A:N - Yes, as many of you have guessed with your PMs, Riddle only ever existed as a character to make Durza more formidable. This is essential for the future plot (no spoilers here, I'm afraid!).
Chapter Twelve – Answers and Prophecies
"This place looks ready for war," Eragon remarked, spying the fortified buildings and metal shutters across the windows. Similarly, many soldiers paraded to and fro, garbed in their armour and carrying their typical long-swords. A few in the front row of a unit marching held pikes and spears, whilst archers lined the rooftops and covered the curtain wall like bees in a hive.
Brom nodded sagely. "This city has a history of being raided by pirates. A few decades ago it wasn't quite as protected as it is today, and the people would be attacked nigh on every year. Some think it was one 'pirate king' behind the attacks, although no one was ever caught."
"It doesn't surprise me," Harry said. "If Teirm is the centre of trading, who knows how many riches are stored in these buildings?"
"Quite," Brom agreed, as they walked along the cobbled streets. The entire city was relatively filthy, but that was expected considering its close proximity to the ocean. Sailors would most likely crowd the nearby inns whilst on-break, and the mess that followed was to be expected. Worse still: rats were occasionally brought into the port by incoming sloops and fishing boats. They were rare, as any good merchant was want to remove all signs of disease or uncleanness from amongst their wares, but still existed nevertheless.
"The buildings get larger as they retreat into the centre," Eragon said, examining the structures with interest. "Is that a defensive measure of sorts?"
"It is," Brom said. "The citadel is the tallest building in the city, and those near the walls are the smallest. It helps with archers; lets them fire above their comrades."
"Sounds dangerous," Harry quipped. He carefully avoided the leftovers of a horse that had been standing there moments ago, grimacing as he did so. His boots were worn out after weeks on the road, but maybe that was avoidable. Brom grinned as he caught a glimpse of his expression.
"You'll get used to that soon enough. And yes, it is dangerous, but not so much for any well-trained marksman. It's also a lot more practical as it allows for a better line of sight."
Harry guarded his countenance as a troupe of soldiers walked past them, looking for signs of trouble. He also saw that many of the houses appeared desolate, with creeper vines and other weeds obscuring the buildings. It half looked as though nature was attempting to reclaim the city.
"Both of you need to relax," Brom said. "Don't stiffen up every time soldiers go past, or they'll think you're up to something."
"Which, to be fair, we are," Harry thought.
"I do not care if the whole world sees me – I'll burn that city to the ground if I have to keep the three of you safe," Saphira declared.
"Well, let's make sure that isn't necessary," Eragon said casually.
They walked in silence until they reached a shabby-looking inn, its walls and door covered in grime and filth. The sign was battered and partially hanging-off, but the words were just about discernible.
"The Green Chestnut," Brom muttered. "Lovely-looking place..."
"This place is probably full of thieves," Harry cautioned, scrutinising the establishment dispassionately. He was certain that if Knockturn Alley had a local pub, it would look like this. "Are we sure this is a good idea?"
"Always head directly for the local inn," Brom said wisely. "If the innkeeper doesn't have any useful information, there'll certainly be some gossip from the other people inside."
Harry reflected on that knowledge as Brom swung the tavern's doors open. He went directly to the barman and asked him about Jeod, but the man demanded crowns beforehand. Harry let Brom do the talking and reached out with his mind, following Brom's earlier advice. He found the barman to be down on his luck in terms of sales, and the sailor at a table nearby mourning the loss of two fingers in a recent fight with pirates. Apart from that, most people were merely there for a daily pick-me-up, and by 'most' he figured only three or four. It was a very empty establishment.
Before Brom could pay the bartender his money, the sailor realised what was happening and told them he would let them know for free. Brom glowered at the innkeeper, before sweeping his money away and thanking the sailor. The bartender glowered at them all for a moment, before beginning to polish a broken glass he was holding.
"It's nothing," the sailor shrugged, waving a hand. "Name's Martin. These are troubled times, so no business is making as much coin as they would like to. You'll have to forgive Gareth."
Brom nodded. "Perfectly understandable. So, you know where to find Jeod?"
"Aye," Martin said. "His house is beside the herbalist's shop – Angela, I think her name was – on the western side of Teirm. But I tell you now: if it's selling you're here for, Jeod won't want to buy. He lost another ship a few days past."
"Why, what happened?" Brom asked, leaning closer, and speaking lower.
Martin shrugged. "What always happens, I reckon. Pirates, and other such scum. They board any ship they see, take all the gold they find, and have their way with any unlucky woman onboard. Then they slit everybody's throats, before scurrying back into their hole in the ground, covered in shit and filth," he spat distastefully.
Harry repressed a shudder. "You… you've seen this happen?" he asked slowly.
Martin nodded, his eyes haunted. "I was on a ship a while ago, heading to Surda. I'm not a sailor, but someone merchants hire to protect their wares."
"A mercenary?" Harry supplied, and Martin nodded.
"Aye, I guess you could call us that. Though I didn't do this one for gold. The merchant was an old friend of mine, and he lost everything, just like your friend Jeod. But, unlike everyone else," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "he blamed the king. He said: 'Martin, they're doing this on purpose, trying to weed out any spies for the Varden. It won't be long before they break down my door and murder my entire family'.
"Now, Ress had nothing to do with the Varden, but that didn't stop him from worrying. He chartered a ship to take his family to Surda, where he has relatives. I was there to help protect him, and would have stayed with his family in the south. That is, until we were attacked."
He took a large mouthful of ale, looking bitter and sour. Martin, that was, and not the ale, although it didn't look too good either.
"I don't know where they came from. They had probably been lying in wait… but four sloops came out of nowhere and each fired a broadside of ballista and arrows straight at us. The ship was peppered, and the crew had been decimated, so Ress did the only thing he could do: he ordered the captain to haul down the colours."
Harry was intrigued by Martin's story, but also slightly nervous about what might come next. As it transpired, his fears were not misplaced.
"Well," Martin continued, his eyes darkening, "that turned out to be a grave mistake. They boarded the ship and killed everyone onboard before you could blink, including Ress and his family. I only survived because I got hit by an arrow and fell into the water," he explained, holding his amputated fingers up. "I lost these two fingers to the cold before a passing fishing boat found me. They brought me back to Teirm, and I've been recovering here ever since."
The three companions were silent, shocked by the man's story. If he was right, then this was now commonplace and the king wasn't doing a thing to prevent it. Harry was right about Galbatorix not bothering with his own domain, but he simply couldn't understand why. He kept silent, though. It wouldn't be a good idea to blurt out an accusation against the sovereign ruler whilst in a city full of his trained soldiers. Martin didn't seem to agree.
"I wanted to help my friend at first, although I didn't believe him. Well… that's changed now," he declared.
"What do you mean?" Brom questioned curiously.
Martin downed the last of his drink and sat the mug back on the table with a dull thud. He scrutinised the three of them carefully.
"You lot seem like a decent sort, so I'll tell you something that I haven't told anyone else." He dropped his voice lowly once more: "I was the only survivor, so I'm the only one who knows this. Those men who attacked us? They weren't pirates. They wore the armour of the Empire, and they flew that bastard's insignia. They said it was 'justice'. Well, it was the justice of one thing only."
"And what was that?" Eragon asked quietly.
"Death," Martin said ominously.
They followed Martin's directions in silence, heading for the western section of Teirm. Eragon and Harry were greatly disturbed, Eragon more so. Yazuac had been bad enough, but for the king to order such atrocities… it was unthinkable.
Harry, meanwhile, found that he was disgusted, but not greatly surprised. This was 'Magic is Might' all over again, and Galbatorix was clearly even worse than Voldemort had been. Not only was he much, much more powerful in the arcane arts, but he also portrayed himself with an aura of trust towards the people, whilst secretly having accused (though not proven) traitors and their families murdered. And he had an army to acquire, one which Brom had mentioned as numbering around sixteen thousand.
No, if it had ever come to it, Harry knew that Galbatorix would have wiped the floor with Voldemort, whether one-on-one or in a sustained war scenario. Voldemort's only advantage would have been the Horcruxes, but surely Galbatorix had put a similar measure in-place. For the first time, Harry truly began to think about the magnitude of what they were facing.
How the hell were they ever going to win? He had needed the aid of an ultra-powerful wand to destroy Voldemort, and now it was just the four of them against a much more potent enemy and his army? And that didn't even mention the fact that he probably had quite a few trained magicians under his command.
No, they desperately needed a long-term solution, and Harry could think of only one option.
"When we find somewhere quiet, I need to speak with you two," he muttered, as families returning from the markets walked past in random segments. Walking through the crowds was not easy, but Brom seemed to have some unnatural ability to part the people around him, so they simply followed his lead.
Eragon nodded, but Brom shook his head quickly.
"We can talk after I've spoken to Jeod," he said. "Perhaps tomorrow morning."
"This is important," Harry complained, deliberately sounding out with determination.
Brom glanced at him, but didn't say anything further. Harry sighed, thinking of how to broach the subject. It couldn't be done in the streets, for certain, so he would have to be silent for a while anyway. Instead, as they walked, he used to newfound interest in nature to feel the minds of the plants. He was right with his earlier assumption – plants and weeds were not only common in this city, but they also outnumbered the human population more than ten to one.
He was surprised, but then remembered that many of those were probably hidden in cracks along the ground, and understood. Plants had very unusual minds; they weren't sentient, as such, but they were alive, as everybody knew. Many didn't seem to like growing without their species around them, perhaps because others were opponents in the race for sunlight. They also didn't have barriers around their minds, and didn't seem to notice when somebody probed their being as animals would. Harry didn't know enough to truly speak to them in the Ancient Language, not that they could have responded in any case.
Instead, he studied their lifestyle, curious as to what motivated them to live. He found that it was fairly simple: the desires of all living creatures, such as respiration and reproduction. It would have been a very useful skill for Herbology, he reflected. There was probably too much to learn from plants and animals in a lifetime, and that only included discovered species.
He started as he almost walked into Eragon, who had stopped alongside Brom. They had reached a small shop, which sat in the middle of two fine-looking houses. Plants and mysterious artefacts adorned the windows and table outside, at which a mysterious looking woman was sitting. She sported dark curls, and looked relatively eccentric. She held a frog in one hand, and was using the other to write upon a piece of parchment. They correctly assumed it was Angela.
"I wonder which house is his? They both look very stately," Harry noted.
"Let's find out," Brom said. He approached the herbalist. "Excuse me, but could you please tell us which house Jeod lives in?"
"Yes, I could," she said, without looking up.
"Well… will you tell us?" Harry asked, as she made no further response.
"Yes," she replied, continuing to write.
Harry was perplexed, and Eragon was about to blurt something out, before she looked up, smiling.
"Of course I'll tell you! Your first question was if I could tell you and your second was if I would, but you never put the actual question to me," she explained.
Brom smiled at her wit. "Then let me ask you properly: which house does Jeod live in?"
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere! Yes, Jeod lives on the right," she motioned, as the frog gave a ribbet.
"Why do you have a frog?" Eragon asked with confusion.
"Actually, it's a toad, and my purpose is to try and prove that toads do not exist."
"But… you just said that it was a toad!" Eragon exclaimed. "And what's the use in that, anyway?"
"Yes, but if I find out that toads don't really exist, then it was actually a frog and never a toad. Understand? And it would help bad things from happening, because toads wouldn't be real and therefore couldn't make peoples' teeth fall out, cause warts or poison anybody!"
"It sounds very interesting," Brom said gently. "I'd love to hear more about it, but I'm afraid we have to go meet with Jeod. Thank you for your help."
"No problem," she said dismissively, returning to her work.
Once they were out of earshot and headed towards Jeod's home, Eragon decided to let his mind be known.
"She must be crazy!"
"Eccentric, at least," Harry chuckled, glancing back. "You know that toads don't really cause any of those things to happen? It's just a myth." He recalled hearing that in Care of Magical Creatures at one point, and thought that Angela's opinion was… unusual, to say the least.
They reached a wooden door upon a finely polished marble step. The wood was clean and made from teak, finely brushed and crafted so that it held a smooth surface. The house itself was modest, but grand when one considered the slums of Teirm they had just travelled through. Brom rapped three times with the wooden knocker, the sound emanating loudly. A dog barked in the distance.
No one answered, and Eragon felt exasperated. He didn't want to have come all this way for nothing.
"So… how's your day going?" he asked Saphira.
"Terrible. I've had nothing to do but hunt, and even that starts to look bleak when the game couldn't outrun a crippled mouse."
Eragon snorted with laughter at that. Brom knocked again, and this time the door was opened by a slight crack. A youngish woman with light blonde hair and a pale complexion to match stood there, wearing a weary and slightly annoyed expression, as though she had just been disturbed. Nonetheless, she was polite enough.
"Yes?"
"Does Jeod live here?" Brom asked gently.
"Yes, he is my husband, but I'm afraid he's busy," she stated.
"It's very important that we meet with him. We have travelled far and long."
"He is busy," she said a little more sharply.
Brom's face hardened, but he remained courteous. "Could you please deliver a message? Tell him an old friend from Gil'ead is waiting to speak with him."
She looked as though she would refuse for a moment, but then nodded and shut the door. Eragon heard her footsteps and let out a sigh of mirth.
"That was polite," he said with sarcasm.
"Keep your opinions to yourself," Brom chastened. "If what Martin said is true about Jeod losing his ships, then it's obvious if they're under a little stress."
Suddenly, the door was thrust open. A tall man stood there, garbed in fine cloth that was a little worn, a feature accentuated by his heavy face and greying hair. His eyes had bags under them and looked very sullen. It was clear that he was under a lot of stress. Harry interestedly noted the scar on his forehead. It reminded him a little of his own, although it stretched across to his temple. He looked at Brom, and then blinked, as though his eyes had finally begun to fail.
"Brom…?" he whispered, mouth hanging partially open.
Brom quickly shushed him, before embracing him tightly as an old friend. "Don't use that name here. Call me Evan, and the boys Neal and Remus."
Jeod eyed Eragon and Harry carefully, his eyes lingering over Harry's glasses. He obviously thought they were peculiar, and Harry was quite surprised that he was the first person to have noticed. Maybe other people thought they were a pair of monocles, but Jeod didn't, being a former scholar. Harry nodded in greeting, and Jeod returned the gesture. He repeated it with Eragon.
"I thought you were dead," he said quietly, returning his gaze to Brom.
"I'll explain everything," Brom reassured, "but not here. Do you have someplace we can talk?"
Jeod hesitated, before nodding. "I do. I just need to fetch my key, and we can go. Give me a moment, if you would."
"Very well," Brom said, and Jeod disappeared inside. "Both of you let me do the talking, got it?"
Harry wasn't happy with that, but agreed without hesitance. He would need Brom to be in a good mood for his plan to work. Jeod quickly returned, this time with a rapier at his side, and shut the door behind him. Wordlessly, he led them through Teirm once more, this time towards the citadel. Harry followed, whilst Eragon led the horses behind them, as he had been doing so far.
There was a noticeable increase in finery as they got nearer to the centre of the city, with rich-looking merchants and tradesmen everywhere to be seen. Fine stores and trading caravans lined the streets, whilst the number of beggars descended rapidly as they passed over the slums. Eventually, Jeod brought them to the castle's doors, and led them inside after the horses had been tethered safely near the entrance.
"The walls are thick in the citadel," Jeod explained. "And the Lord of Teirm has decreed all businessmen must conduct official work here, in an effort to stop people avoiding taxes. That makes it a perfect place to be undisturbed."
He led them down a slender hallway, the walls dimly lit by torches and covered in slime. Eragon shivered nearby Harry, who could also feel the coldness. It was a bare place, but that might be beneficial for secret meetings. Jeod stopped at an old, wooden door. He unlocked it and ushered them inside.
"You, old man, have some explaining to do," he declared, shutting the door.
His office was a comfortable room, filled with bookshelves, scrolls and centred by an ornately decorated wooden desk. The chairs rested on top of a bearskin rug, and were laden with fur for long periods of sitting.
Brom took one of the seats and grinned. "Who are you calling 'old', you jumped-up little shit? The last time I saw you, your hair had a little grey, but now it looks like you're in the final stages of decomposition."
Jeod chuckled, taking the seat at his desk. Harry and Eragon, still silent, sat beside Brom, watching the exchange with interest.
"It's true, and you look exactly the same as you did all those years ago. I guess time has preserved both your body and your wisdom. Anyway, like I said, you have some explaining to do. Telling stories was always something you were good at."
Brom inclined his head and began to blow out smoke rings. Harry, who was now used to the old man's habits, chose not to cough, even though he wanted to. He also decided not to read Jeod's mind, instead deciding to let Brom take care of things.
"Do you remember what we were doing in Gil'ead?" Brom began.
"Aye, that sort of thing is hard to forget," Jeod quipped.
"An understatement, but no matter. You… err… remember how we were separated?" he asked, casting a glance at Eragon and Harry, who inwardly fumed. Brom's countenance told him everything already, and that was nothing. Brom was going to keep his secrets, even if they were too important to be ignored. He bit his tongue in an effort to prevent his temper from flaring.
"Well, in the turmoil, I found a large room filled with boxes and crates. Fortune truly smiled upon me that day, my friend, because I found it. What we were searching for."
Jeod looked shocked, as evidenced by his eyes bulging.
"Well, in that moment I knew all would be lost if I was captured, so I couldn't wait for you. I hid myself and fled the city, running to the… to our friends. They put it in a vault and told me to care for whoever received it. Until that day when my skills would be needed, I had to hide, so I chose to go north, and wound up in Carvahall, on the other side of the Spine," Brom explained.
Harry smiled to himself. Others might be confused by Brom's vagueness, but he wasn't. He was too accomplished at seeing through people, and knew rightly what he spoke of. He didn't know how he had done it, nor why he hadn't told them before, but he had somehow stolen Saphira's egg. It was the only thing that made sense, considering his very particular set of 'skills'.
"Then… our friends knew you were alive all along?" Jeod asked with curiosity.
Brom nodded, and he sighed, looking downcast. "Well, I suppose the ruse was necessary, but I wish they could have told me, especially as I risked my life trying to find the damned thing."
Brom shrugged. "I am sorry, my friend, but at least you know now. Better late than never."
"True, there is that… but, forgive me, why have you come here?" He gave both boys a quick glance. "Are you fulfilling your duty?"
"Not exactly. Eragon's uncle was murdered by the Ra'zac, and I wanted to help these two kill them. We happened to be travelling in the same direction."
"I see," Jeod said lowly, leading to a brief silence.
Brom produced a small, knotted bag and gave it to Harry. "Can both of you go and check on the horses for me? I forgot to feed them before coming in. This is all boring political stuff anyway."
Harry rolled his eyes at Eragon, who made an equally sardonic expression by screwing up one side of his mouth. Silently, they departed the room, Eragon slamming the door behind them. Harry was half-tempted to run back in and start demanding answers, but decided to wait. It would be better if Jeod wasn't around when he did.
"Unbelievable," Eragon scoffed, shaking his head. "They're going to be talking about all sorts of secret things now."
"I know," Harry nodded solemnly. "Still… we can always spy on them."
Eragon grinned, his eyes twinkling. They reached the outside once more, quickly feeding the horses, before staring at the wall, arms crossed in determination.
"I've got an idea," Eragon said. "Brom taught us how to enhance our hearing, remember? It mightn't work that well because of the thick walls, but it must be worth a try."
Harry nodded, remembering. He reached for his new source of power and uttered: "Thverr stenr un atra eka hórna!" Beside him, Eragon did the same. He felt disappointed when nothing happened at first, but then exchanged a grin with his friend when two voices could be clearly heard. Quickly, they sat down on a stone bench beside the wall, wordlessly checking for guards. There were none.
"…and I've been doing that for about eight years now," came Jeod's voice.
"I never expected you to become a merchant," Brom admitted. "After all the work you did for Ajihad, and finding the passageways in that manner! Why did you take up trading?"
"I didn't have much taste for musty scrolls and tiny rooms after Gil'ead. My father was a merchant, remember? He helped to get me started. But I've never stopped helping. Most of my work is a front to get goods into Surda, and from there they're taken to Tronjheim."
"I see… and how has that been going?"
"Badly, to say the least. Most of the convoys are ambushed, and the men murdered. That ship I lost two days ago was the last I owned," he said bitterly. "Every man onboard was brave and loyal, but I doubt I'll ever see them again. A good number of merchants have decided to flee as well, but none get very far."
"Yes, we met a mercenary who was working for one," Brom informed him. "He said the ship was attacked and the crew massacred, including the merchant and his family."
Harry assumed that Jeod was now shaking his head sadly. "I wish I knew what was happening… no, don't give me that look, I implore you. I know exactly what you're thinking. If there is a traitor with that amount of power and knowledge, we're in deep trouble…"
"It's the only thing that makes sense, Jeod. These ambushes and murders have been too well coordinated. Sure, a lot of people killed are innocent, but quite a few are still working for the Varden, am I right?" Brom asked.
"Yes… and that's what worries me. Maybe you should back to Tronjheim. Ajihad could do with your help."
"And take Eragon and Saphira with me?" Brom asked incredulously. "No, it's the worst place they could be right now. Everyone will try to influence them, especially the dwarves and Islanzadi. And Harry… that boy's story would fill several books, I wager. He has power and would be a great tool for any of the higher-ups if he could be manipulated. I doubt he could be easily, but it's not a risk I'm willing to take. No, I won't take them there for a few months, or maybe even a year. Ajihad will have to manage without me."
"They will still be in need of your wisdom," Jeod commented.
"Wisdom," Brom snorted. "I'm just what you said: an old man, past his expiry date."
"There are many who would disagree."
"Let them. I have no need to explain myself. Still, the prospect of a traitor is deeply unsettling… do you have a messenger you can trust? I need to send word to Ajihad."
"Yes, but where would he be going?"
"Hmm… I don't want to risk any contacts who may have died… could you send him to whoever receives your shipments?"
"It would be risky, but I think I could talk him into it."
"I'll take that as a yes," Brom said shortly. "Here, give him my ring. It can serve as proof the message comes from me. And make sure to tell him I'll personally strangle him with his entrails if he loses that. It was given to me by the queen."
"Aren't you cheery," Jeod muttered.
After a brief silence, Brom said: "Damn it, where have those two got to now? We'd better go out and find them. They have a spectacular affinity for attracting trouble, and I can't say I'm surprised…"
There was a scraping of chairs, and they released the magic. Harry and Eragon stared at each other.
"What, in the blazes, was that all about?" Eragon asked. "He mentioned a queen, but there are none in Alagaёsia! And what's he playing at, telling Jeod about Saphira? He shouldn't have done that without asking me!"
Harry shook his head, feeling very agitated. "I have no idea, but I'm going to find out. I'm sick of being lied to."
Eragon nodded in agreement.
As soon as Brom stepped outside, Harry rounded on him, not giving the old man a chance to speak.
"We need to talk with you. Now."
Jeod raised an eyebrow at him, but Brom shrugged. "Fine, we can talk while eating."
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "No people. Just the three of us, and Saphira."
Brom narrowed his eyes a little. "Are you really that stupid? Don't use that name!"
"Why? There's no one here, and you've already told Jeod," Harry declared.
Both men stared at him flatly.
"You spied on us," Brom said disapprovingly.
Harry shrugged. "Don't say you didn't see it coming. You have your secrets, but if they affect us we'll spy if we bloody well please. Since we're already talking, why don't you begin by telling us how you stole the egg?"
Eragon turned to look at him. "He never mentioned that."
"You're too clever for your own good," Brom stated, before reluctantly adding: "but, I suppose if you weren't I wouldn't be very interested in you as a person. Fine. Jeod, this will probably take a while. We'll return to your house later, if we may."
Jeod nodded. "That's fine. Just knock on the door and the butler will see you in."
And he left.
Brom eyed Harry coldly, before stalking off. Eragon followed him, sharing one brief glance with Harry. Before too long, they had reached the gates of Teirm, doing so without speaking. Eragon quickly located Saphira, on top of a rock formation away from the city a bit. The rocks were out of sight from any passers-by or watchmen on thee city walls, and offered quite a nice view of the nearby sea. Saphira flew down to meet them when they stopped walking.
"Okay, first thing's first," Brom demanded, spinning around, "you had better get this straight in your head, boy: whatever I chose not to tell you two was for your own good. You aren't ready for the knowledge. But since you've left me with no choice, it doesn't really matter anymore, does it?"
Harry shrugged, and sat down against the rock. Brom imitated his gesture sarcastically, before withdrawing his pipe and sitting on a small rock nearby. Eragon chose to sit propped up against Saphira, who was eyeing the proceedings with interest.
"So, this is your intervention," Brom spat. "What would you like to know first?"
"I would like to know if you're going to lie to us," Harry said, arms folded.
Brom glared at him, before speaking a phrase in the Ancient Language.
"There. Now it's impossible for me to lie to you."
Harry nodded, satisfied. "Good. Tell us about the Varden."
Brom shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. I was, and technically still am, one of their agents. I stole the egg many years ago with Jeod's help, and after much fuss, was able to deliver it safely to their hidden base."
"Which is where?" Eragon asked.
"Tronjheim. It's a city hidden under the Beor Mountains."
Harry blinked. "I'm sorry, did you say city hidden under the mountains?"
Brom scoffed. "Is your hearing going as bad as your eyesight, boy?"
"That's a cheap shot, old man. At least I'm honest with the people who trust me."
Brom's face hardened, but he chose to ignore that comment, thankfully. Eragon didn't want a fight to erupt between the two. Behind him, Saphira, her mind open to the three of them, nestled her head on the ground, snaked around Eragon's legs. She said nothing.
"Who was the queen you spoke of, and why did you tell Jeod about Saphira?" Eragon asked.
"That's straightforward," Brom shrugged. "The queen is Queen Islanzadi of the Elves, and I told Jeod because he already knew about the egg. He's my oldest friend, and he can be trusted impeccably. He's saved both my skin and that of the Varden on a dozen occasions."
"Are these 'elves' hidden too?" Harry asked with interest. He mentally tried to shrug-off any images of house elves. Obviously these were more akin to the Elves heard about in Muggle fairytales and stories.
"Yes," Brom nodded. "They are hidden in Du Weldenvarden, the great forest to the north. Where exactly I cannot tell you, because only elves can reach the locations, and their magical wards are powerful. They prevent me from speaking in case of interrogation."
"Fair enough," Harry said, sitting up straighter. "I remember a few weeks ago, you said there was knowledge you're keeping hidden from us. You began to speak of it, but then kept it hidden. What was it, exactly?"
Eragon shifted his gaze back to Brom, watching closely. He let Harry do most of the questioning, as he had obviously been planning this out for quite a while.
Brom sighed. "I feared you would ask me that. Fine, I'll tell you, not that I have any choice now…" he muttered. "Do you want the long version or short?"
"Don't skive on the details," Harry warned. "We want to know everything."
Eragon agreed with him. "If it means our lives, we can't afford to not know."
"And that's precisely the problem," Brom said dramatically, pointing his pipe at Eragon. "It concerns you intimately. And Saphira. There's a full-blown war approaching, and you can't even begin to comprehend the enormity of what it is you'll be facing. The king doesn't want to destroy you, which is why the Ra'zac didn't try to kill you on-sight. No, if he had wanted that, magicians would be running us into the ground as we speak.
"The king wants to control the next generation of Riders, and you are the beginning of that era. He wants to rebuild the Order into his own, twisted manifestation, and wipe away all vestiges of existence that disagrees with him."
"That would be the Varden, the elves and the dwarves?" Harry listed.
"Precisely," Brom nodded. "They are all allied against Galbatorix, but he could crush them without blinking if he had a group of Riders under his control."
"That doesn't make sense," Eragon said, shaking his head. "I thought Saphira was the last known dragon in the world, besides the king's?"
"No, she's not," Harry said quietly. "There are more, aren't there?"
Eragon gaped at Brom, absolutely astounded when he nodded.
"There were three eggs for us to steal, but we only managed to find one of them. The other two are locked in Urû'Baen, where we may never see them again."
"You managed to steal one before," Harry pointed out.
Brom almost dropped his pipe, spluttering as he did so. "You can't be serious. I stole one when it was hidden in Gil'ead before being delivered to the king. Never in a million years could I steal two when they reside in his personal fortress. He probably has all kinds of magical traps around the treasure room, and that's not including him or his bloody dragon themselves. No. There's no chance that you could attempt such a feat and survive. It would be suicide."
Harry sighed, disappointed. He had suspected Brom would say as much, although it wouldn't stop him from trying to figure out a potential heist plan for the future sometime. They were severely outnumbered and outgunned. Another two Riders would give them the advantage.
"I can't believe it…" Saphira whispered. "Two of my brothers and sisters still live!"
Eragon felt her literally quivering with excitement, and smiled as her happiness intoxicated his mind.
"Why didn't you tell us about this before?" Eragon asked, instead sounding quite upset. "I thought we all trusted each other."
"I trust you both with my life," Brom said sincerely. "But, I stand by my opinion that you weren't ready for the information. I still don't think you are. I'm only telling you now because I fear you'll try to run away if I don't."
"Oh, I doubt we'd be that rash," Harry said with amusement. "I trust you as well, like I told you in Carvahall. I value your training and your wisdom. You've helped us to stay alive. I just don't like being kept in the dark. I had a bad time with that a while ago…"
"Hmm… well, you're not anymore," Brom grumbled. "Is there anything else you want to know?"
"How are we supposed to live in peace when the Varden and the Empire want to control us like puppets?" Eragon demanded angrily. "It's infuriating. I left Carvahall to avenge my uncle, and now I could be caught up in a full-blown war? Madness…"
"This isn't about you," Brom snapped. "It's a lot bigger than that. There are almost three million people living in both this land and Surda together, and not one of them will be safe if that black-hearted bastard gets what he wants. He has to be stopped. It's why the Varden was formed in the first place. They knew the risks and the stakes, and still they fought. They fight to this day! You are a Rider, Eragon. You have to be willing to make sacrifices. Garrow's loss was a terrible burden you should not have to bear, but he is one of many casualties in this never-ending conflict."
"Brom's right," Harry said quietly. "We knew this would happen sooner or later. Join the king, or fight against him. There is no other option." Inside his head, he decided not to ask about his previous solution, which had been whether they would actually join the Varden. Brom's words regarding manipulation had put him off the idea temporarily.
"There might be for you," Eragon stated. "You could find a way to go home again."
Harry clicked his tongue. "I'm never going home again, Eragon. I'm here until the bitter end, and I won't stand back and let some snake-faced menace terrorise innocent people. I made a vow to that little girl in Yazuac, and I intend to keep it. As far as I can see, both the king and the Urgals are responsible.
"Actually," he said suddenly, a thought springing to mind, "tell me about the curse afflicting me. How do I break it?"
"I have no idea," Brom said honestly, shrugging. "I would have told you long ago if I knew the answer. I can only guess that dark wizard you spoke of inlaid the spell that brought you here with a powerful ward, and now you can't… err…"
"Disapparate," Harry helped.
"Yes… that. I have no idea how to break it, although I was hoping it would be possible if your mind healed itself again."
"Yeah, it hasn't, though… and about that; did you honestly not see that thing when it came out of me? I mean… I was hardly faking an illness. It was like a damned seizure," Harry exclaimed.
Brom shrugged, blowing rings of smoke from his mouth. "Like I said: I trust you both. If you say it was real, then I believe you. In any case, it's gone, and your mind is back to normal."
"…Fírnen…"
"I beg your pardon?" Brom asked politely.
"Do you have any idea who this 'Fírnen' is?" Harry asked clearly. "We decided not to question you a few nights ago, but now is a better time than any."
Brom spread his arms. "None. I know you and Saphira think it is a dragon, but eggs can't communicate like those who have hatched, and I've never heard of any grown dragon named 'Fírnen' before. The eggs wouldn't even know how to speak. You had to train Saphira, did you not?"
Eragon nodded as Brom looked towards him. "Yes. It took quite a while, but it was worth it," he said, resting a hand on her forehead gently. She hummed in response.
"I just don't see what else it could be," Harry said uncertainly. "Stranger things have happened."
"Oh? Like what?"
"Well… the fact that I was transported to this land in the first place. Eragon finding Saphira's egg right beside me – that was some coincidence… my apparition being blocked… being able to talk with plants and animals… Riddle… elves and dwarves…"
"Alright, I get your point," Brom interrupted, waving a hand in annoyance. "Yes, it is highly improbable, but it may be possible, although I doubt it. Dragons are known to make mysterious things happen, even if they can't control magic at will. Except for breathing fire, of course."
"Yes, when will Saphira learn how to do that?" Eragon interjected.
"Not for quite a while. She's too young to sustain a flame. Most dragons can't do it until they're about a year old."
"That leads me to one final question," Harry said, holding a finger up. "How do you know so much about dragons and magic?"
Brom hesitated, before shrugging his shoulders. "I spent a lot of time studying dragons and magic when I was younger, although I won't get into my youth just now. I've chosen to make it more academic in my later years, although I can still use magic, of course."
After a few moments of silence, Eragon pointed out how low the Sun was getting. He quickly gave Saphira a hug, and the three of them hurried back into Teirm just before the gates were shut. Eragon stifled a yawn, and Harry felt his eyes getting wearier. To their surprise, Brom headed in the direction of a nearby pub, thankfully not the Green Chestnut. He told them that he was now in the mood for a stiff drink, something which Harry briefly agreed with.
The tavern was loud and boisterous, filled with peoples of all ages and backgrounds. Every table was filled, save one beside the wall. They hurried to claim it, and Brom gave the bartender their food orders. A short while later, a large plate of venison and sweet vegetables arrived, accompanied by honey-coated mead in four large tankards. Harry felt his mouth watering just by looking at the food, and Eragon's stomach rumbled loudly.
Brom laughed at them, seemingly in a better mood. "Well, don't just stare at it! Eat, before the meat goes cold."
They rapidly complied.
After the food was demolished, they each ordered another round of drinks, and relaxed at the table, enjoying the music that was being played for entertainment. They watched amusedly as several men rose to their feet, clearly drunk, and began to dance together. Harry winced as one of them groped the serving girl's backside, and was slapped loudly.
Rather than be deterred, however, he merely roared with laughter and downed another two pints in quick succession. Harry was impressed with his vigour, until he fell headfirst into the table and it broke in half.
Eragon snickered; he felt slightly intoxicated and giddy himself. He used magic to sober himself up, and leaned forward a little. Now was as good a time as any to speak of something that had been occupying his mind recently. Brom seemed to have relaxed again, and Harry appeared to be content with the answers he had been given.
"I've been thinking..." he began quietly, attracting the attention of Brom and Harry. Around them more sailors and a few guards were laughing merrily, smoking and drinking ale at every table in the inn as the drunken man was physically thrown outside. The fire had been lit again, and was now burning brightly for all to feel.
"If this is about... her... then don't say a word," Brom ordered, taking a drink of ale. Harry imitated him, feeling relaxed by the cool beverage.
"No, it isn't," Eragon replied, shaking his head. "It's about... well... Harry. How you came here, that is."
Harry's interest was captured. "Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "What do you think?"
"What if... just hear me out... what if the gods themselves brought you here to help," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "to overthrow the king?"
Harry scoffed and shook his head in disdain. He didn't want to be insulting, but nor did he entertain such a notion.
"You don't think it's possible?" Eragon asked neutrally.
Harry shook his head, slowly. "No," he said. "No, I don't believe in any 'gods'."
Eragon was surprised. "Really? There are many gods. Surely you believe in at least one."
"I believe in reality," Harry shrugged. "In what I can see and do. True, most of the people in my land don't believe in magic either, but at least we're there to prove them wrong."
"But... there may be others who can prove you wrong about... some higher force," Eragon said with confidence. "If you can preside yourself above others, maybe there are some who could do the same to you."
"I don't preside myself above anyone," Harry interjected. "I hate people who are so elitist. Some people like the idea of religion, and that's fine with me. Let them believe. Just because I don't doesn't mean I don't respect other opinions. All I know is that I've seen and performed magic, and others haven't. I have never seen evidence of any 'god'. I didn't believe in magic, either, until a half-giant gave my cousin a pig's tail on my eleventh birthday."
Brom chuckled warmly at that.
Eragon shrugged. "Wouldn't you say miracles occur everyday? Like me finding... you know."
"And like your uncle being brutally tortured?" Harry asked, perhaps a little too sharply. "Eragon, I lost my entire family to a ruthless bastard who tried to become a god and rule over everybody. I've seen evil men and women who have great power, and no one to keep them in check. Just like the king, they cause havoc and destroy everything in their way, and anyone who stands against them is killed. Brutality and power are truth, not miracles. Magic transported... it... to you, and that was obviously the result of something else, someone, pulling the strings."
"Except you," Eragon pointed out. "Something has protected you from death, I think. You've told me stories, and it seems you've survived for a reason." He didn't mention Harry's remark about Garrow – it had stung, but he had expected it.
Harry hesitated. He hadn't spoken of this before. Any time Riddle had come up, he had merely veered around the subject. "Actually, I did almost die. I was hit with a killing curse for a second time without anyone to protect me, and would have died if Voldemort's soul hadn't gotten in the way. Riddle was created as a result, so it was hardly a miracle." He took a drink of ale, thinking this would get out of hand fast if he wasn't careful. He hadn't quarrelled with his friend before, and had no desire to start now.
Brom, who was now puffing away merrily at his pipe again, chose that moment to intervene. Until now he had been scrutinising their debate with interest. "Forgive me, but a god-loving man may take that as proof of a higher power protecting you."
"No... it was the power of magic and foolishness combined. I expected to die, but Voldemort made a grave error." He smiled; "well, there was one old man who knew what would happen. He just wasn't a god."
There was a brief silence.
"I just think religious people can do a lot of good if they try to," Eragon said quietly.
Harry reminded himself that Eragon was only fifteen. He was obviously confused about matters of faith, so maybe he shouldn't be so harsh.
"They can," Harry agreed, nodding. "Many do in my home... but many don't. Countless wars have been fought over religion where I come from, and millions have died. Yes, millions," he repeated, catching their astounded expressions. "Think of Yazuac."
Eragon shuddered, recalling the massacred village.
"That was just a sample of what happens everyday in my land, and much of it is about religion. If the gods are real, they just don't give a damn about ordinary people," he said with some venom.
Brom shrugged, deciding to test his resolve again. "Maybe they want people to find their own way. To help each other. Many would say faith is necessary, or the gods needn't bother helping you."
"We're talking about children here," Harry emphasised. "How the hell could any reasonable person or god, if they exist, let innocent children suffer? Children who are too young to comprehend the idea of faith? Do you know how widespread famine and disease are where I come from?" he asked rhetorically.
"It must be bad," Brom said softly, catching his expression.
"Five seconds," Harry said bluntly, citing a Muggle report he had read shortly before his mission to Japan. "A child dies every five seconds from hunger. No, I'm being serious."
Eragon had opened his mouth to argue, but now he shut it again. Harry wouldn't lie about something like that. He was very confused. The people of Carvahall had always performed rituals to help ward off evil spirits, although they didn't worship one particular god. There were so many that at least one had to be real. He just knew it.
Repeating that point out loud, he said: "maybe there's one true god, or a few, just quietly hoping people will start to worship them again, and are powerless until they do. Who want to help, but just can't until that happens."
"Maybe," Harry said disbelievingly. "I would love for that to be true. Really. But so many people claim to worship 'the one true god' that nobody knows what to believe anymore. A lot of fanatics say their god will 'strike down' anyone who doesn't believe in them. But that isn't true. Gods don't kill people. People with gods kill people. And I refuse to believe in someone who endorses violence against innocents."
Harry took another drink. This talking was making his throat go dry. He had never spoken about religion before in such detail. The Dursleys had never been religious people, and it wasn't a subject endorsed at Hogwarts. The students and professors tended to get very testy when it came to discussing the Dark Ages, and everyone had despised religion as a result, even the vast majority of Muggleborns. Harry was one of them, remembering how his hated relatives had called him a 'freak.'
"Obviously most religions don't like violence. They abhor it. But a few hundred years ago, I could have burnt at the stake just for saying what I'm saying now. For giving my opinion. Religious people even hunted magicians in my land like animals until we were forced into hiding, so it's normal for witches and wizards to not believe in gods."
"What do you think?" Eragon asked Brom, hoping for some support.
He shook his head quickly, blowing a ring of smoke across the table. "I've never been a man for religion, boy. I agree it would be good if the gods did turn out to be real and decided to help people, but they don't. Maybe they are real, but we haven't seen them." He chuckled slightly. "For me, they either don't exist or just stay out of my way, so I do the same."
Harry raised his tankard to that and inclined his head, before downing the remainder of ale. He felt pleasantly light-headed, and decided not to have anymore. He sat it back on the table. Brom had obviously just been testing his opinion without revealing his own earlier, he realised.
"Look," he said reassuringly, "people have to make their own mind up, and respect others too. We try not to intrude upon other people, because it's only fair. We have our beliefs, and you'll find your own eventually."
"Don't forget how much you have to see of the world," Brom said, to Harry as well as Eragon. "Young people like you two have opinions thrust upon you because of all the terrible things that have happened in your lives, but both of you could see or find something that changes your mind completely. The world is a big place."
"Bigger, if you include mine," Harry chuckled half-heartedly.
Brom shrugged. "Indeed… in any case, it's late," he said suddenly. "We should be off before Jeod locks his door."
They soon returned to Jeod's home in silence, where they found him looking quite miserable. Harry felt sympathy for the old merchant, knowing he clearly had a difficult marriage. He didn't say anything, but merely nodded and retreated to his bed, the butler directing him at Jeod's instruction.
Eragon lay awake for a good while in his own room, staring at the ceiling. Their conversation had troubled him, and he mentally berated himself for bringing it up in the first place. Now he had a moral dilemma, although he didn't quite comprehend why. He had always believed that there was something more powerful out there, and his companions' beliefs were so very alien that they disturbed him. On the one hand, belief in another being was comforting, but his 'other half' disagreed.
"Harry is right, little one. Peace is a wonderful idea, but religions cause more harm than good."
"How can you know that?" he asked testily. "You know less about religions than I do."
She was silent for a moment. "I know humans. I know what drives you, and there is much that is bad. I know because I can put together argument with reason, and have done so with Harry's opinion and your hopes. Besides, why should I believe there is something more glorious than a daughter of the sky?"
Eragon couldn't answer that, and didn't try to either. He didn't know why anybody should believe in anything on merely his word. Instead he decided to ask a more personal question.
"If I don't have faith, what do I have?"
"You have me, little one," she replied gently and caringly. "You may have your own family someday, you have friends, and you have me above them all. I am a part of you, and I will always love you. You don't need faith in a god or other nonsense when I'm here to help you instead."
He smiled as she passed her serenity across their mental link, enveloping him in peace and calmness. He stopped worrying on count of their bond. She was right. Some people had religion to comfort them, and unfortunately nothing else. He had always thought that way too, but now he was lucky enough to have Saphira instead. And he knew for a fact she was real. She would always be there for him, and he would do the same. At this moment, they were more like one soul than two. He doubted anyone could be so close, even the most intimate of lovers.
"I love you too," he said quietly, and her happiness was elevated. Locked in the gentle embrace of her mind, he found sleep soothing and easy, and worried no more about religion or the gods for a long while.
When Harry awoke the next day, he yawned widely and stretched vigorously, feeling greatly rested for the first time in many weeks. Without thinking, he dropped to his stomach and began to do fifty push-ups, something he had sworn to begin last night. He was in the form of his life, courtesy of training everyday in sword-fighting and the work-outs in Carvahall previous to that, as well as the work on Eragon's farm, but he still wished to improve upon his physique.
After he reached fifty, he switched to his back and began to do sit-ups, feeling just a little sweat beginning to appear on his brow. After a minute he rose to his feet and washed with the basin the butler had left for him, cleaning his face and torso thoroughly. When he looked quite presentable (apart from his hair, of course), he cast a cleaning charm on the shirt and trousers he had accidentally fallen asleep in, leaving them sparkling.
He grimaced, knowing it wouldn't last long. Eragon was waiting in the parlour when he arrived downstairs, also looking clean and refreshed.
"Morning," he said cheerfully.
"Morning," Harry responded. "Sleep well?"
"Haven't slept better in months. It's good to have a proper bed again. You?"
Harry nodded, looking better off than he had been for quite a while. Sleeping rough every night could make your temper short, as they had discovered quite frequently. Hopefully he was returning to normal once more.
"Brom and Jeod have left for the day to search through the shipping records," Eragon informed him, finishing off the last of his oatmeal. Harry graciously accepted a bowl from the butler with thanks, and sat down next to him.
When he was finished, Eragon said they wouldn't be back until nightfall.
"And they said we can do whatever we want, so long as we stay out of trouble," Eragon said, looking excited. Harry knew he wanted to explore the marketplace, and didn't need to ask what he would like to do.
Grinning at his friend's over-excitement, he shut the door behind him and they walked into the street with contention. It was a bright, early spring morning, with plenty of sunshine and little signs of rain. The warm air had a pleasant breeze as its companion, and gently swirled around the place, calm and serene. Being an ocean-bearing city, there were plenty of gulls to be seen, and bells could be heard emanating from the docks nearby.
This neighbourhood was richer than most of Teirm, although it wasn't noble, so to speak. At least there were no signs of brigands or robbers nearby, Harry reflected. Eragon's happiness must have affected Saphira as well, because she sounded more cheerful than she had in a long time.
"Good morning, little ones."
"Morning, Saphira. We're going to explore for a bit, then I promise to visit again later today," Eragon announced.
They explored the city for the next few hours, delighting in the many shops and strange people that wandered around the streets. A girl no older than Harry asked Eragon if he wanted 'a good time', to which he blushed furiously and hurried away. Harry would have teased him, but was rather disgusted by the situation. There was a reason such things were illegal at home – it was downright degrading for all concerned.
Harry delighted in a bow made of oak that he discovered in a weapon shop. It was about half the size of him, and yet the shopkeeper said it was a 'short-bow'. He had never fired one before, but saw how useful Eragon's was and quickly purchased the fine weapon. It had been polished to a perfect gleam and the string was perfectly springy, Eragon told him. The wood was inlaid with many fine spirals and intriguing runes, which the shopkeeper said were used to spell the bow's name: Nϋrfan, which meant 'unbreakable'.
"And it is unbreakable," the burly man had grunted. "Some magician or such put runes around it, and the string can never be broken. The wood won't split or chip, either. I hate to part with it, which is why I have to charge you so much."
Eragon had nearly choked when the words 'five hundred crowns' were mentioned, but Harry was unfazed. He could always replicate money if he needed to, using multiplicare, although he hadn't done so in quite a while.
After a while, they left the shop, and Harry was now the proud owner of a fine bow and a quiver of thirty oaken arrows, each fitted with a razor sharp steel point and eagle feather flights. He fastened the new tools around his shoulders, remarking at the lightness.
"Looks like I'll get to teach you something after all," Eragon said smugly.
Harry shrugged, grinning. "I guess it's the best I can do."
"Oh, you're hilarious."
None of them bought anything else, save some freshly baked bread and clean water for lunch, but they spoke with many people and examined many mysterious artefacts. Eragon was interested in a 'magic amulet', which supposedly prevented enemy magicians from seeing you, until Harry asked the attendant why they were charging so much for lobster claws on strings. Eragon had snorted with laughter, and the shopkeeper had ushered them outside furiously, before they could give away his ruse.
As nightfall approached, Eragon deliberated going to visit Saphira, but decided to wait until after supper. They were dining with Jeod and Helen that night, and he didn't want to appear discourteous. As they headed back towards the merchant's home, Eragon paused.
"What is it?" Harry asked, frowning curiously.
"That shop," he nodded, looking at the herbalist's. "I want to check it out."
Harry shrugged and walked over to the door, knocking quietly. There was no response.
"Maybe we should just go," Harry deliberated, until the door swung wide open. They hesitated for a moment, before walking inside.
The shop was filled with mysterious plants and flowers, reminding Harry a little of the greenhouses during Herbology. He couldn't have named half of what he could see, although there appeared to be a large assortment of Juniper berries on one shelf. Harry recognised many of the plants as ingredients used in potion-making, which reinforced his earlier opinion that Angela practiced traditional, Muggle-orientated witchcraft.
Suddenly, a large cat bounded onto the shop counter, staring at them intently through gleaming red eyes. Its shoulders and paws were well-developed, and angular face was partially obscured by a shaggy mane of black hair. Its slender figure was accentuated by a pair of very sharp-looking white fangs, which curled past its jaw. It looked unlike any cat either of them had ever seen before.
Eragon instinctively tried to reach for its mind, gently tying to reassure it that he was a friend. Given their presently open mental circuit, Harry was also surprised by the response.
"That isn't necessary."
Eragon was startled. "Saphira?" he asked curiously, but there was no response. The cat looked away and began to lick its paws.
Eragon shrugged at Harry, who was looking at the cat strangely.
"You said that," he declared.
The cat paused in grooming itself and looked up at him.
"Who else?"
Eragon started in shock, as did Harry. "But… you're just a cat!"
The cat hissed at Eragon, baring its white fangs. "Do I look like other cats?"
"No…"
"Then what makes you think I am one? I, to correct your mistake, am a werecat. Surely even simple farm-boys have heard of our kind before."
"Hey! We're not simple!" Harry retorted.
"And yet there you were, trying to argue with what you wrongly assumed was a cat," it said smugly, before stretching and scratching its claws on the wooden counter.
"A werecat!" Eragon sounded excited. "I didn't know any of your kind still existed."
"I didn't know you existed either, until you rudely entered this shop and disturbed my nap. It doesn't mean that you never did."
"We're sorry," Eragon said sincerely.
"What's a werecat?" Harry asked, perplexed. He had heard of a werewolf before, but never a werecat.
"They're… well, very intelligent and almost mythical creatures," Eragon said, not wanting to offend the werecat. "They're a little like dragons in that they know a lot, and are very wise creatures. Apparently they can choose to help you in times of peril, and their advice should never go unheeded."
The werecat, who had now closed its eyes and lay there contently, wordlessly agreed with Eragon's explanation.
Harry, feeling slightly foolish, asked what is name was.
"I go by many names, but if you seek my true name, you will have to look elsewhere. However, you may call me Solembum."
The door to the shop, which had closed moments ago, was thrust open once more. Harry and Eragon looked around in slight alarm as Angela strode in, fearing she would be angry. Thankfully, she was simply curious. She looked at Solembum, and then back at them again, eyebrows raised.
"He says he talked with you."
"You can talk with him too?" Eragon asked.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean he'll say anything back." She sat the plants she was carrying on the counter, and smiled slightly. "He says he likes both of you. That's unusual. You're two of only four people who have been able to speak with him since I opened this shop many years ago."
Harry scratched his head. "What does that mean?"
She shrugged. "He thinks both of you have a lot of promise, given a few years' work. He also says that I should try to help you."
"Help us? How would you do that?" Eragon asked, sounding confused.
Angela scrutinised them, hands absently pulling at a few curls behind her ears. "Well, I can make love potions and such, but I doubt you're here for those. Is there anything you actually want to buy?"
"We're… just here to look," Harry quickly explained. "The door swung open, and I thought it was because we knocked, so…"
"Ah, no problem," Angela reassured, waving a hand dismissively. She paused, seemingly hit by a thought of inspiration. "Would either of you like me to tell you your fortune?"
Harry hesitated, not certain. He was sure, with the aid of a werecat, that Angela was much more reliable than Professor Trelawney had been, but some bad experiences in Divination were putting him off, namely the bumbling professor predicting his death every five minutes. After a few moments he couldn't decide, but Angela wasn't paying attention.
"I think," she said quietly, looking at a large crystal ball nearby, "that's only for show. But I do have… wait here." She disappeared into the room at the back of the shop, and was followed by some loud signs of searching. After a few moments she returned, carrying a small leather bag. She dropped it on the table, and sat down, indicating for Eragon and Harry to do the same.
Harry was still unsure, but he sat down anyway. Eragon said he would go first, so maybe that would let him know if he would want to have his fortune read.
"These are the knucklebones of a dragon," Angela said mysteriously, opening the bag. She poured a handful of smooth white objects into her palm, each just longer than a human finger. "Don't ask where I got them, because it's a secret I won't reveal. Dragons are creatures of power. With the aid of the arcane arts, these will tell me everything about you, although deciphering the runes can be difficult. You two seem to know each other very well, so I'm willing to let you witness each others' readings, if there are no objections."
Harry noted a mysterious rune on each of the bones, although they were impossible for him to describe as he couldn't see them clearly.
"I'll ask you properly, and there's no turning back if you agree," she told Eragon firmly. "Would you like me to cast the bones? I warn you that to know the future can be a terrible burden."
Eragon hesitated, before nodding solidly. Harry was impressed with his desire to know the future, as unpredictable as it was. "Cast the bones."
She nodded gravely. "Would you like to do it alone?'
Eragon looked at Harry, but then shook his head. "No, I trust Harry."
Harry nodded in thanks, and watched as Angela began to shake the bones in her hands, before dropping them upon the table.
"Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!"
Harry felt himself shiver as the words of power rang loudly in his hears. He had been right. Angela was clearly a witch, and the Ancient Language meant that this fortunetelling would be the closest to true he would ever see. After a few minutes of eternity, Angela sighed and took a draught from the wineskin she had attached to her belt.
"Would you like some?"
They shook their heads, waiting anxiously. Angela shrugged and took another swig.
"This is perhaps the hardest reading I have ever done. You future is more obscure than the island of Sharktooth on a misty afternoon. However, I was able to wrestle a few answers from the bones. Notice the line with a circle resting upon it. It means infinity or long life. I have never seen it appear before."
"Well, I am a Rider," Eragon said to Harry with his mind.
"Normally, an aspen or elm will appear, signifying a normal span of years. But this means that you have an extraordinarily long lifespan, if not infinite. Now the bones become harder to read, as they lie in a confused pile. Here lies a trio – the wandering path, lightening bolt and oaken door. The wandering path shows that your future is filled with twists and turns, but that you are one of the few people who can choose your path freely. Treat that freedom as a gift, for not many have such power. I see great battles raging all around you, some of them fought for your sake. Many powers will attempt to control your will and destiny, and many possible futures await, all filled with blood and conflict. Only one will lead to peace, and you must use your freedom to find it.
"And yet, as if to counteract that freedom, we have the lightning bolt," she said sadly, pointing at the middle rune. "It is a terrible omen. I know not when it will happen or what shape it will take, but there is a doom upon your life. Part of it appears to be in a death that rapidly approaches, although it seems unclear, as though it may be avoidable. The major form it takes is the oaken door, which indicates you have a choice to make in your long journey. You will have to decide whether or not to leave Alagaёsia forever, and this is symbolic of you having one foot out the door already. It can be retracted, but at great personal cost."
She smiled warmly. "This next bone is more pleasant. A rose blossom. It indicates that there is an epic romance in your future, one which will outlast kings and topple empires, or possibly forge new ones. Your love is high and of noble birth, as shown by the moon, and she is beautiful beyond comparison. And yet…" she sighed, looking at the next symbol.
It was a red teardrop, Harry noticed.
"And yet this love may end in tragedy, unless you make the right choice. Many will try to tear you apart, and it is up to you and you alone to help protect her. She may fall in battle, or to the blade of an assassin. You can save her… but it will cost you a life you hold most dear."
"A life!" Eragon blurted out. "You mean mine, or someone else that I love?"
"Alas, I cannot say," she said sympathetically, shaking her head sadly. "It could be either, or perhaps both, or even none. This sign here – the eagle – it represents your power and authority. You will rise above armies and generals to become a leader beyond comparison, and the whiteness means that you will do it at a very tender age. You will be a noble ruler, and this rune shows you will not do it alone. It is a trio of dragon eggs, something I have never seen before. It means that you will have two great comrades, possibly forged by bonds as strong as the Riders themselves had.
"This last bone is… strange. It is the mixture of a lion devouring a rabbit, and a hunter protecting the rabbit with fire. I believe it shows that you will attempt to confront a much fiercer enemy, and the hunter is a guardian of sorts. With their help, you will rise. But without it, you will be destroyed."
There was a pin-drop silence in the shop. The candles had burnt out, and Harry's mind was numb. Everything Angela had just said was either shocking or mystifying. He wasn't sure if he wanted such a thing for himself.
Except… no. If Eragon can do it, then so can I. Maybe she can tell me a way to get home, in case we ever have to flee the king and then return someday. Or maybe if I know the future I can attempt to prevent anything negative from happening. I know it's risky, but it's worth a shot. And Ginny…
Angela offered Eragon the wineskin again, and he accepted gratefully. "Death might be welcome after all that," he joked.
She laughed at him. "At least you have a sense of humour. Ah, I promise you you'll feel better once you're out in the sunlight. You do have a most intense future, I must say. I would dearly love to see how it plays out, especially if it affects the realm in any great way."
Eragon shrugged, unable to respond. "Harry, do you want…?"
Harry nodded intently. "Yes, I want you to cast the bones for me as well. I have to know if I'll ever see… someone again."
Eragon was silent, knowing who he was thinking of. In a rush of movement, Angela repeated the incantation from earlier and cast the bones upon the counter. Solembum, who had watched the entire process before, was now wide awake again. There was another brief silence as Angela studied the mysterious forces of the ether.
"Well, I guess I was wrong," she chuckled. "This is the most difficult reading I have ever done. Your future is almost impossible to predict, because it appears as though you follow the same wandering path as your friend here, as evidenced by the rune. The difference is that you have a choice to make very soon, which is what the chest of gold demonstrates. If you make this choice, it will change your future forever. If you do not, it may result in the destruction of the entire nation."
Harry's throat seemed to tighten.
"I cannot tell you what this choice is, because only you will know it when the time arrives. However, I can say that making this choice will result in you never again returning home, which I see is very far away."
"Can you see where?" Harry interrupted.
She studied the bones closely, but shook her head. "It appears as though… it is not part of this life. You seem to have travelled through either space or time itself. You come from our world, but a different world entirely. Take care with this prospect, as attempting to find your way home will kill you. Only one thing can bring you safely back, but it is gone forever."
Harry sighed, thinking of the portkey. Rather than help him, Angela had just confused the hell out of him. Another version of the same world? What the hell did that mean?
"I am sorry to see this next symbol," she half-whispered, pointing at a broken rose. "It is an epic romance also, but one that has been forever cloven in two. And yet, as if to help, another rose sprouts up in its place. Your heart can be healed, and the runes tell me that your damaged mind has also been fixed forevermore."
That was a relief, although he felt a dagger go through his heart at knowing he would never see Ginny again. Did the new rose mean that he would indeed find someone else to love?
"This is strange. It appears as though an elm line is transforming into a broken circle, as though your normal span of life may be amplified greatly. It seems to me that your choice will also affect this outcome, although it doesn't help me discern what it is exactly. I see a falcon, which swoops like the eagle to conquer; only it does not always want to. You will also lead many people, and become a great warrior in the future.
"I see here a broken sword, which shows that your ethical dilemma will soon be resolved, although not in a way you now want it to do so."
Harry blinked, thinking of his internal struggle regarding killing other people. He didn't want to kill, so would he…?
"I see here, this last rune is a green egg, one of the three from my earlier reading. It seems…" she blinked, gaping at him in amazement. "It seems that you will become a Dragon Rider, if indeed your choice is correct," she said, wide-eyed. Solembum looked at him, apparently surprised.
Harry felt his heart lurch into his chest. He was right, then… what he had heard earlier…
"…Fírnen…"
"What did you say?" Angela whispered, looking at him with wide eyes.
Before Harry could respond, Solembum yowled and jumped onto the table, staring at both Harry and Eragon in turn. He spoke to them simultaneously.
"Listen carefully, and heed my advice on these matters three. When you are in need of a weapon, search under the roots of the Menoa Tree. When your power is low, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your names to open the Vault of Souls. And when you lose yourself, you may be found upon the Bridge at Daggermouth, which no living man may see upon this mortal life. Do this and you shall prosper, but do it not and you will fall. Be careful, or you will lose everything. What is gone can come back, but what is here may leave at any time."
Harry and Eragon exchanged a glance. Saphira, who had also been listening, emitted her confusion. Above them all a crash of thunder could be heard just as lightning struck the ground outside…
Evil approached Teirm like a flood of power dressed in splattered blood. It smiled viciously as it stared upon the city walls from afar. His new power directed him to the boy who was in the company of the Rider. It was general, so specific searches would be required. He nodded at the soldiers around him, who approached the city and began to check every nook and cranny, ruthless and relentless, beating anyone who dared defy them. Beside him, the Ra'zac croaked, standing like bodyguards.
Laughing manically, Durza's eyes flashed red. It was time to bring the full power of darkness crashing down upon his quarry.