…are we actually on chapter forty? 0.0

A dwarf was waiting for them in the dragonhold. After bowing and muttering, "Argetlam," the dwarf said with a thick accent, "Good. Awake. Knurla Orik waits for you." He bowed again and scurried away. Tania rolled her eyes in exasperation. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to visit Murtagh for the next week! Saphira jumped out of her cave, landing next to Eragon. Zar'roc was in her claws.

Beside her, Eragon frowned, but Tania didn't hear what he said. Instead, she asked Ophelia, Do you think you should come?

The dragoness poked her nose out of the cave. Yes, I think I should. Hrothgar knows about me anyway, I assume; he might be offended if I didn't come. I'll fly above you, although, this being a dwarf kingdom, I will probably have to land and walk with you underground.

True. Well, come on then. By now, Eragon had buckled on Zar'roc and was clambering onto Saphira's back. Tania scrambled up after him, and Saphira flew out of Tronjheim. Tania could just see the hazy shape of Ophelia as she camouflaged her scales to match the walls of Farthen Dûr and lifted off.

So, what happened with the cat? asked Ophelia.

Werecat, actually. We met Angela, the fortune-teller Eragon forgot to mention he met in Teirm. Tania told her about their meeting as they spiraled down to the city-mountain's base.

As soon as they landed by one of Tronjheim's gates, Orik ran up to Saphira's side. "My king, Hrothgar, wishes to see all of you—I do hope you managed to contact Ophelia, Tania, for we must hurry."

"She is here," Tania said, dismounting smoothly and trotting after the dwarf into Tronjheim, struggling to ignore the stares from people within the soaring corridor. Eragon asked, "Where will we meet Hrothgar?"

Without slowing, Orik said, "In the throne room beneath the city. It will be a private audience as an act of otho—of 'faith.' You do not have to address him in any special manner, but speak to him respectfully. Hrothgar is quick to anger, but he is wise and sees keenly into the minds of men, so think carefully before you speak."

Once they entered Tronjheim's central chamber, Orik led the way to one of the two descending staircases that flanked the opposite hall. They started down the right-hand staircase, which curved gently inward until it faced the direction they had come from. The other stairway merged with theirs to form a broad cascade of dimly lit steps that ended, after a hundred feet, before two granite doors. A seven-pointed crown was carved across both doors.

Seven dwarves stood guard on each side of the portal. They held burnished mattocks and wore gem-encrusted belts. As Eragon, Tania, Orik, Saphira and Ophelia approached, the dwarves pounded on the floor with the mattocks' shafts. A deep boom rolled back up the stairs. The doors swung inward.

A dark hall lay before them, a good bowshot long. The throne room was a natural cave; the walls were lined with stalagmites and stalactites, each thicker than a man. Sparsely hung lanterns cast a moody light. The brown floor was smooth and polished. At the far end of the hall was a black throne with a motionless figure on it.

Orik bowed. "The king awaits you." Tania glanced behind them to make sure there were no onlookers, then rested her hand, the one with the gedwëy ignasia, on Ophelia's camouflaged shoulder. As the doors closed behind them, leaving them alone in the dim throne room with the king, Ophelia snorted softly and shifted her scales to a dark gold color, with each scale edged in dark violet and her wings tinted white.

Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they advanced toward the throne. In the recesses between the stalagmites and stalactites rested large statues. Each sculpture depicted a dwarf king or queen crowned and sitting on a throne; their sightless eyes gazed sternly into the distance, their lined faces set in fierce expressions. A name was chiseled in runes beneath each set of feet.

Eragon, Tania, Saphira and Ophelia strode solemnly between the two rows of long-dead monarchs. They passed more than forty statues, then only dark and empty alcoves awaiting future rulers. They stopped before Hrothgar at the end of the hall.

The dwarf king himself sat like a statue upon a raised throne carved from a single piece of black marble. It was blocky, unadorned, and cut with unyielding precision. Strength emanated from the throne, strength that harked back to ancient times when dwarves had ruled in Alagaësia without opposition from elves or humans. A gold helm lined with rubies and diamonds rested on Hrothgar's head in place of a crown. His visage was grim, weathered, and hewn of many years' experience. Beneath a craggy brow glinted deep-set eyes, flinty and piercing. Over his powerful chest rippled a shirt of mail. His white beard was tucked under his belt, and in his lap he held a mighty war hammer with the symbol of Orik's clan embossed on its head.

On the other side of Saphira, Eragon bowed awkwardly and knelt. Tania wondered if she should do the same, but decided to remain upright with the dragons. The king stirred, as if awakening from a long sleep, and rumbled, "Rise, Rider, you need not pay tribute to me."

Eragon straightened as he met Hrothgar's impenetrable eyes. The king inspected both him and Tania with a hard gaze, then said gutturally, "Âz knurl demn lanok. 'Beware, the rock changes'—an old dictum of ours… And nowadays the rock changes very fast indeed." He fingered the war hammer. "I could not meet with you earlier, as Ajihad did, because I was forced to deal with my enemies within the clans. They demanded that I deny you sanctuary and expel you from Farthen Dûr. It has taken much work on my part to convince them otherwise."

"Thank you," said Eragon. "We didn't anticipate how much strife our arrival would cause."

The king accepted his thanks, then lifted a gnarled hand and pointed. "See there, Rider Eragon and Rider Tania, where my predecessors sit upon their graven thrones. One and forty there are, with I the forty-second. When I pass from this world into the care of the gods, my hírna will be added to their ranks. The first statue is a likeness of my ancestor Korgan, who forged this mace, Volund. For eight millennia—since the dawn of our race—dwarves have ruled under Farthen Dûr. We are the bones of the land, older than both the fair elves and the savage dragons." Saphira shifted slightly, but Ophelia arched her neck and almost seemed to bow her head, a ripple of purple trailing through her wings.

Hrothgar leaned forward, his voice gravelly and deep. "I am old, humans—even by our reckoning—old enough to have seen the Riders in all their fleeting glory, old enough to have spoken with their last leader, Vrael, who paid tribute to me within these very walls. Few are still alive who can claim that much. I remember the Riders and how they meddled in our affairs. I also remember the peace they kept that made it possible to walk unharmed from Tronjheim to Narda.

"And now you stand before me—a lost tradition revived. Tell me, and speak truly in this, why have you come to Farthen Dûr? I know of the events that made you flee the Empire, but what is your intent now?"

"For now, Saphira and I merely want to recuperate in Tronjheim, and I am certain Ophelia and Tania do as well," Eragon replied. "We are not here to cause trouble, only to find sanctuary from the dangers we've faced for many months. Ajihad may send us to the elves, but until he does, we have no wish to leave."

"Then was it only the desire for safety that drove you?" asked Hrothgar—but it almost seemed like a challenge. "Do you just seek to live here and forget your troubles with the Empire?"

Eragon shook his head. "If Ajihad told you of my past, you should know that I have grievances enough to fight the Empire until it is nothing more than scattered ashes. More than that, though… I want to aid those who cannot escape Galbatorix, including my cousin. I have the strength to help, so I must."

"And I do not stand for those with power using it to torment those beneath them simply because they can," said Tania fiercely, her voice almost venomous. "And my own personal reasons to fight the Empire are enough that a hundred thousand years' worth of safety and wealth would not deter me from tearing it apart, brick by blood-soaked brick."

The king seemed satisfied by their answers. He turned to Ophelia and Saphira and asked, "Dragons, what think you in this matter? For what reasons have you come?"

Ophelia raised her head proudly. Tell him that those who cause grief to others who cannot defend themselves have no worth in my mind, and that I await with great eagerness the day we ride against Galbatorix. He held my sister-of-skies for over a century, and still holds two of our brethren, whom I will free even if I have to shake Urû'baen to its foundations myself. And tell Hrothgar that I believe you are both ready for this task.

Tania was surprised by her vehemence, but relayed the words. Eragon waited until she was finished, and passed on Saphira's words as well. The corner of Hrothgar's mouth lifted in a hint of grim amusement, deepening his wrinkles. "I see that dragons have not changed with the centuries." He rapped the throne with a knuckle. "Do you know why this seat was quarried so flat and angular? So that no one would sit comfortably on it. I have not, and will relinquish it without regret when my time comes. What is there to remind you of your obligations, Riders? If the Empire falls, will either or both of you take Galbatorix's place and claim his kingship?"

"Ophelia and I have no place in a court," Tania said, "no throne, no matter how firm, would sit well under me."

"And I do not seek to wear the crown or rule," Eragon said. "Being a Rider is responsibility enough. No, I would not take the throne in Urû'baen… not unless there was no one else willing or competent enough to take it."

Hrothgar warned gravely, "Certainly either of you would be a kinder king or queen than Galbatorix, but no race should have a leader who does not age or leave the throne. The time of the Riders has passed. They will never rise again—not even if Galbatorix's other eggs were to hatch."*

A shadow crossed his face as he gazed at Eragon's side. "I see that you carry an enemy's sword; I was told of this, and that you travel with a son of the Forsworn. It does not please me to see this weapon." He extended a hand. "I would like to examine it."

Eragon drew Zar'roc and presented it to the king, hilt first. Hrothgar grasped the sword and ran a practiced eye over the red blade. The edge caught the lantern light, reflecting it sharply. The dwarf king tested the point with his palm, then said, "A masterfully forged blade. Elves rarely choose to make swords—they prefer bows and spears—but when they do, the results are unmatched. This is an ill-fated blade; I am not glad to see it within my realm. But carry it if you will; perhaps its luck has changed. He returned Zar'roc, and Eragon sheathed it. "Has my nephew proved helpful during your time here?"

"Who?"

Hrothgar raised a tangled eyebrow. "Orik, my youngest sister's son. He's been serving under Ajihad to show my support for the Varden. It seems that he has been returned to my command, however. I was gratified that you defended him with your words."

Tania smiled, seeing this as once more a sign of otho, of "faith," on Hrothgar's part as Eragon said, "We couldn't have asked for a better guide."

"That's good," said the king, clearly pleased. "Unfortunately, I cannot speak with you much longer. My advisors wait for me, as there are matters I must deal with. I will say this, though: if you wish the support of the dwarves within my realm, you must first prove yourself to them. We have long memories and do not rush to hasty decisions. Words will decide nothing, only deeds."

"We will keep that in mind," said Eragon, bowing again. This time, Tania followed suit.

Hrothgar nodded regally. "You may go, then."

Tania turned, Ophelia's lithe form following, already seeming to meld into the stone floors and walls of the caves. Orik was waiting for them on the other side of the door, an anxious expression on his face. He fell in beside them as they climbed back up to Tronjheim's main chamber. "Did all go well? Were you received favorably?"

"I think so. But your king is cautious," said Eragon.

"That is how he has survived this long."

I would not want Hrothgar angry with us, observed Saphira.

No, I wouldn't either, said Eragon. I'm not sure what he thought of you—he seems to disapprove of dragons, though he didn't say it outright.

That seemed to amuse Saphira, and Tania heard Ophelia chuckling through their mental connection as well. In that he is wise, especially since he is barely knee-high to either of us.

In Tronjheim's center, under the sparkling Isidar Mithrim, Orik said, "Your blessing has stirred up the Varden like an overturned beehive. The child Saphira touched has been hailed as a future hero. She and her guardian have been quartered in the finest rooms. Everyone is talking about your 'miracle.' All the human mothers seem intent on finding you and getting the same for their children."

Tania hid an amused smile at the alarm on Eragon's face. "What should we do?"

"Aside from taking back your actions?" asked Orik dryly. "Stay out of sight as much as possible. Everyone will be kept out of the dragonhold, so you won't be disturbed there."

I will return to the hold, said Ophelia, nosing Tania's arm gently. The Rider felt more than heard her dragon turn quietly and start carefully down one of Tronjheim's four main tunnels.

Tania shook her head. "I want to check on Murtagh," she said quietly. "And Ophelia says she is happy to return to the dragonhold."

Orik frowned, but nodded. "You will have to ask Ajihad for permission. Do you remember the way to his office?"

Tania nodded and turned sharply on her heel, following the path they had tread yesterday. Finally, she saw the large cedar doors at the end of a corridor, but before she reached them, they opened, revealing a young woman with the same dark skin as Ajiahd in a wine-red gown. When she caught sight of Tania, she quickly picked up her skirts slightly and hurried to the Rider's position.

Tania stopped, observing the young woman. She was quite beautiful, with almond-shaped eyes, wide lips, and round cheekbones. Hanging from her waist was a jeweled dagger in a tooled leather sheath, and Tania didn't miss the air of authority about her. She smiled politely at Tania and curtsied. "I am Nasuada. I assume you are Tania, the other Rider?"

Tania appraised her cautiously, then dipped her head respectively. "I am."

Nasuada nodded in return. "My father, Ajihad, sent me to the dragonhold with a message for the pair of you, though it seems you were off to see him. Would you rather me repeat it now or hear it from him?"

Tania smiled. "I would appreciate hearing it."

Nasuada tossed her hair back and recited: "He is pleased that you are doing well, but he wished to caution Eragon against actions like his benediction yesterday. They create more problems than they solve. Also, he urges both of you to proceed with the testing as soon as possible—he needs to know how capable you both are before he communicates with the elves. You should also know, my father decreed that you may visit Murtagh, if you wish." A somber expression disturbed her previously smooth features. "I met Murtagh earlier… he's anxious to speak with both of you. He seemed lonely; you should visit him."

Smiling wryly, Tania said, "I was actually coming to visit Ajihad to request permission to do just that."

The other blinked, then smiled understandingly. "Of course." She gave Tania directions to Murtagh's cell.

Tania thanked her and said a quick farewell, then turned to follow Nasuada's directions until she reached a small gray door guarded by a man and a dwarf. When she requested entrance, the dwarf banged on the door three times, then unbolted it. "Just holler when you want to leave," said the man with a friendly smile.

The cell—if it could be called that—was warm and well-lit, with a washbasin in one corner and a writing desk—equipped with quills and ink—in another. The ceiling was extensively carved with lacquered figures; the floor was covered with a plush rug. Murtagh lay on a stout bed, reading. He looked up in surprise and exclaimed cheerily, "Tania! I'd hoped you would come!"

Tania smiled. "Miss me that much?" she asked. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, what with your horrible dungeon cell, eh?"

Murtagh snorted, rolling upright with a grin. "Indeed; worse than all my nightmares come to life! Actually, that's what I was expecting, but Ajihad lets me have all this so long as I don't cause trouble. And they bring me huge meals, as well as anything I want from the library. If I'm not careful, I'll turn into a fat scholar."

Tania laughed, bringing the chair from the writing desk over to sit across from him. "And you aren't angry about it?"

"I was at first," he replied with a shrug. "But the more I thought about it, I realized I would have stayed here anyway. It's the best place for me here."

Tania nodded. "Even if it's only because some people are judgmental ninnies."

Murtagh shook his head wonderingly. "I still do not understand how you can know my big 'secret,' still have the guts to be around me and not cringe, and then defend me and make jokes about the situation."

Tania tossed her braid, exclaiming imperiously, "It comes with being feral!"

Her companion laughed, leaning forward until his elbows were on his knees. "So, tell me. What's new?"

Tania recounted the adventures of the past day—leaving out Ophelia—and when she'd finished, Murtagh leaned back, and they sat in comfortable silence. Neither spoke until Murtagh said, "You know… I find this imprisonment oddly peaceful. For once in my life I don't have to be afraid. I know I ought to be… yet something about this place puts me at ease. A good night's sleep helps, too."

"No joke about that," Tania grumbled. "But when a werecat wakes you up, it's often far too early."

Murtagh laughed, and she flashed a grin. Then, in a more serious tone, she asked quietly, "How long are you planning on remaining a prisoner of the Varden, Murtagh?"

He shrugged carelessly, but there was weight behind his words. "For now I'm content to stay and rest. There's no reason for me to seek shelter elsewhere nor submit myself to the Twins' examination. No doubt I'll tire of this eventually, but for now… I am content."

*…I liked Hrothgar.

Except for when he said that.

Hrrrmmmmph.

On a more cheerful note…

MURTAGH!

Please review ;) I'll post more Murtagh if you do…

FF