MUAHAHA! MUAHAHAHAA! MUAAAAAAHAA—you get the idea, don't you?

I Elenial I: giggles insanely The reason I am so closed mouth is because I can't wait to see your responses when I unveil the EVIL TRUTH. Which is very close; I think no more than one or two chapters until the first blow hits.

Mrs Pierre Bouvier: grins Yeah, I love that line too. I've kind of cast all the characters into certain stereotypes, and Gen just happens to be my casual humorist.

Its.Garnet.Time: What do you think about Garrett Fryling? I mean, I can't post a female captain because the characters from Eragon are set into a kind of muscle-man/whimpering-woman kind of role. But the first name can be yours to invent because I'm sooooo nice :)

Mistress-of-Misery: mysterious wink Oh, I need the romance. It's important for what happens later…anyhoo, THE BOOK CAME! does victory dance After three months, it took long enough! I read until midnight trying to finish it, but I do love it. It's a little confusing though.

Emerald Tiara: Hmph! Piffle to you!

But seriously, yeah, I know it's confusing. It's thick, anyhow. When this story winds up, I'm going to post as the last chapter an explainer chapter that lays out this whole story in detail. I hope, anyhow. This story is going to reach climax point very very VERY soon.

Gewher: Ooh, wait till you see the next chapter. Salem/Murtagh begins then; I've already got it about halfway finished so I should know! And I know, a week sucks to wait, but if I updated every day the story would have sentences along the line of—"Galbatorix was unhappy. Thorn was scared. Galbatorix decapitated everybody"—stuff like that.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

4/3/101

Ides gently pried Rina's fingers from Liane's. "She's gone," he said gently.

Rina seemed numb, not responding to his touch. Ides gave a pleading glance to Gen, who came over, whispering something into her ear. Rina blinked rapidly, twice, then let out a shaky breath. "I guess so," she said softly.

She stood unsteadily, staring off into empty space. Ides hesitated, then said quietly, "Gen?"

He looked up. "Yes?"

"I think we should go to the smugglers now," Ides said. "That means you need to get the needed coin."

Gen pulled a face. "I suppose. It'll take a couple hours, so don't hold your breath." He cast a wry glance at Matiel, then continued, "I'll have to move into richer parts of the city—"

"Don't have to," Rina said hoarsely. "Take it from that bastard who runs Greenwort. I know where he keeps his coin." She shook her head slowly. "I don't approve of stealing," she said directly, "but sometimes people deserve it."

"Interesting philosophy," Matiel muttered, getting himself a dark look from Ides. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "All right, I'm being a prick, and I apologize. Rina? Where does he keep it?"

"In—" she waved her hands vaguely, searching for an answer. Finally, she said, "In his privy pot. There's a hidden chamber underneath, and an oiled blanket wrapped around his treasure to prevent it from getting the stink." She pulled a face, a wanly mischievous smile coming to her face. "Don't ask how I know."

Gen let out a sputtering cough. "Well, I won't," he said, grinning broadly. "But I'll go get it. Shouldn't take me more than a couple hours." He stretched languidly like a cat, unconscious grace in his form. "Will you stay here?"

Ides laid his hand on Gen's shoulder. "I don't like sending you to do this alone, Gen," he said quietly. "What if you are discovered?"

Gen shrugged. "I'm a thief, Ides. I might be a little out of practice, but—"

"Hubris," Matiel interrupted.

"Arrogance," Ides said softly. "Gen, it's not like I don't have faith in you. But we can't afford to lose you—we can't afford to lose anyone. Please. Let me help you. Let us help you."

Gen looked at Ides for a long time, finally nodding with a rueful smile. His eyes flicked to Ides's missing right hand, and he nodded again. "I understand."

"We'll be waiting outside, as backup," Ides said. "Posted at different areas." He hesitated, then added, "maybe a bit apart. Just in case."

They didn't have to ask what exactly the "just in case" was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Murtagh fingered the handle of his mug idly, feeling a dull headache pounding at his temples. He'd ordered the least noxious brew he could find, but the taste of it left a gritty substance on his tongue.

He closed his eyes, reaching once more for Thorn. There was a slippery wall that blocked him off from the dragon, and it was infuriating him. Strange, how he now wanted somebody in his mind. He'd always been so fervent of privacy.

A shove on his shoulder woke him to his senses. Murtagh didn't open his eyes at first, a foul reek breathing into his nose. He sighed inwardly and looked. As he'd expected, it was some brawny thug, fat and muscle mixing to form a bull of a man.

"You," he said, his breath stinking of beer and tobacco, "get out of my seat."

Murtagh ignored him, appearing to stay perfectly nonchalant. On the inside, he was slipping into a core of focus, preparing for a fight. "Or else?" he asked.

The thug gripped his sleeve, shoving his face close. "Or I'll beat you up, stick-man."

My new nickname, Murtagh thought with a sigh. "Let me go," he said quietly, his voice calm and certain. "You will regret it if you don't."

He'd warned the thug. Whatever happened to the idiot after that was his own business.

The idiot didn't get the idea. "You threatening me, stick-man?" he roared. "I'll teach you!" he cried, shaking Murtagh like a dog.

The bar had gone quiet, eyes watching this latest little spat. Murtagh processed this new piece of information in an instant, also taking in the fact that the brute was drunk. It was a pity, really. Murtagh put one hand on the counter for leverage and kicked the man squarely. The man backed away with a howl, gripping a rather tender part. "You little—" he spat, lunging forward.

Murtagh ducked his outstretched arms, letting the man's own momentum send him sprawling over a stool. He lay on the floor, heavily winded, then threw up. There was a murmur of disgust from the surrounding watchers, then eyes swiveled to face Murtagh.

Murtagh stared down at the fallen man, feeling sick and empty. It hadn't been a fight of any sort. It was pointless and stupid, and nothing true had been accomplished. All of a sudden, he wanted to get out of the tavern. Now.

He shoved his way past the onlookers and stalked out the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gen stared up at the top floor of Greenwort's Tavern, sizing it up. He hesitated, then glanced around him. There were the others, waiting in the shadows. All he had to do was yell.

Right. Simple. Despite himself, he felt a little nervous. No matter what he'd said to Matiel, he was slightly out of practice. He set his hands on the stone—nice, bumpy stone with lots of handholds—and began to climb.

It was a quick, short climb, and Gen felt his confidence come back with every foot gained. He'd given up thieving a while before he'd met him, but the old ways were returning to him easily. Reaching the tiny window, he pushed aside the oil-paper shutter and squeezed in, landing with an inaudible thump.

Now, he thought, where does a man keep his privy pot?

That was a simple question, right? Under the bed, if he had any sense. Careful to keep to the shadows, Gen bent down, groping under the bed. His hand struck something hard; he traced its outline. It was vaguely circular, and curved inward. Gen hastily withdrew his hand from the indentation and pulled it out, grinning.

The thing had a false bottom—well made, to be sure, but to his practiced eye there was a tiny hairline crack. He ran his fingers upon it, searching for the catch—

"Don't move," a thick voice snarled into his ear. "I'll gut you like a dog."

Gen froze, feeling the cold metal of a knife on his neck. The man's other hand tore the privy pot away, dropping it. "Get up," he snapped, pulling Gen up. "Don't make a single sound."

"Will you kill me?" Gen inquired softly, standing slowly.

There was a soft hiss of laughter. "Maybe, thief," the man said contemptuously, shoving Gen to the floor. "I'll kill you, and leave your corpse for the dogs."

Gen's eyes flicked from the man to the window. The man, the infamous owner of Greenwort's and the rapist, grinned mercilessly, moving to block it. "There isn't any way out," he said softly. "No way except through me."

Gen gave the man his best, most meaningless smile. "Perhaps a negotiation could be arranged," he said pleasantly.

The man snickered, moving closer. "What kind, gutter scum? I've got time to kill." He guffawed at his own wit.

Gen hesitated, playing for time, examining the layout of the room carefully. There was a single window, which the lump of a man was currently blocking. There was a tiny bed in a corner, and the door was to the opposite side. His best hope lay in the door—if the man had been able to slip so quietly inside, it must be unlocked. He hoped, anyhow.

Or…maybe he could—

He decided against it, turning his thoughts back to the door. The window wasn't closed; all he needed to do was to draw the man away then jump like hell. He'd made bigger jumps before. He might twist an ankle, but that was infinitely preferable to getting gutted on the edge of a knife.

"This kind," he said in answer to the man's question, then leapt for the door.

To his ultimate relief, it was unlocked. The man gave a yell then lunged forward, knife flashing menacingly. With a yelp, Gen dropped, rolled, barely avoiding the sharp edge, jumped onto the bed and scrambled over the bedpost. He had one foot on the windowsill when he hesitated, glancing back at the privy pot.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man lunge. He dodged out of the way, cursing—his hesitation had cost him his best chance to escape. Stupid! The man wrenched the blade free of the oil-paper, his eyes sparking with fury. "You won't get out," he snapped. "Don't try the door. You won't get ten feet."

There were shadows hanging just outside, no doubt the man's cronies. They blocked the door, the owner of Greenwort's blocked the window. He was well and truly trapped.

He had no choice, really.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ides paced outside, tight with worry. He'd seen a foot appear on the windowsill, then vanish. How long does it take to steal a privy pot? he wondered, biting his lip. He stared up at the afternoon sun. Orcane, he prayed to the god of justice and war, don't let Gen get hurt again.

He loved Gen. More than a brother, more than a friend, more than anything. Gen had saved him two years ago when he had almost died, and had nursed him back to health without asking for repayment. Ides's stomach clenched as he thought back, to those days when he had been burning with fever and too disoriented to know air from ground. To those days when his hand had first been cut off and the bleeding seemed too thick to stop.

He glanced at his missing right hand, then looked back to the window. It was taking far too long.

"Does he usually take this long?" a voice wondered. Ides glanced at the speaker—it was the girl, Salem. Salem…Blackfire. That was it. He'd touched her mind before, if only briefly, and had rapidly withdrawn at the turmoil of emotions within.

"No," he said softly. "That's why I'm worried. You should go back to your post."

"I got bored," she answered. "It's not too far off, anyway."

"I know." Ides glanced back up at the window, then sighed. "I don't know, actually. Where's Matiel and Rina?"

"Still where they're supposed to be, I guess." She hesitated. "You seem rather worried."

"I am." Ides closed his eyes, touching for Gen's mind. It was still there, strong, but—there was another mind near his. Ides swore softly. Don't let him die, he thought at Orcane once more.

"He seemed the hardy sort," Salem remarked absently. "I'll go after him, though."

He glanced at her, startled. Had he been speaking aloud…well, obviously, if she answered. "That's kind of you," he murmured, calculating his strength. Maybe he could whisk Gen out or something. Maybe—maybe—

Controlling the man's mind would be difficult, not impossible—but it was sick. He couldn't! Breaking into another's mind was the utmost violation of privacy, the act of gutter scum. Even to save Gen's life—Ides swallowed, closing his eyes.

He would do anything to save Gen's life.

He breached the man's mind, taking over, filtering into his thoughts. The man fought, outraged, his yells tearing at Ides. Grimly, he pushed onward, shifting slowly to fit into the man's vision and his body and—

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Salem saw the whole thing as if in slow motion. The pot came out first, followed by Gen, leaping out the window in an ungainly sprawl. She ran forward, seeing Gen about to break his bones, and slammed hard into the ground, having broken the worst of Gen's fall.

He rolled off her and lay on the ground, winded, tilting his head to look at her with a mischievous grin. "I suppose you've saved me. The way that jump was going, I'd've landed on my head."

Salem staggered to her feet, rubbing her side. "Owwww," she muttered. "You're heavy."

"Not at all," he said, unperturbed, grinning impishly at her from the ground. He pushed himself to his elbows, his smile fading at he glanced at Ides. In a heartbeat, he had jumped up and was sprinting to Ides's side.

Ides's eyes were closed, his face pale, his breathing weak and shallow. Gen gave Salem a worried look. "How long has he been like this?"

Salem looked, hesitating. "What's wrong with him?"

"That's what I would like to know," Gen muttered, shaking Ides. The magicker didn't respond. "Ides! Ides!"

His shout alerted the others; they came running. "Gen!" Rina said. "You made—what happened to Ides?"

Gen raised his hand and slapped Ides across the face, sending him sprawling. "Ides!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ides was disconnected, hovering precariously between two worlds, two minds. He was partially aware of himself, but was sinking deeper into the owner of Greenwort's tavern, taking further control.

It was harder than he'd expected, and slower. Slow enough that the man was aware of a new alien presence in his mind, fighting viciously against the assault. He hadn't been trained in the ways of mental defenses, but what he lacked in skill he made up in pure force. "Gurt—noer—achk!" he screamed, thrashing as he fought with Ides for control of his limbs.

The two of them, in their joint mind, were aware of men by the door rushing to help their master. Their fingers clenched the handle of the knife, waving it precariously. Their eyes opened, and Ides looked through them, searching for Gen.

It was becoming easier. He was sinking into the man's mind, taking easier control. Becoming him.

"Ides!"

Ides hesitated at the voice. It seemed oddly disjointed somehow, far away. There was a pain in his face, now, but that too seemed distant.

"Ides, you stupid son of a bitch, wake up!"

He recognized that voice, but vaguely. Ides? He didn't know any Ides…he was Samker Effiwin, master of Greenwort's Tavern. He had other worries to attend to than some stupid voice—there was a second, closer voice in his mind, and it was a struggle to breathe. He turned his attention away and back to the scroll on the floor, struggling to remember what he was doing—

The cry came again, repeating that one name—Ides.

A dim memory struggled to the surface. Ides/Samker grabbed it like a lifeline, pulling himself slowly free of this dying body, the body of the true, individual Samker.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gen watched as Ides's eyes opened slowly, muzzy and unfocused, looking at them without seeming to see them. His hand clenched and unclenched slowly, and his breathing was irregular. Gen knelt at his friend's side, shaking him fiercely. "Ides, you idiot!"

Ides jerked, coughing hard. His breathing stabilized, and slowly he levered himself to his knees. "Gen?" he said softly, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," the thief said. "What—what in Orcane's name were you doing, Ides?"

"Looking for you," Ides answered.

Gen hesitated, then pulled Ides close, embracing him. "Don't you do that again," he said into Ides's ear. "I thought you were dead."

"So did I," Ides whispered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rina pulled Salem and Matiel away. "Have some courtesy, would you," she said mildly.

Salem glanced over her shoulder at them. "Are they—I don't know, lovers? They seem awfully close. Is there any relation?"

Rina gave her a somber glance. "I don't know about the lover part, but they love each other," she said quietly. "They are different things. Ides—he was the apprentice to a printer, a printer who was involved with us. Sílica. Somebody somewhere leaked the printer's name to Galbatorix, and he was caught and killed. Ides, the apprentice, had his hand cut off. I don't know if he was tortured, and I've never had the nerve to ask. Gen found him. Brought him back to health. Ides, following his master's footsteps, joined Sílica and brought Gen with him. I don't think there are any sexual relations between them, but they are closer than brothers."

A thoughtful silence followed this announcement. Finally, Salem said, "Oh."

"Very eloquent," Matiel grumbled.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Murtagh's head jerked up as he heard the shouts. They were repeating one name over and over—Ides.

Where had he heard that before? Murtagh hesitated, searching his memory. When he found it, he hesitated. He had heard it in the ruins of the house, right before he killed that woman—it had been whispered, but the echoes of the building had brought it to his ear. Ides and Rina, those were the names.

He closed his eyes, summoning up his last scrap of energy and casting out for shielded minds. He found them easily—one, two, three, four, five. Three of them were overly familiar, and one of them was Salem's.

He got to his feet, a grim smile on his face as he followed the yells. The hunt was nearly over.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

End of Chapter Twenty-Five

So, what happened to Ides? All right. When Riders like Eragon take over peoples' minds, they're generally better practiced. Like when he took over the soldier's mind in the Burning Plains, to hack the rope thingy apart? I guess he had a way to divide his consciousness and not to sink completely in.

But Ides never had such practice. He's been taught that entering a person's mind is the ultimate violation, and has little or no experience in taking over people to control them, and just immersed himself too completely. It's like what Glaedr says to Saphira and Eragon—if your partner is dying, you should never try to take their consciousness into you. Two minds in one body is a violation, and the body will die. If Ides had stayed on in the owner of Greenwort Tavern, he/they would've died. Ides's original body also would have died, because a body without a mind is basically a vegetable. No offense.

Does that make sense? If not, well, just go with the flow.

And I know some people are touchy about the issue of homosexuality. Just to clear things up—Ides and Gen are not homosexual. The definition of a homosexual is a person who is sexually attracted to members of the same sex, and I want to make it very very very clear that they have not, and will never, have sex. If you have to classify them as something, think of them as blood brothers. That's not what they are, but their relationship can be defined as such.

Remember to review! The more reviews I get the longer and better the chapters tend to be :)