Eldest [en]

guess.”

Nasuada returned her attention to the waiting child. “What do you know about this, Elva?”

The girl’s horrible smile widened. “It was an assassin.”

“Who sent him?”

“An assassin trained by Galbatorix himself in the dark uses of magic.” Her burning eyes grew half-lidded, as if she were in a trance. “The man hates you. He’s coming for you. He would have killed you if I hadn’t stopped him.” She lurched forward and retched again, spewing half-digested food across the floor. Nasuada gagged with revulsion. “And he’s about to suffer great pain.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I will tell you he stays in the hostel on Fane Street, in the last room, on the top floor. You had better hurry, or he’ll get away... away.” She groaned like a wounded beast and clutched her belly. “Hurry, before Eragon’s spell forces me to stop you from hurting him. You’ll be sorry, then!”

Trianna was already moving as Nasuada said, “Tell Jormundur what’s happened, then take your strongest magicians and hunt down this man. Capture him if you can. Kill him if you can’t.” After the sorceress left, Nasuada looked at her men and saw that their legs were bleeding from numerous small cuts. She realized what it must have cost Elva to hurt them. “Go,” she told them. “Find a healer who can mend your injuries.”

The warriors shook their heads, and their captain said, “No, Ma’am. We will stay by your side until we know it’s safe again.”

“As you see fit, Captain.”

The men barricaded the windows — which worsened the already sweltering heat that plagued Borromeo Castle — then everyone retreated to her inner chambers for further protection.

Nasuada paced, her heart pounding with delayed shock as she contemplated how close she had come to being killed. What would become of the Varden if I died? she wondered. Who would succeed me? Dismay gripped her; she had made no arrangements for the Varden in the event of her own demise, an oversight that now seemed a monumental failing. I won’t allow the Varden to be thrown into chaos because I failed to take precautions!

She halted. “I am in your debt, Elva.”

“Now and forever.”

Nasuada faltered, disconcerted as she often was by the girl’s responses, then continued: “I apologize for not ordering my guards to let you pass, night or day. I should have anticipated an event like this.”

“You should have,” agreed Elva in a mocking tone.

Smoothing the front of her dress, Nasuada resumed pacing, as much to escape the sight of Elva’s stone- white, dragon-marked face as to disperse her own nervous energy. “How did you escape your rooms unaccompanied?”

“I told my caretaker, Greta, what she wanted to hear.”

“That’s all?”

Elva blinked. “It made her very happy.”

“And what of Angela?”

“She left on an errand this morning.”

“Well, be as that may, you have my gratitude for saving my life. Ask me any boon you want and I shall grant it if it’s within my power.”

Elva glanced around the ornate bedroom, then said, “Do you have any food? I’m hungry.”

PREMONITION OF WAR

Two hours later, Trianna returned, leading a pair of warriors who carried a limp body between them. At Trianna’s word, the men dropped the corpse on the floor. Then the sorceress said, “We found the assassin where Elva said we would. Drail was his name.”

Motivated by a morbid curiosity, Nasuada examined the face of the man who had tried to kill her. The assassin was short, bearded, and plain-looking, no different from countless other men in the city. She felt a certain connection to him, as if his attempt on her life and the fact that she had arranged his death in return linked them in the most intimate manner possible. “How was he killed?” she asked. “I see no marks on his body.”

“He committed suicide with magic when we overwhelmed his defenses and entered his mind, but before we could take control of his actions.”

“Were you able to learn anything of use before he died?”

“We were. Drail was part of a network of agents based here in Surda who are loyal to Galbatorix. They are called the Black Hand. They spy on us, sabotage our war efforts, and — best we could determine in our brief glimpse into Drail’s memories — are responsible for dozens of murders throughout the Varden. Apparently, they’ve been waiting for a good chance to kill you ever since we arrived from Farthen Dur.”

“Why hasn’t this Black Hand assassinated King Orrin yet?”

Trianna shrugged. “I can’t say. It may be that Galbatorix considers you to be more of a threat than Orrin. If that’s the case, then once the Black Hand realizes you are protected from their attacks”— here her gaze darted toward Elva—“Orrin won’t live another month unless he is guarded by magicians day and night. Or perhaps Galbatorix has abstained from such direct action because he wanted the Black Hand to remain unnoticed. Surda has always existed at his tolerance. Now that it’s become a threat...”

“Can you protect Orrin as well?” asked Nasuada, turning to Elva.

Her violet eyes seemed to glow. “Maybe if he asks nicely.”

Nasuada’s thoughts raced as she considered how to thwart this new menace. “Can all of Galbatorix’s agents use magic?”

“Drail’s mind was confused, so it’s hard to tell,” said Trianna, “but I’d guess a fair number of them can.”

Magic, cursed Nasuada to herself. The greatest danger the Varden faced from magicians — or any person trained in the use of their mind — was not assassination, but rather espionage. Magicians could spy on people’s thoughts and glean information that could be used to destroy the Varden. That was precisely why Nasuada and the entire command structure of the Varden had been taught to know when someone was touching their minds and how to shield themselves from such attentions. Nasuada suspected that Orrin and Hrothgar relied upon similar precautions within their own governments.

However, since it was impractical for everyone privy to potentially damaging information to master that skill, one of Du Vrangr Gata’s many responsibilities was to hunt for anyone who was siphoning off facts as they appeared in people’s minds. The cost of such vigilance was that Du Vrangr Gata ended up spying on the Varden as much as on their enemies, a fact that Nasuada made sure to conceal from the bulk of her followers, for it would only sow hatred, distrust, and dissent. She disliked the practice but saw no alternative.

What she had learned about the Black Hand hardened Nasuada’s conviction that, somehow, magicians had to be governed.

“Why,” she asked, “didn’t you discover this sooner? I can understand that you might miss a lone assassin, but an entire network of spellcasters dedicated to our destruction? Explain yourself, Trianna.”

The sorceress’s eyes flashed with anger at the accusation. “Because here, unlike in Farthen Dur, we cannot examine everyone’s minds for duplicity. There are just too many people for us magicians to keep track of. That is why we didn’t know about the Black Hand until now, Lady Nasuada.”

Nasuada paused, then inclined her head. “Understood. Did you discover the identities of any other members of the Black Hand?”

“A few.”

“Good. Use them to ferret out the rest of the agents. I want you to destroy this organization for me, Trianna. Eradicate them as you would an infestation of vermin. I’ll give you however many men you need.”

The sorceress bowed. “As you wish, Lady Nasuada.”

At a knock on the door, the guards drew their swords and positioned themselves on either side of the entranceway, then their captain yanked open the door without warning. A young page stood outside, a fist raised to knock again. He stared with astonishment at the body on the floor, then snapped to attention as the captain asked,