Eldest [en]

“Food mostly.” Felda hesitated and then added, “But I know he once risked my grandmother’s bracelet for a rabbit those men snared.”

Roran frowned. “Put your heart at ease, Felda. I will tend to the matter as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.” Felda curtsied again, then slipped away between the makeshift tents, leaving Roran to mull over what she had said.

Roran absently scratched his beard as he walked. The problem with Mandel and the sailors was a problem that cut both ways; Roran had noticed that during the trip from Narda, one of Torson’s men, Frewin, had become close to Odele — a young friend of Katrina. They could cause trouble when we leave Clovis.

Taking care not to attract undue attention, Roran went through the camp and gathered the villagers he trusted the most and had them accompany him to Horst’s tent, where he said, “The five we agreed upon will leave now, before it gets much later. Horst will take my place while I’m gone. Remember that your most important task is to ensure Clovis doesn’t leave with the barges or damage them in any way. They may be our only means to reach Surda.”

“That, and make sure we aren’t discovered,” commented Orval.

“Exactly. If none of us have returned by nightfall day after tomorrow, assume we were captured. Take the barges and set sail for Surda, but don’t stop in Kuasta to buy provisions; the Empire will probably be lying in wait there. You’ll have to find food elsewhere.”

While his companions readied themselves, Roran went to Clovis’s cabin on the Red Boar. “Just the five of you be going?” demanded Clovis after Roran explained their plan.

“That’s right.” Roran let his iron gaze bore into Clovis until the man fidgeted with unease. “And when I get back, I expect you, these barges, and every one of your men to still be here.”

“You dare impugn my honor after how I’ve kept our bargain?”

“I impugn nothing, only tell you what I expect. Too much is at stake. If you commit treachery now, you condemn our entire village to death.”

“That I know,” muttered Clovis, avoiding his eyes.

“My people will defend themselves during my absence. So long as breath remains in their lungs, they’ll not be taken, tricked, or abandoned. And if misfortune were to befall them, I’d avenge them even if I had to walk a thousand leagues and fight Galbatorix himself. Heed my words, Master Clovis, for I speak the truth.”

“We’re not so fond of the Empire as you seem to believe,” protested Clovis. “I wouldn’t do them a favor more than the next man.”

Roran smiled with grim amusement. “Men will do anything to protect their families and homes.”

As Roran lifted the door latch, Clovis asked, “And what will you do once you reach Surda?”

“We will—”

“Not we: you. What will you do? I’ve watched you, Roran. I’ve listened to you. An’ you seem a good enough sort, even if I don’t care for how you dealt with me. But I cannot fit it in my head, you dropping that hammer of yours and taking up the plow again, just because you’ve arrived in Surda.”

Roran gripped the latch until his knuckles turned white. “When I have delivered the village to Surda,” he said in a voice as empty as a blackened desert, “then I shall go hunting.”

“Ah. After that redheaded lass of yours? I heard some talk of that, but I didn’t put—”

The door slammed behind Roran as he left the cabin. He let his anger burn hot and fast for a moment — enjoying the freedom of the emotion — before he began to subdue his unruly passions. He marched to Felda’s tent, where Mandel was throwing a hunting knife at a stump.

Felda’s right; someone has to talk some sense into him. “You’re wasting your time,” said Roran.

Mandel whirled around with surprise. “Why do you say that?”

“In a real fight, you’re more likely to put out your own eye than injure your enemy. If you don’t know the exact distance between you and your target...” Roran shrugged. “You might as well throw rocks.”

He watched with detached interest as the younger man bristled with pride. “Gunnar told me about a man he knew in Cithri who could hit a flying crow with his knife eight times out of ten.”

“And the other two times you get killed. It’s usually a bad idea to throw away your weapon in battle.” Roran waved a hand, forestalling Mandel’s objections. “Get your kit together and meet me on the hill past the stream in fifteen minutes. I’ve decided you should come with us to Teirm.”

“Yes, sir!” With an enthusiastic grin, Mandel dove into the tent and began packing.

As Roran left, he encountered Felda, her youngest daughter balanced on one hip. Felda glanced between him and Mandel’s activity in the tent, and her expression tightened. “Keep him safe, Stronghammer.” She set her daughter on the ground and then bustled about, helping to gather the items Mandel would need.

Roran was the first to arrive at the designated hill. He squatted on a white boulder and watched the sea while he readied himself for the task ahead. When Loring, Gertrude, Birgit, and Nolfavrell, Birgit’s son, arrived, Roran jumped off the boulder and said, “We have to wait for Mandel; he’ll be joining us.”

“What for?” demanded Loring.

Birgit frowned as well. “I thought we agreed no one else should accompany us. Especially not Mandel, since he was seen in Narda. It’s dangerous enough having you and Gertrude along, and Mandel only increases the odds that someone will recognize us.”

“I’ll risk it.” Roran met each of their eyes in turn. “He needs to come.” In the end, they listened to him, and, with Mandel, the six of them headed south, toward Teirm.

TEIRM

In that area, the coastline was composed of low, rolling hills verdant with lush grass and occasional briars, willows, and poplars. The soft, muddy ground gave under their feet and made walking difficult. To their right lay the glittering sea. To their left ran the purple outline of the Spine. The ranks of snowcapped mountains were laced with clouds and mist.

As Roran’s company wended past the properties surrounding Teirm — some freehold farms, others massive estates — they made every effort to go undetected. When they encountered the road that connected Narda to Teirm, they darted across it and continued farther east, toward the mountains, for several more miles before turning south again. Once they were confident they had circumnavigated the city, they angled back toward the ocean until they found the southern road in.

During his time on the Red Boar, it had occurred to Roran that officials in Narda might have deduced that whoever killed the two guards was among the men who left upon Clovis’s barges. If so, messengers would have warned Teirm’s soldiers to watch for anyone matching the villagers’ descriptions. And if the Ra’zac had visited Narda, then the soldiers would also know that they were looking not just for a handful of murderers but Roran Stronghammer and the refugees from Carvahall. Teirm could be one huge trap. Yet they could not bypass the city, for the villagers needed supplies and a new mode of transportation.

Roran had decided that their best precaution against capture was to send no one into Teirm who had been seen in Narda, except for Gertrude and himself — Gertrude because only she understood the ingredients for her medicines, and Roran because, though he was the most likely to be recognized, he trusted no one else to do what was required. He knew he possessed the will to act when others hesitated, like the time he slew the guards. The rest of the group was chosen to minimize suspicion. Loring was old but a tough fighter and an excellent liar. Birgit had proven herself canny and strong, and her son, Nolfavrell, had already killed a soldier in combat, despite his tender age. Hopefully, they would appear as nothing more than an extended family traveling together. That is, if Mandel doesn’t throw the scheme awry, thought Roran.

It was also Roran’s idea to enter Teirm from the south, and thus make it seem even more unlikely that they had come from Narda.

Evening was nigh when Teirm came into view, white and ghostly in the gloaming. Roran stopped to inspect what lay before them. The walled city stood alone upon the edge of a large bay, self-contained and impregnable to