All right,” said Eragon, standing, “you can go, Jarsha. We know the way.”
It took almost half an hour to reach the study because of the city-mountain’s size. As during Ajihad’s rule, the door was guarded, but instead of two men, an entire squad of battle-hardened warriors now stood before it, alert for the slightest hint of danger. They would clearly sacrifice themselves to protect their new leader from ambush or attack. Though the men could not have failed to recognize Eragon and Saphira, they barred the way while Nasuada was alerted of her visitors. Only then were the two allowed to enter.
Eragon immediately noticed a change: a vase of flowers in the study. The small purple blossoms were unobtrusive, but they suffused the air with a warm fragrance that — for Eragon — evoked summers of fresh-picked raspberries and scythed fields turning bronze under the sun. He inhaled, appreciating the skill with which Nasuada had asserted her individuality without obliterating Ajihad’s memory.
She sat behind the broad desk, still cloaked in the black of mourning. As Eragon seated himself, Saphira beside him, she said, “Eragon.” It was a simple statement, neither friendly nor hostile. She turned away briefly, then focused on him, her gaze steely and intent. “I have spent the last few days reviewing the Varden’s affairs, such as they are. It was a dismal exercise. We are poor, overextended, and low on supplies, and few recruits are joining us from the Empire. I mean to change that.