Murtagh heard footsteps approaching, and he straightened himself, composing himself a neutral face and shutting all his emotions out of him. Galbatorix and his escort arrived in the room, and he followed them in the corridors. When they reached the stairs, the soldiers stopped. Galbatorix dismissed the soldiers and went down the stairs, clearly expecting him to follow. Murtagh took the carved wooden seat, and he carried it down the stairs. As he entered the room, he placed the seat in the middle of the room and retreated in the back of the room. There, he approached the brazier and began to poke the embers, his back turned at the prisoner. Taking care of the fire and watching its hypnotizing patterns was an efficient way to focus his hands and thoughts. Besides, he was sure that his eyes couldn't betray his will and look at her. He heard Galbatorix speaking. "Welcome in Urû'baen, Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad. It has been a long time since such a distinguished guest has graced us with her presence. So far, I have had to use my energies elsewhere, but rest assured that from now on I will not neglect my duties as a host." As his smooth voice let a threatening tone shine, Murtagh felt a cold shiver down his spine. He knew too well what the words "host duties" hid.
Galbatorix continued to talk with Nasuada, telling her his vision of Alagaësia and the role he wanted her to play there. She seized every opportunity to challenge him with a mocking reply. Alone, unarmed and tied to a stone slab, she still dared to stand up to the most powerful person in Alagaësia. Even knowing that Galbatorix would make her pay for it, Murtagh relished the pleasure of hearing the tyrant face a contradictory opinion. He was proud to see her resist. The king asked her to pledge allegiance to him in ancient language, but she did not yield. Galbatorix declared "Very well. As you want".
"Murtagh, come closer!", the king ordered. "Show yourself! You are rude to our guest!".
Murtagh had no choice but to turn back to the king and his prisoner. He tried to remain impassive, but he felt his heart beat faster, and his mouth distorted into a sullen grin.
"Murtagh was reluctant at first when he came into my service." The king explained. Since then, he has been a very competent student. He has inherited his father's talents. Didn't you?"
Murtagh heard himself replying in a hoarse voice. "Yes, Sir."
"He surprised me by killing old King Hrothgar on the Burning Plains. I did not expect him to turn against his old friends with such ardor. Now Murtagh is full of rage and bloodthirsty." The king kept patronizing him, talking about him as he would about a precious pet. "He would be willing to slit a Kull's throat with his bare hands if I gave him the order. Nothing pleases you more than killing, huh?"
The muscles in Murtagh's neck tightened, but he knew there was only one type of answer that would satisfy the king. He could only obediently reply "No, Sir".
Galbatorix laughed softly: "Murtagh the King Killer ... A beautiful name worthy of entering the legend. But don't try to deserve it again unless I tell you to do so."
He spoke again to Nasuada: "Until then, I had neglected his instruction in the art of persuasion. That is why I have brought him with me today. He has some experience as a subject, but not as a practitioner. It is high time for him to learn how to master this technique. And what better opportunity to learn if not here with you?"
The king continued. "It was Murtagh, after all, who praised your value to me, who persuaded me to incorporate you into the new generation of my disciples."
Murtagh guessed Nasuada was probably trying to cross his gaze, searching for an explanation. He pictured himself the feeling of betrayal that was certainly reflecting into her eyes. He looked away, and he tried to stand as stiff as a sentry.
The king then pointed to the brazier and said in the tone of conversation: "Give me an iron". Murtagh knew what the irons were for, as he had himself experienced the pain they caused. He hated the idea that he could make anyone suffer with them. Especially Nasuada. He knew that resisting would only cause him trouble, but he didn't want to do it. He clenched his fists and did not make a gesture to obey to Galbatorix.
A shadow of annoyance passed over the king's face. He had an exasperated expression and uttered the name of the old language, which sounded like a gong. The fabric of the world seemed to vibrate, and the air in the room undulated like water. Murtagh had a shiver. Enslaved by magic, he couldn't fight against it, no matter how much he desired to. He grabbed one of the irons and pulled it out of the brazier with a sharp gesture. A shower of sparks rose as glowing embers spiraled down to the ground.
He approached Nasuada, holding the iron in front of him. The end of the iron glowed pale yellow and turned orange. He focused on this vision so he could avoid her eyes, which were surely looking at him accusingly.
Nasuada asked Galbatorix: "I don't understand. Why are you not using your mind against me?" Not that she would have wished it, but she would have preferred to defend herself against a mental attack more than to endure the burning of the red-hot iron.
"That moment will come later if it proves necessary," the king replied. "For now, I am curious to find out how far your courage will go, Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad. Besides, I'd rather not have to force an oath of loyalty out of you. I would like you to make this decision of your own free will and in full possession of your faculties."
"Why?" she croaked.
"Because I would like to. Now, for the last time, will you surrender?"
"Never."
"Too bad for you. Murtagh?"
He saw himself lowering the iron towards her, its tip like a huge, shimmering ruby. There was nothing he can do to stop his arm from moving. They had given her nothing to bite on, so she was screaming, and the octagonal room reverberated with echoes of her torture. Heart-wrenched, he could only listen to her cries of pain. This kind of torment was hard to bear, and it awakened memories of Thorn's torture and his own. The evil king had a smirk on his face, and it took all Murtagh's self-control not to jump on him. He clenched his fists and contracted his jaw, knowing that his binding oath would prevent him from harming Galbatorix. Finally, Nasuada's voice cracked, and her screams ceased. This time he couldn't help but look at her. His vision became blurred when he realized that she had fainted.
He suddenly realized that the knuckles of his hands had become white from being squeezed. He tried to regain control of his body. He forced his hands to relax, and his breathing to slow down. He mentally cursed the king, his own inability to act, war, magic, everything that was responsible for Nasuada's pain.
"This girl is stubborn as you are, Murtagh", the king said. Murtagh remained silent. He did not trust his mouth and did not want to upset the king. As the king rose and left the room, Murtagh followed him without a word. He would have liked to stay with her, but he was relieved that the torture had momently stopped.
