Reviewsssssssssss!
Its.Garnet.Time: It must be magic. Hmm. Oh, and my ego got so inflated that it exploded into a thousand tiny pieces. I am still looking for them and the job is completely ruining my eyesight. O.o.
I Elenial I: Maybe…mwahaaha. Actually, I really hate to give stuff away, but this story is beginning to progress into the beginning of the end. I think at most five or six chappies until the climax, then…the Burning Plains. DUN DUN DUN.
Hey, I heard from somewhere that the third movie's out! I'd like to see it this weekend but I'm busy debating—baseball game or X-men movie? Choices, choices.
Silver sliver: Thorn will definitely be less then happy if he knows. But what he doesn't know won't hurt him! (you may take that statement however you wish) I wish I could torture those evil Twins some more, but I need a reason…otherwise this story would be random and insane.
Mistress-of-Misery: No, actually it had another. The King of Attolia. I'm so mad because I live in Taiwan and you can't exactly get books quickly here. I ordered the book through the only English bookstore in this place three months ago and I'm still tapping my toes waiting for it to arrive. Arrrgh!
Gewher: Wow, thanks! Yeah, I probably should reread Eragon…I've made a few stupid mistakes in this story (not going to point them out though) that would've been avoided if I reread the books. Too late to change them now :(
Ariel32: It's coming! The romance will come, someday, somewhen, somewhere, somehow. It's just going really really REALLY slowly.
And oh my! You live in Taiwan too! I'm so happy somebody lives in this island that I vaguely know :0
Miss Pierre Bouvier: Yeah! There better be some Thorn in the third book or I'm going to give CP a piece of my mind. I hope he's not twisted and evil or anything…but I like my Thorn best :)
Emerald Tiara: Why, thank you. But you know, I hate to give things away…it's just that I can't wait to see you guys responses when I finally reveal the BIG BAD TRUTH at the end (we're getting there…slowly.)
Jacob is Heii, by the way. In case you've forgotten.
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4/3/101
Nobody paid any attention to the beggars as they scurried through the dirty streets, mangy rags over their heads. They blended in perfectly with the grim scenery, everything from their poor clothing to the layers of dirt on their bodies.
The tallest of the three ducked into a shadowy alley, motioning for the others to follow. They slipped forward, pausing in front of a shattered door. Through the broken wood, they could see a body.
They traded grim looks, then stepped inside.
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"We'd better head back," Ides murmured, breaking the awkward silence. "Just in case. I'll try to keep some kind of shield going…actually, no I won't." He sighed. "I can't make a daisy bloom now, let alone spin an invisibility shield or anything like that."
"More's the pity," Matiel muttered. "We'll be stuck like dead rats on a stick."
"Those taste good," Gen commented to nobody before clambering up a slimy ladder into the open air.
They emerged into a relatively wide street and brushed the worst of the muck off their clothes. "Best thing of living in the slums," Gen said conversationally, "is that a person rising out of a sewer is as common as spitting."
Salem raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "I see."
"It's very common, actually," Ides murmured. "People spit so much I'm half-surprised this place isn't flooded. Where are we?"
"Chirea's Bend," Rina said quietly. "There's that disgusting tavern over there, Greenwort or whatever." She shook her head in disgust. "The owner of that place is as bad as Galbatorix," she said softly but viciously. "He'll ride the whores and rape the decent, all in one night."
Salem bit her lip and looked away as Ides quietly changed the subject. Rape, even under Galbatorix's reign, was a crime punishable in the most severe cases by death. But the laws were so far away from this place, and there was nobody to enforce them. Once more, Salem got the uneasy sense that this was not her place, not her territory. It belonged to the people surrounding her, members of Sílica who had survived for longer and through much more than some stupid palace servant. Sílica who knew the slums and its people.
They took a roundabout route, doubling back often into the maze of streets lining the dark side of Uru'baen to insure they were not being followed. Ides did mental checks twice, searching for the mind of the Rider. He was nowhere to be found, and they fervently hoped he was gone for good. And that Liane was alive.
Rina's face was pale, her knuckles white and bloodless. "She's alive," she muttered, though with less and less conviction.
None of them had the heart to contradict her.
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Martaila straightened with a tired sigh, kneeling by the body. "I don't recognize her, not that that means anything," she told Neal. "But this was the safe house. The last safe house, and if it's broken, gods know what that means."
Neal paced around the house, frowning. "So they're gone? Is that it?"
Martaila didn't answer for the longest time. Finally, she said slowly, "This operation—Sílica—was the result of years of work. And I just can't bring myself to believe that the death of a single person would send it all crashing down. Surely they'd know better than to invest it all in Jacob, so that if he were gone, everything would be undone."
"Maybe they'd thought he'd survive," Neal offered quietly. "Maybe he was the strongest."
Martaila gave an unladylike snort. "Believe me, Nealan, if you knew Jacob you wouldn't say that. He was a good magicker, I've give you that, but he was arrogant as Galbatorix and twice as rash. He was always playing on the fringe of danger—yes, I suppose that's what killed him. But I knew Tria and the other ringleaders, and they knew Jacob as well. They knew his idiocy."
"Tria…oh, Talinia. Her. Didn't you say she was half in love with Jacob?" Neal inquired, eyebrow raised.
"Yes, but Tria's got above all a good head on her shoulders. Maybe she needs a lesson in ethics, but she knows how to survive. If I knew her, she would've put something away."
"She's dead," Neal said. "If there was anything, it's gone now."
"True." Martaila rose, dusting off her hands. "Where's Reya?"
"Here, my lady," a timid voice squeaked from an inner room. "Is the body gone?"
Martaila held back an exasperated sigh. "No, it's not. But we're ready to leave, Reya."
The maid emerged, looking distinctly ruffled and unhappy. She squeaked at the sight of the dead woman's body, clutching her arms closer to herself. Neal ignored her, glancing at Martaila with a frown. "Marta," he said slowly, "Where exactly are we planning to go?"
Martaila sighed. "I don't know, Nealan," she said quietly. "I seem to remember the outlines of a plan, to hide with the Pirean smugglers—"
"Ah-ha! So you do know them!" Neal said triumphantly. "I was wondering who that ugly fellow was. The one that came one or twice a year."
Martaila gave him an icy glare. "This is no time to be frivolous, Neal. As I was saying, that seems to have been the plan. But I'm afraid I don't know much more than that, or what we will do once we get there."
"Simple enough," Neal said, all trace of casualness gone from his face. "We leave this rat-cursed city, and we don't come back."
Martaila glanced at him, startled. "It's not that simple, Neal."
"Oh?" he challenged. "And there is something left here? Sílica can rearise like a phoenix from dust?"
She didn't have an answer. Finally, Martaila said quietly, "Let's talk about the smugglers first. Maybe we'll think of something."
Neal stood his ground, jaw sticking out stubbornly. "We can just leave through that hole I found," he snapped. "Why all this fuss and trouble? We came in that way, and let's get out that way."
"Do you plan to leave the city with nothing more than the clothes on our backs?" she snapped. "We can't just snap our fingers and leave; we have to plan—"
Reya gave out a tiny squeak and tugged Martaila's sleeve. "My lady, there are people coming!" she whispered in a breathless voice.
"No time for discussion," Martaila said, meeting Neal's gaze squarely.
He stared back, then nodded, his gaze breaking away in anything but submission. "Later."
They drew their rags back over their heads, rubbing the dirt and mud deeper into the skin. Opening the front door a crack, they walked out.
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Connac rested one hand against the wooden post, gazing out over the woodlands that surrounded Uru'baen. It was in times like these that he loved the city, felt proud that he was a captain of the Royal Army. This was what he was fighting for and defending—Uru'baen, every side and aspect of her, from the shopkeepers to the dancers to the emperor himself—the people. The life. For good or worse, he was bound to them and they to him.
He sighed and turned away. He'd agonized for a long time whether allowing that Rider to go after his sister was advisable, but he'd had no choice. Or did he? a nagging voice kept on asking. But what was done was done, and worrying over it didn't do anybody any good.
He stepped down the hallway, his mind aimlessly turning things over, barely noticing as he stumbled into another man. "Captain Blackfire!" a familiar, husky voice purred. "Do watch your step."
"Darl," Connac said, looking up and noticing the scroll in the messenger's hand. It was marked with the black seal, the sign of a royal order. "Who's it for?" he asked.
"Captain Fryling," Darl said, naming the other captain stationed at the garrison. "And of course, you."
"Me."
"Certainly." Darl delicately chose a scroll, handing it to Connac. He cracked the seal and read it, frowning as he looked up to meet Darl's amused eyes.
"I'm to be replaced?"
"Our gracious emperor does like to rotate troops," Darl said calmly. "Fryling will take over your post as the senior officer, and a new company under Captain Kretz will move in to take your place." He tapped the scroll lightly and smiled. It didn't fit too well on his face. "I wish you luck in the city."
He left down the hall, a suspiciously light spring in his step. Connac stared after him, then back at the scroll. The orders were explicit here—he was to rotate into the city, taking his men into the city patrol. It wasn't bad, just—unexpected. It was a different assignment at a strange time, for while companies did rotate, they did so on a regular basis. If he was to change posts, then surely Fryling's companies would've changed as well.
Connac hesitated, rereading it. As a city patrol, he would be responsible for law and order within Uru'baen. That meant chasing down criminals…and that meant chasing down Salem.
Maybe he was just being suspicious, but Connac just couldn't help but get the feeling that Galbatorix knew his relation to the criminal Salem Blackfire.
And who knew what he planned to do with the information?
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"It's safe," Ides muttered softly, staring blindly at the remains of the back door. "There were a couple people inside it, but they've left."
"So looters have already come," Rina hissed, hurtling into the house. The others followed her in, halting behind her.
"Rina?" Salem asked cautiously. "Is everything all right?"
Rina gave a choked gasp, moving aside to reveal a body on the ground. Ides dropped lightly to his knees, brushing aside the dead woman's hair. "Liane," he said softly. "She's dead."
Rina touched Liane's fingers and the drying blood around her wound. "She's not been dead long," she whispered softly. "Poor, poor Liane…she died for us, Ides. So that we could get away."
"A warrior's death," Ides said quietly.
"But at the end, you're still dead," Matiel growled.
"Better to die this way than as a cowering rat," Gen said, shooting Matiel a nasty look. "She loved you, Rina," he said, turning to the sobbing woman. "You were a sister to her, and she died for you. Honor her by surviving. By living. By kicking Galbatorix's ass."
Rina let out a crooked laugh, then sighed. "Yes, you're right," she said, her voice soft and broken.
She didn't let go of Liane's fingers.
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Murtagh tilted his head back, watching the clouds gather over the sky. It was going to rain soon, he could feel it.
He grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling distinctly hot and sticky in his leather armor. He had a vague, pulsing headache from so much mental straining, and his leg was beginning to ache dully. Maybe he could heal it properly, but it would take more energy and focus than what he had right now.
He hesitated. Galbatorix had told him to find Salem—he just hadn't specifically said when. A quick rest wouldn't hurt. Murtagh hesitated, then picked the least shady tavern he could find.
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End of Chapter Twenty-four
Next chapter will have them…oh, I don't want to give it away. I'll leave you to sweat in peace.
Okay, I've been a bit hesitant about giving out information not in a story context, but some people have been going on about confusion for quite a while. So here we go.
Sílica and Peregrine mean same things in different languages, but in this story they are quite different. Peregrine is code name for a person: Neal. Sílica is the name for a group, the remnants of which Ides, Gen, Matiel, Rina, and Salem came out of.
The center of Sílica is Peregrine, so the center of this group is Neal. Now, I'm not going to tell you what exactly Sílica's objective is, but couple it with the fact that Neal is Brom's son. See if you can figure it out.
(now is the time of revelation…when we find if we have any insane Harry Potter fans in here. by that I mean people who figure out the book ten chapters in advance.)
(yes, such people actually exist. I knew a person whose sister just about wrote a novel and figured out who the half-blood prince was about halfway into the book. weird, but hey, whatever's your cup of tea)
Anyway, just little twiddly things you might like to know. In the climax chapter (which seems to be very far away), I'll lay it out in detail. But that's then. This is now.
And in the first section—the beggars are Neal, Martaila, and Reya. In case you didn't know.
Can't say this was a long chapter. But it's important.
4/3/101 is turning out to be quite an eventful day. I think the last eight chapters or so have been on this day.