The new day found Eragon back in the council chambers, his head resting steadily on his hand, leaned against the table. The discussions droned on before him, with Ajihad and Jörmundur leading. Unfortunately, Eragon learned, due to the placement of the hidden passage their supposed thief needed to be already inside the city's walls. They would bring up suggestions on how their thief could enter Urû'baen and find the entrance to the passage undetected. Brom or Arya would shoot down most of them, calling them either untenable or too rash. So far Eragon had only dismissed one suggestion himself, but since then remained mostly quiet.
Jeod sat next to Brom, his face buried in the many scrolls Ajihad's advisors had brought in. He remained silent as well, save for the sound of paper sliding gently against paper. Eragon drummed his fingers on the table, eyes glancing over to Saphira. The great dragon wanted to be a part of the talks since it concerned her kin, but since no ground had been made did she stop paying such close attention. Her eyes were closed, curled up as much as she could in the large room. He knew she was still listening, but he could feel the drowsiness creep into her mind.
Having enough of the discussions, Eragon turned to Ajihad, "Tell me why exactly this thief can't just walk right in through one of the gates? I'm sure forging the necessary passes would be easy enough."
Ajihad frowned, "The thief could, but then how would they get out of the city? The whole point was to avoid suspicion, and walking through the gates under Galbatorix's magicians seems foolhardy at best."
"Yes, yes, I understand that part," Eragon said, "What I meant was why not how everyone else sneaks into a city?"
All around the table eyebrows rose, and even Jeod paused in his reading. He could see their minds turning, trying to catch up with his. His father, as he expected easily caught on. "That would make sense. Especially a city as large as Urû'baen, there would be many such people."
Arya turned to Eragon, her impassive face momentarily giving him pause as it always did, "I'm afraid I do not understand."
He smiled, "I see you never had to sneak into a large enough city before. Not when you could have just used magic." His tone was light, and he tried to make it seem as though he was jesting. "Long ago, every so often a few Riders would be sent to a city. We couldn't just fly in, as that would have defeated the purpose of the visit. Instead, we would have to blend in, and find different ways to go where we were needed."
Brom nodded, his face drawn in remembrance, "Sometimes it was best to go with any refugees, if there were any. But the best ways, if I recall, where either the merchants or the labor forces."
Ajihad tapped the table lightly, his visage deep in thought. "Explain both, please."
"The merchant one is easy enough," Brom explained, "pay a merchant, and have them smuggle you into the city. Simple, quick, but carries a bit of higher risk."
"The other," Eragon picked up, "was the to use the labor forces that would leave each day. In the morning men would line up and leave the city, and the guards would count their numbers. There are usually too many for the guards to check the passes for each person, and it would take too long. At the end of the day, the men would line up and the guards would make sure the numbers matched."
"Anyone above the number was not allowed back into the city," Brom shrugged. "If we were desperate enough, we could have the thief furth up in line, to ensure passage. Depending on how the guards do things, they might force an inspection if the numbers don't match. But there's a simpler way."
Arya tilted her head at the older Rider, and Eragon could see when she understood what they were getting at, "There are men who do this as payment."
"Yes!" Eragon said, "Exactly! The guards don't care who leaves the cities in the morning, only that they have the right count. People sneak into the lines all the time, and let others take their spots in the evenings. Easy enough for them to get back the following day, trading out time in the city with their fellows."
Ajihad nodded, "A easy way to get by the guards, then. The only problem I can see, however, is how do we find such services? Clearly you couldn't do so in the city, as that would defeat the whole point."
Brom and Eragon exchanged looks briefly, the both of them thinking. "When I had to do it," Eragon said, "it was at Gil'ead. I found the men outside the city, obviously enough, and they usually hid their services for those who knew to find them. Back then, I simply cast my mind out to find them. There's no real threat of magicians outside that far, and it was a simple phrase and some coin that got me into the city."
Ajihad considered his words, glancing over at Jörmundur. The old soldier spoke up, his gruff voice harsh on the ears, "We would simply need to find such a service. Easy enough, given time, and something we can set up soon. That gives us a way in. From there the thief finds the passage, and retrieves the egg."
Brom nodded. His father adjusted himself in his seat, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Once the thief has the egg and left the room we need to assume Galbatorix will know."
"True," Ajihad said, "So then how does he get out? If Galbatorix will know the egg is missing, he will no doubt close down the city. We can safely say the streets will we swarming with guards, and if that Shade or Rider of his are nearby, they will be out searching too."
The mention of Murtagh made Eragon twitch in his seat, not unnoticed by either by Brom or Arya. Glenwing and Fäolin, who had been silent the whole meeting, glanced his way as well. Glenwing at least offered a small smile of support.
"We need to wait," Eragon said, "till they are out of city. Surely you know when that will be?"
Ajihad glanced over at Jörmundur, who scratched his chin. "If I recall, and I would need to check this, Durza is in Gil'ead currently. Murtagh was last spotted near the Surda border, though what he was doing was unclear. Normally Murtagh is in the city, but often enough he leaves, no doubt doing the mad kings bidding."
"So, the time is now," Brom said, "While they are away. Once the egg is found missing, Galbatorix will summon Murtagh. He could reach the city faster than Durza could, even if Murtagh is further away."
"However, he gets out of the city, we would need to meet him, with someone skilled enough to either hide or move the egg away," Ajihad said.
They were silent then, all of them contemplating the problem. It wasn't until Arya spoke up did someone break the silence, "I will go then, as will Glenwing and Fäolin. We can out pace even the fastest of horses, and between us we should be able to get the egg away safely."
Ajihad shook his head, "I could never ask such a thing of you. The Queen would be furious at the loss of her ambassador and two elves."
Arya's face stiffened at the mention of her mother. Opposite Ajihad, Brom sighed, "Would that I was younger. I am not as strong as I was when I fought The Forsworn."
Eragon, who during the interim had been conversing with Saphira said, "Send the elves. They are correct in saying that they would be best at retrieving the egg. They could be fast and nimble, where others could not."
Ajihad frowned, though he noticed Arya's eyes staring intently at him from the corner of his eye. "And if Durza or Murtagh show? I'm not doubting your strength, Arya, nor your companions, but these are powerful foes. Ones who would be desperate to retrieve what was stolen."
"If Durza or Murtagh show themselves," Eragon said, steel entering his voice, "Saphira and I will fight them off."
Brom's expression darkened, but his father did not say a word against him. Ajihad stared hard at Eragon, but he did not back down. "Your confident in your abilities? It's been two hundred years since you've been here, Eragon."
Eragon clenched his hands briefly, before forcing himself to relax. "We may have been gone for a long time, but that does not mean we haven't fought powerful enemies. Some stronger than any Shade could hope to be. Nor would it be the first time Saphira and I fought against a Rider and dragon."
He saw confusion spread across the table, but only Brom's cleared after a moment. "Ah," his father said quietly, "yes. That much is true."
The others waited for him to explain, but Eragon turned only to his father, "They told you? All that happened?"
His father nodded, his grief at the situation showing in his face. Back then, his father did not know what happened, not fully. He only knew as the other Riders did, in that a Shade was made that terrible night, and its magic twisted the dragon hatchling. His father never blamed him, but Eragon did not know how he felt now that he knew all that happened. Eragon knew it wasn't his fault, not truly, but in the end he had still failed to save the hatchling. The only thing that remained was a half-crazed purple Eldunarí, kept hidden and safe from the world.
Turning back to Ajihad, Eragon ignored their probing looks, "Saphira and I are confident we can drive off any who would show, save Galbatorix himself."
Clearly still wishing to know more, Ajihad slowly answered, "Galbatorix does not leave his castle. He never has, not since he won against the Riders. I'm not sure that even this would force him out."
Arya was still staring at Eragon, her gaze burning a hole from her emerald eyes. "You will travel with us, then? It will make such a task harder if we need to hide a dragon as well."
Saphira laughed, her rumbling shaking the table in front of them. Her sapphire head, larger than the table itself, snaked around until she towered over them, peering down at the elf. We will stay hidden, Arya, as only a dragon can.
Brom nodded, a smile crossing his face. At the confusion he saw on Ajihad's face did he explain, "Saphira can fly, Ajihad. Fly higher than any other creature could. None would be able to see her above the clouds, but she could easily see them. Spotting another dragon from such heights would be easy, and it wouldn't be hard to miss the destruction that follows a Shade."
"I mean this with no offense Saphira, only to learn," Ajihad said, "but can you fly for such a long time? We don't know how long it would take to complete such a task, and we would need Arya and her companions close in case something happened."
Saphira shook her bulk, twisting her head to peer at Ajihad, as high as we would be? I could fly for days, with energy left for any battle. But you are correct in saying we don't know how long it will take. Eragon and I will remain on the ground, far outside Urû'baen and Galbatorix's reach until the thief is in the city. Then we will take to the skies and watch over the elves.
Ajihad sighed, "If this is what we must do, then let us do it. What of the Varden during this time? How can the rest of us aid this venture?"
"Ensure our path home," Arya said, "And most importantly, we need to find this thief of ours."
"Very well," Ajihad responded, "But that still leaves us with our main issue. How does the thief exit the city?"
Jeod threw down the book he was currently holding, pointing at it as he joined the conversation, "Here, in this book, tells of the redesign of the city undertaken right after the fall."
"Urû'baen is made atop the remains of the old elvish city, this we know," Arya said, "it's after all how you found the entrance we needed."
"Yes," Jeod said, "but it's the fact that the builders had to contend with elvish architecture that's important! This book, which has very detailed descriptions of the empire's plans, shows were the old city and new overlap. Why they would describe such a thing so plainly here I can never guess." Jeod motioned to the book, then turned towards the most accurate map of the city they had.
"When I was initially looking for a way in, I noticed a one passage long since abandoned, used by the elves during the cities construction. The tunnel runs far out of the city, past the walls, but when I learned of where it led in the city I dismissed it," Jeod continued. As he spoke, his finger traced a line, first from outside the walls then in, stopping next to a building. "I thought that it would have been covered up, but from what I can tell, the empire never sealed it. Probably never knew it existed. It lies here, the entrance guarded only by word. Other's probably thought it a leftover relic from the elves."
Brom turned to the man, asking, "What is it? The entrance?"
Jeod moved a few pieces of paper aside, grabbing a scroll. "It's a stone slab that has elven writing on it. It's placed on the side of one of the few remaining elven buildings. The empire might have simply thought it just some artistic design."
Arya gestured for the scroll, her eyes reading it intently. Eventually she passed it to Fäolin. "Ah," the elf said, "the entrance is in fact guarded, but it needs a phrase." His eyes moved quickly over the scroll before he nodded. "Easy enough. It should serve our purposes well, for it does not require one to cast magic to open it, only to say the words. But it might alert magicians nearby to its use, so I suggest only using it for the escape."
Brom nodded, "So long as the thief is quick, I think it should be easy enough to make their way down to meet the elves."
Ajihad smiled, as though pleased the plan was coming together, "Excellent. I think then, we have all that we need. Except of course the thief, and the words, please Fäolin." The elf nodded, grabbing a piece of paper before writing quickly.
"I will let you know if we learn anything else, but I think we have a solid plan," Ajihad said, dismissing them. Saphira stood then, yawning loudly. Eragon walked briskly to the door, stopping beside it. He let the others exit before him, including his father. Brom spared him a glance, but realized that he wasn't who Eragon wished to speak to. As the elves made their way towards the entrance did he speak.
"Fäolin," Eragon said, his voice calm, "a moment of you time if you will."
The elf in question stiffened, but nodded at the Rider. The others made to stop, but Fäolin waved them on. Saphira passed by them, her gaze intent on Eragon. He shook his head at the dragon, who continued out of the large doors. The two watched her exit, before Eragon motioned for the elf to step further back into the room.
"What did you wish to speak of, Shur'tugal?" Fäolin said, his voice flat.
Gazing at the elf, Eragon tried to find any crack in the venire. But Fäolin's face was masked, a carefully practiced rouse. "I feel as though you dislike me, Fäolin, and I do not know why."
The elf said nothing, so Eragon continued, switching to the ancient language, "If I have wronged you in any way, please let me know."
Fäolin's face twitched, but Eragon could not discern the emotion. "Wronged me? Yes, you have wronged me. My family."
Eragon's eyes tightened, confusion spreading. Nothing he could think of gave him an answer, his mind casting back to any instance the elf might have been talking about. "I'm afraid, Fäolin, that I do not understand. What have I done to your family?"
The elf's eyes remained steady, and Eragon could hear a tremor in his voice, "The hatchling you killed."
The mention of the past, of an event that tormented Eragon caused him to stiffen, his eyes steeling on the elf. "What of it?"
He could feel Saphira's presence growing, pushing on the bounds of his mind. He pushed her away, telling her, I can handle this, Saphira. Please.
Her mind withdrew, and Eragon heard Fäolin speak, the truth evident in his words, "The hatchling was bonded to my eldest sibling."
Shock rang out through him, leaving him immobile. His mind's eye remembered the elf in question, the Rider's face jumping out at him. As he gazed at the elf did Eragon begin to notice the similarities in their features, not knowing how he missed them before. "Naevir was your brother?"
The elf nodded stiffly, before he took a step back. Eragon made no move, remaining standing where he was. "No one would tell us how he died that night. Only that he perished, as did the dragon whose name we never learned. Tell me, then, Rider, are the rumors true? Did you slay both Rider and dragon that night?"
Eragon swallowed hard, his eyes moving between Fäolin's own. The elf's stare was cold, devoid of emotion, and it sent shivers down his spine. Fighting against his oath, all Eragon could say was a soft, "Yes."
Fäolin's eyes tightened further, "Why? Why did you kill him?"
Eragon shook his head, breathing in deep. He tried to speak, but the words stopped dead on his tongue. Each time he tried and failed did his frustration mount, unable to provide the elf with the truth. At his lack of answer did Fäolin step back further, turning towards the door. "You are bound by your oath, Rider. You could not tell me even if you wanted to."
Eragon gasped for breath, his words flying out of him, "I do want to."
The elf faced away from him, his hands resting on the chamber door, "I will work alongside you, Rider. I will even fight beside you. But until you can tell me why, I will not trust you."
The elf left the chamber, the door slamming shut behind him. Eragon stumbled as though struck, memories of the night flooding his mind. He could see blood flying, hear the chanting of magicians, see the flashing lights of spirits. Eragon could feel the cold bite of steel and claw, the feeling of despair so familiar. He remembered the elf Rider, standing in the circle, hovering over the young dragon.
And most of all, He remembered the feeling of his blade sliding past soft scales.
The long trek up the staircase leading to the Dragonhold passed by Eragon unnoticed, consumed in his thoughts. His mind was still reeling after learning what he did, and Eragon tried to make sense of his emotions. Grief, mostly, Eragon noticed. Some sadness, as well as disbelief. He had thought the consequences of the that night his alone to bear, and his heart ached that he couldn't tell the elf the truth. Not that the truth was any better, Eragon thought.
Saphira had examined the memories briefly but had not commented, instead offering only her silence comfort. As he made his way to the hold did he spot his father, leaned against the wall and waiting for him. He gave Brom a slight nod, lowering the wards around the room so that they could enter. Brom did so before him, and his father walked up to Saphira, his hand grazing gently over her scales.
The two had always been close, but there was an air of sadness around Brom now, one that not even Saphira tried to broach. His father's eyes watched him the whole while, the blue eyes bright roaming his features. Eragon brought the two dwarven chairs over to his father, and without a word father and son sat. If Brom had any comments on the two empty barrels, he said nothing.
"Good talk, then?" Brom said dryly. His father had always been perceptive of Eragon's moods even so long ago. It was one of the reasons he never told him his plan to leave Alagaësia.
"Did you know?" Eragon asked. He tried to keep his words flat, lest the emotion's that broiled under seep into them. He didn't know if he succeeded.
Brom shook his head, "I don't know, actually, what you are talking about," he said, "only that something is bothering you."
"Fäolin is Naevir's younger brother." The words were harsh in his mouth, as though they were sandpaper.
He caught the surprise in Brom's eyes, but other than that his father's face remained calm. "I did not know, but it does explain his countenance towards you."
Eragon with much difficulty pushed the matter aside. Long ago did he learn how to deal with his emotions, to not let them cloud his judgement too harshly. It was only when he was alone with Saphira did he ever truly let them roll over him, safe in the knowledge that she would protect him. Eragon knew though that he sometimes relied too heavily on the dragon's support, but Saphira never protested, instead smothering his fears in her love for him.
"What did you wish to speak of father?" Eragon queried.
Brom let out a sigh, his features relaxing. "Before, you apologized to me for leaving," Brom explained, "I never did reply. I just wanted you to know that I accept your words."
Blinking, Eragon observed his father slowly fiddle with the ring on his finger. His father had always been a kind man, but he was often quick to anger and slow to forget. Eragon reasoned that his disappearance might have affected the old man more than he let on. "Thank you, father," Eragon intoned.
Neither said anything else for a minute, before Brom straightened himself. "Are you ready to face your brother, should it come to that?"
Rubbing his face with one of his hands, Eragon replied, "As well as I can be, I think. Murtagh and I," Eragon expressed, "did not always see eye to eye, but we were close enough I suppose. Even with the distance the Rider's had us maintain during our training. If what I've heard is true, then Murtagh serves Galbatorix only because the mad king knows his true name."
Brom nodded, sorrow flowing through his features. "It was Morzan, you know," Brom divulged.
His father, for the longest time, had idolized Morzan before Eragon was born. Eragon had never particularly liked the man, but had refrained back then from saying anything. Eragon only knew that they had a falling out, one that was caused by his mother mostly. Still, even after all that, Eragon knew Brom still admired the older rider. His betrayal of the Rider's, and the death of his dragon by Morzan's hand must have finally awakened his father to the truth of the man.
Brom continued, "He was the one who captured Murtagh, early in the fighting. He gloated about it, saying that he was going to teach his son the truth of the Rider's, and use him as his instrument of death."
Anger flowed forth from Eragon, and a great deal of pity as well. Murtagh never had an easy childhood, but his life had gotten better after Thorn hatched for him. His older half-brother became a Rider a few years after Eragon, but in the few times they spoke his brother never resented the fact.
"But he never did," Eragon guessed. At Brom's quiet confirmation did he go on, "Murtagh was always stubborn. I know he didn't exactly like the Order, but he would not have wanted to partake in such a thing. To kill a dragon is-." He broke off, hands clenching at his side.
"To kill a dragon feels unnatural," Brom murmured, "as if you are going against the flow of the world." Only then did Eragon remember that Brom had killed many of The Forsworn, no doubt having to end the lives of their dragon's as well. Though the nameless dragons were but beasts in the end, the sight of a dead dragon was never a pleasant one.
"Aye," Eragon remarked. To know that he was not the only one with the title Dragonkiller did little to appease Eragon.
Saphira's mind pressed against theirs as she turned her head to them, hear eyes fixed upon the duo. You both have done my kin a kindness. Do not forget that. We never will.
Brom reached up, his hand stroking Saphira's snout. Few people were brave enough to touch her so, but Brom had known her nearly all her life. "We do as our duty demands of us, dragon. Though the burdens are heavy, we will always do what we must for the those that cannot."
Saphira rested her head down, eyes closing once more. Sensing that the topic was at an end, Saphira inquired, What do you think, Brom, of the elven Ambassador? You've known her longer than we have.
Eragon's eyes narrowed at the dragon, but she kept her eyes shut. She could no doubt feel his stare, for he sensed in her mind a hint of mischief.
"Arya?" Brom puzzled, "Evandar Könungr's daughter? I've known her a number of years now, but mostly in passing. My duties often kept me away from the Varden, but we've spoken often enough, I suppose. She is dedicated to her duty, and a skilled fighter. She's as stubborn as her mother, that is for certain, but I'm not sure how much she resembles her father. Perhaps you two would know better than I, for I was never really close with the king."
Eragon hummed under breath, not saying a word. After a quick glance between Eragon and Saphira, who both remained silent, did Brom question, "Why the sudden interest, Saphira?"
Said dragon rumbled, her laughter vibrating through the floor of the hold. Eragon could feel the sensation rising in the chair he sat on, the wood softly creaking, it is not I who holds interest in the princess.
Eragon glared at the dragon, the tips of his ears heating. "Saphira."
Brom glanced between the pair again before settling his gaze upon Eragon. "You would pursue her?"
"Pursue her?" Eragon chuckled, "Am I to hunt her as though she were a deer, and I a wolf? No. She's close enough to Fäolin, and I am not one to interfere in such things. Besides, I've only known her less than a few weeks. I've long since given up baseless quests."
His father stroked his beard, and Eragon could see a smile rising beneath it, "Never doubt fate, Eragon. You never know what the world has in store for you."
After his father left, disappearing into the halls of Tronjheim, Eragon decided that he needed to get out of the dragonhold. He bid Saphira goodbye, listening as she responded sleepily, chuckling as he left. For a long while he walked aimlessly, peering down long hallways and streets, taking in the bustling of dwarves and men. Eventually, as though his feet had a mind there own, he ended up at the sparring area outside the city once more.
There were fewer men today training, and Eragon watched them for a few minutes before deciding to move on. Though the field was mostly flat grass, outside the city-mountain, Eragon could see a lone tree billowing in the distance. Curious, Eragon strode over at a leisure, his boots softly crunching the grass beneath. As he approached, the sounds of men training faded, though never completely from his sharp ears.
The tree was large, especially for one that grew inside a mountain, but far smaller than many of the trees of Du Weldenvarden. Eragon settled on the ground before it, his back braced against the bark. Closing his eyes, Eragon let his mind wander, his thoughts flowing smoothly as a small breeze rustled the leaves above. In the distance he could hear a pair of footsteps approaching him, too heavy to be any of the elves. Their pace told him it couldn't have been dwarves either, so Eragon opened his eyes but kept his posture laxed.
The twin's approached, scurrying across as though it were hot charcoal. As they grew closer Eragon's eyes narrowed. He wanted no part in whatever the magicians wanted, for the sight of them made his skin crawl. He didn't know why, only a part of him nudging to keep his distance from them. They stopped before him, bowing low, but Eragon did nothing besides incline his head at them.
When he made no move to speak, the twin's straightened together, their moves practiced to match perfectly. The one on the left spoke, "Eragon, we are pleased to have found you. We've been searching around, but no one could tell us your location."
Sniffing, Eragon responded, "I've been here. If someone needed me they could have just asked Saphira."
The mention of the dragon's gave the twins pause, as though the thought of approaching her was low on their lists of things to do. The did not respond to his statement, and the one on the right spoke this time instead, "We've come to ask for a demonstration of your skill, Rider. We who lead the magicians of the Varden need to know your capabilities."
"No," Eragon flatly.
"You would refuse us?" intoned the other twin. "How are we to serve the Varden together if we have no measure of your strength?"
His eyes took in the twins, but he remained seated against the tree. "I do not serve the Varden. You need not concern yourselves with these matters."
He saw them frown, displeased by his words. "We must insist Eragon. We are the strongest of Ajihad's magicians, and to deny us is to deny him."
"Did Ajihad tell you to do this?" Eragon asked quietly. He knew already what their answer would be.
"No," the left twin responded and Eragon could make out their frustration, "But we speak with the authority that he has given us over magicians."
"He is not one of your magicians," came sternly from the side. Eragon had hardly heard her approach, to concerned with the magicians in front of him, but the smell of freshly crushed pine needles gave her away. Arya strode in, her movements quick towards the twins. Her face was set, fierce in its glare. He was glad it was not directed at him. "He is a Rider, far more powerful than either of you. Now go."
Her eyebrows were slanted, and her emerald eyes flashed dangerously. The twins seemed to fear her presence, for the scurried off, grass flying in their wake. Arya was alone, without her companions, and Eragon wondered what she was doing so far from the city and sparring area.
"Thank you, for that." Eragon said, "they were most annoying."
He could have handled them easily, but he knew better than to make such enemies. Arya nodded, her expression clearing of her ire at the twins. "They are powerful magicians," she said, "Well trained and have served Ajihad proficiently. But their methods are crude at best."
Running his hand through his hair, he nodded. "I've met such men before. Is there something you needed, Arya?"
Arya shook her head, "No, forgive me. I was simply wandering about and noticed them approach you."
"Ah," Eragon responded, "well, thank you again. If that is all?"
"I was hoping," she began, "that I might speak with you."
Blinking, Eragon gestured for her to join him, "Of course."
Arya stood for a moment there, seeming to ponder what she should do. She had made her decision apparent when she sat down next to him, her back to the tree as well. Their shoulders were close enough together, but there was still a polite distance between them. He made no comment, relaxing his posture once more.
She switched then to the ancient language, the sounds of her words floating through the air, and Eragon could hear birds trill in response, "Your mind is well guarded, Eragon. When I cast my mind out, I can barely feel you at all. Even sitting here next to you I sense next to nothing."
"A trick I learned," he explained, "Long ago. One that has come in handy since I've returned. Saphira and I have had need to hide before, and such practices have become second nature now. Some of it are wards, the rest is practice."
Arya nodded her head, drawing up her knees to her chest. After a moment Eragon asked, "Why were you wandering about?"
Her words were soft, and Eragon could hear a great deal behind them, "I've much on my mind recently."
"Hmm," Eragon hummed, "I know the feeling. Alagaësia has changed much since I've last left."
"The consequence of time," Arya responded. Speaking again, she changed the direction of their conversation, "Are you prepared for our journey? I imagine you must feel restless to get your hands on the egg."
Eragon shifted, "The egg's safety is of the upmost importance, so I suppose you could say I'm eager. Though I am older now, I still feel the urge to charge ahead and begin our task."
"You were rash in your youth?" Arya asked, "It does make sense of a sort, considering Brom is your father."
He laughed, his voice startling the birds rustling in the trees above. He was watching fly away as he responded, "I can still be an idiot if you ask Saphira, one who will eagerly charge forward recklessly, but I think I've gained some sense my youth. Now I merely know the consequences of my actions."
Arya smiled, "Before you charge in recklessly, you mean." The mirth was clear in her voice, teasing him gently. These few moments that he got with her, where she was open and responsive, where precious to Eragon, so used to the way elves were distant and aloof. She could certainly be, but Eragon could feel a sense of camaraderie building between them.
"And so, you know the truth of who I am," Eragon jested.
"I suspect not," she replied, the teasing tone gone.
They were quiet for a while, simply listening to the breeze and the clanging of metal in the distance. Eragon closed his eyes, head resting against the rough bark of the tree. Arya continued to say nothing more, but remained seated as well, her breaths soft and slow. Even though he could not see her, Eragon could tell she was deep in thought. It wasn't until much later that Eragon felt Saphira's mind brush against his own, gently greeting him as only she could.
Brom brings news, Saphira said, they've found our thief.
Good Eragon said, standing. Arya glanced questioningly up at him, but realized that he was busy talking with his mind. And who is it that they've chosen?
A man named Hefring. Your father says he knows of him, but he would explain more when you arrived. Ajihad wishes us to meet quickly.
Very well, tell them Arya and I are on our way.
He felt curiosity rise in the dragon, oh? The elf is with you?
Yes.
He didn't say anything else, withdrawing his mind slightly, signaling the end of the conversation.
"There is news," Eragon said.
Arya stood as well, nodding her head. "Let us go, then."
Once all of them were gathered in the chambers once more did Brom finally tell the group the thief's identity. "The man's name is Hefring. He lives in Furnost, and Jörmundur has said that our spies were able to get a hold of him."
Eragon turned to the Leader of the Varden, "So quickly? I hope they were cautious in their use of magic."
Ajihad nodded, "There are only a few such spies we employ, and even their names are unknown to us. The messages are encoded as well if that helps alleviate your worry."
Brom continued on, saying nothing of the interruption, "He is skilled enough for our purposes. Though it will come at a cost, I am confident in his abilities. And discretion."
Jörmundur spoke, concern spread through his words, "I am sure we could cover it, but it may put us at a disadvantage later if what you've said holds true. That much coin is hard for us to gather so far removed from the empire."
Arya spoke, and the elves nodded their agreement behind her at her words, "The elves can help in this regard. Few enough ventures are as important in this, and the Queen will want to help to ensure that the Varden's coffers are not emptied."
Ajihad inclined his head to the ambassador, "Tell her majesty we are most in her debt, then." Turning towards Brom, Ajihad asked, "Does this Hefring know of our plan yet?"
Brom shook his head, "No, the informants let me use have not. He only knows that I wish to speak with him concerning a job. As such, I need to journey to Furnost myself."
Eragon drummed his fingers gently as he joined the talk, "Will he set out at once? We need to act quickly, while Murtagh and Durza are not in the city."
His father nodded his head, Brom's gray hair catching Eragon's eye for a moment. "Yes, and as such, we should all journey together to Furnost. Only I will enter the city, while you and the elves remain outside. Once that is done we will set a meeting point outside Urû'baen where Arya and her companions can meet the elf. I would join them, but I fear I could not keep pace if they intend to run on foot."
Glenwing nodded to the older Rider, "Most unfortunate that you could not join us, Brom. Your skills would aid us greatly."
Ajihad waved his hand towards Brom, "What then, old friend? Will you wait for them or return here right away?"
His father stroked his beard, his face deep in thought. Brom's eyes met his own briefly, seeming to find whatever it was he was looking for. "No, I will not return right away. There's a few things I need to check on." Waving away Ajihad, whose face grew concerned, "I will return shortly enough. I suspect I won't be too far behind Eragon and the others as they return."
"Very well, Brom." Ajihad said, "You have proven yourself capable enough over the years. When do you wish to depart?"
"Soon," Brom answered, "Tonight, if the others agree. The faster we leave the less chance we have of others finding out." Eragon agreed with his father, nodding his head when Ajihad turned to him. The leader's gaze turned towards the elves, who also nodded their heads in turns.
"This is the last time we will speak, then until this task is complete," Ajihad said. "We do not need eyes upon you as you leave, so leaving tonight is perhaps the smartest move. Go, then, elves and Riders, and see to it that you fulfill your duties."