"And now," Orrin says, "someone we all know well… appearing before us not as a general, or a warlord, or a queen… but as someone better than everybody else here. Our next roaster, Lady Nasuada Nightstalker!"
Nasuada steps up to the podium, nodding to Eragon as she passes and shaking Orrin's hand before taking the position.
"Thank you, Orrin," Nasuada says. "You know, many has been the time I've considered, for the good of my people, arranging a marriage of convenience with Orrin here. But I've been forced to conclude that Orrin isn't the marrying type, if you know what I mean." She smirks. "Big on natural philosophy and musical theater."
Nasuada scans the crowd. "Ah, to see the Varden gathered 'round. I love every one of you, you're all like my babies… I think my genuine feelings for you can only be conveyed by a tradition Urgal salutation, let me see if I remember how it goes… ah, yes…"
And she gives a prolonged, continuous bellow. The audience laughs with shock, and Nasuada cracks another smile.
"Did I get that right?" she mutters. "Oh, gods… well, let's see… Angela is here." She eyes the herbalist for a moment. "Hey, don't look at me, I didn't invite her."
Angela laughs along with the other roasters. "Nobody invites her anywhere, do they?" Nasuada muses. "And yet, she's always… there."
Nasuada continues looking around. "Let's see, whose honor haven't I besmirched? Ah, Stronghammer!" She laughs. "I've taken a knife to your balls a time or two, eh? Ah, I know there are no hard feelings… because if there were, I'd have to hang you. It's what I do!
"Yep. Ah, I've got a nice job. You think changing the world is an easy job? It's not an easy job. And the man of the hour here, Eragon… he and his general bloodline, that being Roran and the traitor Murtagh… the sexy, sexy traitor Murtagh… but honestly, dealing with that blood, never have I more had to suppress the urge to say 'No he di-in't'!
"Eragon, for crying out loud… how high do you have to be, to make half the screw-ups…?" She laughs, lifting a hand hopelessly. "And Saphira doesn't help. You want to fly higher than the Beor Mountains? Sure! Saphira, this tree won't speak to us. Well, let's beat it up!"
She glares humorously at Eragon. "I hear things. You think I didn't know about that? I knew. Ah… but truly, my people, there's nothing I can say about Eragon that hasn't already been said about a litter of kittens you find under the stairs."
She looks around at the audience. "It's a fine comparison. It is! Soft, cute, can't walk by himself, you kind of wish you'd never found him, but now you can't ignore him and you can't, in good conscience, drown him—! I'm sorry."
Nasuada buries her face in one hand. "I'm sorry. I'm on edge, you know. I'll be better when the war is over and I don't have to talk to you people anymore. So, let's see this campaign through to the end, yes? Let's finish this. Long live Eragon Shadeslayer!"
Up next: Nar Garzhvog