Chapter 4
Amirah stood before Murtagh's door, holding an armful of scrolls. The guards didn't bother knocking before allowing her inside. To Amirah's shock, Murtagh was standing in a corner with a basin of water before him and a rag in his hand. His bare back was to her, revealing a long, ugly scar. "I . . . I apologize," Amirah said quickly, just before her gaze moved to the scar. "Murtagh . . ." Murtagh jumped and turned around. Amirah dumped the scrolls on the bed and walked over to him, gently turning him so she could see the scar. "Murtagh, what happened to you?" she asked, running her fingers along the raised red flesh.
Murtagh's jaw tightened as he slowly turned to face her, grabbing her wrist as he did so. "It is nothing," he told her, his face inches from hers. Amirah looked up at him and touched his cheek. "It was your father, wasn't it?" she asked quietly. Murtagh shrugged. "I told you, it is nothing," he said, turning away and grabbing his tunic. "Why are you here?" She motioned towards the bed. "I will have to leave Farthen Dur in a few days, so I brought you some things to read." Murtagh pulled on his tunic and picked up one of the scrolls. A grin spread across his face. "I've always wanted to read this," he said, picking up another. "The Lives and History of the Urgals? Do you like reading about those murderers?" Amirah smiled. "I find their culture interesting. Anyway, it's always good to know all you can about your enemy."
Murtagh nodded. "That's right. Thank you for bringing these." They stood in silence for several minutes. Amirah rubbed her arm nervously. "Well . . . I hope you enjoy them. I'll see you later," she said, turning towards the door. "Wait!" Murtagh cried. "If you aren't busy . . . would you stay and talk with me awhile?" Amirah smiled at him. "I would be happy to," she said. Murtagh pulled the chair out from his desk and motioned for her to sit. "Would you tell me about yourself?" Amirah asked after she had arranged her skirts around the chair. Murtagh sat on the bed. "There's not much to tell," he said a bit gruffly. "You already know Morzan was my father." Amirah nodded soberly. "Yes. But he died when you were a little boy. I want to know about you, not your father."
Murtagh stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Fine. What do you want to know?" Amirah waved a hand languidly. "Everything." Murtagh leaned back in his chair. "I grew up in a castle close to Uru'baen. I was tutored in every subject a lord needed to know. I rarely saw Galbatorix." Amirah's eyebrow rose after Murtagh didn't offer any more information. "Is that all?" she asked with a sigh. Murtagh nodded. "All I care to talk about." His lip curled up in a little smirk. "What about you?" Amirah shrugged. "Ajihad found me when I was a baby. He adopted me as his own daughter. Nasuada and I received our educations in Surda, alongside King Orrin. Orrin is only a few years older than Nasuada, you know."
"Really?" Murtagh asked. "Somehow I thought of him as much older. When did you come to Farthen Dur?" "Farthen Dur has always been my home," Amirah said. "Nasuada and I were sent to Surda when we were five years old. We came back to Farthen Dur when we were ten." "Do you know the elf Eragon rescued?" was Murtagh's next query. "Yes," Amirah answered with a smile. "Arya is one of my dearest friends and mentors. She taught me how to control my magic." Murtagh looked confused. "What do you mean?" "I have been able to use magic ever since I could remember. I would make things happen without being able to control them," Amirah said anxiously, as if she had said something she shouldn't. "Arya offered to help me control the magic by teaching me the ancient language. I am in debt to her."
"Does your magic have anything to do with your eyes?" Murtagh asked. Amirah looked surprised. "No. At least, I don't think so," she answered. Murtagh stared at her for a moment. "I apologize," he said softly. "I don't normally talk so much." "You look . . . much more relaxed than when I first met you," Amirah commented. "You're right," Murtagh said. "To tell you the truth, I've never felt so . . . at ease." "Why?" Amirah asked. "Because I don't have to worry about anything for once!" Murtagh said. "I don't have to look behind my back constantly for Galbatorix's assassins. I can rest assured that no one will be in my room one night, with a knife to stab me as I sleep." Amirah looked appalled. "I'm sorry you had that kind of life," she said quietly.
"I don't want pity," Murtagh said sullenly. "I wasn't offering it," Amirah retorted. "I . . ." "Forgive me," Murtagh interrupted. "My life is not something I enjoy talking about." He massaged his temples before leaning back more comfortably in his chair. "What news from the outside?" he asked finally. Amirah looked relieved. "Father believes Galbatorix will send a force to attack us within a few days," she said. "Is that why you must go?" Murtagh asked. Amirah nodded, looking down at her fingernails. "Will Ajihad let me out to fight?" Murtagh asked her, standing up quickly. Amirah looked up at him. "I don't know." "You want to stay and fight, don't you?" Murtagh touched her shoulder, his eyebrows knit in understanding.
"I do," Amirah answered. "I have been trained to fight. I know the risks of battle." "You should go," Murtagh said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Why?" Amirah asked, her eyes flashing with temper as she turned to face him. "I can fight. I can use magic. Father could use my talents instead of trying to send Nasuada and I off as if we were some sort of fisherman's wives who couldn't defend themselves from a goose!" Murtagh stared down at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. "What's so funny?" Amirah demanded. "You are," Murtagh answered, his eyes laughing back down at her. "What you said was . . . rather amusing." Amirah glared up at him.
Murtagh regarded her with a wry smile. "Have you ever been in a battle?" "No," she conceded after a while. "I haven't." "It isn't glory, it's death," Murtagh told her quietly. "I know that. That isn't what I meant!" Amirah cried. "It's the fact that I must leave my father here to face battle without his family. What if something happened to him? Who would be there for him if he needed someone he could trust absolutely?" Murtagh drew in a deep breath. "Your father must be an admirable man to gain such love from his daughter," he told her. "He is a wonderful man," she answered with a nod. Her eyes softened at the jealous look that flashed through Murtagh's eyes. "May I see your scar again, Murtagh?" she asked.