Rivers and lakes would flood. Our flocks would give birth to one-eyed beasts. The very heavens would shatter under the gods’ rage!” Arya smiled. “Only
Eragon soon lost track of the argument. He did not understand Arya’s vague criticisms of Durgrimst Quan, but he gathered from Gannel’s responses that, in some indirect way, she had implied that the dwarf gods did not exist, questioned the mental capacity of every dwarf who entered a temple, and pointed out what she took to be flaws in their reasoning — all in a pleasant and polite voice.
After a few minutes, Arya raised her hand, stopping Gannel, and said, “That is the difference between us, Grimstborith. You devote yourself to that which you believe to be true but cannot prove. There, we must agree to disagree.” She turned to Eragon then. “Az Sweldn rak Anhuin has inflamed Tarnag’s citizens against you. Undin believes, as do I, that it would be best for you to remain behind his walls until we leave.”
Eragon hesitated. He wanted to see more of Celbedeil, but if there was to be trouble, then his place was by Saphira’s side. He bowed to Gannel and begged to be excused. “You need not apologize, Shadeslayer,” said the clan chief. He glared at Arya. “Do what you must, and may the blessings of Guntera be upon you.”
Together Eragon and Arya departed the temple and, surrounded by a dozen warriors, trotted through the city. As they did, Eragon heard shouts from an angry mob on a lower tier. A stone skipped over a nearby roof. The motion drew his eye to a dark plume of smoke rising from the city’s edge.
Once in the hall, Eragon hurried to his room. There he slipped on his mail hauberk; strapped the greaves to his shins and the bracers to his forearms; jammed the leather cap, coif, and then helm over his head; and grabbed his shield. Scooping up his pack and saddlebags, he ran back to the courtyard, where he sat against Saphira’s right foreleg.
Arya joined them before long, as did a group of fifty heavily armed dwarves who settled in the middle of the courtyard. The dwarves waited impassively, talking in low grunts as they eyed the barred gate and the mountain that rose up behind them.
“They fear,” said Arya, seating herself by Eragon, “that the crowds may prevent us from reaching the rafts.”
“Saphira can always fly us out.”
“Snowfire as well? And Undin’s guards? No, if we are stopped, we shall have to wait until the dwarves’ outrage subsides.” She studied the darkening sky. “It’s unfortunate that you managed to offend so many dwarves, but perhaps inevitable. The clans have ever been contentious; what pleases one infuriates another.”
He fingered the edge of his mail. “I wish now I hadn’t accepted Hrothgar’s offer.”
“Ah, yes. As with Nasuada, I think you made the only viable choice. You are not to blame. The fault, if any, lies with Hrothgar for making the offer in the first place. He must have been well aware of the repercussions.”
Silence reigned for several minutes. A half-dozen dwarves marched around the courtyard, stretching their legs. Finally, Eragon asked, “Do you have any family in Du Weldenvarden?”
It was a long time before Arya answered. “None that I’m close to.”
“Why... why is that?”
She hesitated again. “They disliked my choice to become the Queen’s envoy and ambassador; it seemed inappropriate. When I ignored their objections and still had the yawe tattooed on my shoulder — which indicates that I have devoted myself to the greater good of our race, as is the case with your ring from Brom — my family refused to see me again.”
“But that was over seventy years ago,” he protested.
Arya looked away, concealing her face behind a veil of hair. Eragon tried to imagine what it must have been like for her — ostracized from her family and sent to live among two completely different races.
Still keeping her face covered, she said, “Three of us were sent forth from Ellesmera. Faolin and Glenwing always traveled with me when we transported Saphira’s egg between Du Weldenvarden and Tronjheim. Only I survived Durza’s ambush.”
“What were they like?”
“Proud warriors. Glenwing loved speaking to birds with his mind. He would stand in the forest surrounded by a flock of songbirds and listen to their music for hours. Afterward, he might sing us the prettiest melodies.”
“And Faolin?” This time Arya refused to answer, though her hands tightened on her bow. Undaunted, Eragon cast around for another subject. “Why do you dislike Gannel so much?”
She faced him suddenly and touched his cheek with soft fingers. Eragon flinched with surprise. “That,” she said, “is a discussion for another time.” Then she stood and calmly relocated herself across the courtyard.
Confused, Eragon stared at her back.
As the valley darkened, Eragon struggled to stay alert. He pulled out Gannel’s necklace and examined it several times with magic, but found only the priest’s guarding spell. Giving up, he replaced the necklace under his tunic, pulled his shield over him, and settled down to wait through the night.
At the first hint of light in the sky overhead — though the valley itself was still in shadow and would remain so until almost midday — Eragon roused Saphira. The dwarves were already up, busy muffling their weapons so they could creep through Tarnag with utter secrecy. Undin even had Eragon tie rags around Saphira’s claws and Snowfire’s hooves.
When all was ready, Undin and his warriors assembled in a large block around Eragon, Saphira, and Arya. The gates were carefully opened — no sound came from the oiled hinges — and then they set out for the lake.
Tarnag seemed deserted, the vacant streets lined with houses where its inhabitants lay oblivious and dreaming. The few dwarves they encountered gazed at them silently, then padded away like ghosts in the twilight.
At the gate to each tier, a guard waved them through without comment. They soon left the buildings and found themselves crossing the barren fields at Tarnag’s base. Beyond those, they reached the stone quay that edged the still, gray water.
Waiting for them were two wide rafts tied alongside a pier. Three dwarves squatted on the first raft, four on the second. They stood as Undin came into view.
Eragon helped the dwarves hobble and blindfold Snowfire, then coax the reluctant horse onto the second raft, where he was forced to his knees and tied down. Meanwhile, Saphira slipped off the pier into the lake. Only her head remained above the surface as she paddled through the water.
Undin grasped Eragon’s arm. “Here is where we part. You have my best men; they will protect you until you reach Du Weldenvarden.” Eragon tried to thank him, but Undin shook his head. “No, it is not a matter for gratitude. It is my duty. I am only shamed that your stay was darkened by the hatred of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin.”
Eragon bowed, then boarded the first raft with Orik and Arya. The mooring ropes were unknotted, and the dwarves pushed away from shore with long poles. As dawn approached, the two rafts drifted toward the mouth of the Az Ragni, Saphira swimming between them.
DIAMONDS IN THE NIGHT
So thought Roran as he listened to the anguished moans of the men injured during the previous night’s battle with the Ra’zac and soldiers. Roran shuddered with fear and rage until his whole body was consumed with feverish chills that left his cheeks burning and his breath short. And he was sad, so very sad... as if the Ra’zac’s deeds had destroyed the innocence of his childhood haunts.
Leaving the healer, Gertrude, tending to the wounded, Roran continued toward Horst’s house, noting the makeshift barriers that filled the gaps between buildings: the boards, the barrels, the piles of rocks, and the splintered frames of the two wagons destroyed by the Ra’zac’s explosives. It all seemed pitifully fragile.
