Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly.

A quick update while at work. I have no Internet connection at home over the weekend, since our main line is busted. So, uh, enjoy! :) And catch that Shakespeare reference.

Chapter 10: Merchant of Teirm

A fog settled upon the land as morning came. It continued that way for a while until the west wind blew the fog away. The white walls of the city were near, and they could even see the massive ships docked nearby. The sound of the thundering sea could be heard in the background as the salty morning air greeted them. Roran could see the massive citadel rising near the very heart of the city.

"Do you think that they haven't heard of us yet – or maybe have some Forsworn in there?" asked Roran.

Brom's face darkened. "Let's hope no news about us reached this place yet. As for the Forsworn, Enduriel would be busy right now and the others will also be in their respective estates in Uru'baen. They hate winter and rarely venture to the Spine area. It makes Enduriel's – visit – to your home much more disturbing."

Roran felt hatred for the traitorous elven Rider once more. It felt like his vision was tinted with red. He clenched his fists to contain the feeling. He noticed the others staring at him. "Then we'll have to be extra careful and avoid attention once we're inside."

You're leaving us again, whined Askanir.

It won't be long. I hope. We won't get into much danger. Roran sighed. Just go with the others and hide well.

Fine. If something bad happens to any of you, we're going to pin you on our backs and never let you go ever again.

You're the best dragon I could ever have.

I will bind you worse than that, brave one.

Brom led his students towards the gate, where a yellow pennant hung. The immensity of Teirm was so hard to comprehend. As they talked about the previous night, Roran stayed close to Katrina. The guards by the gates stood tall and proud, their plate armor gleaming in the pale sunlight. One of them jabbed a spear in the general direction of the travelers.

"Who goes there?" he snarled.

Brom gave him a bubbly smile that was way out of character for the man. "The name's Neal," he said in a wheezy voice that made him sound older than he looked. "My triplet sons are all married with no jobs!"

"What my father means is that he's here to get us some work with an old friend of his," Roran explained. "You know, to better support our family."

"Quite young to have wives, in my opinion," the guard said, squinting at them.

"'Tis a family tradition of ours, lad!" hissed Brom. He gave the man a big, theatric glare that could have sent a lord cowering. "Don't you dare insult it."

"Had a bit too much of the sun when he was young," Murtagh said, cutting into Brom's rant before it caused a problem.

Eragon nodded vigorously. "He's had a bit of the brain fever," he supplied.

The guard nodded in understanding. "My dad was like that when he worked in the king's army. Wasn't quite right when he went home after serving his years of duty. Well go ahead. Keep an eye on your dad. He won't be around forever." He sighed sadly.

"Yes, sir!" Roran said. That bothered him. Did it mean something about his father?

They rode into Teirm, where the houses were grim and the citadel overlooked them. "Touch of brain fever and had too much sun, eh?"

"What?" Murtagh asked meekly.

Eragon grinned. "Can't let you have all the fun, old man."

The people of Teirm warily looked at the seven travelers. The men all had swords hanging from their belts and most women had daggers. The city truly was made differently, with the houses near the walls being one story high and the buildings getting taller as they neared the citadel – the highest point of the city. It would have been easy to shoot arrows without accidentally hitting something else. Roran never saw a city planned like that.

I still wish you didn't have to go there, said Askanir.

I'm not happy with this arrangement either, replied Roran.

The streets were empty of children, and a lot of houses were abandoned. It gave the area a subtle sense of loss. The place definitely had its fair share of trouble. Roran shook his head. Living somewhere secluded like Carvahall may have felt safe but you barely knew what was happening to the rest of Alagaesia.

They ended up in a tavern called the Green Chestnut. Brom motioned for Roran and Eragon to follow him, leaving the others to look after the place was dark and dingy, with a dying fire on one corner and a vague smell of vomit. A few people drank in their own lonely spots. One man had two missing fingers and eyed the newcomers with interest. The bartender was wiping a broken glass with a dirty rug.

Brom leaned against the bar, all traces of his silly persona by the city gates gone. "Do you know a man named Jeod?" he asked quietly.

Roran glanced at Eragon, who looked as uneasy as he felt. This isn't going to end nicely.

By the lost kings, I hope you're wrong. Eragon's eye twitched.

"Teirm is really big, my old man," the bartender said, making Brom bristle in annoyance. To be fair, he barely looked younger than the storyteller – maybe in his late thirties to early fifties. The bartender didn't notice the man's irritation. "There are many places and even more people living in here. That's not counting the refugees from the south and east, plus the mercenaries that the merchants keep hiring."

Brom took some coins from his pocket and slid them to the bartender. "I might help you remember it."

The bartender took the coins with a thoughtful look. He set down the glass and the rug. With a bright smile, he regarded the travelers with renewed interest. "You could help me, but my memory needs a bit more of nudging."

"Knock it off, Gareth," someone drawled. The man who was missing two fingers straightened up and regarded the travelers. "Charging unsuspecting travelers for information that they could ask anyone for? That's low, even for someone like you." He waited for the bartender, Gareth, to return Brom's coins before continuing. "The name's Martin."

"I'm Neal, and these here are my sons Evan and Randall." Brom smiled. "I owe you one."

Martin nodded. He paused to give Gareth a dirty look with his glassy gray eyes. He gestured at the empty chairs by his table. "Go ahead and sit. Not expecting company today. A bad day for business in Teirm overall."

Roran glanced at Eragon. I'm not sure about what this means but we better be cautious. We can never be too careful.

I know. C'mon. Eragon sat protectively beside Brom, his eyes staring daggers at the door.

Roran sat on Brom's other side, grinning apologetically to Martin. "Sorry about that, my brother is definitely not in the mood today."

Brom nodded to Martin. "Saved me a few crowns back there. We don't have enough to survive properly as it is."

"Glad to help. I understand Gareth though. It's not just a bad day for business today. It's been this way for months now, what with Urgal attacks throughout the Empire and all," explained Martin. "Not to count the pirates that have been intercepting ships that leave to the south and to the east. It started a few months ago. Certain merchants' ships get attacked – and that includes Jeod's. No captain wants to accept their goods anymore, which is sad. Really. Even the biggest shipping companies get attacked. They have to send goods by land and that's expensive. Not all of those caravans make it either."

"What can you tell me about these attacks?" asked Roran.

"Ships get attacked and disappear. Nobody survives." Martin shrugged, apparently trying his best to stay calm and composed. "Sailors say it's magic but we ship defenders can't really say the same – unless we're unfortunate enough to get hired in those doomed ships."

Hope not. He's a pretty decent guy, Eragon said.

I know. But sometimes fate loves to be strange. Look at us – mere farmboys that became Dragon Riders overnight. Roran smiled.

Brom nodded to Martin with more understanding than the boys expected. "So what can you tell us about Jeod?"

"The man lives in the western part of the city, next to Angela the Herbalist. Might not be interested in buying though, he's lost another ship." Martin shrugged.

"Oh, no, he's just an old friend." Brom smiled. "My family's passing by and I think he could help us with something."

After a bit more of light conversation with Martin, they left the tavern and met up with the others. Arya and Katrina were deep in conversation about sophisticated city clothing while Nasuada and Murtagh were arguing about the practicality of ornate weapons. They raised an eyebrow as Brom explained the events in the tavern to them. Eragon, meanwhile, picked at a string on his tunic as he updated Saphira.

Saphira was uneasy. I sense danger, little one. I hope you finish your business in Teirm soon.

Eragon sighed. Know what? I hope so too. I can't wait to fly with you again.

Brom clapped his shoulder with a knowing look. "Okay, that's enough dilly-dallying about. We better move on." He mounted Shesnir. "I'm hopeful about lunch after meeting with Jeod. I missed city food."

It wasn't so hard to find the herbalist's shop. It had a bright, cheery sign and the herbs were all fresh. A short young woman barely older than the Riders sat by the door, holding a frog in one hand and writing with the other. Her wild, curly brown hair kept falling over her face. There were houses on either side of the store.

"Should we ask her?" Eragon asked nervously.

Brom nodded. He cleared his throat and strode towards the woman. "Excuse me, could you tell us where Jeod lives?" he asked.

"Yes, I could." The woman didn't even look up from what she was writing.

A few uncomfortable seconds passed. Eragon exchanged a nervous look with Murtagh. What's with her?

No idea. Probably crazy. Murtagh shrugged.

"Would you tell us?" Brom pressed on.

"Yes, I would." The woman continued writing. The frog in her hand stared at them with bulbous eyes and croaked sadly. "Of course I would tell you, but did you ask? You asked me if I can and if I will, not about the question itself!"

Yep. Totally crazy, said Murtagh.

"Please, let me ask properly." Brom smiled in shame. "Which house is Jeod's? And why, my lady, are you holding a frog?"

"That's more like it." The woman chuckled, her gray eyes flashing. "Jeod lives to the right. As for the frog, it's what people would call a toad. I'm writing a paper which proves that frogs don't exist."

"I don't understand…" began Arya. "Frogs live more in water while toads like the land more."

"Besides, you just said that you're holding a toad. What can you achieve by proving that toads are frogs?" asked Eragon.

"Does it mean that you're holding a frog? Or that you're not holding anything at all?" Murtagh looked baffled. "I don't understand it.

"Oh, you don't understand," the woman said, her cheeks turning pink. "If toads don't exist then it means that I'm holding a frog. And if it's a frog – and there are no toads – then witches can't use them for spells like causing warts or making teeth fall out."

"That sounds interesting," Brom said earnestly, earning a bewildered look from Katrina. "It really sounds like a good topic and I want to know more, but we must go and meet Jeod."

"But of course." With that, the woman returned to her writing.

Once they were out of earshot, Nasuada crossed her arms. "I'm sure that the woman is nothing but insane."

"Possible, but don't criticize her easily. She might discover something big in the future," Brom said with a laugh. "To be honest, she might actually prove that toads don't exist."

"Maybe in her world," retorted Roran.

"Oh, don't be mean," scolded Katrina.

They stood before a massive oak door with a wrought iron knocker and a marble doorstep. Eragon couldn't imagine someone wealthy enough to have one. Brom knocked thrice and they waited for a few more seconds.

"Uh, Brom? We might be knocking on the wrong house," Katrina said. "Maybe we should try the others."

The door opened and a woman greeted them. She was fairly young, with pale blonde hair and an equally pale complexion. Her eyes were a deep moss green shade, puffy and teary like she was just finished crying. She looked a little like Elain, Horst the blacksmith's wife. "Yes? What do you want?"

"We're here to speak to Jeod," Brom said calmly.

"That's my husband's name," the woman told him dryly. Her eyes took in their worn-out appearance and fairly shabby clothes. "Is he expecting you today?"

"No, but it's important that we talk to him."

"He is a very busy man." The woman moved to close the door.

"We travelled far for this."

"I told you, he's busy!"

Brom sighed. "Well then, since he's busy then it would be fine to give him a message, yes? Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside."

The woman huffed. She shot them a suspicious look. "Very well," she snapped before slamming the door shut.

"That wasn't very polite," Nasuada muttered.

"I know, she could've at least invited us inside or something," Katrina said. "That's basic city hospitality for us, I guess."

"Keep your opinions to yourselves," scolded Brom. He crossed his arms. "Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking this time."

A tall man with wispy graying hair, busy eyebrows over deep blue eyes and a mournful face stepped out. He was dressed in fine clothing that would have cost a fortune in Carvahall. There was a long scar running from his scalp down to his temple. His eyes widened as he saw Brom. He stepped back in surprise. "B-Brom?"

Brom grinned boyishly. He clasped the man's arm. "Aye. Good to see that you remember me. I would, ah, appreciate it if you don't call me by my name here. It would be unpleasant if the wrong ears hear it."

The shock was still etched on Jeod's face. He eyed Brom irritably. "I thought you were dead. I wish you have contacted me sooner and told me."

"I had to. I'll explain soon. Is there a place where we could talk in private?"

"Well surely not here. Give me a moment to gather some things and then we can be on our way."

We could learn something about Brom's past! Eragon broadcasted to the other Riders.

Yes, if he lets us stay while they talk. Murtagh crossed his arms. It won't hurt him to tell us more though.

Arya looked down. Maybe he has his own reasons. Like something that hurt him so much in the past or something he didn't like about where he came from.

Like you? Nasuada asked gently.

Arya nodded subtly. She glanced at the sky, as if thinking of the dragons. With the spell that changed her face and ears to appear human, she looked vulnerable that way. I'm sixteen. A child among my people – and even this young, I wish I wasn't an outcast among them.

Jeod stepped out, wearing an embroidered jacket over his clothes and a rapier strapped to his belt. He smiled, eyeing the Riders' quivers and Brom's sword. "You can't be the only ones armed, eh? These are dangerous times and we should always be ready," he said. He put on a plumed hat as he began to walk, motioning for them to follow him. "Lord Risthart decreed that we should have headquarters in his castle even if we often conduct our business in other places. We do it just to humor him really, but we'll be fairly safe there. Nobody will eavesdrop on us."

The Riders led the horses behind them as they moved towards the citadel. They went through the massive iron gates and headed for a side door with a wooden ring beside it, where they tied the horses. Jeod pulled out a key and unlocked the door. "We'll have privacy in here," he said.

Inside was a long, dark corridor that felt damp and smelled musty. It was empty and eerily quiet, and the small torches did nothing to brighten it up. Eragon touched the wall and felt a layer of slime. He shuddered and slowly backed away from the spot, wedging himself between Roran and Murtagh.

What's gotten into you? Roran asked.

Eragon huffed. Slime. It just surprised me, that's all. I mean, the castle was so grand outside and I thought it would be that way inside.

Maybe it's better in Risthart's own quarters. You know how a man like that would work. Murtagh rolled his eyes.

Jeod grabbed a lit torch and they headed for his office. A bearskin rug laid on the floor, and shelves upon shelves of books lined up the walls. Some soft leather seats were placed around the room. Jeod thrust the torch under the pile of wood in the fireplace and then settled down on a long couch. The cheery warmth was comforting. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. And you, old man, have a lot of explaining to do."

The Riders sat together in a long couch, after Arya set aside some scrolls. They all felt nervous. Brom sat near Jeod and grinned. "Who are you calling old man? At least I still have some color in your hair. Yours was like spun gold the last time we met."

Jeod laughed. "You're well preserved for an old man. You look the way you did twenty years ago – heck, I look older than you now. Now get on with it already."

Brom shrugged. "When we got separated, I escaped and stumbled upon it – the treasure. I couldn't reach out and contact you. It would have given us away. So I ran to the Varden and handed it over to them. As they promised, they paid for me to disappear somewhere secluded. Ended up in Carvahall and my young wards here."

I knew that Brom worked for the Varden and discovered the eggs for them but hearing him talk about it so casually… it feels like he knows and did more than he lets on, came Nasuada's voice. Not even the people there talk about him much.

He feels more powerful and older than he looks like, noted Arya.

"Carvahall is so far in the north," mused Jeod. He glanced at the six Riders. "So you're doing your duty, are you?"

Brom nodded. He quickly introduced the young Riders using their names. Jeod's eyes widened as he saw Nasuada and his jaw dropped when Arya was mentioned. "We have a lot to do along with this duty of mine. Roran's father was taken by Enduriel and the Ra'zac, apparently with the intent to make them follow. He must be saved, and I think our old friend has no idea that he's facing more than he expected. Along with that, we have to rescue Arya's brother from Gil'ead, where they most likely keep him in."

"Then why did you come here?" asked Jeod. "I mean, this is a long way from Gil'ead and I have no idea about where Enduriel and the Ra'zac are hiding. The Forsworn are not especially known for keeping prisoners of that sort in their estates and their personal prison are well-hidden secrets."

Brom brought out the flask of Seither oil that they found in the ruins of the farm. It felt like a lifetime ago. "They left this behind when they flew off on their mounts. This is Seithr oil – the dangerous kind that the king loves. We need to see shipping records to trace purchases of this oil."

"Have you lost your mind, old man? The books in here are records – my shipping records. Can you imagine how long it would take for us to go through every single shipping record in Teirm? It could take us months – or years. Besides, the records are in this castle and only the administrator of trade, Brand, can see them. They're afraid of us falsifying the records to cheat our way out of taxes."

"We'll deal with that. Right now we have to rest and prepare for a few days."

"Then it's time for me to play the part of host, old friend. Now, do you use different names here in Teirm?"

While Brom was busy explaining more, Eragon cast his mind out, trying to get to Saphira. How are you faring?

Well. Saphira sent a mental image of the six dragons circling the mountains, searching for food. It seems like you will be there long. Bring me something tasty when you return. Like that steak you talk about or maybe a rat. I like crunchy rats.

"You all have unique names, you know that? Eragon, the first Rider, Roran, son of king Palancar and one of the two first human Riders along with Murtagh the court mage. Arya was the queen of the elves who arrived from Alalea thousands of years ago. Nasuada is the name of a chief's daughter from the Wandering tribes who slew one of the Forworn – Cailern. And Katrina, wife of Rider Roran, was the first female Rider. Though many bear that name, it is so rare to see it along with other children who also have names of legendary people."

"So, a merchant, eh?" Brom said, diverting Jeod's attention.

Let's stay quiet and listen, Katrina said. We might learn more.

"Yes, I've been trading and also sending supplies down south to our friends. I've been doing it for almost eight years now."

"Never expected you to become a merchant, to be honest. You've got a lot of talents, using books to track down underground ruins, eggs and swords." Brom chuckled.

"It didn't sit right after Gil'ead. I still wanted to help Ajihad so a lot of my goods are deliveries to Surda. You know that my father was a merchant and he helped me get a good start. Not going well lately though, I think Galbatorix found out about the merchants that support Tronjheim. It's not people from the Empire though, more like mercenaries."

"So you lost a ship?"

"My last one. Lost my best men too. No caravan will make it to Surda and nobody wants to ship my goods even if I offer ridiculously high prices. Even my colleagues have been plagued with problems in their shipments. There's surely a traitor. You have to return to Tronjheim."

"I can't take my young wards there. They'll be torn apart – even Nasuada and Arya. The dwarves will go crazy. Everyone will try to influence them – even Islanzadi herself." At that, Arya grinned bitterly in acknowledgement. "They need a few more months or a year. At least until I get them through tuatha du orothrim."

Dwarves? Tronjheim? What's this? Even Roran was baffled.

We live in Tronjheim with them. For now. Explain later, listen more now, snapped Nasuada.

"They need your power and wisdom," Jeod pleaded.

"I'm just an old man." Brom rolled his eyes and glanced at Undbitr on his belt. "Ajihad will have to survive without me a little longer. Having a traitor there is troubling though. I think it's how the Empire knows what to do. And our messages must be intercepted by this traitor. Do you have one that you can trust? Someone we could take to the people who receive your goods?"

Jeod nodded. "I could send them to Gil'ead but we need something to convince them that it's from you."

Brom removed his sapphire ring. "Give him this and tell him that I'll tear his liver off if he loses or scratches it."

"Well, aren't you cheery."

"We better go now. We also have to go check on the horses." Brom rose and grinned. "Congratulations on getting married to a lovely young woman, by the way."

Jeod made a face as they left the confines of his office. "She's not happy. Wants a good home, children, a life of luxury. She came from a wealthy merchant family that helped me with investments and with all these losses, she can't live like she used to. Ah, don't think too much of it. You're my guests and shouldn't be troubled by the problems of the host – except for very full stomachs."

"We appreciate your hospitality. Thank you." Brom bowed to him. "Do you know a place where we could buy inexpensive clothes? The ones we have with us are worn out from days of riding."

As always, your enthusiastic reviews and neverending questions bring a smile to my face! So I'll try to do some answering.. :)

A quick recap on Rider swords from the original book: Zar'Roc = red, Naegling (which sounds like something from Beowulf) = gold, Tamerlein = green, Brisingr = blue.

A quick recap on Rider swords that have appeared in Bloodkin so far: Undbitr = a light blue, Skymning (reminds me of Skyrim) = silver, Gryning = gold, Eldsvard = red, Kylskada = blue, Alksvadr (I can pronounce that?!) = violet, Jordskalv = green

I'm seriously considering an epic battle between our heroic twins and the villainous Twins at the end of the part that deals with the events from Eldest, thanks to a guest reviewer! :) Should I push through with that?

As for Brom and Garrow? They'll last long. And become legends too, as a matter of fact.

Reviewers, you are ALL epictasmically amazing! Nothing can compare to the sweet delight that stems from the warming notes that your reviews have wrought upon my soul. Oh. Sorry, been reading 30 H's.

Review for the sake of Jeod's business!