With a strangled exclamation, Eragon leaped out of the couch and stood staring at the floor, his fists clenched, his chest heaving. Orik’s guards gave him inquisitive glances, but he ignored them, too upset to explain his outburst.
The hour was still early, so after a time, Eragon settled back onto the couch, but thereafter, he remained alert and did not allow himself to sink into the land of dreams, for fear of what manifestations might torment him.
Eragon stood with his back to the wall, his hand on the pommel of his dwarf sword, as he watched the various clan chiefs file into the round conference room buried beneath Tronjheim. He kept an especially close eye on Vermund, the grimstborith of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin, but if the purple-veiled dwarf was surprised to see Eragon alive and well, he did not show it.
Eragon felt Orik’s boot nudge his own. Without looking away from Vermund, Eragon leaned over toward Orik and heard him whisper, “Remember, to the left and three doorways down,” referring to the place where Orik had stationed a hundred of his warriors without the other clan chiefs knowing.
Whispering as well, Eragon said, “If blood is shed, should I seize the opportunity to kill that snake, Vermund?”
“Unless he is attempting the same with you or me, please do not.” A low chuckle emanated from Orik. “It would hardly
And Eragon prayed.
When all of the clan chiefs were seated around the table in the center of the room, those watching from the perimeter, including Eragon, took their own seats from among the ring of chairs set against the curving wall. Eragon did not relax into his, however, as many of the dwarves did, but sat upon the edge, ready to fight at the slightest hint of danger.
As Gannel, the black-eyed warrior-priest of Durgrimst Quan, rose from the table and began to speak in Dwarvish, Hundfast sidled closer to Eragon’s right side and murmured a continuous translation. The dwarf said, “Greetings again, mine fellow clan chiefs. But whether ’tis well met or not, I am undecided, for certain disturbing rumors — rumors of rumors, if truth be told — have reached mine ears. I have no information beyond these vague and worrisome mutterings, nor proof upon which to found an accusation of misdeeds. However, as today is mine day to preside over this, our congregation, I propose that we delay our most serious debates for the moment, and if you are agreeable, allow me to pose a few questions to the meet.”
The clan chiefs muttered among themselves, and then Iorunn, bright, dimpling Iorunn, said, “I have no objection, Grimstborith Gannel. You have aroused mine curiosity with these cryptic insinuations. Let us hear what questions you have.”
“Aye, let us hear them,” said Nado.
“Let us hear them,” agreed Manndrath and all the rest of the clan chiefs, including Vermund.
Having received the permission he sought, Gannel rested his knuckles upon the table and was silent for a span, garnering the attention of everyone in the room. Then he spoke. “Yesterday, while we were lunching in our chosen places of repast, knurlan throughout the tunnels underneath the southern quadrant of Tronjheim heard a noise. Reports of its loudness differ, but that so many noticed it over so large an area proves that it was no small disturbance. Like you, I received the usual warnings of a possible cave-in. What you may not be aware of, however, is that just two hours past—”
Hundfast hesitated, and quickly whispered, “The word is difficult to render in this tongue.
“—runners-of-the-tunnels discovered evidence of a mighty fight within one of the ancient tunnels that our famed forefather, Korgan Longbeard, excavated. The floor was painted with blood, the walls were dark with soot from a lantern a warrior of careless blade did breach, cracks split the surrounding stone, and sprawled throughout were seven charred and mangled bodies, with signs that others may have been removed. Nor were these the remnants of some obscure skirmish from the Battle of Farthen Dur. No! For the blood had yet to dry, the soot was soft, the cracks were most obviously freshly broken, and, I am told, the residue of powerful magics could still be detected within the area. Even now, several of our most accomplished spellcasters are attempting to reconstruct a pictorial facsimile of what occurred, but they have little hope of success, as those involved were wrapped about with such devious enchantments. So my first question for the meet is this: do any of you possess further knowledge of this mysterious action?”
As Gannel concluded his speech, Eragon tensed his legs, ready to spring up if the purple-veiled dwarves of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin should reach for their blades.
Orik cleared his throat and said, “I believe that I can satisfy some of your curiosity upon that point, Gannel. However, since my answer must of necessity be a lengthy one, I suggest you ask your other questions before I begin.”
A frown darkened Gannel’s brow. Rapping his knuckles against the table, he said, “Very well... In what is undoubtedly related to the clash of arms in Korgan’s tunnels, I have had reports of numerous knurlan moving through Tronjheim and, with furtive intent, gathering here and there into large bands of armed men. My agents were unable to ascertain the clan of the warriors, but that any of this council should attempt to surreptitiously marshal their forces whilst we are engaged in a meet to decide who should succeed King Hrothgar suggests motives of the darkest kind. So my second question for the meet is this: who is responsible for this ill-thought-of maneuvering? And if none are willing to admit their misconduct, I move most strongly that we order all warriors, regardless of their clan, expelled from Tronjheim for the duration of the meet and that we immediately appoint a reader-of-law to investigate these doings and determine whom we should censure.”
Gannel’s revelation, question, and subsequent proposal aroused a flurry of heated conversation among the clan chiefs, with the dwarves hurling accusations, denials, and counter accusations at each other with increasing vitriol, until, at last, when an infuriated Thordris was shouting at a red-faced Galdhiem, Orik cleared his throat again, causing everyone to stop and stare at him.
In a mild tone, Orik said, “This too I believe I can explain to you, Gannel, at least in part. I cannot speak to the activities of the other clans, but several hundred of the warriors who have been hurrying through the servants’ halls in Tronjheim have been of Durgrimst Ingeitum. This I freely admit.”
All was silent until Iorunn said, “And what explanation have you for this belligerent behavior, Orik, Thrifk’s son?”
