Laughter broke the quiet. The sound was so unexpected, at first Eragon did not realize it was coming from Orik. His mirth subsiding, Orik said, “If we move against you or Az Sweldn rak Anhuin, you will consider it an act of war, Vermund? Very well, then we shall not move against you, not at all.”
Vermund’s brow beetled. “How can this provide you with a source of amusement?”
Orik chuckled again. “Because I have thought of something you have not, Vermund. You wish us to leave you and your clan alone? Then I propose to the clanmeet that we do as Vermund wishes. If Vermund had acted upon his own and not as a grimstborith, he would be banished for his offenses upon pain of death. Therefore, let us treat the clan as we would treat the person; let us banish Az Sweldn rak Anhuin from our hearts and minds until they choose to replace Vermund with a grimstborith of a more moderate temperament and until they acknowledge their villainy and repent of it to the clanmeet, even if we must wait a thousand years.”
The wrinkled skin around Vermund’s eyes went pale. “You would not dare.”
Orik smiled. “Ah, but we would not lay a finger upon you or your kind. We will simply ignore you and refuse to trade with Az Sweldn rak Anhuin. Will you declare war upon us for doing nothing, Vermund? For if the meet agrees with me, that is exactly what we shall do:
The clanmeet did not take long to decide. One by one, the clan chiefs stood and voted to banish Az Sweldn rak Anhuin. Even Nado, Galdhiem, and Havard — Vermund’s erstwhile allies — supported Orik’s proposal. With every vote of affirmation, what skin was visible of Vermund’s face grew ever whiter, until he appeared like a ghost dressed in the clothes of his former life.
When the vote was finished, Gannel pointed toward the door and said, “Begone, Vargrimstn Vermund. Leave Tronjheim this very day and may none of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin trouble the clanmeet until they have fulfilled the conditions we have set forth. Until such time as that happens, we shall shun every member of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin. Know this, however: while your clan may absolve themselves of their dishonor, you, Vermund, shall always remain Vargrimstn, even unto your dying day. Such is the will of the clan-meet.” His declaration concluded, Gannel sat.
Vermund remained where he was, his shoulders quivering with an emotion Eragon could not identify. “It is you who have shamed and betrayed our race,” he growled. “The Dragon Riders killed all of our clan, save Anhuin and her guards. You expect us to forget this? You expect us to forgive this? Bah! I spit on the graves of your ancestors. We at least have not lost our beards. We shall not cavort with this puppet of the elves while our dead family members still cry out for vengeance.”
Outrage gripped Eragon when none of the other clan chiefs replied, and he was about to answer Vermund’s tirade with harsh words of his own when Orik glanced over at him and shook his head ever so slightly. Difficult as it was, Eragon kept his anger in check, although he wondered why Orik would allow such dire insults to pass uncontested.
Pushing himself away from the table, Vermund stood, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders hunched high. He resumed speaking, berating and disparaging the clan chiefs with increasing passion until he was shouting at the top of his lungs.
No matter how vile Vermund’s imprecations were, however, the clan chiefs did not respond. They gazed into the distance, as if pondering complex dilemmas, and their eyes slid over Vermund without pause. When, in his fury, Vermund grasped Hreidamar by the front of his mail hauberk, three of Hreidamar’s guards jumped forward and pulled Vermund away, but as they did, Eragon noticed their expressions remained bland and unchanging, as if they were merely helping Hreidamar to straighten his hauberk. Once they released Vermund, the guards did not look at him again.
A chill crept up Eragon’s spine. The dwarves acted as if Vermund had ceased to exist.
With a final oath, Vermund strode out of the room, followed by those of his clan who had accompanied him to the meet.
The mood among the remaining clan chiefs eased as the doors swung shut behind Vermund. Once again the dwarves gazed around without restriction, and they resumed talking in loud voices, discussing what else they would need to do with regard to Az Sweldn rak Anhuin.
Then Orik rapped the pommel of his dagger against the table, and everyone turned to hear what he had to say. “Now that we have dealt with Vermund, there is another issue I wish the meet to consider. Our purpose in assembling here is to elect Hrothgar’s successor. We have all had much to say upon the topic, but now I believe the time is ripe to put words behind us and allow our actions to speak for us. So I call upon the meet to decide whether we are ready — and we are more than ready, in mine opinion — to proceed to the final vote three days hence, as is our law. My vote, as I cast it, is aye.”
Freowin looked at Hadfala, who looked at Gannel, who looked at Manndrath, who tugged on his drooping nose and looked at Nado, sunk low in his chair and biting the inside of his cheek.
“Aye,” said Iorunn.
“Aye,” said Undin.
“... Aye,” said Nado, and so did the eight other clan chiefs.
Hours later, when the clanmeet broke for lunch, Orik and Eragon returned to Orik’s chambers to eat. Neither of them spoke until they entered his rooms, which were proofed against eavesdroppers. There Eragon allowed himself to smile. “You planned all along to banish Az Sweldn rak Anhuin, didn’t you?”
A satisfied expression on his face, Orik smiled as well and slapped his stomach. “That I did. It was the only action I could take that would not inevitably lead to a clan war. We may still have a clan war, but it shall not be of our making. I doubt such a calamity will come to pass, though. As much as they hate you, most of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin will be appalled by what Vermund has done in their name. He will not remain grimstborith for long, I think.”
“And now you have ensured that the vote for the new king—”
“Or queen.”
“—or queen shall take place.” Eragon hesitated, reluctant to tarnish Orik’s enjoyment of his triumph, but then he asked, “Do you really have the support you need to win the throne?”
Orik shrugged. “Before this morning, no one had the support they needed. Now the balance has shifted, and for the time being, sympathies lie with us. We might as well strike while the iron is hot; we shall never have a better opportunity than this. In any case, we cannot allow the clanmeet to drag on any longer. If you do not return to the Varden soon, all may be lost.”
“What shall we do while we wait for the vote?”
“First, we shall celebrate our success with a feast,” Orik declared. “Then, when we are sated, we shall continue as before: attempting to gather additional votes while defending those we have already won.” Orik’s teeth flashed white underneath the fringe of his beard as he smiled again. “But before we consume so much as a single sip of mead, there is something you must attend to, which you have forgotten.”
“What?” asked Eragon, puzzled by Orik’s obvious delight.
“Why, you must summon Saphira to Tronjheim, of course! Whether I become king or not, we shall crown a new monarch in three days’ time. If Saphira is to attend the ceremony, she will need to fly quickly in order to arrive here before then.”
With a wordless exclamation, Eragon ran to find a mirror.
INSUBORDINATION
The rich black soil was cool against Roran’s hand. He picked up a loose clod and crumbled it between his fingers, noting with approval that it was moist and full of decomposing leaves, stems,
