She ran her fingers over the band of threads, pausing on the rift that she had created.It’s not as if lace takes that much energy, just time. She hated making it herself.Energy. . energy. . At that moment, a series of images flashed through her mind: Orrin talking about using magic for research; Trianna, the woman who had helmed Du Vrangr Gata since the Twins’ deaths; looking up at one of the Varden’s healers while he explained the principles of magic to Nasuada when she was only five or six years old. The disparate experiences formed a chain of reasoning that was so outrageous and unlikely, it finally released the laugh imprisoned in her throat.
Farica gave her an odd look and waited for an explanation. Standing, Nasuada tumbled half the overgown off her lap and onto the floor. “Fetch me Trianna this instant,” she said. “I don’t care what she’s doing; bring her here.”
The skin around Farica’s eyes tightened, but she curtsied and said, “As you wish, Ma’am.” She departed through the hidden servants’ door.
“Thank you,” Nasuada whispered in the empty room.
She understood her maid’s reluctance; she too felt uncomfortable whenever she had to interact with magic users. Indeed, she only trusted Eragon because he was a Rider — although that was no proof of virtue, as Galbatorix had shown — and because of his oath of fealty, which Nasuada knew he would never break. It scared her to consider magicians’ and sorcerers’ powers. The thought that a seemingly ordinary person could kill with a word; invade your mind if he or she wished; cheat, lie, and steal without being caught; and otherwise defy society with near impunity. .
Her heart quickened.
How did you enforce the law when a certain segment of the population possessed special powers? At its most basic level, the Varden’s war against the Empire was nothing more than an attempt to bring to justice a man who had abused his magical abilities and to prevent him from committing further crimes.All this pain and destruction because no one had the strength to defeat Galbatorix. He won’t even die after a normal span of years!
Although she disliked magic, she knew that it would play a crucial role in removing Galbatorix and that she could not afford to alienate its practitioners until victory was assured. Once that occurred, she intended to resolve the problem that they presented.
A brazen knock on her chamber door disturbed her thoughts. Fixing a pleasant smile on her face and guarding her mind as she had been trained, Nasuada said, “Enter!” It was important that she appear polite after summoning Trianna in such a rude manner.
The door thrust open and the brunette sorceress strode into the room, her tousled locks piled high above her head with obvious haste. She looked as if she had just been roused from bed. Bowing in the dwarven fashion, she said, “You asked for me, Lady?”
“I did.” Relaxing into a chair, Nasuada let her gaze slowly drift up and down Trianna. The sorceress lifted her chin under Nasuada’s examination. “I need to know: What is the most important rule of magic?”
Trianna frowned. “That whatever you do with magic requires the same amount of energy as it would to do otherwise.”
“And what youcan do is only limited by your ingenuity and by your knowledge of the ancient language?”
“Other strictures apply, but in general, yes. Lady, why do you ask? These are basic principles of magic that, while not commonly bandied about, I am sure you are familiar with.”
“I am. I wished to ensure that I understood them properly.” Without moving from her chair, Nasuada reached down and lifted the overgown so that Trianna could see the mutilated lace. “So then, within those limits, you should be able to devise a spell that will allow you to manufacture lace with magic.”
A condescending sneer distorted the sorceress’s dark lips. “Du Vrangr Gata has more important duties than repairing your clothes, Lady. Our art is not so common as to be employed for mere whims. I’m sure that you will find your seamstresses and tailors more than capable of fulfilling your request. Now, if you will excuse me, I—”
“Be quiet, woman,” said Nasuada in a flat voice. Astonishment muted Trianna in midsentence. “I see that I must teach Du Vrangr Gata the same lesson that I taught the Council of Elders: I may be young, but I am no child to be patronized. I ask about lace because if you can manufacture it quickly and easily with magic, then we can support the Varden by selling inexpensive bobbin and needle lace throughout the Empire. Galbatorix’s own people will provide the funds we need to survive.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” protested Trianna. Even Farica looked skeptical. “You can’t pay for a war withlace. ”
Nasuada raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Women who otherwise could never afford to own lace will leap at the chance to buy ours. Every farmer’s wife who longs to appear richer than she is will want it. Even wealthy merchants and nobles will give us their gold because our lace will be finer than any thrown or stitched by human hands. We’ll garner a fortune to rival the dwarves’. That is,if you are skilled enough in magic to do what I want.”
Trianna tossed her hair. “You doubt my abilities?”
“Can it be done!”
Trianna hesitated, then took the overgown from Nasuada and studied the lace strip for a long while. At last she said, “It should be possible, but I’ll have to conduct some tests before I know for certain.”
“Do so immediately. From now on, this is your most important assignment. And find an experienced lace maker to advise you on the patterns.”
“Yes, Lady Nasuada.”
Nasuada allowed her voice to soften. “Good. I also want you to select the brightest members of Du Vrangr Gata and work with them to invent other magical techniques that will help the Varden. That’s your responsibility, not mine.”
“Yes, Lady Nasuada.”
“Nowyou are excused. Report back to me tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Lady Nasuada.”
Satisfied, Nasuada watched the sorceress depart, then closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy a moment of pride for what she had accomplished. She knew that no man, not even her father, would have thought of her solution. “This ismy contribution to the Varden,” she told herself, wishing that Ajihad could witness it. Louder, she asked, “Did I surprise you, Farica?”
“You always do, Ma’am.”
ELVA
“Ma’am?. . You’re needed, Ma’am.”
“What?” Reluctant to move, Nasuada opened her eyes and saw Jörmundur enter the room. The wiry veteran pulled off his helm, tucked it in the crook of his right arm, and made his way to her with his left hand planted on the pommel of his sword.
The links of his hauberk clinked as he bowed. “My Lady.”
“Welcome, Jörmundur. How is your son today?” She was pleased that he had come. Of all the members of the Council of Elders, he had accepted her leadership the most easily, serving her with the same dogged loyalty and determination as he had Ajihad.If all my warriors were like him, no one could stop us.
“His cough has subsided.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, what brings you?”
Lines appeared on Jörmundur’s forehead. He ran his free hand over his hair, which was tied back in a ponytail, then caught himself and pushed his hand back down to his side. “Magic, of the strangest kind.”
“Oh?”
“Do you remember the babe that Eragon blessed?”
“Aye.” Nasuada had seen her only once, but she was well aware of the exaggerated tales about the child that circulated among the Varden, as well as the Varden’s hopes for what the girl might achieve once she grew up. Nasuada was more pragmatic about the subject. Whatever the infant became, it would not be for many years, by which time the battle with Galbatorix would already be won or lost.
“I’ve been asked to take you to her.”
“Asked? By whom? And why?”
“A boy on the practice field told me that you should visit the child. Said that you would find it interesting. He refused to give me his name, but he looked like what that witch’s werecat is supposed to turn into, so I thought. . Well, I thought you should know.” Jörmundur looked embarrassed. “I asked my men questions about the girl, and I heard things. . that she’sdifferent. ”
“In what way?”
He shrugged. “Enough to believe that you should do what the werecat says.”
Nasuada frowned. She knew from the old stories that ignoring a werecat was the height of folly and often led to one’s doom. However, his companion — Angela the herbalist — was another magic user that Nasuada did not entirely trust; she was too independent and unpredictable. “Magic,” she said, making it a curse.
“Magic,” agreed Jörmundur, though he used it as a word of awe and fear.
“Very well, let us go visit this child. Is she within the castle?”