Inheritance

DECISIONS

“Explain it to me again,” said Nasuada.

Eragon shifted his weight, impatient, but he held his tongue.

From the piles of scrolls and books in front of him, Jeod picked up a slim volume bound in red leather and began his narrative for the third time: “Some five hundred years ago, as best I can tell-”

Jormundur interrupted him with a motion of his hand. “Leave out your qualifiers. We know this is speculation.”

Jeod began again: “Some five hundred years ago, Queen Forna sent Erst Graybeard to Dras-Leona, or rather what was to become Dras-Leona.”

“And why did she send him?” asked Nasuada while she toyed with the fringe of her sleeve.

“The dwarves were in the midst of a clan war, and Forna hoped that she could secure the support of our race by helping King Radgar with the planning and construction of the fortifications for the city, even as the dwarves engineered the defenses for Aroughs.”

Nasuada rolled a strand of cloth between her fingers. “And then Dolgrath Halfstave killed Forna.…”

“Aye. And Erst Graybeard had no choice but to return to the Beor Mountains as fast as he could, to defend his clan from Halfstave’s predations. But”-Jeod held up a finger, then opened the red book-“before he left, it seems Erst did start on his work. King Radgar’s chief adviser, Lord Yardley, wrote in his memoirs that Erst had begun to draw up plans for the sewer system underneath the center of the city, since that would affect how the fortifications would be built.”

From his place at the far end of the table that filled the middle of Nasuada’s pavilion, Orik nodded and said, “That’s true enough. You have to work out where and how the weight is distributed and determine what’s appropriate for the kind of earth you’re dealing with. Otherwise, you’re liable to have cave-ins.”

Jeod continued: “Of course, Dras-Leona doesn’t have underground sewers, so I assumed that nothing like Erst’s plans were ever put into effect. However, a few pages later, Yardley says …” Peering down his nose at the book, Jeod read, “… and in a most lamentable turn of events, the reavers burned many a house and made off with many a family treasure. The soldiers were slow to respond, for they had been put to work underground, laboring like common peasants.”

Jeod lowered the book. “Now, what were they excavating? I was unable to find any further mention of subterranean activities in or around Dras-Leona, until-” Putting down the red volume, he selected another book, this one a massive, wood-paneled tome nearly a foot thick. “I happened to be perusing The Acts of Taradas and Other Mysteries of Occult Phenomena as Recorded Throughout the Ages of Men, Dwarves, and the Most Ancient Elves when-”

“It is a work filled with mistakes,” said Arya. She stood by the left side of the table, leaning on both hands over a map of the city. “The author knew little of my people, and what he did not know, he invented.”

“That may be,” said Jeod, “but he knew a great deal about humans, and it is humans we are interested in.” Jeod opened the book close to the middle and gently lowered the upper half to the table, so it lay flat. “During his investigations, Othman spent some time in this region. He mainly studied Helgrind and the strange happenings associated with it, but he also had this to say about Dras-Leona: The people of the city also often complain of peculiar sounds and odors wafting up from under their streets and floors, especially at night, which they attribute to ghosts and spirits and other uncanny creatures, but if they are spirits, they are unlike any I have heard of before, as spirits elsewhere seem to avoid enclosed spaces.”

Jeod closed the book. “Fortunately, Othman was nothing if not thorough, and he marked the locations of the sounds on a map of Dras-Leona, where, as you can see, they form a nearly straight line through the old part of the city.”

“And you think this indicates the presence of a tunnel,” said Nasuada. It was a statement, not a question.

“I do,” said Jeod, bobbing his head.

Sitting next to Nasuada, King Orrin, who had said little, spoke. “Nothing you have shown us so far, Goodman Jeod, has yet to prove that this is actually a tunnel. If there is a space under the city, it might very well be a cellar or a catacomb or some other chamber that only leads to the building above. Even if it is a tunnel, we do not know if it exits anywhere outside of Dras-Leona, nor, assuming its existence, where it would lead. To the heart of the palace, perhaps? What’s more, by your own account, it’s likely the construction of this hypothetical tunnel was never completed in the first place.”

“It seems unlikely it could be anything but a tunnel, given its shape, Your Majesty,” said Jeod. “No cellar or catacomb would be so narrow or long. As for whether it was completed … we know it was never used for its intended purpose, but we also know that it lasted at least up until Othman’s time, which means the tunnel or passageway or what-have-you must have been finished to some degree, otherwise the seep of water would have destroyed it long ago.”

“What of the exit, then-or the entrance, if you will?” asked the king.

Jeod scrabbled among the piles of scrolls for a few moments before pulling out another map of Dras-Leona, this one showing a portion of the surrounding landscape. “That I can’t be sure about, but if it does lead out of the city, then it would exit somewhere around here-” He placed his index finger on a spot close to the eastern side of the city. Most of the buildings outside the walls that protected the heart of Dras-Leona were located on the western side of the city, next to the lake. This meant that the location Jeod was pointing at, though empty land, was closer to the center of Dras-Leona than one could get from any other direction without encountering buildings. “But it’s impossible to tell without going there to look for it in person.”

Eragon frowned. He had thought Jeod’s discovery would be more certain.

“You are to be congratulated on your research, Goodman Jeod,” said Nasuada. “You may have once again performed a great service for the Varden.” She rose from her high-backed chair and walked over to look at the map. The hem of her dress rustled as it dragged across the ground. “If we send a scout to investigate, we risk alerting the Empire to our interest in that area. Assuming the tunnel exists, it would be of little value to us then; Murtagh and Thorn would be expecting us on the other end.” She looked at Jeod. “How wide do you think this tunnel would be? How many men could fit in it?”

“I couldn’t say. It might be-”

Orik cleared his throat, then said, “The earth here is soft and claylike, with a fair bit of silt layered throughout it-horrible for tunneling. If Erst had any sense, he wouldn’t have planned to have one large channel carry away the city’s waste; he would have laid down several smaller passageways, to reduce the likelihood of a cave-in. I’d guess that none of them would be wider than a yard or so.”

“Too narrow for more than a single man to pass through at a time,” said Jeod.

“Too narrow for more than a single knurla,” added Orik.

Nasuada returned to her seat and stared at the map with unfocused eyes, as if she were gazing at something far away.

After a few moments of silence, Eragon said, “I could search for the tunnel. I know how to hide myself with magic; the sentries would never see me.”

“Perhaps,” murmured Nasuada. “But I still don’t like the idea of having you or anyone else running about. The likelihood of the Empire noticing is too high. What if Murtagh is watching? Could you fool him? Do you even know what he is capable of now?” She shook her head. “No, we must act as if the tunnel exists and make our decisions accordingly. If events prove otherwise, it won’t have cost us anything, but if the tunnel is there … it should allow us to capture Dras-Leona once and for all.”

“What have you in mind?” asked King Orrin in a tone of caution.

“Something bold; something … unexpected.”

Eragon snorted softly. “Perhaps you should consult Roran, then.”

“I have no need of Roran’s help in devising my plans, Eragon.”

Nasuada fell silent again, and everyone in the pavilion, including Eragon, waited to see what she would come up with. At last she stirred and said, “This: we send a small team of warriors to open the gates from the inside.”

“And how is anyone supposed to manage that?” demanded Orik. “It would be tricky enough if all they had to face were the hundreds of soldiers stationed in the area, but in case you have forgotten, there’s also a giant, fire-breathing lizard lounging close by, and he’s sure to take an interest in anyone foolish enough to pry open the gates. And that’s not even taking Murtagh into account.”

Before the discussion could devolve, Eragon said, “I can do it.”

The words had an immediate, chilling effect on the conversation.

Eragon expected Nasuada to reject his suggestion out of hand, but she surprised him by considering it. Then she surprised him further when she said, “Very well.”

All the arguments Eragon had built up fell away as he stared at Nasuada with astonishment. She had obviously followed the same chain of reasoning as he had.

The tent erupted in a confusion of overlapping voices as everyone began to speak at once. Arya won out over the din: “Nasuada, you cannot allow Eragon to endanger himself so. It would be unconscionable. Send some of Blodhgarm’s spellcasters instead; I know they would agree to help, and they are as mighty warriors as any you can find, including Eragon.”

Nasuada shook her head. “None of Galbatorix’s men would dare kill Eragon-not Murtagh, not the king’s pet magicians, not even the lowest of soldiers. We should use that to our advantage. Besides, Eragon is our strongest spellcaster, and it may require a great deal of strength to force open the gates. Of all of us, he has the best chance of success.”

“What if he is captured, though? He can’t hold his own against Murtagh. You know that!”

“We’ll distract Murtagh and Thorn, and that will give Eragon the opportunity he needs.”

Arya lifted her chin. “How? How will you distract them?”

“We’ll make as though to attack Dras-Leona from the south. Saphira will fly around the city, setting buildings on fire and killing soldiers on the walls. Thorn and Murtagh will have no choice but to give chase, especially since it will appear as if Eragon is riding Saphira the whole time. Blodhgarm and his fellow spellcasters can conjure up a facsimile of Eragon, as they did before. As long as Murtagh doesn’t get too close, he’ll never discover our subterfuge.”

“You are determined in this?”

“I am.”

Arya’s face hardened. “Then I will accompany Eragon.”

Relief seeped through Eragon. He had hoped she would go with him, but he had been uncertain whether to ask, for fear she would refuse.

Nasuada sighed. “You are Islanzadi’s daughter. I would not like to place you in such danger. If you were to die … Remember how your mother reacted when she thought Durza had killed you. We cannot afford to lose the help of your people.”

“My mother-” Arya clamped her lips shut, cutting herself off, then began anew: “I can assure you, Lady Nasuada, Queen Islanzadi shall not abandon the Varden, whatever may happen to me. Of that, you need have no concern. I will accompany Eragon, as will two of Blodhgarm’s spellcasters.”

Nasuada shook her head. “No, you can only take one. Murtagh is familiar with the number of elves who have been protecting Eragon. If he notices that two or more are missing, he may suspect a trap of some sort. In any event, Saphira will need as much help as she can get if she’s to keep out of Murtagh’s grasp.”

“Three people are not enough to attempt such a mission,” insisted Arya. “We would be unable to ensure Eragon’s safety, much less open the gates.”

“Then one of Du Vrangr Gata can go with you as well.”

A hint of derision colored Arya’s expression. “None of your spellcasters are strong or skilled enough. We’ll be outnumbered a hundred to one, or worse. Both ordinary swordsmen and trained magicians will be arrayed against us. Only elves or Riders-”

“Or Shades,” Orik rumbled.

“Or Shades,” Arya conceded, though Eragon could tell she was irritated. “Only those could hope to prevail against such odds. And even then it is no sure thing. Let us take two of Blodhgarm’s spellcasters. No one else is fit for the task, not among the Varden.”

“Oh, and what am I, chopped liver?”

Everyone turned to look, surprised, as Angela stepped forward from a corner at the back of the tent. Eragon had not even suspected she was there.

“What a strange expression,” said the herbalist. “Who would compare themselves to chopped liver in the first place? If you have to choose an organ, why not pick a gallbladder or a thymus gland instead? Much more interesting than a liver. Or what about chopped t-” She smiled. “Well, I suppose that’s not important.” She stopped in front of Arya and looked up at her. “Will you object if I accompany you, Alfa? I’m not a member of the Varden, not strictly speaking, but I’m still willing to round out this quartet of yours.”

Much to Eragon’s surprise, Arya bowed her head and said, “Of course, wise one. I meant no offense. It would be an honor to have you with us.”

“Good!” exclaimed Angela. “That is, assuming you don’t mind,” she said, directing her words to Nasuada.

Appearing somewhat bemused, Nasuada shook her head. “If you are willing, and neither Eragon nor Arya objects, then I can think of no reason why you shouldn’t go. I can’t imagine why you’d want to, though.”

Angela tossed her curls. “Do you expect me to explain every decision I make? … Oh, very well, if it’ll satisfy your curiosity, let’s say I have a grudge against the priests of Helgrind, and I’d like the chance to do them some mischief. And besides, if Murtagh puts in an appearance, I have a trick or two up my sleeve that might give him a bit of a turn.”

“We should ask Elva to go with us as well,” said Eragon. “If anyone can help us avoid danger …”

Nasuada frowned. “Last we spoke, she made her position clear enough. I’ll not go bowing and scraping to her in an attempt to convince her otherwise.”

“I’ll talk with her,” said Eragon. “I’m the one she’s angry with, and I’m the one who should ask her.”

Nasuada plucked at the fringe of her golden dress. She rolled several strands between her fingers, then abruptly said, “Do as you wish. I dislike the thought of sending a child-even one as gifted as Elva-into battle. However, I suppose she is more than capable of protecting herself.”

“As long as the pain of those around her doesn’t overwhelm her,” said Angela. “The last few battles have left her curled in a ball, barely able to move or breathe.”

Nasuada stilled her fingers and peered at Eragon with a serious expression. “She’s unpredictable. If she does choose to go along, be careful of her, Eragon.”

“I will,” he promised.

Then Nasuada began to discuss questions of logistics with Orrin and Orik, and Eragon withdrew somewhat from the conversation, for he had little to contribute.

In the privacy of his mind, he reached out to Saphira, who had been listening, through him, to the goings-on. Well? he asked. What do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet. I thought for sure you would say something when Nasuada proposed sneaking into Dras-Leona.

I said nothing because I had nothing to say. It is a good plan.

You agree with her?!

We are no longer awkward younglings, Eragon. Our enemies may be fearsome, but so are we. It is time we remind them of that.

Does it bother you that we’ll be apart?

Of course it bothers me, she growled. Wherever you go, enemies flock to you like flies to flesh. However, you are not as helpless as you once were. And she almost seemed to purr.

Me, helpless? he said with mock outrage.

Only a little bit. But your bite is more dangerous than before.

So is yours.

Mmm.… I go to hunt. A wing-breaking storm is building, and I’ll not have a chance to eat again until after we attack.

Fly safely, he said.

As he felt her presence receding from him, Eragon returned his attention to the conversation within the tent, for he knew his life, and that of Saphira, would depend on the decisions Nasuada, Orik, and Orrin would make.