Chapter 26 – Ismira
Albriech!
Her Father's smith. Here on Eaglegate. One of Roran's most loyal subjects. What is he doing here? Did Father send him? Is he alone?
Did he come for me?
She wished the marble floor would crack in half and swallow her, leaving no trace behind. Her muscles locked and trembled. She could try to hide, but where? The marble corridor was long and bare, all other doors closed. She could use magic. She knew the spell to make herself invisible. As she brushed the energy filled tourmaline hidden in her tunic, it pulsed brightly in her mind, promising a quick escape.
"Ismira!" She almost jumped out of her skin. Albriech was giving her a huge grin. Keya on the other hand, was frowning at her. The other students turned towards Ismira, making her the center of attention. She wished she would melt into shadow and air and clenched her hands in fists to stop them from trembling.
She gave a reserved smile, trying to hide the storm of panic threatening to drown her. "Lord Albriech!" Why was her voice so high? Did the others notice?
"Ha ha! Little Ismira! Look at you! How big you've grown!" Before she could react, Albriech enveloped her in a bear hug. He smelled of metal and leather; a familiar smell from her childhood. He gave her a tight squeeze and pulled back to look at her. He noticed the red pendant she had chosen to wear over her beige tunic. Katrina's jewel. His eyes shone at the sight, his smile deepening. "Beautiful like your Mother, fierce like your Father." He paused for a moment and his grin muted, his eyes catching her ears, the changes in her face and body that come with the Bond. It had been five years since the last time he saw her. "And like your Uncle…" he whispered, but did not finish the comparison.
She could almost see the path of his thoughts as he remembered. A Rider. A stranger. A freak. It sent a stab through her heart. She had not thought about it for a very long time and tried to shake herself from the sudden onslaught of dark memories.
Focus!
What brought him in Eaglegate? And why is he in the Cross?
She studied Albriech. There were dark circles under his blood shot eyes. His straight blond hair was left uncut, reaching his chin, with more grey hair than Ismira remembered. His beard was also longer, and starting to go silver. Despite nearing his fourth decade, he was still strong and fit from years working in the forge, as the bulge of his muscles portrayed. But there was a wildness in his eyes, a stoop in his shoulders.
There was no visible sign of ailment that explained his visit. Either he was healed already or he had come with another patient. Keya spoke of "them", she recalled. Her stomach knotted even more. Someone from home. It must be. Who? She looked at Keya for answers, but her teacher did not meet her gaze.
Albriech blinked and looked around at the other Riders as well, giving a respectful nod. "Welcome! Welcome!" he nervously said. "Have you come to see them?" he asked of Keya.
"We have come to check the status of the mother and the baby." She responded with a reassuring smile.
A Baby?! It cannot be… No. Maybe his? Ismira had not heard of him getting married. And why would he come all the way here with a baby? Even if they rode a Dragon, the journey was too perilous, especially since Blood Feast.
"I hope you have not come at an inconvenient moment?" Keya continued. As if anyone could stop her from seeing a patient. As if she could not break the doors and the walls in this building as easily as she could break someone's mind and body. But this was also part of their lesson. To always show courtesy to your patients. Sometimes it was better to make them think they were in control. Especially if they were weary of magic. Better for them not to be reminded of the Rider's prowess. Better for them not fear them. Which was partly why Dragons were seldom, if ever, allowed in here.
"No, no. Come in, come in." Albriech opened the doors for them and ushered them in.
The room was wide, with a high ceiling and plenty of light. It was connected with an inside courtyard with a small fountain and flower garlands knitted expertly together and hung to provide natural cover from the sun. The room was decorated with soft colors and the general design was meant to promote serenity and to ease the patient's recovery. The smell of lavender and cedarwood was prevalent but not overwhelming.
On a generous bed lay an Urgal female under soft bed sheets covering her up to her waist, leaving the rest of her bare. Her skin was a deep grey, an unusual coloration for her people. Seeing them enter, she clutched the bundle she was holding tighter against her breast. Ismira could hear the baby suckling even though she could not see it clearly, covered up as it was. Her training came back to her. A good sign, that the baby is feeding.
And the realization that she was a stranger, that no other familiar face from her home was here almost made her faint in relief.
Albriech quickly went by the female's side and rested a hand on her shoulder. Keya went to the other side and the rest of the Riders clustered around the bed. Ismira found herself next to Albriech. The Urgal glanced at him, and he gave her a nod and a reassuring squeeze. On close inspection, Ismira noted that her face was still strained and pale from the exertion of childbirth, but her yellow eyes watched them carefully. Measuring them up, glancing at the room's exits.
Ismira was not insulted by the Urgal's weariness. It was evident she had plenty of reasons to be as her body bore marks of heavy fighting. Both of her horns were broken, to what must have been a third of their original size. Their still jagged edges betraying it as a recent loss. Her left shoulder bore an ugly scar from a piercing weapon. It must have been either great luck or great effort that had prevented it from stabbing her heart. Her right hand was scarred from burning, the worst of the wound removed by a healer, although she had evidently chosen to not remove the whole of the evidence of her wound. There were also various scars and scrapes on her neck and hands, acquired through the years. And no doubt she had more on the part of her that was covered.
She must have been a warrior. Ismira wondered whether she had fought in the War. Most of her scars were a sign of great brutality that made Ismira's blood cold. She knew enough of Urgal's culture and fighting style to recognize that most of the wounds were likely done by her own people.
"Lagakh" Keya greeted her. "How are you feeling?" she asked her in the Human language.
Lagakh replied politely in an unusually clear and musical voice for her race. "We are both well, Dragon Rider. Thank you, for your hospitality and the care you have given us." Her eyes darted towards Albriech, almost uncertain. He smiled at her and Ismira wondered whether they were speaking the Human language for his sake.
As Keya asked Lagakh a few more precise questions about the birth and her condition, Ismira's focus lapsed. She had attended many births, and understood most of what Keya was asking. She desperately tried to avoid thinking about the last birth in which she was present. The smell of Hilda's blood was heavy in her mind and she was thankful for the lavender and cedarwood perfume the Healers had diffused in the room. Keya should have warned me!
The rest of the students were listening tentatively, but Ismira had a feeling Keya's lesson rested elsewhere. For the first time, she truly focused her attention on Albriech. On the hand he had placed on the Urgal's shoulder. The caring way he touched her. The fact that she seemed to lean into the touch and occasionally looked at him as she spoke. The proud smile he wore every time the baby was mentioned. A son.
Which Ismira was certain was his. Theirs was a very familiar relationship, not simple acquaintances. Initially she had thought he had simply accompanied the Urgal here, perhaps on Roran's orders. Now she wondered whether her Father had approved of the journey at all.
A half breed child, no matter how intriguing and fascinating a Rider would find it, was not likely to be approved of in Alagaesia. Eighteen years of peace were not enough to wash away old traditions and superstitions. No wonder they had fled to Dragonmount, seeking the protection of Eragon.
As Legakh spoke with Keya, the baby finished eating and she lovingly raised him and started patting his back, keeping a protective hand on the back of his head. Keeping him hidden from them. Ismira wondered at the child's appearance. Lagakh's movements were too smooth and clever and Ismira had not been able to get a good look at the child's face.
Ismira felt Keya's mind lightly touch hers. Her teacher was in a middle of asking about the baby's weight upon birth and was not looking her way, but Ismira felt as if she was prompting her to speak. They had come here for a lesson after all.
"…the Healers said it is normal, all things considered." Lagakh was saying and Ismira recognized her opening.
"The child…" Ismira addressed Lagakh for the first time. Keya turned to her with a small smile, the other students looking at her, while Albriech tensed at her side, eyes suddenly lowered. "Is it half Human?" she asked.
Lagakh hugged the baby even tighter, slightly lowering her head, a sign Ismira recognized as a warning before attacking. A mother's instinct, to lower her head and show her horns at a potential foe. Although, broken as they were, they would do little damage. Ismira held the Urgal's stare, trying to keep her face free of judgment. "Yes."
Lotte sucked in a breath in shock and a fleeting look of disgust passed on Glas' face. Ismira expected Lotte to be the most shocked, as Dwarves tended to be the most traditionalists, but was surprised by Glas' reaction. She was even more surprised by the fact that Emery betrayed no emotion. Keya must have filled him in. Perhaps he was present at the birth as well. It was not so long ago that Keya would had confided in her about this. Especially since Albriech was one of her Father's vassals. Not to mention the fact that the birth of a half Urgal half Human baby would pose a few challenges and would have been a great training to her as a Rider. Yet, Keya had chosen Emery to know and not her. She felt a flash of jealousy at that.
How was it possible that she had not heard about this? Albriech having an affair with an Urgal and having a half breed child with her? Were they even married? None of them wore a ring. This was a prime scandal for the Valley.
Then she remembered that she had forsaken her vow to her Father and had not spoken with her family and friends back home for many weeks. Shame and jealousy mixed and turned to anger.
Some of it must have shown in her face, for Keya and Emery furrowed their brow, mistaking her reaction for judgment against the child. Albriech sent Ismira a fleeting look and lowered his head, almost in shame. A few moments of silence hang between them before Keya spoke once more. "May we see the child?"
Lagakh hesitated. "Yes, Rider." She carefully removed the child from her breast and turned him towards them, always keeping him close.
It was more than obvious why they had run. The child, even as a newborn, was a mix of both races and Ismira was certain even as he grew, he would never be able to pass as one race or the other. He had the Urgal's greyish skin tone and features. There was no sign of horns, but those normally came later in life for Urgals. A fuzz of blond hair grew just above his brow and his eyes were a clear, shocking baby blue.
"The Healers said, his eyes might change color. That some… Human babies do… change eye color?" Legakh anxiously asked. Ismira understood her worry over the child's eyes. His hair he could shave, but his eyes would not be easy to change, besides using magic and even that, would have to wait until he was fully grown. There was no way of knowing if the child would even grow horns. And a hornless child would never be accepted amongst the Urgals. Whatever happened, the child would be singled out all his life.
"Some babies do" Keya kindly responded. "Their eyes turn green or brown as they grow." It was unlikely they would turn yellow, the most common color among Urgals. "Some do not change at all."
Legakh nodded, her eyes cast down for once. The shame over wishing her child was different, evident on her face. Albriech seemed to share his partner's feelings.
There was a sharp knock on the door, breaking the tension. "Enter, Roese" said Keya.
A tall Human female with curly brown hair and the white and purple striped robe of an apprentice Carer briskly walked into the room and went by Keya's side. "Argetlam" she said, making the sign of respect. "Head Carer Warin sends me. He wants you to know that he searched our storerooms, but found no milk bramble vine."
Legakh was distressed at that. "Are you sure? You have none?" she asked Roese, as she cradled the baby once more, rocking him to sleep.
The young girl seemed uncomfortable to be under the Urgal's scrutiny. "That is what the Head Carer said."
"Does it not grow here?" Lagakh asked Keya.
"No, this particular variety does not. I could get you some of the local type."
"My clan… It was always milk bramble vine that we used." Lagakh said sadly. She desperately turned towards Albriech, who seemed lost for words.
Ismira tried to recall if her lessons had said anything about the importance of milk bramble vine in Urgal's culture. She was almost certain she had not heard of it before. Urgals had various rituals for important life events, including birth. She could not guess what Lagakh wanted to do with the plant, but if it was significant for her, she could understand why she was desperate to have it. One of the most important rituals in an Urgal's life was indeed a birth ritual, but it was mainly significant because it marked one's acceptance by the clan. And there was a suspicious absence of other Urgals. Even Keya had not brought any Urgal Riders with her.
"Is it possible someone else in Eaglegate might have some?" Albriech asked.
Keya frowned. "The variety you seek is native to the Spine. We would have to ask a member of the Urgalagra, and still chances would be slim."
"No!" Lagakh shouted, waking the baby. He started crying and she immediately started rocking him again. "Please, do not." She added in desperation.
"Head Carer Warin suggested…" Roese added hesitantly "He said we could ask Silverfinger." She whispered to Keya.
The Rider clenched her jaw. "We better not."
"Who?" Lagakh asked, her eyes bright. Roese seemed surprised that the Urgal had heard her. Not yet fully comfortable with dealing with those of sensitive hearing, Ismira noted.
"A merchant." Keya answered her displeasure visible on her usually calm face. "A very expensive one. We try to not go to her often. She preys on those in need."
A smuggler. Ismira had heard of her even though she had never dealt with her personally. Details about her were sparse, but two years ago Silverfingers had provided them with Feldunost hoof powder; a request from one of their patients. In a whispered conversation, Ismira had heard of the smuggler. She suspected that dealings with her were done only for special reasons and even then it was almost as if in shame that the Rider's and healers would turn to her.
"Argetblys?" asked Lotte. Silverfinger in Dwarvish.
Keya nodded and Lotter's brows shot up in surprise. Before she could say anything else, Albriech intervened. "We have gold. We can pay for her services."
Keya's expression clearly said they could not. "Gold is not always what she desires."
Ismira wondered what they usually paid her. She did not like Albriech going to her.
Lagakh's face fell once more. Albriech raised his chin. "I would seek this merchant. Where is her shop?"
Keya sighed. "You will find out whether I tell you of it or not. I cannot stop you, if you are so determined, but hear my advice. Try to settle in gold. Do not let her weave you into one of her plots. Refuse any other bargain."
Albriech's cheeks turned red. He was not one to be coddled like a child. Ismira remembered his wild temper and braced herself. "I will …" he started.
"Yes, I know." Keya said with a wave of her hand. "She is in the southern part of the city. Go to the Sleeping Ant and ask of her there." She hesitated and turned to Ismira. "You should go with him Ismira, show Lord Albriech the way." In her mind she said, keep him from being a total fool. Eragon would expect this from us.
To be alone with one of her Father's vassals was the last thing Ismira wanted. And Keya was well aware of it. She wondered if this was some kind of punishment. For neglecting her studies for so long perhaps. Maybe Keya thought her undeserving of her lessons. "Of course, Ebrithil." She replied, bowing her head in a show respect. "We should leave at once." She briskly told Albriech and quickly turned to go, hiding the heat of hatred she felt for Keya at that moment.
She did not look back as she escaped to the corridor outside. Albriech did not immediately follow. Ismira took a few calming breaths as he said his goodbye to Lagakh and the baby and made promises of success.
Keya hates me. Ismira realized. Her teacher knew of her discomfort and yet she did not respect her. She should have told me Albriech was here. She had been thrown into the situation head first and now Keya was making it worse. She wants me to do the dirty work. She wants me to fail so that she appears good in Eragon's eyes. She wondered whether Keya was one of the Riders Eragon fucked in his secret chambers. She should have paid attention to the gossip instead of avoiding it in respect for her uncle. Maybe they planned this together. I wonder what he and Father talk about. Maybe they hate me to. Maybe they all do.
Hearing Albriech's heavy footsteps, she hastily wiped the angry tears from her eyes. She took another deep breath and tried to school her features, before Albriech could see, thankful that the corridor was empty.
"OK" he said with a grin as he closed the door behind him. "Let us go find this Silverfinger Lady."
They emerged to a bright noon sun and the cacophony of a myriad languages and dialects. Ismira came to a sudden stop on top of the white front stairs of the Cross. She took a deep breath of fresh air, as Albriech caught up to her. She felt a deep satisfaction at his heavy breathing from their quick walk through the maize like corridors. He might be bigger than her, but she had years of training to her advantage. If I cannot not walk faster than an aging Human, who loves his cup more than his whole house, I might as well abandon any hope of becoming a Rider and go live with the Assardi.
Instinctively, she checked the sky for any sign of Itha. A few clouds here and there, but no Dragons. Hers or other. She checked her wards once more. They held strong enough than she could not even feel Itha. She had no way of knowing how close her Dragon was nor Itha's feelings. She knew Eragon would scold her for it, and Keya would try no doubt question her later on Itha's lessons, but the pair had perfected the act of exchanging information lightning fast as soon as they met again. That way, Ismira was not vulnerable to attacks and Itha was not bothered by her Riders constant anxiety.
"Busy day today?" Albriech asked.
"It's busy here every day." she replied. It was true, the Cross being the main attraction for many visitors and cleverly placed in the centre of the city, its front plaza was teeming with people every single day.
People had gathered in the front lawn, strolling, chatting and taking in the sun. They were lounging on the lawn and against the railing at the end of the plaza, overlooking the Harbor. A few stalls had opened on the left side of the plaza, under the shade of the Wings.
Ismira cursed herself for not exiting through a side door. They would have to go through the crowd now.
Hastily, she descended the stairs, taking a pair of leather gloves out of her pockets as she walked, to hide her Mark. She also shoved her mother's pendant under her tunic. She had worn it so that anyone who might report to her father, might also say they saw her wearing it. Maybe it would have pleased her family to hear that she still honored them, even though she had broken her promise to contact them regularly. Now that Albriech was here, he would report much more to Roran. If he ever went back. And to wear it meant someone might immediately recognize her and her goal was to remain anonymous.
Albriech noted her actions and raised the hood of his cloak, hiding his face. Guess I'm not the only one who doesn't want to be recognized. Ismira had not brought a cloak of her own, but she quickly muttered a spell. It would muddle her features, preventing anyone from peering too close or too long. It would not work in close quarters or against any of her fellow Riders nor would Albriech notice any difference.
It's harmless, she told herself, even though she knew Keya would be furious. They were meant to walk the streets of Eaglegate with their heads held high, making all know that this was their home. The Home of the Riders. All others were trespassers. Guests. Allowed to be here, by the Rider's generosity. Ismira had heard the Riders say it a hundred times and each time, she felt the wrongness in the statement. The Assardi were here before them. The birds and the beasts of the land, before them. Was it not their home as well? Were the Riders not trespassing on their home? They trained for years, sharing the minds of all organisms around and still, sometimes, the Riders thought themselves rulers of the world. Above all others.
Besides, it was a smuggler Keya had sent Ismira to meet. That was as good an excuse as any to hide herself.
Before anyone could actually recognize her as a Rider, she turned left and led Albriech quickly across the plaza. Mercifully, no one seemed to pay attention to them. In front of them lay a broad sloping road, leading from the Cross to Eaglegate's Main Road and Harbor.
"Are these… Saphira's wings?" Albriech asked her, staring at the sculpture to their left, which stood marking the end of the plaza.
"Yes" Ismira muttered. "They were modelled after hers." One of the first works of art installed in the city, the row of sculptures, each depicting a pair of Dragon wings, was a popular attraction. They provided shade and many merchants had opened their stalls under them. The details on each was exquisite, their color vibrant, sparkling in the sunlight. To those unaccustomed to Dragons, they would appear lifelike even
"Are they all based on a specific Dragon?" Albriech kept staring at the colored stone in awe.
"Yes." Ismira answered, glaring at the sculptures. Firnen's green was next to Saphira's and Thorn's were third. "All based on the wings of a bonded Dragon." She hesitated. "When we become full Riders, after completing our studies, we make the sculpture and gift it to the city." There was no need to mention that Itha's wings were not among the sculptures. Still. After all these years.
They had come to a stop in front of Saphira's Wings. A young black haired boy, holding his father's hand, was staring at them. A pair of Urgals was standing in front of Thorn's Wings. Ismira show Albriech tense and pull his hood tighter, at their sight. "We should go" he murmured.
Ismira did not need to be told twice. The little boy was tugging at his father. She led Albriech forward, thankful for the crowd in front of them and the opportunity to get lost among them.
More and more people were disembarking from one of the biggest ships to sail here, part of the regular transport between Alagaesia and Dragonmount. Traffic to Eaglegate slowed during winter. This was one of the last ships to sail before wintertime and it had apparently been full.
Humans, Dwarves, Urgals and a couple of Elves were packed in their way towards the southern part of the city, were the Shopping District lay. It was there most inns and shops were located and where visitors gravitated towards upon arrival.
Some were obviously first time visitors, stopping to gawk, trying to orient themselves, creating a bottleneck that frustrated regular citizens and return visitors alike. More than one argument broke out. A large man, wearing full armour, was trying to ride his Horse. The poor thing was shaking in fear, refusing to walk forward, and the man was getting more and more frustrated. As were those behind him. A family of Dwarves was trying to walk past them, a child even passing underneath the horse's belly, her mother shouting angrily at her. The man, obviously mistaking her shouting to be directed at him, puffed up and readied himself for a fight, his face getting red and fingering the sword at his side.
Rhezin was suddenly there. At the sight of the Kull, all color faded from the man's face.
Ismira quickly took a right, towards a side alley, among the warehouses dotting the Harbor, before she was spotted. She had also spotted Kirgik in the crowd doing patrol duty. Even though it was way below their station to patrol the streets and maintain peace in the crowds, Eragon was very fond of the practice. It was an exercise meant to teach Riders the complications of the world outside Dragonmount. Ismira had not failed to notice that she had not been called for patrol duty as often as the other Riders her age had been. Eragon preferred her busy in the Cross instead.
They took a longer path towards the Shopping District, preferring the alleys and side streets to the main road. She hoped no one had recognized Albriech. She wondered whether his mating with an Urgal was a well-known scandal back home. And whether anyone had followed them or worse, issued a blood feud.
Is that what Keya hopes? For me to be attacked?
Better not risk it.
They met few people, but Ismira payed them no attention. She walked with a Rider's stride, not particularly caring whether Albriech was able to keep up. So far he had not complained, but rather seemed to prefer their quick pace. He was tense and wary and spoke little. Ismira was fine with that too. The sooner they were done the better.
She made a sudden stop in a crossroad and quickly scanned the plate hanging there. On it were directions for places of interest in Eaglegate. Even though she had practically grown up on Dragonmount, she was not one to frequent the pubs and inns of Eaglegate. She had never even heard of the Sleeping Ant Inn.
"Are we close?" Albriech whispered to her.
"Yes" she answered, reading the directions. "It is on the main road, just two blocks to the southeast." Already she could hear the clamor. She sighed in frustration wishing she had a hood of herself to hide her face.
Nothing to be done now. Bracing herself, she led Albriech to the main road. They had emerged between a cheese shop and a butcher. She almost gagged at the smell. She had not eaten any animal product for the last six months, the thought unbearable to her after all those years of meditation and training.
She scanned the opposite buildings. In front of them stood a simple wooden two story Inn, the sign above its door depicting a red Ant. Whoever had painted it must not have been very good, as Ismira could not tell whether it was supposed to asleep or dead. Hoping they had reached the right place, she quickly walked across the road, avoiding a cart filled with beer barrels. Albriech gave them a longing glance.
The inside of the inn was dark and the air heavy with smoke. Most tables were occupied. With a quick glance around, Ismira spotted three tables occupied by Urgals on the back of the room. Hoping they did not stick out like a fly in a glass of milk, she went to talk with the barman.
"You must get a table if you wish to be serviced. A waiter will come by and get your order." The barman told Ismira before she could utter a single word. He was a dark skinned Human, with gold earrings on both ears and a piercing made of silver on his nose.
"We…"
"Those are the rules of this establishment." He was not even looking at her as he spoke, just focused on meticulously cleaning tall crystal glasses. "If you do not like it, go elsewhere."
Ismira's anger rose rapidly. She thought of showing him her gedway ignasia. Or burning his precious wooden tables. Or burning through his mind and making him beg forgiveness for the insult.
Albriech placed a hand in her shoulder and stirred her towards a table right next to the bar. She went with him and heavily sat down. They did not have to wait long before a lanky Human boy, wearing a red apron came by to take their orders.
"We have not come here to eat and drink." She told him, conscious of how haughty and superior she appeared.
"We do not provide tables for lounging around. If you do not want to eat or drink, you may leave." He said with authority that did not match his stature. He must have been no more that thirteen. Ismira wanted to smack some sense to him.
"We have come to do business with Silverfingers." She tried to lace her words with authority even though part of her hoped he would throw them out and she could go back to her rooms, were she could be at peace on her own. She thought all eyes were on her and resisted the urge to hide under the table.
"I do not know that name" the boy said. "We do have Spotted Fingers if you wish. How would you like them? Raw? Grilled?"
"We do not wish to eat mushrooms!" Ismira angrily replied. No to mention that Spotted Finger Mushrooms were hallucinogenic. What kind of inn was this anyway? She studied the boy closer. She was pretty sure he had lied about Silverfingers, his answer echoing a bit too practiced to her. "I wish to speak with your boss, boy."
"Master Lan does not like trouble makers. I'll take your order, or you may leave." He told them almost cheerfully.
He is mocking us. I have no time for this shit.
"I''ll have a beer." Albriech interrupted her angry reply. "Do you have any from Tierm?"
"Yes, we do Sir!"
"Bring me a pint. And one for my companion."
The waiter left without a look at Ismira. He went to the bar and got a jar and two mugs the barman handed to him. The barman must have heard Albriech's order. She waited for the boy to hand the jar to Albriech and then leave, before turning to Albriech. "What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Enjoying a cold beer." He replied, filling both mugs and taking a huge gulp. "You have your Father's temper, Mira. He would be very proud of you." The childish nickname made her cheeks flush. She was a child no longer; he should show her more respect.
"We are here on urgent business." She whispered back to him, as he pushed one mug over to her, prompting her to drink. "We are not here to get drunk."
"No one's getting drunk. We are simply waiting. They heard our request. They'll come back to us." He eyed her above the lip of his mug. "Eragon should let you leave Dragonmount more often."
"What do you mean?"
"I suspect they tell Silverfingers we want to meet her and she comes to us. That's the way it's usually done; when it's secret dealings you want to have. Go on, have a drink with me to celebrate my boy's birth. I doubt they'll have us wait too long." He lounged back in his chair, content with his alcohol.
Ismira did not answer him. It was true she was inexperienced, but they were pressed for time. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped with Albriech. When he finished his drink he would start talking and she was absolutely not prepared for his questions. She crossed her arms and sat back, hoping to halt any conversation.
As they waited, she studied the rest of the customers. Albriech had not removed his hood and had his back to the Urgals in the back. An unnecessary precaution most likely as they seemed to be on their way to dump drunkenness. Each one had what looked like a pot full in front of them. Another waiter, a middle aged woman, constantly refilled them. One of the Urgals had fallen asleep on the table, snoring and drooling.
There were plenty of Humans and a few Dwarves enjoying a meal and a drink. The inn looked not different than any other in Eaglegate. Clean and well kept, as all were required to be. With good quality and service. If Keya had not told her, Ismira would never have come here looking for a smuggler.
The young waiter was taking orders and seeing to customers. It did not look like he would take them to Silverfingers any time soon. Albriech was getting close to finishing his drink and Ismira was desperate to avoid any conversation. So she relaxed the wards around her mind and gently send her thoughts around her, like a blanket. A gentle touch that few non Riders could sense.
A Dwarf and a Human were having a tense conversation about some kind of deal. About Barley. She moved on. A pair of lovers were huddled in a corner, a man whispering sweet talk to a woman's ear. Ismira's skin flushed, mirroring the woman's reaction. Do not get distracted now. A Dwarf was boasting to his companions about his skill with the bow. No one in the room was thinking of Silverfingers. She could sense no magic users.
There was a door on the far side of the room, waiters were coming and going through there. The kitchens. Stairs next to it led to the second floor. She wondered if Silverfingers was up there, but she did not want to risk being discovered. She had kept herself aware, as was instructed, but was afraid to probe with her mind too openly.
"So, have you spoken with your family recently?" Albriech suddenly asked and Ismira realized he had been studying her.
For a moment she froze. This was what she had been afraid of. To be alone with him. For him to start asking questions. Lie to him. I cannot, he will know. "No." she answered briskly, hoping to end the conversation. She hastily grubbed the jar in front of her and took a big gulp of the beer.
"You have not asked of them yet" he insisted.
I do not care. Please stop. "It is best not to speak of such things here in the open". I am a Rider; I will not be afraid. Yet, she could not bring herself to look at him. The charging on his face. She had her face turned away, looking anywhere but him. She took another drink, the mug half empty already.
"So, Eragon keeps you informed?"
Stop it. She could not bring herself to answer that. She had been very meticulous on trying to avoid Eragon these past weeks. Albriech was simply coaxing her. If something serious had happened, Eragon would have told her. Most likely…
"Hope sends her greetings. Wanted me to tell you that she misses you. Would love to talk, when you have the time."
She closed her eyes. "I will. When I can." I cannot. I cannot. She finished her drink.
"Roran wants you to know…"
"Not here" she hissed at him, realizing too late that she had said it with her mind as well as her voice. In her anger, she had launched her mind at his, breaking his shield as if made from paper. She was holding him still, preventing him from speaking. Albriech clutched his head, pain etched on his face from her mental stab, shock flooding his eyes.
Oh no.
The Dwarves from the nearby table had stopped talking and were visibly staring. Soon, the whole town would hear of this.
Albriech was fidgeting, trying to break free. He made an attempt for a mental attack that she easily blocked. He has training? She relaxed her hold on his limbs. His hand went to a dagger hidden in his tunic. Ismira sensed his panic. He had never before been attacked this way. Only when he trained with a magician on Roran's orders, so he would be able to protect the secrets entrusted to him. He had not expected her to be so strong. He fears me. He fears for his family. He was going to start shouting at her. He was going to make a scene.
She quickly cut him off, taking control of him once more. She tried to be gentle about it, to not pry too deep into his mind; his memories. She made him put his dagger, back into his pocket, trying to make it appear natural, a movement of his own free will. She tried to make him understand that she had not meant to attack him. It had been an accident; a precaution.
When the dagger was out of view, however, she saw his lips were turning blue. Shock flooded her as she realized that in her haste she had not simply cut off his speech, but his breath as well. She quickly released him, horrified at herself.
Albriech started coughing, his hand on his chest. She could hear his heart beating wildly, a sudden rush of blood flushing his face a bright red.
She had simply meant to stop him from talking; she never meant not stop his breathing. Her heart was hammering, Eragon's advice strong in her mind. Be careful of your power. Not everyone is as strong as you. Try not to break them.
"I'm sorry" she breathed. He was breathing heavily, looking at her darkly. He hates me. He hates me!
What have I done? She was going to cry. She…
"Sir? Are you all right?" the young waiter came running to their table.
"I…" Albriech took a few shuddering breaths. "I'm fine." He said, waving the boy away. "Been a while since I've had this strong a beer. Got to my head."
"Would you like some water?" before Albriech could answer the boy fetched a glass.
Albriech drunk deeply. "Thanks, but I am fine, truly."
The barman was staring at them. As the boy returned to the bar, he placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. The boy turned back and stared at Ismira. He looked scared.
She felt shame mixed with satisfaction. She had been training for years, but had next to none real world experience. She had overreacted with Albriech. That had been a mistake. But, gods, did it feel good to flex her power. She could do anything she wanted. None here could stop her. She could get hold of the barman's mind or the boy's or whoever else worked here and she could learn about Silverfingers. How to meet her or even better, where she held the damn vine. She would take it and pay her nothing. She would take it back to Lagakh and may she choke with it. That stupid little…
A shadow detached from a table on her left. She saw it out of the corner of her eye. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and was hit with the smell of musk so strongly, her head rung as if punched.
Blödhgarm.
He wore boots, trousers and a long sleeved tunic the same color as his fur. His mind was hidden from her. No wonder she had not noticed him.
She quickly rose from her chair and was quite pleased with herself for how smooth and steady the movement was. Internally she felt like fainting and then crying and then screaming. "Lord Blödhgarm." She greeted him softly as he reached their table. Too late realizing that the gesture betrayed familiarity and probably blew any chances of her status remaining hidden. Blödhgarm was a legendary figure. One well known as Eragon. No Human save one being either a Shadow or a Rider would be so familiar with him.
"Ismira" his voice washed over her, easing the tremble in her limbs. He had never spoken her name like this. With such ease. Like two friends meeting for drinks in town. His stance was still formal. Not that close friends, then. She could play along.
He sat down and she mirrored him.
"Lord Albriech". Blodhgarm greeted him formally and Albriech replied in kind. "What brings you here?" he turned to Ismira.
She tried to appear calm and in control, but her heart was still hammering and her hands were shaking. Blodhgarm had seen what she had done, he was going to report to Eragon as soon as he got back to Dragonmount. His eagle eyes were piercing her very soul; her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. "We…" she cleared her throat. "We are her one business for the Cross."
Understanding blossomed in his eyes. "I should not delay you then." He smoothly rose and turned to look at the barman, giving a slight nod.
He knows?! He deals with Silverfinger as well?
Ismira felt glued at her chair, as Blodhgarm turned to her once more. She felt the softest of touches against her shield and even though she had felt the touch of his mind dozens of times, it still made her toes curl and her core heat up. She peeled the layers of her mental shield, granting him entry.
Be very careful. He softly whispered in her mind. Remember why you came here. Be swift. Promise her nothing. Take nothing else. And he abruptly cut their connection and left.
Ismira stared after him breathlessly.
"My Lady?" the boy had materialized by her side. His dark eyes solemn. "Our Lady of Silver Fingers will see you now."