immobile between his thumb and forefinger. With a snort, he tossed it away.
Standing, he strode north between the rows of tents. While he walked, he tried to untangle a knot in the lacing at his collar, but it resisted his efforts, and he gave up on it when he arrived at Horst’s tent, which was twice as large as most. “Hello in there,” he said, and knocked on the pole between the two entrance flaps.
Katrina burst out of the tent, copper hair flying, and wrapped her arms around him. Laughing, he lifted her by the waist and spun her in a circle, all the world a blur except her face, then gently set her down. She pecked him on the lips, once, twice, three times. Growing still, he gazed into her eyes, more happy than he could ever remember being.
“You smell nice,” she said.
“How are you?” The only flaw in his joy was seeing how thin and pale imprisonment had left her. It made him want to resurrect the Ra’zac so they could endure the same suffering they had inflicted upon her and his father.
“Every day you ask me, and every day I tell you, ‘Better.’ Be patient; I will recover, but it will take time... The best remedy for what ails me is being with you here under the sun. It does me more good than I can tell you.”
“That was not all I was asking.”
Crimson spots appeared on Katrina’s cheeks, and she tilted her head back, her lips curving in a mischievous smile. “My, you are bold, dear sir. Most bold indeed. I’m not sure I should be alone with you, for fear you might take liberties with me.”
The spirit of her reply set his concern to rest. “Liberties, eh? Well, since you already consider me a scoundrel, I might as well enjoy some of these
“Oh,” she said, out of breath. “You’re a hard man to argue with, Roran Stronghammer.”
“That I am.” Nodding toward the tent behind her, he lowered his voice and asked, “Does Elain know?”
“She would if she weren’t so preoccupied with her pregnancy. I think the stress of the trip from Carvahall may cause her to lose the child. She’s sick a good part of the day, and she has pains that... well, of an unfortunate nature. Gertrude has been tending her, but she can’t do much to ease her discomfort. All the same, the sooner Eragon returns, the better. I’m not sure how long I can keep this secret.”
“You’ll do fine, I’m sure.” He released her then and tugged on the hem of his tunic to smooth out the wrinkles. “How do I look?”
Katrina studied him with a critical eye and then wet the tips of her fingers and ran them through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. Spotting the knot at his collar, she began to pick at it, saying, “You ought to pay closer attention to your clothes.”
“Clothes haven’t been trying to kill me.”
“Well, things are different now. You’re the cousin of a Dragon Rider, and you should look the part. People expect it of you.”
He allowed her to continue fussing with him until she was pleased with his appearance. Kissing her goodbye, he walked the half mile to the center of the Varden’s massive camp, where Nasuada’s red command pavilion stood. The pennant mounted on the top bore a black shield and two parallel swords slanting underneath, and it whipped and snapped in a warm wind from the east.
The six guards outside the pavilion — two humans, two dwarves, and two Urgals — lowered their weapons as Roran approached, and one of the Urgals, a thickset brute with yellow teeth, challenged him, saying, “Who goes there?” His accent was nearly unintelligible.
“Roran Stronghammer, son of Garrow. Nasuada sent for me.”
Pounding his breastplate with one fist, which produced a loud crash, the Urgal announced, “Roran Stronghammer requests an audience with you, Lady Nightstalker.”
“You may admit him,” came the answer from inside.
The warriors lifted their blades, and Roran carefully made his way past. They watched him, and he them, with the detached air of men who might have to fight each other at a moment’s notice.
Inside the pavilion, Roran was alarmed to see that most of the furniture was broken and overturned. The only pieces that seemed unharmed were a mirror mounted on a pole and the grand chair in which Nasuada was sitting. Ignoring their surroundings, he knelt and bowed to her.
Nasuada’s features and bearing were so different from those of the women Roran had grown up with, he was not sure how to act. She appeared strange and imperious, with her embroidered dress and the gold chains in her hair and her dusky skin, which at the moment had a reddish cast, due to the color of the fabric walls. In stark contrast to the rest of her apparel, linen bandages encased her forearms, a testament to her astounding courage during the Trial of the Long Knives. Her feat had been a topic of constant discussion among the Varden ever since Roran had returned with Katrina. It was the one aspect of her he felt as if he understood, for he too would make any sacrifice in order to protect those he cared about. It just so happened that she cared about a group of thousands, while he was committed to his family and his village.
“Please, rise,” said Nasuada. He did as he was instructed and rested a hand on the head of his hammer, then waited while she inspected him. “My position rarely allows me the luxury of clear, direct speech, Roran, but I will be blunt with you today. You seem to be a man who appreciates candor, and we have much to discuss in a small amount of time.”
“Thank you, my Lady. I have never enjoyed playing word games.”
“Excellent. To be blunt, then, you have presented me with two difficulties, neither of which I can easily resolve.”
He frowned. “What sort of difficulties?”
“One of character, and one of politics. Your deeds in Palancar Valley and during your flight thence with your fellow villagers are nigh on incredible. They tell me that you have a daring mind and that you are skilled at combat, strategy, and inspiring people to follow you with unquestioning loyalty.”
“They may have followed me, but they certainly never stopped questioning me.”
A smile touched her lips. “Perhaps. But you still got them here, didn’t you? You possess valuable talents, Roran, and the Varden could use you. I assume you wish to be of service?”
“I do.”
“As you know, Galbatorix has divided his army and sent troops south to reinforce the city of Aroughs, west toward Feinster, and north toward Belatona. He hopes to drag out this fight, to bleed us dry through slow attrition. Jormundur and I cannot be in a dozen locations at once. We need captains whom we can trust to deal with the myriad conflicts springing up around us. In this, you could prove your worth to us. But...” Her voice faded.
“But you do not yet know if you can rely upon me.”
“Indeed. Protecting one’s friends and family stiffens a person’s spine, but I wonder how you will fare without them. Will your nerve hold? And while you can lead, can you also obey orders? I cast no aspersions on your character, Roran, but the fate of Alagaesia is at stake, and I cannot risk putting someone incompetent in charge of my men. This war does not forgive such errors. Nor would it be fair to the men already with the Varden to place you over them without just cause. You must earn your responsibilities with us.”
“I understand. What would you have me do, then?”
“Ah, but it’s not that easy, for you and Eragon are practically brothers, and that complicates things immeasurably. As I’m sure you are aware, Eragon is the keystone of our hopes. It is important, then, to shelter him from distractions so he may concentrate upon the task before him. If I send you into battle and you die as a result, grief and anger might very well unbalance him. I’ve seen it happen before. Moreover, I must take great care with whom I allow you to serve, for there are those who will seek to influence you because of your relation to Eragon. So now you have a fair idea of the scope of my concerns. What have you to say about them?”
“If the land itself is at stake and this war is as hotly contested as you imply, then I say you cannot afford to let me sit idle. Employing me as a common swordsman would be just as much a waste. But I think you know that already. As for politics...” He shrugged. “I don’t care one whit whom you put me with. No one shall get to Eragon through me. My only concern is breaking the Empire so that my kith and kin can return to our home and live in peace.”
“You are determined.”
“Very. Could you not allow me to remain in charge of the men from Carvahall? We are as close as family, and we work well together. Test me that way. The Varden would not suffer, then, if I failed.”
