Eragon [en]

“Don’t bother yourself,” grunted Orik, tugging on his beard. “Ajihad gave me what I wanted.”

Even Saphira was startled by the statement. “What do you mean?” said Eragon. “You can’t train or fight, and you’re stuck guarding me. How can that be what you wanted?”

The dwarf eyed him quietly. “Ajihad is a good leader. He understands how to keep the law yet remain just. I have been punished by his command, but I’m also one of Hrothgar’s subjects. Under his rule, I’m still free to do what I wish.”

Eragon realized it would be unwise to forget Orik’s dual loyalty and the split nature of power within Tronjheim. “Ajihad just placed you in a powerful position, didn’t he?”

Orik chuckled deeply. “That he did, and in such a way the Twins can’t complain about it. This’ll irritate them for sure. Ajihad’s a tricky one, he is. Come, lad, I’m sure you’re hungry. And we have to get your dragon settled in.”

Saphira hissed. Eragon said, “Her name is Saphira.”

Orik made a small bow to her. “My apologies, I’ll be sure to remember that.” He took an orange lamp from the wall and led them down the hallway.

“Can others in Farthen Dur use magic?” asked Eragon, struggling to keep up with the dwarf’s brisk pace. He cradled Zar’roc carefully, concealing the symbol on the sheath with his arm.

“Few enough,” said Orik with a swift shrug under his mail. “And the ones we have can’t do much more than heal bruises. They’ve all had to tend to Arya because of the strength needed to heal her.”

“Except for the Twins.”

“Oei,” grumbled Orik. “She wouldn’t want their help anyway; their arts are not for healing. Their talents lie in scheming and plotting for power — to everyone else’s detriment. Deynor, Ajihad’s predecessor, allowed them to join the Varden because he needed their support... you can’t oppose the Empire without spellcasters who can hold their own on the field of battle. They’re a nasty pair, but they do have their uses.”

They entered one of the four main tunnels that divided Tronjheim. Clusters of dwarves and humans strolled through it, voices echoing loudly off the polished floor. The conversations stopped abruptly as they saw Saphira; scores of eyes fixed on her. Orik ignored the spectators and turned left, heading toward one of Tronjheim’s distant gates. “Where are we going?” asked Eragon.

“Out of these halls so Saphira can fly to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim, the Star Rose. The dragonhold doesn’t have a roof — Tronjheim’s peak is open to the sky, like that of Farthen Dur — so she, that is, you, Saphira, will be able to glide straight down into the hold. It is where the Riders used to stay when they visited Tronjheim.”

“Won’t it be cold and damp without a roof?” asked Eragon.

“Nay.” Orik shook his head. “Farthen Dur protects us from the elements. Neither rain nor snow intrude here. Besides, the hold’s walls are lined with marble caves for dragons. They provide all the shelter necessary. All you need fear are the icicles; when they fall they’ve been known to cleave a horse in two.”

I will be fine, assured Saphira. A marble cave is safer than any of the other places we’ve stayed.

Perhaps... Do you think Murtagh will be all right?

Ajihad strikes me as an honorable man. Unless Murtagh tries to escape, I doubt he will be harmed.

Eragon crossed his arms, unwilling to talk further. He was dazed by the change in circumstances from the day before. Their mad race from Gil’ead was finally over, but his body expected to continue running and riding. “Where are our horses?”

“In the stables by the gate. We can visit them before leaving Tronjheim.”

They exited Tronjheim through the same gate they had entered. The gold griffins gleamed with colored highlights garnered from scores of lanterns. The sun had moved during Eragon’s talk with Ajihad — light no longer entered Farthen Dur through the crater opening. Without those moted rays, the inside of the hollow mountain was velvety black. The only illumination came from Tronjheim, which sparkled brilliantly in the gloom. The city- mountain’s radiance was enough to brighten the ground hundreds of feet away.

Orik pointed at Tronjheim’s white pinnacle. “Fresh meat and pure mountain water await you up there,” he told Saphira. “You may stay in any of the caves. Once you make your choice, bedding will be laid down in it and then no one will disturb you.”

“I thought we were going to go together. I don’t want to be separated,” protested Eragon.

Orik turned to him. “Rider Eragon, I will do everything to accommodate you, but it would be best if Saphira waits in the dragonhold while you eat. The tunnels to the banquet halls aren’t large enough for her to accompany us.”

“Why can’t you just bring me food in the hold?”

“Because,” said Orik with a guarded expression, “the food is prepared down here, and it is a long way to the top. If you wish, a servant could be sent up to the hold with a meal for you. It will take some time, but you could eat with Saphira then.”

He actually means it, Eragon thought, astonished that they would do so much for him. But the way Orik said it made him wonder if the dwarf was testing him somehow.

I’m weary, said Saphira. And this dragonhold sounds to my liking. Go, have your meal, then come to me. It will be soothing to rest together without fear of wild animals or soldiers. We have suffered the hardships of the trail too long.

Eragon looked at her thoughtfully, then said to Orik, “I’ll eat down here.” The dwarf smiled, seeming satisfied. Eragon unstrapped Saphira’s saddle so she could lie down without discomfort. Would you take Zar’roc with you?

Yes, she said, gathering up the sword and saddle with her claws. But keep your bow. We must trust these people, though not to the point of foolishness.

I know, he said, disquieted.

With an explosive leap Saphira swept off the ground and into the still air. The steady whoosh of her wings was the only sound in the darkness. As she disappeared over the rim of Tronjheim’s peak, Orik let out a long breath. “Ah boy, you have been blessed indeed. I find a sudden longing in my heart for open skies and soaring cliffs and the thrill of hunting like a hawk. Still, my feet are better on the ground — preferably under it.”

He clapped his hands loudly. “I neglect my duties as host. I know you’ve not dined since that pitiful dinner the Twins saw fit to give you, so come, let’s find the cooks and beg meat and bread from them!”

Eragon followed the dwarf back into Tronjheim and through a labyrinth of corridors until they came to a long room filled with rows of stone tables only high enough for dwarves. Fires blazed in soapstone ovens behind a long counter.

Orik spoke words in an unfamiliar language to a stout ruddy-faced dwarf, who promptly handed them stone platters piled with steaming mushrooms and fish. Then Orik took Eragon up several flights of stairs and into a small alcove carved out of Tronjheim’s outer wall, where they sat cross-legged. Eragon wordlessly reached for his food.

When their platters were empty, Orik sighed with contentment and pulled out a long-stemmed pipe. He lit it, saying, “A worthy repast, though it needed a good draught of mead to wash it down properly.”

Eragon surveyed the ground below. “Do you farm in Farthen Dur?”

“No, there’s only enough sunlight for moss, mushrooms, and mold. Tronjheim cannot survive without supplies from the surrounding valleys, which is one reason why many of us choose to live elsewhere in the Beor Mountains.”

“Then there are other dwarf cities?”

“Not as many as we would like. And Tronjheim is the greatest of them.” Leaning on an elbow, Orik took a deep pull on his pipe. “You have only seen the lower levels, so it hasn’t been apparent, but most of Tronjheim is deserted. The farther up you go, the emptier it gets. Entire floors have remained untouched for centuries. Most dwarves prefer to dwell under Tronjheim and Farthen Dur in the caverns and passageways that riddle the rock. Through the centuries we have tunneled extensively under the Beor Mountains. It is possible to walk from one end of the mountain range to the other without ever setting foot on the surface.”

“It seems like a waste to have all that unused space in Tronjheim,” commented Eragon.