Chapter Twenty-Five

Resolutions

Even at the height of his powers, when he had had servants to wait on his every command, Galbatorix had preferred to keep on doing some things himself.

Shaving was one of them. He sat down at the table in his old bedchamber, which had been abandoned during the Shades' reign and left more or less untouched, and examined himself in a mirror.

He hadn't changed much. His face was still his. Thinner and paler, and grubby, yes, and his beard had gone rather wild… but it was still him. His hair was still greying and was hopelessly matted from having gone without being washed for so long. He was a mess.

But his eyes…

He stared at his reflection for a long time.

His eyes were terrible. One was still black, still his. But the other, the red one… that was Durza's eye. And it was cold and powerful and utterly soulless.

'My gods,' he said out loud. 'What's happened to me? I look…'

Evil. He looked evil.

Laela jumped off his shoulder and onto the table, and sat there, looking at him. He looked back at her, taking in the white scales, the silver eyes… Laela, she was Laela. Laela, reborn. Laela, his lost dragon. Laela, who he had missed all his life. But somehow he was unable to accept it. It was… too much to grasp. Too impossible.

He realised, with a little jolt of surprise, that he could feel her mind touching his. She was there, in his head, her consciousness linked to his, just as it had been all those years ago. It wasn't like the link he had had with Shruikan. This was a true link. A rider's link, such as he had not had for a hundred years. And he knew that she was feeling what he was feeling.

He sought for something to say, but couldn't, and while he sat there, feeling like an idiot, he saw, quite suddenly, that she was trembling.

'What's wrong?' he asked, the words feeling clumsy and stupid on his tongue.

Laela looked away from him. He could sense her distress, and she curled up on the tabletop, covering her head with her wings.

Galbatorix reached out to touch her, but somehow his hands stopped before they reached her. This was wrong, he thought wildly. All wrong. Where was the absolute trust and understanding they had once had? Where was the love? This wasn't the Laela he remembered, this was a stranger. An irrational fear bit at his heart. He wished Skade was there.

He forced himself to calm down. No, he thought, no, he was being stupid. There had to be a way to fix this… whatever it was.

He reached out again. Not with his hands, but with his mind. He made contact with Laela. Felt the white dragon's mind, so simple and delicate, like a flower. 'What's wrong?' he asked.

Laela looked up at him from behind her wings. 'I feel,' she said. 'I feel…'

'What? What is it, Laela?'

'I feel like I don't know you any more,' said Laela.

A wave of deep and terrible loss washed through him then, when he saw the look in her eyes and felt her fear and confusion. 'You don't,' he said out loud. 'You don't… you don't know me any more, Laela. I'm not who I used to be. Oh gods…' he covered his face with his hands. 'Why did you come back, Laela? Why did you have to save me?'

Laela raised her head. 'I came back for someone I knew,' she said. 'I came back for the boy I hatched for all those years ago.'

'That boy died when you did, Laela,' said Galbatorix. 'This monster you see here is all that's left of him.'

'You're not a monster,' said Laela. She stood up, taking her wings away from her face, and reached out to touch his cheek with her snout. 'You're…'

'A monster,' said Galbatorix. 'Don't say I'm not, Laela. I am. I killed the boy. Not in a fair fight. I killed him when he was unarmed and helpless, while the woman he loved was watching. It was murder. And I didn't care. I was happy to do it. I watched him die without any pity. And I killed so many others just the same. You were wrong, Laela. We couldn't escape from our true names. It was all decided for us. I became the Great Betrayer, just as Arthryn said I would. You can't change that. No-one can.'

Laela watched him silently. She saw the careworn features, the greying hair, and most of all the red eye, like a ghastly ruby set into the socket, and she knew it was true. This was not Arren Cardockson, the leatherworker's adopted son who called himself Galbatorix Taranisäii. This was not her rider and bonded partner. This was… this was a stranger. A red-eyed, ageing stranger whose voice had a terrible edge of despair in it. This was the Great Betrayer.

She couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She turned away, feeling more alone than she had ever imagined was possible. After so long trapped in the netherworld, she had returned for… for what? For someone who had died a long time ago. That was all.

Galbatorix watched her. 'I should have died,' he said softly. 'You should have let me die, Laela. I came here expecting to die. After so long… why me, Laela, why me? Why do I keep being pulled back from the brink like this? Most people never get more than one chance to live – so why me? I don't deserve it. I don't deserve any of this. Not Skade. Not you. Not life. I deserve to die. Why can't I just die?'

Laela was silent for a time. 'What are you going to do?'

Galbatorix shrugged irritably. 'I don't know. This afternoon I'll make an announcement and hand the rulership over to Ravana. Then, once it's all been sorted out, I'll leave. Find somewhere else to go. Who knows… maybe there's a place for me out there. I'm tired of being responsible for things all the time. I never wanted to be King, any more than I wanted to be a destroyer. I just wanted to be… me.' He laughed bitterly.

Laela froze.

'And perhaps the dragon will be a better ruler than I was,' Galbatorix went on. 'Who knows? This place has had its share of bad rulers, so I'll bet no-one will notice another one. And these new riders…' he snorted. 'Probably they'll go on ruling here under him until they can't distance themselves from their power any more and become despots until another Great Betrayer comes along. At least I'll be well out of it.'

As he spoke on, his words laden with bitter sarcasm, Laela felt a wonderful joy lift her heart. She turned around and looked at him, and now she could see it. Why hadn't she noticed it before?

'Why, you horrible, selfish, cynical ingrate,' she said. 'By the sea and the sky, I can't believe what I'm hearing.'

Galbatorix gave her a sullen look. 'Believe it, you overgrown lizard.'

Laela rushed at him and wrapped her wings around his neck, hugging him tightly and rubbing her head against his cheek. 'It really is you!' she cried. 'You big liar, you haven't changed a bit!'

Galbatorix submitted to the embrace, wincing as her claws dug into his skin. 'Oh, get off me, will you?'

Laela pressed herself against him, as if trying to make herself disappear into him. 'It's you!' she said again. 'You're the Galbatorix I remember, all of him! Oh, you've grown a beard and done something funny to your eye, but you're my Galbatorix, just as I remember you. Oh, thank the stars. I came back for you, and I found you.'

'You have?'

Laela finally let go of him. Her eyes were full of joy. 'I have,' she said. 'And I'm very glad indeed.'

Galbatorix looked at her rather suspiciously. Then, quite spontaneously, he grinned. 'Now I know you,' he said. 'You're my Laela, aren't you? You're the dragon who hatched for me in Ellesméra that day. The one who bit old Nöst on the tail and then led him on a chase for two hours. The one who… oh, gods, Laela!' he picked her up and hugged her to his chest, tears suddenly leaking from his mismatched eyes. 'Losing you hurt so much, I thought I would die… but you're back. You're back and I've found you again.'

Laela rested her head on his shoulder. 'Yes,' she said. 'It's all over now, Galbatorix. We're together again, and now we can have our time back. We did what no-one else could do, you and I. We fought death itself, and won.'

It was a long time before Galbatorix let her go. She sat back on the table, eyes bright. 'Tell me everything,' she said, reverting to the mental speech.

There was a bowl of hot soapy water on the table. Galbatorix pulled it toward him and began washing and lathering his face. He picked up his razor. 'All right,' he said.

And so he did, while he meticulously shaved away the fresh stubble that had appeared on his face, then rinsed and began trimming his beard, restoring it back to its old neat self. He said not a word out loud, but in his mind, and in Laela's, he was talking. He told her of his wanderings in the wilderness, his capture and trial by the riders, his imprisonment and escape, the meeting with Skade, his bonding with Shruikan, the rebellion, the Forsworn… everything. He told her about the invulnerability spell, his mental voice hushed, and spoke on and on while he trimmed his hair and cleaned and filed his fingernails. He showed her images of everything he had experienced during their long separation, hiding nothing. Laela listened seriously and didn't interrupt.

A tin bathtub full of hot water had been placed by the hearth, with soap and scrubbing brushes and a bottle of hair lotion.

Galbatorix stripped off his robe without embarrassment. As he bent to unlace his boots, Laela looked at the scars that rippled over his thin back. She winced. 'You've suffered. I can see that.'

Galbatorix kicked off his boots. 'You can't fight a war without collecting a few injuries,' he answered, reaching back to touch the silvery marks.

Once he'd bathed and washed his hair, he climbed out of the bath and wrapped his dripping body in a towel.

There was a knock at the door. He went to answer it, and found it was the one-eyed tailor. She was holding a bundle of white cloth, and said; 'Your new robe's ready, Sire.'

Galbatorix took it. It was finely-stitched, made from thick, durable snow-white woollen fabric and lined with soft silver silk. There was some silver embroidery around the collar and cuffs.

'Nothing too fancy, unfortunately,' the tailor said apologetically. 'Didn't have time for anything better. How d'you like it?'

'Excellent, as always,' said Galbatorix.

The tailor smiled and bowed her head. 'Thankyou, Sire. I'll leave you now.'

Galbatorix retreated back into his room, where he put on the robe. He sighed. It was good to have a new outfit, after spending so long wearing the sorry remains of the last one, which hadn't been all that good in the first place.

'I haven't worn white in decades,' he said. 'How do I look?'

Laela regarded him critically from her perch on the table. 'Like a clothes horse.'

'So just the same as always, eh?'

'About that,' said Laela.

Galbatorix lifted her onto his shoulder. 'Well, let's go. I fancy a proper meal for once.'

Skade was waiting for them in the dining hall, where an array of fine dishes had been laid out for them. She too was clean and groomed, and was wearing a new gown made from silvery-grey silks and velvet.

'You look lovely,' said Galbatorix. He sat down beside her and helped himself to a dish of roasted rabbit, but not before he'd cut some off and given it to Laela. The white dragon ate hungrily, crunching the bones between her teeth. Skade watched her, unable to hide her resentment.

'Anything the matter?' Galbatorix enquired.

For some reason the question only increased Skade's irritation. 'Galbatorix, what are we going to do about my father?' she asked.

Galbatorix paused in the act of tearing a chunk off a loaf of bread. 'Do?' he said. 'What do you mean?'

'How are you going to make him leave?' said Skade. 'You heard him; he's made up his mind that he's going to stay here. How are you going to talk him out of this insane idea of his?'

'I'm not,' said Galbatorix.

Skade coughed. 'I don't believe this. Are you honestly thinking of giving him the Empire?'

'Why not?' Galbatorix asked mildly.

Skade hesitated. 'Well… he can't rule here. He knows nothing about this land; he's been away from it for a thousand years. He hates humans – how could he possibly govern them?'

'He won't,' said Galbatorix. 'The riders will. Nasuada and Murtagh, and Sif… and any others who come along. They'll reform the old order. With a difference. Now, they'll have to answer to Ravana. All of them.' He chuckled. 'Not even Vrael would have had the gall to stand up to him. He'll keep them all on their toes.'

'I don't see anything funny about this,' Skade snapped. 'What on earth makes you think he could do it?'

'He's strong and wise, he knows how to fight, he understands justice… what else does a ruler need in the end? And anyway… you're right. He's decided he wants to rule here, and I can't stop him. No-one can stop Ravana, you know that.'

'But the throne belongs to you,' said Skade. 'And to our son.'

'I'm ready to retire from power,' said Galbatorix. 'And I wouldn't wish that particular fate on our son in a million years. Here, have some wine.'

Skade took it with ill grace. 'It's not as simple as that.'

'It can be. If we let it. Come on, Skade, don't you want to leave all this behind? Find somewhere else to live? Ruling Alagaësia is a task that no-one will ever thank you for. Now that your father is here, and the riders have come, we can be free. Think of that, Skade. Free. We can leave here. Go wherever we want. We can raise our son in peace. I wasn't always a King. Once I was a boy who dreamed of adventure. Now, after so long, we can look for it. All three of us.' He looked at Skade, his expression almost childishly eager.

Skade's face softened. 'I would like that,' she admitted.

'And Laela would like it too,' said Galbatorix, as if that settled it.

Skade muttered something under her breath.

'Oh, how's Kullervo?' said Galbatorix.

'Not well,' said Skade. 'They had to give him a sleeping potion to make him calm down. I had some of the servants bathe him and give him some clean clothes. He's asleep in one of the guest rooms. I had some food sent up for when he wakes.'

Galbatorix sighed. 'I wish there was something we could do for him. But nothing short of changing him back would be enough. Changing a dragon like him into a human was monstrous.'

'Maybe he'll get used to it,' Skade suggested lamely. 'I did.'

'I doubt it, but it's his only chance,' said Galbatorix. He finished eating and sighed deeply. 'Ah… it's good to eat like a human being again.'

Laela was looking at him, and at Skade. Now she spat out the bone she'd been gnawing and said; 'I expect you've got things to attend to.'

'Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose so. Come on, then.' He held out his arm.

'I think I'll stay here with Skade,' said Laela.

Galbatorix looked a little confused. 'Well… all right then. I'll see you two later.' He left the room, distractedly fiddling with his hair.

Laela watched him go. 'A hundred and twenty-five years old and he still fusses over his hair. Do you know, when he was a boy, someone threw mud in his hair. He punched them so hard he knocked them out, and then sulked for the rest of the day.'

Despite herself, Skade chuckled. 'That sounds like him.'

'Now…' Laela looked keenly at her. 'You don't like me much, do you?'

Skade said nothing.

'Tell me,' said Laela. 'What do you think of him? Why do you love him?'

Skade stared at her, both shocked and affronted.

'He loves you very much,' Laela went on softly. 'I can feel it in him. But I must know… do you truly love him in return?'

'I do,' said Skade.

'Can you tell me why?' said Laela. 'What is it about him? He's a great warrior. A leader, too. Is that what attracted you to him?'

'No,' said Skade.

'He's ruthless. He kills his enemies just like a wild dragon does. Is that why you attached yourself to him?'

'No,' said Skade. 'Not that. I-,'

Laela fixed her intently with those silver eyes. 'Then what was it, Skade Shadeslayer? He's very handsome, for a human. Strong. Brave. Charismatic. Intelligent. Many people fear and respect him. Are those the qualities you love?'

Skade bit down on her anger with some effort. 'What are you trying to do?' she demanded.

'You resent me,' said Laela. 'I can see it in you. You don't like the fact that he and I are so close. But whether you like it or not, I am his partner and I am part of his soul. He will never leave me. But he might leave you. If he chose to.'

Skade snarled. 'Get away from me. Never come near me again.'

'No,' said Laela. 'I must know. What is it that kept you by him all these years? Just tell me, and we can forget this ever happened.'

The white dragon sat very still, watching Skade closely, waiting for an answer.

The silence drew out for a long time. Skade nearly left, but she couldn't. There was something about Laela, something that compelled her and would not let her leave. At last, and in a low voice, she said; 'When he lost you, it tore him apart. I see it sometimes, in his eyes. That is what I love about him.'

Laela's tail twitched. 'Is that all?'

'No,' said Skade. 'Not… not all. I love him for…' she hesitated.

'Yes?' said Laela.

'I love him for the life that's in him,' said Skade. 'I love his spirit, his passion. I love the way he never stops fighting for what he believes is right. I love his courage, how he never turns away from the things he's done and from what he fears he became after you died. He's…' she looked up, her golden eyes serious. 'He's Galbatorix. And that's why I love him.'

Laela listened to her in silence, her small face solemn. Then she smiled. She stood up and bowed her head to Skade in the familiar dragonish gesture of respect. 'That,' she said, 'Is exactly what I hoped you would say. You know him for what he truly is and love him for the same reasons I do.' She looked Skade in the eye. 'I care for him more than life itself, and fought death in order to return to him. And if I had found out that you loved him for the wrong reasons, that you might hurt him, I would have driven you away from him. But I should have known better. Forgive me, Skade.'

She looked earnestly at her, and Skade felt a sudden and unexpected wave of relief. That look. She knew that look. It was his look. She had seen him use it many times, and now she could see him, looking out of Laela's eyes.

Skade held out a hand. Laela touched it with her snout, and there was a moment of silent understanding between the two of them.

'He's lucky to have you,' said Laela. 'Very lucky.'

Galbatorix had been busy. Once he'd sent messengers out to every major city to inform the population of what had happened, he let it be known in Urû'baen that he would be making a public announcement at sunset in front of the castle, so that people would have time to start gathering. Afterwards he went up to see Kullervo.

The orange-haired man was now clean-shaven and wearing a new set of clothes, but he was crouched in a corner of his temporary abode, like a wolf in a cage. When the door opened he cringed and snarled, half-rising in readiness to fight, but he relaxed when he saw who it was.

'Oh. It's you.'

Galbatorix closed the door behind him. 'How are you feeling, my Lord?'

Kullervo shivered and looked away from him. 'Don't call me that. I'm no Lord.'

Galbatorix sighed. 'It's cold comfort, I know, but being human isn't that bad…'

Kullervo snarled. 'Maybe for you, half-breed. This body is a prison to me. Nothing more.'

'But it's still yours,' said Galbatorix. 'And you're free now. I won't keep you here any longer than you choose.'

Kullervo looked at him, a pitiful look showing through the ferocity in his golden eyes. 'How can you bear it?' he asked, almost plaintively. 'How can you stand to be so weak? So small? No scales, no talons, no wings… nothing but this soft flesh that bruises and tears so easily… I feel like I could die at any moment.'

'Humans are tougher than they look,' said Galbatorix. 'Trust me on this. You'll find a reason to go on living, Kullervo.'

Kullervo sneered at him, the expression as agonised as it was vicious. 'A reason to live? Open your eyes, cripple. My mate is dead. My children are gone. I have no home. I cannot fly. Even the sky has been taken from me. I have nothing. Nothing.' He bowed his head. 'I want to change back, and if I cannot do that, then I want to die.'

'I'll do whatever I can to help you, but-,'

'If you can tell me a way to undo this curse, then tell me,' said Kullervo. 'Otherwise, leave me alone or kill me.'

Galbatorix paused. 'I don't… the dark elves taught me many things about magic, but not about the kind that changes the shapes of things. That was something outside their ways.'

'Then who would know?' Kullervo demanded, suddenly standing up and advancing on Galbatorix, his look one of controlled violence. 'Tell me.'

Galbatorix thought quickly. 'There was a race that lived in Alagaësia once who knew about that kind of magic.'

'Which one? Tell me, or-,'

'But they died out centuries ago,' said Galbatorix, holding out his hands in a helpless gesture. 'The riders destroyed them; I saw the records. Those who weren't killed were scattered. But I know of one who was still alive, at least… I did meet one, a long time ago. There's a chance he could still be alive, but the chances of finding him…'

Kullervo bared his teeth. 'Tell me. Tell me, damn you, or I'll tear your throat out.'

'His name was Faegareth,' said Galbatorix. 'He was a shape-shifter, a skin-changer. His race could change their shapes at will. I met him, a hundred years ago. He was living with the dark elves, but after they were massacred… I don't know if he escaped, and after the fall of the riders I did send people to look for him, but no-one brought any news back. But if he's alive, he might know how to change you back.'

Kullervo relaxed slightly. 'Faegareth,' he muttered. 'A strange name.'

'They called him Faen-Tyarnadd in dark elvish,' said Galbatorix. 'It means "thousand-faces"… he can change himself into anything – the chances of finding him are-,'

'I don't care,' said Kullervo. 'I'll find him. If it takes me a thousand years, I'll find him.' He began to pace around the room, his broad shoulders hunched. His shadow flickered on the wall, like the memory of a pair of wings unfolding in the torchlight.

'Go then,' said Galbatorix. 'And good luck to you.'

'Spare me your platitudes,' Kullervo snapped. 'What does this… Faegareth look like?'

'In human form… like a boy, no older than seventeen. Very thin and pale, with black hair and golden eyes. He tends to wear black, or at least he did when he was with the dark elves. I saw him as a wolf; he was black with golden eyes then. And as a dragon, black and bronze. The eyes never change. They're the only thing about him that always stay the same. He has a sword… I can't remember what it was called, but the hilt had a hundred different animals on it. If you're going to look for him, look in forests. He keeps to the wild places, like all his people did. They hate civilisation.'

'As do I,' said Kullervo. 'Now leave me alone. I need to think about this.'

Galbatorix bowed and left the room. In the corridor outside, he leant against the wall and sighed. He felt almost cruel for giving Kullervo what was surely a vain hope, but a vain hope had to be better than no hope at all. If it was enough to stop him dying of despair, it would do. And now – he rubbed his forehead and sighed again – he had to go and talk to someone who would be even less pleased to see him.

That someone was Nasuada. He limped off down the corridor toward the guest room where she had been detained, which was locked and guarded. The guards stood aside and opened the door for him. 'Be careful, Sire,' one warned. 'The wench is a fighter.'

Galbatorix drew White Violence and entered the room.

There was a sudden motion to his left. He reacted instantly, turning around and raising his sword. There was a thump and a yell, and Nasuada, who had sprung at him from behind the door, found herself sprawling on the floor, her chest throbbing from where Galbatorix's boot had slammed into her. The remains of the chair she had been wielding fell out of her hands, cut clean in two. Galbatorix stood over her, sword in hand.

'Hello, Nasuada. I trust you've been comfortable? Sorry for the wait.' His tone was calm and conversational. 'Tell me,' he said. 'I'm asking out of pure curiosity… exactly how long were you standing there?'

Nasuada, quivering with fright, gave him a murderous look. 'As long as it took,' she spat.

'I see. Well, I admire your courage. However, considering that arrows, swords, fire, poison, plague, magic and strangulation have all failed to kill me, I doubt a chair would have proven very effective. You don't have to lie there all day, by the way.'

Nasuada got up. 'Are you going to kill me?' she asked. 'Why not give me my sword back and fight me face to face – or are you too much of a coward for that?'

Galbatorix rolled his eyes. 'I came up here to offer you a gift, actually.' He reached into the pocket of his robe and brought out a scroll of paper. 'This,' he said, 'Is for you.'

He handed it over. Nasuada unrolled it and skimmed the first few lines. '…I, King Galbatorix Taranisäii of Alagaësia, hereby offer you, Nasuada daughter of Ajihad, a complete pardon for the crimes of…' she looked up. 'You're offering me a pardon?'

'For services to the realm,' said Galbatorix.

Nasuada paused. 'You have no authority to do this,' she said. 'You aren't the rightful King here. You never were. The throne was Eragon's by rights.'

'Oh really. Well, unfortunately we can't refer this to him, because he's dead.'

'Murdered by you!' Nasuada shouted. 'You evil, you lying-,'

Galbatorix slapped her, hard. She fell silent, staring at him in shock. Galbatorix rubbed his knuckles. 'That wasn't very chivalrous of me, was it? I'm sorry, but it's been a rough day. Now… I'm afraid the question of who has the right to do what is irrelevant. What matters is this. I'm holding all the pieces in this game. The Empire is back under my control, and there's nothing you can do to change that. I would be well within my rights to have you executed for your crimes. However, there is an alternative.'

Nasuada tossed the scroll onto the floor and spat on it. 'Take your lies and your false pardons somewhere else, your murdering piece of filth. You've got nothing. Murtagh will-,'

'I'm afraid you won't be able to rely on your friends to rescue you,' Galbatorix said calmly. 'You see, I'm afraid Murtagh disobeyed your orders. He started following us almost as soon as we left the Beors. I sent Lifrasir and Skirnir after them a few hours ago. They sent Skömm here with the news. Your friends have been taken prisoner. They'll be here by nightfall.'

Nasuada blanched. 'You're lying.'

'Sadly, no. It's not that I don't trust them, but… well, no, that's not true – I don't trust them. I'm sure your spy would be happy to help you, of course, but I'm afraid she's in the dungeons at the moment. However-,' he paused to make sure he had her full attention '– This is not a betrayal. I'm not going to have any of you killed. Not unless you force me to. You have a choice.'

He flicked the scroll upward with the point of his sword, and caught it neatly, holding it out toward Nasuada. 'You can have this pardon and be set free, if you take an oath of loyalty first. Swear to serve-,'

'Forget it!' Nasuada almost roared. 'I'll die before I work for you, you cripple, you bastard, you-,'

'Not me,' said Galbatorix, raising his voice slightly. 'Swear to serve the realm. Take an oath in the ancient language that you and your fellow riders will spend your lives in the service of the people. Swear to be loyal to your master, and to work to keep peace and order in Alagaësia. After all…' he looked at her seriously. 'Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that what the riders have always done? Even evil, lying old me did it. You are a rider, Nasuada. A rider's life is one of service. Stop serving yourself and take up the responsibilities of power.'

'By working for you?' said Nasuada. 'By selling my soul to you?' she made an obscene gesture at him. 'That's my answer, murderer. If the choice is between death or slavery, I choose death.'

'Are you sure?' said Galbatorix. Suddenly he was much closer, his red eye gleaming in the torchlight. 'Are you really sure?' he hissed. 'What about Silarae? You do realise that if you die, she'll feel it happen? She'll probably die too. Imagine that. She chose to bond herself to you, but you're already willing to throw her life away like that?' Nasuada tried to back away, but he followed her until her had her trapped against a wall. 'Do you know what it's like to survive the death of your partner?' he asked in a low voice. 'Do you have any idea?'

Nasuada couldn't say anything. She tried to glare back at him, but she couldn't. His eyes bored into her, stripping away all her defences.

'You feel it, right here,' he said, touching his heart. 'It tears into you like a red-hot sword. You feel the pain through your whole body, as if your very soul is being burnt away. You can't think. You can't breathe. All you can do is feel the pain. Feel the thing that kept your world and your life together fall apart all around you. And you scream. Scream as if your skin was being torn off. It lasts a few minutes. It feels like an eternity. And you'd inflict that on Silarae? On poor little Silarae, who's only a few weeks old?'

Nasuada's eyes stung with tears. 'No,' she whispered. 'No…'

'If you choose death, that is what will happen to her,' said Galbatorix. 'You would have no way of stopping it. And before that, you would see all your friends die. Murtagh, and Jarsha, and Carnoc. All of them. One by one. And your daughter, Sif-,'

'NO!' Nasuada cried, half-sobbing, half-screaming. 'No, not that! Please!'

'Sif would be left an orphan,' said Galbatorix. 'I would raise her myself and tell her how her mother was too much of a fool to realise when she was beaten. I'd be a good father to her. How does that sound?'

It was too much. Nasuada slid down the wall, landing in a heap at its base, sobbing desperately. 'No, no, no, please gods no…'

Galbatorix stood over her. 'Overreacting a little, aren't you? I thought you would have noticed how good I am with children.'

'Keep – away from her!' Nasuada wailed. 'Never touch her, you – you-,'

Galbatorix pointed his sword at her, the tip touching her under the chin and forcing her to look up. 'So here is your choice,' he said. 'Now that I've clarified it a little… either swear an oath to me, right here and now, and become part of a new order of riders, or let yourself die along with your friends and your partner, and lose your daughter forever.'

Nasuada tried to look away from him, but failed. He was there, unavoidable as fate, calm and cold, the very embodiment of evil. But she had no choice.

'All right,' she said, her voice breaking. 'All right. I'll – I'll do it.'

'Say the oath,' said Galbatorix. 'Repeat it in the ancient language.'

And she did. He recited the words in the common tongue, and she repeated them in the ancient one, trying with all her might to keep her voice steady.

'I, Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad, swear to serve the peoples of Alagaësia, to maintain peace and order, to do justice without fear or favour, to honour all races and favour none above the others, to preserve its ancient ways but have no fear of change, and to – to be obedient to my King in all things. I will not raise a hand to him, nor to any he counts as friends or family.'

When she had done she sagged gently as all the strength went out of her, too smothered by despair even to cry. It was all over. She had lost.

Galbatorix withdrew his sword. 'There, that wasn't so difficult, now, was it? Oh, and while you're at it, you can say these words, too.' He spoke briefly in the ancient language.

Nasuada was still inexperienced with it. 'What does – what does that mean?'

'Just say it.'

There wasn't much point in resisting. Not now. She repeated them obediently.

'Thankyou,' said Galbatorix. 'You can get up now,' he added more kindly.

Nasuada got up and stood in front of him, her head bowed.

'Now then,' said Galbatorix. 'You're free. Once your friends have done the same, which I'm sure you'll be able to persuade them to do, you'll be allowed to go wherever you like. Within reason. It would be best if you stayed in the city for a while. There are things to sort out. You know how it is. But before all that, there's something more important to do.'

Nasuada looked at him nervously. 'What?'

'I'm giving the – Eragon the honour of being laid to rest in the catacombs under the city. His body has been prepared for burial and I've had a group of the best stonemasons down there working on a tomb for him. You and Murtagh and Sif will come to the ceremony, along with anyone else who wants to come.'

Pain and bewilderment wrestled each other for control of Nasuada's face. 'But – but why?'

'He was a rider, no matter what else he was,' said Galbatorix. 'The catacombs are where all riders were laid to rest, long before Urû'baen was even built, and Eragon can rest there. All the riders who died during the Fall are there. Even Vrael. Well… his head, anyway. Shruikan ate the rest of him.'

Nasuada stared at him. 'How can you be like this?' she demanded. 'You're a murderer who builds tombs for his victims and talks about justice while he forces people to serve him at swordpoint… how can you live with yourself?'

'I have honour, of a sort,' said Galbatorix. 'In death, we can forget a person's misdeeds.'

'Misdeeds?' Nasuada almost screeched. 'Misdeeds? Eragon-,'

'Eragon would not have done for me what I'm doing for him,' said Galbatorix. 'Eragon shot me full of arrows and left me for dead in the middle of the wilderness with two broken limbs. You have a very strange view of morality, Nasuada. Morality, for you, is when your beloved Shadeslayer starves and tortures his prisoners and kills people in a fit of rage when he doesn't get his way, while pretending that he can do no wrong. Your morality seems to be a set of rules which only applies to people you don't like and justifies whatever you want to do. I act according to the laws of the land, not according to what I want. Although I have circumvented them somewhat in giving you a free pardon, but I felt the realm would benefit more from you if you were alive.'

'And Eragon?' said Nasuada. 'What about what you did to him? Was that justice?'

'No, that was personal revenge. Unfortunate, but my patience only lasts so long. I'd had a rather trying few months.'

Nasuada gave him a look that was simply murderous. 'You're a-,' she broke off suddenly, her expression bewildered. She mouthed some words, trying to speak, but failed. 'What's happening to me?' she demanded.

Galbatorix snickered. 'Whoops. I'm sorry, but the temptation was too much for me.'

'What did you do to me?' Nasuada shouted, horror-struck but moving to attack him.

'Just that little addition to your oath which said; "I will not call Galbatorix Taranisäii by anything other than his proper name". Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.'