Chapter Five

Laela

That night there was a feast in honour of the new riders. Galbatorix, Morzan, Flell and the elvish teenagers who had been chosen sat at the head of the table, their dragons at their sides, and ate heartily. The elves were vegetarian, and hence so was the feast, and Galbatorix was happy to sample the many different dishes on offer. The dragon hatchlings were provided with raw meat, which they tore into with gusto.

Galbatorix noticed that the way people treated him now was very different. Before, he had been an object of curiosity to the elves he spoke to. Now, though, mere hours later, he was spoken to with immense respect, as if he were a hero or a member of the nobility. Although, when he thought about it, being a dragon-rider was basically the same thing as being of the nobility. The difference was that you weren't born a rider. You had to earn it. And he had done it, so perhaps he was a hero too. In a way.

Brom had cheered up a little, partly thanks to Berim's philosophical remarks, and he sat nearby and joined in the festivities. 'So,' he said eventually, addressing Galbatorix. 'What did happen to your real parents? If you don't mind me asking.'

Galbatorix paused, then finally settled for saying; 'They were murdered.'

'Oh,' said Brom. 'Gosh, I'm sorry…'

'You weren't to know,' said Galbatorix, shrugging. 'I don't remember them.'

Flell was sitting next to him; something he was very pleased about, and he chatted to her. She received his attentions with interest, and talked back animatedly, telling him about her life and her home. She had been born in the small country of Surda, but had moved to Therinsford at the age of ten. There she'd answered the call of the rider trials, and had travelled all the way to Gil'ead for the privilege. And it had paid off, of course. Her dragon sat on her knee, twittering, its scales a delicate shade of violet like the twilight sky.

'Are you going to give her a name now?' Galbatorix asked.

'No,' said Flell. 'No-one does that. Don't you know?'

'Know what?' said Galbatorix.

'Every dragon hatches knowing its name,' said Flell. 'When ours are old enough they'll tell us what they're called.'

'Oh, that's right,' said Galbatorix. 'I remember now. I read that on the journey. The parents whisper the names to them after they're laid.'

'That's right,' said Flell. 'My mother said that when she was pregnant with me she used to talk to me. She said she knew what to call me if I was born a girl straight away. Who knows, maybe she whispered it to me.'

Galbatorix was silent. Had his own mother been like that? Had she taken joy in her pregnancy and whispered to her child? No. Most likely she had cursed him, hated him for existing. The thought made him sad. No-one should be born like that, but he had. Still, this wasn't a time for unhappiness.

The celebrations went on long into the night. There was singing, dancing, fireworks and storytelling, and it seemed everyone in Ellesméra was there. Carina made an appearance, too, and congratulated her new protégés. Leaf let the hatchlings gather around him and investigate his huge legs, his fierce face much warmer now. Seeing him again, with the white hatchling standing beside him, Galbatorix was thrilled to imagine that one day his own dragon would be as big and strong. She wouldn't be able to sit on his shoulder forever. One day he would sit on her back, and she would carry him to wherever they wanted to go. The thought made him laugh for joy.

There was only one noticeable absence from the feast, and that was Einás'. Galbatorix had hoped she would be there so he could talk to her. No doubt she had many interesting stories to tell, and he would have listened eagerly. He shrugged mentally. He would have all the time in the world for that. No doubt there would be plenty of opportunities to seek out to old Egg-Guardian and hear about her life.

And still the party went on. It only broke up when it started to rain, and then everyone ran for cover, many giggling foolishly and trying to shield their heads with their hands. Galbatorix's dragon didn't like the rain. She squeaked in protest and spread her wings over her head like a miniature tent. Galbatorix and Flell took shelter under a tree, and were joined by Berim and Morzan.

'I hate the rain,' said Morzan, and then started when thunder broke overhead.

'Never mind,' said Berim. 'We're safe enough here. Hey, where's Brom?'

'I dunno,' said Morzan. 'Off sulking somewhere, I expect.'

'He left a while ago,' said Flell. 'I saw him go.'

'Did you see where he went?' asked Berim.

'Nope,' said Flell. 'He probably wanted some time alone.'

'I can understand that,' said Galbatorix. 'He didn't look very happy.'

'Yeah, well, he would, wouldn't he?' said Berim. 'I chatted to him before the ceremony, and he said he'd wanted to be a rider since he was tiny. He said it was the only thing he'd ever dreamed of, and if it didn't happen he wouldn't know what to do with himself.'

Suddenly Galbatorix's own few weeks of waiting didn't feel like they'd been all that long. 'The poor thing,' he said. 'We should think of some way to cheer him up.'

'Like what?' said Berim. 'Make him a big cake in the shape of a dragon?'

Galbatorix, Morzan and Flell snickered at the idea, watching the elves running back and forth trying to get the tables and decorations under cover. There was quite an impressive storm building overhead.

'They say dragons believe storms are unlucky, you know,' said Galbatorix. 'There's a legend I read in an old book about it. Apparently, if a dragon hatches during a storm, it's an evil omen. Means they'll have a tough life.'

'That doesn't mean our dragons will be unlucky, does it?' asked Morzan.

'No way,' said Flell. 'They hatched before the storm. Anyway, it's all just silly superstition.'

'Yeah, I think so too,' said Galbatorix without thinking. 'But the legend did say… oh, well, there was some story about an evil dragon who was born on a stormy night. A "cursed day", dragons call them.'

'Oh, that one,' said Berim. 'I remember that one. My dad used to tell it. The evil storm dragon who could shoot lightning from his talons and blow hurricanes from his mouth and had rainclouds hidden under his wings.'

Flell snorted. 'That's the stupidest thing I ever heard.'

'But it makes for a good story,' said Berim.

'Yeah, when you're three,' said Flell. 'I'm not scared of storms.'

Forked lightning snaked across the sky, turning the air white. Flell yelped and pressed herself back against the tree-trunk, her dragon cowering in her arms with an almost identical look of fright on her face. The others laughed uproariously, and Flell scowled. 'That was surprise,' she said.

'The heck with this,' said Berim. 'I'm going back to my quarters.'

'Good idea,' said Morzan.

The little group parted ways, dashing off through the rain. Galbatorix made his way back to the little house assigned to him, and entered its warm, dry darkness again very gladly. He lit a candle and closed the door behind him, and his dragon hopped off his shoulder, using her wings as a parachute, and started to explore.

'This is where we'll be living for a while,' Galbatorix told her. 'It's good, isn't it? Much better than where I used to live. I didn't even have a proper bed back home. Just a hammock out the back.'

He stripped off his wet robe and changed into a clean nightshirt, and then climbed into bed. The dragon curled up beside him like a cat, and he rubbed her head with his thumb, which made her croon and close her eyes contentedly.

He sat up in bed for a time, reading one of the books he'd brought with him from the wagon, which had a chapter in it about caring for dragon hatchlings. Apparently they didn't need much in the way of parenting; in the wild they more or less raised themselves. The book also told him to expect his hatchling to grow very fast – it said that dragons reached physical maturity in about six months, at which time they were large enough to ride, but would continue to grow for the rest of their lives. Very old dragons, therefore, could be very massive indeed. The book claimed that there had been dragons big enough to swallow cows whole or lift a castle with one paw.

'Could you possibly grow that big?' he asked the white hatchling out loud, on reading this, but she was fast asleep by this time. He could hear the storm still raging outside, and decided it was probably time for him to sleep too. No doubt there'd be a lot to do in the morning. He put aside the book and blew out the candle, and tried to relax.

But he couldn't sleep. Even though he was tired out from the events of the day, he just couldn't drop off. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, but though the bed was much softer than the various straw pallets he'd slept on in the taverns they'd stopped in along the way, it just didn't feel right. His restlessness bothered the hatchling, too – she woke up and kept moving to a different spot, lying down, getting up and moving again. He could sense her irritation through their newly-formed mental link, and felt guilty for keeping her awake. It was only a taste of the effect their partnership would have on him, he knew.

The hours dragged by, and still Galbatorix and his dragon lay awake. It was no good. In the end, he took what felt like the most logical course of action at the time. He got up, lit the candle again, and started searching the room for something he could tie a rope to. He found some sturdy ornamentations on the ceiling and, after testing them, decided they would do. There was some rope in the wardrobe and, using this and a spare blanket from the bed, he made and strung up a crude hammock. He transferred some bedding into it, and then lay in it. Almost instantly, the gentle swinging and feeling of weightlessness calmed him down. He sighed gladly and snuggled down, too tired to put out the candle. The white hatchling hopped down off the bed, waddled over and sat on the floor by the hammock, looking up at him accusingly. Galbatorix chuckled and held out his arm, and she climbed up it and onto his chest, where she curled up, purring softly.

Outside the rain continued to fall, but neither Galbatorix nor the dragon noticed it. They lay together in the hammock, fast asleep and utterly content, sharing their dreams.

The following day dawned bright and sunny, and once Galbatorix had risen, washed and dressed in his now-dry robe, he emerged from his temporary home yawning and blinking in the light. The white hatchling was perched on his shoulder again, all bright eyes and curiosity.

The valley was wet and draggled after the storm, and the ground was littered with leaves and bits of branch. Some of the smaller and slenderer trees had blown over and lay on their sides, their dirt-caked roots poking forlornly into the air. Already elves were attending to them, lifting them up and re-planting them with as much concern as if they were people. Galbatorix, watching from the doorway, could hear them singing sweetly as they worked.

'You know,' he told the white hatchling, 'These elves are a bit weird.'

The hatchling twittered.

'I can't even tell the men from the women,' Galbatorix added. Which was true enough; all the elves wore their hair long and dressed similarly. 'Come to that,' Galbatorix went on, 'I can hardly tell one from the other. They look like they're all brothers and sisters or something. Their cooking's good, though. Even if there's no meat.'

The white hatchling seemed to like the sound of his voice. She stood up on her hind legs and climbed onto his head, twining her claws into his hair for purchase. Once she'd made it up there, she crouched on the top of his head like a little gargoyle, her tail hanging down over his nose.

'That really hurts, you know,' Galbatorix told her, but with no particular emphasis.

The white hatchling chirped back happily, her small talons digging into his scalp. Galbatorix winced. On his head, the dragon suddenly paused and rubbed her own head with her paw. Then she jumped off into space. Galbatorix caught her neatly without even thinking, and then blinked, puzzled. 'That's odd,' he said. 'I… I knew you were going to jump before you did it.'

The white hatchling's mind radiated confidence, as if to say; 'And I knew you were going to catch me.'

At this point they were interrupted by Berim and Illia, whose own quarters were next door. The two of them hurried up to Galbatorix, and while he was still some distance away Berim shouted; 'Did you hear? Galbatorix, d'you know what happened?'

Galbatorix stood perplexed. 'No,' he said, once Berim had reached him. 'What's going on?'

'It's amazing!' said Flell, her own dragon standing at her heels. 'The elves say nothing like it's ever happened before.'

'Nothing like what?' said Galbatorix.

'It's Brom,' said Berim. 'He got a dragon.'

'What? How? When?'

'Last night,' said Flell. 'After it started raining he went back to the Egg-Guardian's house and begged for another try. And one of the eggs hatched for him. I saw the hatchling just now. It's blue.'

'That's incredible!' said Galbatorix. 'I can't believe the Egg-Guardian let him try again. But why would an egg just change its mind like that?'

'Who knows?' said Berim. 'Anyway… I'm glad for him. He's a nice guy, is Brom.'

'You should ask for another go too,' said Galbatorix.

'Nah,' said Berim. 'I'm okay with what happened. No sense in fighting against it. What happened to Brom was a freak chance. It won't happen again. I'm off home today. I'll probably live out the rest of my life as a fisherman or something, but come and visit me some day, okay?'

'Of course,' said Galbatorix.

'I will, too,' said Flell.

'So where's Brom now?' asked Galbatorix.

'Not sure,' said Berim. 'He'll show up eventually. Your training starts today, after all.'

'Here comes Carina now,' said Flell, pointing.

The green-clad woman approached them, carrying her sword on her back. 'There you are,' she said. 'Good morning. Did you sleep well?'

Galbatorix nodded.

'Good,' said Carina. 'You and the other new riders have to go to Islanzadí's audience chamber. She wants to speak to you all before your training begins. As for you, Berim… the escort is ready to take you home. You'd better go and pack your things.'

'Yes, m'am,' said Berim, and left.

Flell and Galbatorix went with Carina to the other end of the valley, where Islanzadí, Queen of the Elves, was waiting in her open-air audience chamber. The newly-chosen elvish riders were already there, along with Brom, who, sure enough, was accompanied by a blue hatchling. Galbatorix sat down next to him, along with Flell.

'Hello!' said Brom. 'Beautiful day, isn't it?'

'So it's true,' said Galbatorix, while the white and blue hatchlings touched noses.

'Yes,' said Brom. 'Did Berim tell you?'

'He did,' said Galbatorix. 'He said you went back and asked for another try.'

Brom nodded. 'This is Saphira,' he said, putting his hand on the blue hatchling's head.

'How d'you know that already?' asked Flell.

'Oh!' said Brom suddenly. 'Well, uh… Einás taught me how to look into her head. There's a trick to it. I found out her name by looking at her memories.'

'That's interesting,' said Flell. 'I wonder if I could do it too?'

'I'll give it a try,' said Galbatorix. 'I can't keep calling her "dragon", can I?'

'You'll have to wait until later,' said Brom. 'Islanzadí's going to speak.'

The elvish queen was sitting in an elaborately-carved chair on a slightly raised spot at the end of the chamber. She was a beautiful woman, and finely-dressed as befitted her station, and the elvish riders were watching her respectfully. Galbatorix and his fellow humans fell silent, and the Queen began to speak.

'Greetings, Argetlam,' she said. 'I call you that because you are, of course, no longer ordinary elves and humans. Now you are dragon-riders, and from this day forward all of you will be trusted, honoured and respected. You will be addressed as Argetlam or as Shur'tugal, and wherever you go you will be recognised as keepers of the peace. Your wisdom and your strength will be called upon in the service of the common people, and if there is war you will be the greatest generals to fight and to lead. Even kings and queens like myself will pay homage to you. However, do not think that this means you will be free from responsibility or hard work. A rider's work is never finished, and it is both hard and dangerous. And before you are to be trusted with any positions of power you must first be trained. Your training will be in the arts of combat and magic, but also in literature, culture and music. A rider is expected to be a scholar as well as a fighter. You will also be taught discipline. A rider who misuses his powers, or who looks to his own personal gain rather than to the common good, is the worst kind of criminal and betrayer. For those among you who are human, your time with my people here in Ellesméra will teach you that. We will teach you the codes of behaviour that you must follow. After your time here is done, you will part ways. Each of you will need an elder to tutor you, and you will go with that tutor to many different places. Your training may take many years, but once it is over you will be ready to join the riders. One day, some of you may even be elders yourselves. And be of good cheer. The future is bright for all of you, and I hope that you will enjoy your time here. Now I will leave you to the one who will begin your training. Good luck.'

The Queen finished speaking and stood up as Carina entered. The two of them exchanged friendly nods, and Islanzadí departed. Carina took her place in front of the new riders, of whom there were twelve. Galbatorix couldn't help but notice that among the little group there were twice as many elves as there were humans, and he wondered why.

Carina sat down on the vacated throne. 'I won't talk for too long,' she said. 'I expect you're all bored and raring for some action by now. So we'll start your training with something physical.' She drew the green-bladed sword and twirled it skilfully.

'Okay, when do I get one of those?' Flell called out.

Several of the other riders snickered.

Carina smiled. 'When you complete your training,' she said.

'Oh, come on,' said Flell. 'I'm not waiting that long!'

'Calm down,' said Carina. 'You're a rider now, not a child. You have hundreds of years of life to live, and that takes patience so you'd better start learning now. Besides, your own sword won't be much use to you until you know how to use it. Your training in swordplay begins today. Come with me.'

She stood up and left the audience chamber, and her new students followed. Outside, Leaf was waiting for them, grooming his wings in a dignified way. The green dragon turned his head toward them, and they heard his voice in their minds. 'Good morning, hatchlings.'

Carina went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. 'The dragons will go with Leaf,' she said. 'He will start teaching them how to fly.'

Every one of the students hesitated at that. 'You mean… we have to leave them here with him?' one of the elves said.

'Yes,' said Carina. 'I know you won't want to do it, but they'll be fine. Leaf will look after them.'

'Will she be all right?' said Flell, hugging her purple hatchling to her chest.

Leaf fixed her with his golden eyes. 'Don't you trust me?' he asked, projecting his thoughts to all those present.

'We trust you,' said Galbatorix, stepping forward. He put the white hatchling down by Leaf's claws. 'You trust him, don't you?' he said to her.

The white hatchling looked up at him, and he could feel her reluctance to do as he'd asked, but she lowered her head and went to Leaf anyway.

Carina nodded to the other students, signalling to them to do the same. They urged their own hatchlings to go to Leaf, but most of them clung to their riders and wouldn't leave them. The white hatchling looked over at them and squeaked loudly. The other hatchlings looked up at her. She looked back commandingly through her own silver eyes, and squeaked again. And the other hatchlings obeyed. They left their riders and went to stand by Leaf. He nudged the white hatchling with his nose and growled approvingly.

Galbatorix reached into his dragon's mind, and let her feel his approval. She projected satisfaction back. It was like a sort of mental handshake.

'Now then,' said Carina, who looked pleased with what had happened. 'Humans and elves, come with me.'

Galbatorix walked off with his fellow students, but looked back in time to see Leaf take off. The white hatchling opened her own wings and began to beat at the air with them, and she and the other hatchlings took to the sky for the first time.

Galbatorix spent the rest of that day in the training grounds with the other students, learning how to use a sword for the first time. It wasn't what he'd expected. They used wooden practise swords, and after Carina had demonstrated a few basic moves they set to work on perfecting them. Then they progressed to mock-sparring with each other, but they had to do it very slowly. Many of the elvish students had already received some training in swordplay and this, combined with their superior speed and strength, gave them an unfair advantage when they fought against humans. Therefore Galbatorix was paired with Morzan, and Flell with Brom. Galbatorix did well at this. So well, in fact, that several times he gave advice to Morzan, which Morzan took. Carina, seeing this, separated the two of them and made Galbatorix take on one of the elvish students instead. But if she'd been hoping to teach him some humility that way she was sadly mistaken. Even though the elf was a much more formidable opponent than Morzan, Galbatorix managed to hold his own against him. Flell, Morzan and Brom were all highly impressed by this and, sensing it, Galbatorix started to show off. He got away with it, too. And he enjoyed the challenge. Finally he'd found someone whose talents in fighting matched his own. The elf had the same heightened agility and strength as him – skills which went beyond those of an ordinary human. Later on Galbatorix realised what it meant. Elves, it seemed, were stronger than humans from birth, and so was he. It was his father's blood coming through. He was glad about that. Not just because it gave him an aptitude for fighting that his fellow humans didn't have, but because it meant he could put the elvish students in their place. He hadn't been among elves for long, but by the time he reached the training yard and saw the elvish students showing off their athletic abilities he was already feeling irritated by them. They were so full of themselves. So high and mighty about their greater beauty and power. Well, now he'd shown them that a human could do as well as them.

It was doubly worth it when Flell caught up with him at the end of the day and said; 'That was incredible! Have you ever used a sword before?'

'Not before the trials back home, no,' said Galbatorix, basking in a warm, smug glow.

'You're really good,' Brom added. 'You moved like they do. I've never seen anyone move that fast.'

'Me neither,' said Morzan. 'You'll have finished your training by the end of the week, probably.'

'Oh, I doubt it,' Galbatorix said airily. 'Those elves, though… they're tough. I didn't know they were so much stronger than us.'

'They all are,' said Flell. 'Always have been, too.'

'Why else d'you think they're so sneery an' stuff?' said Morzan.

'Yes, well, now they've seen how good you are that should teach them some manners, eh?' said Brom.

The elf that Galbatorix had sparred with caught up with them. 'Not bad,' he said. 'For a human.' He was the blonde-haired, brown-eyed elf for whom the gold dragon had hatched, and wore a disdainful, catlike expression on his fine face.

'What's wrong with humans?' Brom demanded.

The elf was joined by two others. 'Humans!' one of them said. 'Weak, short-lived, crude creatures you are. You shouldn't get to be riders at all.'

'Don't be rude, Järnya,' said the blonde-haired elf. 'These ones are more than just human now.'

The one called Järnya sniffed. 'That power should be just for us,' he said. 'Humans shouldn't be allowed to share it.'

'You're just jealous because Galbatorix is as good as you,' Flell retorted, taking hold of his elbow as if to protect him.

The blonde elf looked Galbatorix in the eye. 'Be careful, human,' he said. 'If you let yourself become too confident, your downfall will be that much more painful.'

Galbatorix had had enough. He stopped walking and confronted the elf, who looked warily at him. 'You can try and sound wise,' he said, 'But I know you're just afraid you've met your match.' The elf stared at him, looking as startled as if he'd just slapped him in the face. 'Doesn't feel good, does it?' Galbatorix taunted. 'Knowing you're not good enough to beat a measly human like me. Perhaps it's time you learnt some humility, elf.'

Morzan sniggered. Brom looked aghast. Flell, however, lifted her chin and smiled as proudly as if Galbatorix were her big brother protecting her from a gang of bullies.

The blonde elf was infuriated. He leant forward and rasped; 'Don't think I don't know what you're doing, human. You're plotting something, and let me assure you it will end badly for you if you think you can win against us.' He stalked off, his friends in tow.

'"Plotting something"?' Brom repeated. 'Is he mad?'

'It's nonsense,' said Morzan. He glanced at Galbatorix. '…right?'

Galbatorix shook his head. 'These elves are demented,' he said. 'Plotting something? Not likely. What would I be plotting, anyway?'

'You should get back at him,' said Flell. 'Come up with some way to humiliate him. It'd serve him right, the snob.'

'No,' said Galbatorix. 'I'm not interested in that sort of thing. That's for children, and we're riders now. That means we should start acting more like adults.'

'Absolutely,' said Brom, nodding. 'If Lanethial's going to act like a child, that's no reason for us to do it. We're better than him.'

'Are you sure about that?' said Galbatorix. 'I thought we were just humans.'

'Yeah, that's right,' said Flell. 'Just poor, puny little humans.'

'Hah. Not any more,' said Brom. 'Pretty soon we'll be like them.'

'"Like them"?' said Morzan.

'Yeah,' said Brom. 'Human riders become very elvish over time. You can hardly tell the older ones are human at all.'

'How do you mean?' asked Flell.

'Your ears go pointy like theirs,' said Brom. 'And we'll have to dress like elves. Eat like them, too. That's what the training does to you. It teaches you how to be like them.'

Galbatorix said nothing. He was thinking. No-one had told him this yet. And though the idea of becoming more graceful was attractive in a way he wasn't sure he liked what he was hearing. He watched the elvish students walking ahead of them, all silent and loping like cats, and his frown deepened.

Down in the valley near Islanzadí's audience chamber, they found the dragons waiting for them. The white hatchling ran to Galbatorix straight away, and this time, rather than climbing up his robe to get to his shoulder, she flew. Somewhat unsteadily, but with confidence, her white wings beating strongly. She landed neatly in her favourite spot, and poked her nose in his ear in a friendly way.

'Hello, you,' said Galbatorix, scratching her head. He looked over at Leaf, hesitated for a few seconds, and then reached out mentally. 'How did she do?' he asked.

He felt Leaf's surprise, but the green dragon replied. 'Not many new riders could do that as confidently as you do,' he said.

'Do what?' Galbatorix asked, innocently.

'Communicate through the mind,' said Leaf. 'Carina and I were shocked at how well you did it with the wild one in Teirm.'

'Oh,' said Galbatorix. He didn't know what else to say.

'I should warn you,' Leaf went on, 'It is considered rude to communicate with another rider's dragon unless they speak to you first.'

'I'm sorry,' said Galbatorix. 'I didn't know.'

'Of course you didn't,' said Leaf. 'You had no opportunity to find out. Now you know.'

The white hatchling fluttered her wings and chirped. Galbatorix could sense that she was feeling tired but exhilarated. 'So how did she do?' he asked again.

'She did well,' said Leaf. 'She has strong wings and is sure of herself. The other hatchlings looked to her as something of a leader. However, she is just as wilful as her rider.'

Galbatorix sensed that he should probably be embarrassed about this, but he couldn't resist mentally informing the white hatchling that he was pleased. We are both talented, he effectively told her. We should be proud of ourselves.

The white hatchling sent back a feeling of happiness. Then she surprised him by sending something else – a picture. It suddenly appeared in his mind as if it were something he remembered, but he knew instinctively that it was hers. The picture was of Leaf, flying powerfully over the valley, with the hatchlings flying beside him like a flock of sparrows. The white hatchling was right at the front. There were feelings of pride and excitement attached to the memory, and Galbatorix knew that, in her own way, the hatchling was recounting what she had done that day. He wondered if he could do the same, then threw aside his doubts. Of course he could do it. He summoned up the memory of sparring with Lanethial the elf in the training yard, and showed it to her, along with the knowledge that he was as fast and strong as an elf and proud of the fact. He could feel the white hatchling looking at it, and knew that she was equally pleased about it.

Letting their mental link return to its normal state, he looked around him proudly and saw the other students talking to their own dragons. Out loud! He wanted to laugh. Couldn't they do it too? Apparently not. Carina, who'd followed her students from the training yard at a leisurely pace, took her place by Leaf's side and called for attention.

'Now then,' she said once she'd got it. 'I have a new exercise for you, and this one's mental. Both you and your dragons have experienced new things today, and if your dragons were old enough to speak you'd be comparing notes right now. However, don't forget that your dragon is not a pet. You are bonded together in the mind, and your mental link is the key to a much purer and more meaningful form of communication. Recall the final trial which each of you went to, and how you had to focus your minds in order to make contact with the wild dragon's mind. Now you must do it again. But this time it will be easier. The link is already there. You won't encounter any resistance. And, of course, your dragons aren't interested in killing you.' She smiled, evidently pleased by her own wit. 'Now, try it. Some of you may be able to begin sharing memories at once. Others will have to keep trying for a while until they get the hang of it. In time you'll be able to look into your dragon's earliest memories and learn its name.'

Galbatorix stifled an astonished laugh.

'Now, go to it,' said Carina. 'Go wherever you like. You and your partners need time alone together, I think. Someone will be sent to find you when it's time for the evening meal.'

The students dispersed. Galbatorix and the white hatchling shared a feeling of excitement. The pair of them wandered off and eventually found a secluded spot by a stream under a willow-tree. Galbatorix stopped there. The white hatchling eyed the tree and then leapt up into its branches. Galbatorix looked up and saw her perched on a limb just over his head. She squeaked at him, her claws digging into the bark.

Galbatorix grinned. 'Two can play at that game.'

He grabbed hold of the branch and lifted himself into the tree. The white hatchling scuttled off, squealing, pretending to be afraid. Galbatorix went after her, and for a time the two of them chased each other through the branches. Later on Galbatorix was very glad no-one saw him doing this.

The game ended when the little dragon took refuge on an outer branch which was too thin to take Galbatorix's weight. He grinned and retreated to a comfortable spot where a much larger branch joined the trunk. 'Enjoy that while you can,' he called to the hatchling, which was regarding him smugly. 'You won't be the smaller one of us forever, you know.'

The hatchling chittered and came over to him, jumping from branch to branch and finally settling down at a spot by his head.

Galbatorix sat back and relaxed. When he did so, he thought he heard the hatchling sigh. That made him smile. He'd known, of course, that dragons and their riders shared thoughts and feelings. But he'd never imagined it would be like this. So… natural. They were perfectly attuned to each other, and they'd only known each other for a day and a night. Reaching into her mind again came even more easily this time. The white hatchling let him in, and he began to sift through her memories. She responded by reaching into his own, and for some time the two of them sat like a pair of statues in the tree, sharing their pasts. Galbatorix could feel her discovering all the incidents of his life – the time when he cut his finger with a leather-knife, the time when he argued with Cardock over some money that had been stolen from the stall, the time when he made his first leather handbag and then sold it with great pride, the time when Tommen and Bruin beat him up, the time when he revealed his true nature and was nearly killed. And all the way back to a day buried in his subconscious, when a young woman looked at him with misery and despair in her eyes and whispered to him that she loved him and never wanted to let him go. Galbatorix, her voice echoed. My little one. My Galbatorix.

The white hatchling absorbed this memory solemnly, and Galbatorix knew that she had helped him rediscover the only thing he would ever remember about his mother. His heart ached inside him, and the white hatchling soothed it by sharing a feeling of sympathy and understanding.

Her own memories, when he delved into them, were very unlike his own. They were hazy and indistinct, more like impressions of things than fully-formed memories. It was only to be expected; her mind had only been partly-formed for most of her life so far, and it still had a lot of growing to do. He sensed uncounted years in a tiny prison, but there was no fear attached to the memory. There was only peace and calm and the vague wish to be free. There was a sense of searching, too – a memory of how the unhatched dragon had reached out with her still-undeveloped telepathy and sought a mind that was attuned to hers. And she had found one. His. He found the memory of the previous day, when she had hatched. Now he saw things from her point of view, and felt that little sting of excitement and new life that she had felt when she had touched his mind with hers and known that she had found the one she was destined for. If he'd had any doubts about whether they were right for each other, they died then.

He reached back further into her memories, looking for that last, elusive thing – her name. And he found it. It was the very earliest memory that she had. The memory was of darkness, and warmth, and two huge presences nearby – her parents. Those presences touched the outside of her little world, and the great wind of their breath blew over it. Then a voice – a rich, protective voice – whispered to her. Laela, it said. Your name is Laela. Remember it, little one. Laela.

Galbatorix gently withdrew from the white hatchling's mind, and found himself blinking and a little dazed. Mental communication this intense made him lose all sense of his surroundings, and of time as well. How long had they been doing this? He hadn't the faintest clue. But when he looked up at the sky he saw that the first few stars were coming out. The horizon was painted with a glorious pattern of red, gold, orange and pink. It was nearly nighttime, he realised. He'd been sitting in the tree all evening.

He looked at the hatchling. She was still sitting where she'd been before, and he felt her tiredness mirroring his own. He reached out and lifted her into his arms, and she snuggled against his chest, crooning softly.

'So,' said Galbatorix. 'Your name's Laela, isn't it? Laela.'

The white hatchling seemed to recognise the name. He could feel her familiar response to it, and knew what that meant – yes.

'Well, my name's Galbatorix,' said Galbatorix. 'Or Arren. But I prefer Galbatorix.'

Laela yawned widely, showing her tiny fangs, and mentally informed him that she was hungry.

'Me too,' said Galbatorix. He jumped down from the tree and headed back toward Ellesméra.

14