20: Supplies

The dirt floor was soft under Ora's feet as she timidly walked into the shop. She fingered the coin purse Murtagh had given her with one hand, while the other rested on Courage's hilt. Katrina secretly grasped a dagger that Roran had given her.

The two young women walked up to the counter that the man stood behind. He was absently wiping the counter off with a cloth, obviously thinking of other things.

"Excuse me, sir. We know it is late, but we are in desperate need of supplies. We have coin, if you will only spare us a moment of your time." Katrina spoke earnestly, making her voice sound pleading and innocent. The man turned around, a startled look in his hazel eyes. He regained his composure quickly and stood up straight.

"Of course I have time for ravishing ladies such as you two. Whatever you need, I have."

Katrina felt bile rise in her throat. The man's flirtations sickened her. But Ora had a plan, and she was going to stick to it no matter what.

"Oh, thank you. We are in town to buy supplies, and then we shall return home. On behalf of her fiancé, we thank you, Mr. . . ." Ora's voice trailed off as she realized that she hadn't found out this man's name.

"Folks around her call me Alton, Milady. What can I get for you?" The glint in Alton's eyes vanished at the mention of 'fiancé', but brightened as he recalled that Ora hadn't mentioned a man in her life.

"I believe we need ten loaves of bread, two pounds of cheese, and a dozen apples, Alton." She counted off the supplies with her fingers, retaining her fake smile.

"I have all of those things, Missy. May I ask why you are getting so much food?" Alton leaned suggestively over the counter, running his fingers through his dirt-colored hair.

"We have a rather long journey back home, and I'm sure my companion longs to return to her dear Evan, doesn't she?" Katrina, hearing the mention of 'Missy', came to Tarmunora's rescue. She had told the truth, for the most part. After all, Evan was Eragon's alias; therefore, Katrina was not lying.

The shopkeeper's expression flickered sour at this statement, but returned to businesslike in a flash.

"Oh, in that case, here are the supplies you requested, ladies." Alton handed Katrina a cloth sac full of food, and then quickly remembered that they should pay him.

"That will be three gold crowns, please."

"Thank you, Alton," said Ora as she counted the shiny coins into his hand. She smiled politely, and, grabbing Katrina's hand, glided out the door. Both women felt the shopkeeper's glare on their backs until they were out of sight.

Soon the women would be out of the small town and back to Eragon and Roran. All was going well, and lively music from the tavern filled the night air. The harpsichord was a merry sound to Ora's ears, lively and happy.

Ora stared wistfully at the tavern. She did not wish to be accompanied by drunken guards, but the music was healing to her soul; a way to forget the troubles that faced her and to become one with the music. Katrina noticed Ora's hesitation, and gave the younger girl's hand a reassuring squeeze.

The two fugitives walked swiftly through town, and within five minutes had reached the gate. A guard stood with his back to them. Katrina could tell that this man was not Horton; he looked stronger and seemed almost rigid in his stance.

The women moved silently through the night, their footsteps soundless on the packed earth. When they were a few cubits away from the guard, Katrina stopped and Ora stepped forward.

"Good evening, sir. We need to exit the city and have made arrangements with a guard. His name was Horton, I believe."

Quickly, the guard spun around so that he faced Ora, and looked at her critically. The guard scowled at the women, and he looked as if he was, or had recently been, drunk.

"Horton, eh?" His voice was rough and scratchy, like he had sand in his throat.
"Yes, sir, his name was Horton."

"Your companion wouldn't happen to be called Katrina, would she, Lady Tarmunora?" A twisted form of glee filled the man's face, and, swiftly, he drew his blade. Before the guard could react, Ora had drawn Courage and hit the guard over the head with the hilt of her sword. The blade cut into her hand, but the resounding crack on the man's head had done its job: to render him unconscious.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Katrina hissed, scanning for any sign that someone had heard the noise.

"Because," said Ora, "I can make him forget he ever saw us, and I wish for as little bloodshed as possible. I've seen too many men die, and I don't wish to see more." Ora bent down to check the man's pulse. It beat strongly, and his head wound didn't bleed. Ora inhaled deeply, concentrating on the task at hand.

"Erasi Memator!" Ora's gedewey ignasia began to glow under her glove that she had hurriedly replaced when she'd cut her hand. An emerald spark leaped from Ora's hand to the man's forehead, before quickly fading to darkness.

"Will he be okay?" A hint of concern entered Katrina's voice.

"His head will feel like it had a one-ton boulder dropped on it in the morning, but other than that, he'll be fine." Ora's voice was low as she grabbed Katrina's hand and pulled her into the darkness that surrounded Melian.