Three:


Evergreen

It was midmorning when Arya had found Nasauda in her office, staring silently out of the narrow window. She seemed rather tired after spending the dwindling night dealing with their newly arisen dilemma. She had not slept at all. None of them had.

In the corner of the office, Arya spied the ruby dragon curled up tightly. That explains the hole in the ceiling, Arya concluded as Thorn cracked open an ochre eye.

Arya clutched the egg closer. "Nasauda," she said smoothly. "We have to talk."

Nasauda looked up. She smiled slightly. "Indeed," Nasauda conceded. "Thorn here has agreed to let us examine his mind. I would ask one of my magicians to do it, but I'm afraid I don't trust magicians very much."

Arya gave her a startled look. "Why not Murtagh—"

Because Murtagh is much too stubborn for his own good, dear elf-woman, said Thorn. He will never let anyone into his mind. It is his one true sanctuary; the one thing the world could not violet. Torture him, yes. Persecute him, of course. But none of them could catch glimpse of Mutagh's true being until Galbatorix pried it open with his dirty fingers. Until then, no one could get in. He swished his tail irritably. Sometimes even I cannot get in.

"The people will feel much better about the situation if we can examine Thorn's mind," Nasauda said. "And as Thorn just said, Murtagh will never let us examine him. Even if I made the request, I think he would choose death first. So, we chose the next best thing."

"I suppose that's reasonable," Arya said. "But we have bigger problems." She held up the egg. so that it glittered in the morning sun. "He said he stole this from the Empire."

He wasn't lying, Thorn said.

Nasauda's expression brightened with both awe and hope. "That's wonderful!" she cried. "This will help him— and us— so much! Arya, do you realize what this means?"

"Controversy."

Nasauda blinked. "Controversy?"

"He told me that it was meant for you." Arya explained all that Murtagh had said. As she did so, the awe melted off of Nasauda's beautiful face.

"I'm not touching that thing," Nasauda said flatly, as if the egg had suddenly turned into something hideous and disgusting.

Why not? Thorn asked, tiltling his head to the side.

"Because there are currently three human riders in Alagaësia— Galbatorix, Eragon, and Murtagh. If you want my honest opinion, Arya, I don't think your kin will be too pleased to have another human rider. This will help Murtagh win the people over a great deal, but I am not touching that egg."

Arya wasn't one for prophecies, but Nasauda's words were harsh and cold, almost insulting. "You don't want it?"

"No."

In a way, this left Arya stunned, for many leaders would have given anything at the thought of becoming a rider. And here Nasauda was, refusing to even touch it. She looked at the Varden leader with newfound respect. "You have no desire to become a rider?"

"I have never dreamed of it," Nasauda admitted. "Galbatorix, a rider, is the whole reason we're in this mess. You should have known better than to give any human this sort of power. I doubt it would have occurred within the elfin race, for your society allows for little corruption. Us humans on the other hand, give us any kind of power—whether it be gold or magic— and it is likely to turn against us. We have created our own evil, here, Arya. It is no one else's doing but our own."

The Riders were created to maintain peace between the races, Thorn pointed out, sounding a little hurt, and maybe even a little insulted. They were supposed to prevent war and corruption.

Nasauda smiled wryly. "Ironic, isn't? Instead of maintaining harmony, we have fashioned the one thing we feared most. We have brought it into existence, and now we must destroy it."

"You're just full of surprises today, aren't you?"

"I have put a great deal of thought into this, Arya," Nasauda said. "In the mean time, take the egg and try to hatch it for one of your kinfolk. If you don't find the rider amongst them, then we will talk." She stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have something very important I need to deal with before we do anything else."

She had made it to the door when Arya said softly, "Nasauda."

"Yes?"

"What is it…between you and Murtagh?" For the first time in many years, she faltered. She wasn't used to meddling in people's private affairs, but this was almost important as finding the last rider.

Nasauda hesitated. The question had caught her off guard. "There is nothing between us," she said. "You should know better than to suggest such dangerous things." Then she quickly disappeared.

Liar, Thorn muttered.

There is nothing between us, Nasauda told herself, marching off to Murtagh's cell. There never was. It shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did. Still, those three words rang sourly through her thoughts, and mostly because she knew it was a lie.

There might have been something there beyond simple friendship. Just maybe…but if so, then it could go no further than that. The politics would never allow it. It would undermine her authority. If she gave the Varden a reason to doubt her, they would. And, despite whatever feelings she might have had for Murtagh, it would be completely foolish to go any further. That, above all else, was probably the most dangerous ground she could tread.

Maybe that was why it bothered her so.

Murtagh's cell was heavily guarded. There were soldiers posted on each end of the corridors and at the heavy, iron door. "I would like to speak with him," Nasauda told one of them. He opened his mouth to object, but she quickly cut him off. "Don't make me say it again."

"As you wish," the soldier said and reluctantly slid the giant dead bolt aside. "Please be careful, Lady Nasauda," he murmured before closing the door.

She heard the dead bolt slide back into place. Murtagh was sitting upright on the bed. He looked a little older, she noticed, and tired. His hands were heavily scarred from wounds that had long since healed. The desolation had vanished from his eyes had vanished, and his normal, expressionless façade had returned. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Truthfully."

He closed his eyes. "Tired."

"You've accomplished quite the feat." She smiled. "You're free now."

Murtagh gave a sarcastic laugh. "Am I? Sometimes I wonder if I will ever truly be free."

"I'm sorry."

Murtagh stared at her like she had actually lost her mind. "For what?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his quizzical gaze. "For everything you've been through."

"But it's not your fault."

"I know, I'm just…sorry it happened." A rather awkward silence ensued. "Murtagh, I'll be straight forward with you," Nasauda said, collecting herself at last. "You are in serious trouble. The Varden— especially the dwarves— are not too thrilled with the situation. I understand that you are not responsible for what happened, but—"

"But what?" Murtagh said coldly. He instantly regretted it. "Sorry."

"I think I've found a way around it. I think I can convince the Varden you are not loyal to the Empire. Now that you are unbound, would you be willing to follow my cause?"

Murtagh said nothing for a long, long time, until Nasauda began to wonder if he would ever reply. Then he smiled faintly. "I'll follow you, Nasauda," he said, "Until the evergreen tree has lost its hue."

A/N: Ha, ha! So now you know why it's called 'Evergreen,' my favorite title in the whole wide world. Great gods, this fic is so much fun to write!

I haven't really had time to go through and proof read everything fifty million times, so I apologize for any misspelling, missing words, and/or bad grammar. Oh well. With this crazy weather, maybe I won't be so pressed to update ASAP and actually get around to proof reading it better.

Thanks for the reviews!