“Oh well, I like to know what’s going on, and being there is so much faster than waiting for someone to tell me about it afterward. Besides, people always leave out important pieces of information, like whether someone’s ring finger is longer than their index finger, or whether they have magical shields protecting them, or whether the donkey they are riding happens to have a bald patch in the shape of a rooster’s head. Don’t you agree?”
Nasuada frowned. “You never reveal your secrets, do you?”
“Now, what good would that do? Everyone would get all excited over some piffle of a spell, and then I’d have to spend hours trying to explain, and in the end, King Orrin would want to chop off my head and I would have to fight off half your spellcasters during my escape. It’s just not worth the effort, if you ask me.”
“Your answer hardly inspires confidence. But—”
“That’s because you are too serious, Lady Nightstalker.”
“But tell me,” Nasuada persisted, “why would you want to know if someone is riding a donkey with a bald patch shaped like a rooster’s head?”
“Ah, that. Well, the man who owns that particular donkey cheated me at a game of knucklebones out of three buttons and a rather interesting shard of enchanted crystal.”
“Cheated
Angela pursed her lips, obviously irked. “The knucklebones were loaded. I switched them on him, but then he replaced them with a set of his own when I was distracted... I’m still not quite sure how he tricked me.”
“So you were both cheating.”
“It was a valuable crystal! Besides, how can you cheat a cheater?”
Before Nasuada could respond, the six Nighthawks came pounding out of the camp and took up positions around her. She hid her distaste as the heat and smell of their bodies assailed her. The odor of the two Urgals was especially pungent. Then, somewhat to her surprise, the captain of the shift, a burly man with a crooked nose and the name of Garven, accosted her. “My Lady, may I have a word with you in private?” He spoke through close-set teeth, as if struggling to contain a great emotion.
Angela and Elva looked at Nasuada for confirmation that she wanted them to withdraw. She nodded, and they began walking west, toward the Jiet River. Once Nasuada was confident they were out of hearing, she began to speak, but Garven overrode her, exclaiming, “Blast it, Lady Nasuada, you shouldn’t have left us as you did!”
“Peace, Captain,” she replied. “It was a small enough risk, and I felt it was important to be here in time to greet the elves.”
Garven’s mail rustled as he struck his leg with a bunched fist. “A small risk? Not an hour ago, you received proof that Galbatorix still has agents hidden among us. He has been able to infiltrate us again and again, and yet you see fit to abandon your escort and go racing through a host of potential assassins! Have you forgotten the attack in Aberon, or how the Twins slew your father?”
“Captain Garven! You go too far.”
“I’ll go even further if it means ensuring your well-being.”
The elves, Nasuada observed, had halved the distance between them and the camp. Angry, and eager to end the conversation, she said, “I am not without my own protection, Captain.”
Flicking his eyes toward Elva, Garven said, “We have suspected as much, Lady.” A pause followed, as if he were hoping she would volunteer more information. When she remained silent, he forged onward: “If you were actually safe, then I was wrong to accuse you of recklessness, and I apologize. Still, safety and the appearance of safety are two different things. For the Nighthawks to be effective, we have to be the smartest, toughest, meanest warriors in the land, and people have to
“We cannot fight all your enemies, Lady Nasuada. That would take an army. Even Eragon couldn’t save you if all who want you dead had the courage to act upon their hatred. You might survive a hundred attempts on your life or a thousand, but eventually one would succeed. The only way to keep that from happening is to convince the majority of your enemies that they will
Garven moved closer, dropping his voice. “We will gladly die for you if we must. All we ask in return is that you allow us to perform our duties. It is a small favor, considering. And the day may come when you are grateful we are here. Your other protection is human, and therefore fallible, whatever her arcane powers may be. She has not sworn the same oaths in the ancient language that we of the Nighthawks have. Her sympathies could shift, and you would do well to ponder your fate if she turned against you. The Nighthawks, however, will never betray you. We are yours, Lady Nasuada, fully and completely. So please, let the Nighthawks do what they are supposed to do... Let us protect you.”
Initially, Nasuada was indifferent to his arguments, but his eloquence and the clarity of his reasoning impressed her. He was, she thought, a man she might have use for elsewhere. “I see Jormundur has surrounded me with warriors as skilled with their tongues as they are with their swords,” she said with a smile.
“My Lady.”
“You are right. I should not have left you and your men behind, and I am sorry. It was careless and inconsiderate. I am still unaccustomed to having guards with me at all hours of the day, and sometimes I forget I cannot move about with the freedom I once did. You have my word of honor, Captain Garven, it shall not happen again. I do not wish to cripple the Nighthawks any more than you.”
“Thank you, my Lady.”
Nasuada turned back toward the elves, but they were hidden from sight below the bank of a dry stream a quarter of a mile away. “It strikes me, Garven, that you may have invented a motto for the Nighthawks a moment ago.”
“Did I? If so, I cannot recall.”
“You did. ‘The smartest, the toughest, and the meanest,’ you said. That would be a fine motto, although perhaps without the
“You are most generous, my Lady. When we return to our tents, I shall discuss the matter with Jormundur and my fellow captains. Only...”
He hesitated then, and guessing at what troubled him, Nasuada said, “But you are worried that such a motto may be too vulgar for men of your position, and you would prefer something more noble and high-minded, am I right?”
“Exactly, my Lady,” he said with a relieved expression.
“It’s a valid concern, I suppose. The Nighthawks represent the Varden, and you must interact with notables of every race and rank in the course of your duty. It would be regrettable if you were to convey the wrong impression... Very well, I leave it to you and your compatriots to devise an appropriate motto. I am confident you will do an excellent job.”
At that moment, the twelve elves emerged from the dry streambed, and Garven, after murmuring additional thanks, moved a discreet distance from Nasuada. Composing herself for a state visit, Nasuada signaled Angela and Elva to return.
When he was still several hundred feet away, the lead elf appeared soot-black from head to toe. At first Nasuada assumed he was dark-skinned, like herself, and wearing dark attire, but as he drew closer, she saw that the elf wore only a loincloth and a braided fabric belt with a small pouch attached. The rest of him was covered with midnight-blue fur that glistened with a healthy sheen under the glare of the sun. On average, the fur was a quarter- inch long — a smooth, flexible armor that mirrored the shape and movement of the underlying muscles — but on his ankles and the undersides of his forearms, it extended a full two inches, and between his shoulder blades, there was a ruffled mane that stuck out a handsbreadth from his body and tapered down along his back to the base of his spine. Jagged bangs shadowed his brow, and catlike tufts sprouted from the tips of his pointed ears, but otherwise the fur on his face was so short and flat, only its color betrayed its presence. His eyes were bright yellow. Instead
