Arlen had gotten what supplies he was tasked to get in Dras-Leona, so now he was to meet with Herbst. Fortunately each city street was very distinctive in construction, so all he had to do was remember where he had been and in what order he had been there to find his way. However, he got lost anyway, which he assumed was because a street looked very different one way than the other.

He encountered a very crowded square, which threatened to choke the life out of him. He eventually got to a more open area, but when he got there he was disturbed with what he saw. It was the ruin of a building that looked like it had burned down. While the scorching spread over a large area—and the fire must have been very hot, as even the stones in the street around it seemed to have been melted—there was very little left. He wondered why everyone seemed to ignore it.

"I see you haven't been in Dras-Leona long," a voice said next to him. He turned around to see a graying, thin man that was clean-shaven and wore fine clothes. "This was once the site of the Cathedral of Dras-Leona, run by the Priests of Helgrind. It was burned down during the battle ten years ago."

"Why has no one cleaned this up in that time?" Arlen asked. "The space could be used very well I think."

"It was not burned down in any sort of frenzied raiding. Eragon Shadeslayer atop his winged mount Saphira burned it in one of the first acts in the battle." The man gestured to the ruin. "This was left as an example, I think—of what I am not entirely sure. I also heard that there was a spell cast long ago that those new to the city would be drawn to the cathedral, and that the spell was left after its destruction. I am unsure though."

Arlen didn't like that idea. He didn't like to be manipulated, especially not by magic. What he also didn't like was this man's inexplicable friendliness. "Who are you?" Arlen asked.

"Call me Brone," he said. "Now what's your name?"

"Arlen," he replied. "Now why are you talking to me?"

"Well not many respectable people come down here. Are you one of them?"

"It depends who you ask, I suppose," Arlen said, unsure of Brone's definition of respectable.

"Well, what sort of business do you have?" Brone asked.

"Not much of one," Arlen said.

"Then it wouldn't be much of a help to have some extra labor?"

"No it wouldn't," Arlen said. "Goodbye." As he left he wondered what sort of man he was. He probably wasn't a laborer, as his clothes were too fine. He probably didn't represent laborers either, as he didn't think an affluent man as he would do so, so he truly wondered who he possibly could have been.

Soon enough he met with Herbst, and went to leave the city when something happened. They were going down the street out when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into an alley along with Herbst. There were five strong men with long knives. They wouldn't have been much against his sword or Herbst's staff, but they had a firm grasp on their arms. It would be difficult to defeat them.

It was then that one of the men shouted down the alley. "Are these them?"

Brone stepped out from the shadows and said, "Yes, they are." So he wasn't to be trusted after all. "The man looks strong, so he'll make a fine worker. The old one has a crazed look, so he won't be a good slave. Kill him." Arlen was surprised that Brone was a slaver, let alone that slavery—after being outlawed—was still being practiced. He would have to act quickly to save both Herbst's life and his own freedom.

He put his foot between the legs of the man to his right from behind, and pulled it towards him so as to loosen his stance. While the man was unstable Arlen kneed him in the side which made him release his grip on his arm. The man to his left then lunged with his knife, and he was only saved by drawing Mor'ranr to block while it was barely out of its sheath. He then kicked him in the gut and he went reeling.

Arlen took a fighting stance and positioned himself in a place where he could see each of the men. "Kill him and none of you will leave this alley," Arlen warned, making his tone as sincere as possible.

Brone sighed. "Kill them both and bring me his sword—it may fetch a good price," he said as he turned away to leave.

Arlen didn't wait, but attacked. He lunged at one of the men holding Herbst, running him through without hesitation. He then turned to the other, slashing him across the chest. There were three left now, and their knives were drawn, but at least Herbst was safe.

One of the men charged, and the other two followed close. Arlen stabbed the first before he got too close. The next two were more difficult to dispatch. He had to grab the wrist of the one on the left as he swung at the right one, who dodged out of fear. The left one punched him in the gut, which was to be expected given his tactic, but it hurt very much all the same. Of course, Herbst's staff also hurt as it impacted with the man's skull.

With only one left, the Arlen and Herbst definitely had odds in their favor. He felt like now was the time to give him an ultimatum. "Give up," Arlen offered. "Run away and I will not pursue you."

The man scowled. "I need no mercy from you. My family will be spared with my death!" He charged, lunging with his knife. Arlen sidestepped him and hit him in the back of the head with his pommel. He wasn't very smart, though his motives shook Arlen. This man might have been a slave himself, and hopefully he wouldn't be punished for his defeat. Arlen very much hoped that the family he mentioned would live.

Arlen was forced to think for a moment on that. His family would not be punished if Arlen had killed him—that was for sure. But then again, his guilt at killing someone he had a choice about, and someone who he felt for—to kill who could have been either a son, a brother, or a father made him squirm. He knew the man's choice, but he didn't know the family's choice.

But he had no choice in the matter. While Lynde wouldn't have given this so much thought, he knew that callousness could be as terrible as malice, and every action had to be done carefully. He decided that this had to be done, but with the best intentions. He gave the man a slash in the leg, so that he could not be blamed for letting them go, and left him.

"That was odd," Herbst said. "Why'd you give him that?"

Arlen sighed and explained. It took a while, but by the time they were out of the city and halfway to the raft he had satisfied Herbst. "You see, that's why I did it. I didn't want him or his family to be hurt, like many have."

"But he may not heal from that, and he would not be able to work anymore," Herbst said.

"Perhaps, but perhaps also that it's not the worst thing," Arlen replied. "He won't be chosen to capture more slaves, so perhaps others will escape that fate."

"Not all would try to escape like you did," Herbst said. "But still, it was what you thought was best, and that is all we can do."

As the two of them came to the ferry, they were joined by Lynde and Artsanna as they landed from the sky. "Good, you're back," Rose said. "Cade," she called, "make ready to leave. Let us go without delay."

As Arlen and the others boarded the ferry, Lynde asked him something. "Did you have any trouble in the city?"

"Not that we couldn't handle," Arlen said. "And did you see anything interesting during your flight?"

"We found a tomb made entirely of a single piece of diamond," Lynde said matter-of-factly. "It was rather odd."

"Whose tomb was it?"

"Some old man named Brom. It doesn't really matter." It certainly did to Arlen, as he wondered who deserved a tomb of diamond, if any did.