Whee! Next part. Reviews are love!
Disclaimer: Christopher Paolini really, really doesn't want this.
Rhapsody: In Which Problems Are Compounded
The peace of great seas be for you.
Wait on a hook of land, a rock footing
For you, wait in the salt wash.
Carl Sandburg--For You (Smoke and Steel, 1922)
--
"And she says that she really needs to talk to Jeod--I don't think she's lying, but..." Katrina finished. She took a breath, and looked around.
Roran looked at her, and she could see the questions in his eyes.
Nasuada was dubious, but then again, Nasuada always calculated everything.
Trianna was clutching her bronze snake. It looked a little...dead. Huh. She resolved to ask about it later. When, you know, her best friends in all the world didn't think her insane and/or a liability. She didn't actually know which was worse.
Roran said, "Is this--you? Really you? As in Katrina, my best friend?"
She said, "Oh, come on, Roran. Who took you to Surda after Birgit broke your heart?"
Roran blinked. "...Faolin?"
"Exactly."
"Well, the roundabout logic's hers--" Roran said, lightly as he could manage, though the tension in the lines of his back was still there. Nasuada grinned weakly, the tension in the air blanketing down on everything.
Trianna said, "I need to go into your mind, all right? It'll go easier if you know what I'm doing, and you let me in...I'm going to try and delineate a line between you and 'Angela' so you can control her, at least, and so we'll know it's you speaking."
Katrina nodded. "What do I do--is this like normal, or?"
"Just like normal, I think. Just open your mind-door for me."
Katrina set her jaw and fell into the familiar trance.
--
Eragon reached with his mind, just a little, towards the sleeping dragon in his arms. She murmured and flicked her tail around his wrist.
Tenderness welled up inside him, and he ran one hand down her back, smiling softly.
He watched her wings half-flare as she breathed, and felt so peculiarly bonded—and he knew, now, what Murtagh and Morzan were babbling about when they talked about other halves of souls wrapped up in a dragon's skin.
Morzan rested a hand on his shoulder. Eragon looked up at his father, and cocked his head. "Are you all right, Father?"
Morzan blinked at him, grey eyes startled.
Eragon half-smiled. He wasn't quite as stupid as people thought, and he could be observant when it came to people he loved--and he did love his father, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Morzan said, "I--I'll come back. Think of a name for your dragon." He turned quickly and left, leaving Eragon staring after him.
Murtagh said, "What just happened?"
Tornac, standing beside him, scrubbed his free hand over his face and whispered, "I knew getting up this morning was a bad idea..."
Murtagh poked him.
Eragon said, "That I did not need to know."
Tornac choked.
--
Roran gripped Nasuada's hand as Trianna raised her fingertips to Katrina's temples, as they fell into the dream-state all of them knew so well, as both of them knelt, facing each other, linked only by Trianna's hands on Katrina's brow.
The air settled around them, tension heavy on their shoulders.
Trianna began to glow bronze, and her lips moved soundlessly.
Katrina's head fell back and her eyes fell closed as the light caught her, turning dark-copper as it wrapped around her.
Nasuada rested her head on Roran's shoulder, wordless.
--
Thorn basked in the sunlight, enjoying its warmth on his wings, and purred.
Ruadhri looked at him, amused. Enjoying yourself?
Yes. Thorn told her, resolutely. A dragonet just hatched, the sun is shining, no one I love has died recently--this is cause for celebration. Just because my Rider is being an idiot does not mean I can't be happy.
She laughed, then, a low rumble in her chest. Very true, little one. Want to fly?
With you? Of course! Thorn preened his right wing and flapped it once, checking for loose scales.
'Hri rose to her feet, amaranth wings extended behind her. She looked like a sphinx, or a cat. If you can catch me, she teased, and took off.
Thorn sighed, said, Murtagh, don't get into any messes. I'm going flying.
His Rider said, With Hri?
Yes. Shut up. Thorn tested the wind, and launched himself into the sky, exulting in flight through the dying sky.
Have fun. Oh, and ask her what's up with Father, please? Thorn's Chosen's voice was worried. Which made Thorn a little uncertain. Not enough to put off the flight, but enough not to tease Murtagh.
Thorn said, Fine--And do be careful--I don't want to get back to carnage.
Murtagh sent a rude gesture down their connection and Thorn laughed.
Then he and Ruadhri were soaring over the river, and there was salt-spray on his claws as he caught the crests of the deep waves, and he was so alive.
--
Back in their room, Arya took Faolin's hand in hers, twined a vine of her magic around his essence, and flew.
The magic caught her, took her home. Faolin's warmness anchored her, and she danced, looking for answers. Threads of different-coloured magics surrounded her, sparkling.
One bright-gold string caught her wrist; she looked down the thread and turned away. While interesting, that was not a conclusion she intended to pursue for a long long while.
She searched through the shimmering magics, and found a blood-red cord, thicker than the others, spiraling out from the City. She took it in her insubstantial hands and followed it to it's logical destination.
--
Trianna lifted her head, exhausted. "It's done," she said, and collapsed. Roran ran to her, checked her pulse—she was alive, thank goddess.
Katrina stood up. She was glowing dark red, pupils gone. She said, "Take me to him," and her voice was different.
Nasuada said, "Angela?"
"I won't hurt her, don't worry—take me to Jeod, now, please."
Nasuada swallowed. Roran, checking Trianna's head for wounds, wondered what she'd do.
His eyes met hers; she said, "All right."
--
The sleeping dragonet curled in the crook of Eragon's arm growled in her sleep, tail flicking back and forth like a cat's. The boy rubbed his fingers behind her head, easing his own tension.
His brother closed his eyes briefly, and Eragon's mind pinged.
He twitched. "Are you--"
Murtagh ran a tired hand through floppy hair. "Oh, hellfires. It would be now that you'd pick up on unshielded conversations, wouldn't it?"
Eragon said, "If it helps, I didn't actually hear anything—I just—felt. Something."
Tornac looked back and forth between them, and sighed, sitting down tailor-fashion, dragging Murtagh's hand with him. Murtagh shot him a dazzling grin, lighting up his too-old eyes.
Eragon tried to quell the sharp pang of jealousy that shot through him.
Murtagh looked at him, eyes sharp. "Well, that's good, I suppose. Can you cope with that for a little while? I want to figure out what's going on with Father and the King before I do anything else."
He said, "I think I can handle that."
Murtagh smiled at him, but Eragon couldn't help noticing that it didn't quite eclipse the shadows in his brother's level gaze.
--
Arya sat up, a feeling of rightness suffusing her mind. "Faolin," she said slowly. "I know what happened."
He looked at her, letting the magic fall from his fingertips.
She said, "Angela is alive."
--
Eragon watched Murtagh, soreness buried deep in his heart. Murtagh watched Eragon, dark eyes unreadable, and so old.
Tornac said, plaintive,"Can someone clarify for me what just happened? Because I, uh, don't actually know."
Murtagh grinned at him; Eragon rolled his eyes (mentally—Murtagh could and would totally kick his ass). "Sometimes I forget you're not--" He stopped.
Tornac glared. Eragon glared too.
Murtagh said, "I should really just not talk, huh?"
Eragon would have smiled had he not been really quite irritated with his brother at this point in time. Instead he said, "What he was trying to say was that our father has just decided to work out his massive issues with our esteemed king—what, you thought I was stupid? I notice things. Occasionally."
Murtagh twisted his mouth wryly, didn't say anything.
The baby dragon flicked her tail again, and chuffed in her sleep. Eragon ran a soothing hand over her, and she curled into his lap. "Anyway, we'd like to know what's going on with them. Before they, you know, destroy this tower."
Tornac said, "You're joking, right?" His eyes were wide.
Murtagh said, "I wish he was—d'you remember, like four years ago there was a freak lightning strike on the castle, and everyone thought it was the Varden?"
Tornac nodded, and swallowed loudly. Eragon looked down at his dragon to keep from laughing—it wasn't especially funny, but in his family you took laughter where you could get it.
...Which probably explained his ridiculous turnover of girlfriend, but who really cared? Aderyn certainly didn't. The thought of her sent a warm feeling running through him, and he couldn't keep from smiling.
Something pinged. Again. He looked at Murtagh.
Murtagh said, "Well, I don't think today'll be the day they kill each other." His voice was wry.
Tornac said, "I don't want to know, do I?"
Eragon said, "No. Murtagh, can you find us places to sleep now please?"
Murtagh said, "Oh, goddess, it is dark, isn't it?" He got to his feet and looked at them expectantly. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Eragon grinned at Tornac, took his dragon in arms, and followed his brother.
--
Katrina opened her eyes. The world fuzzed for a moment, and she reached up a hand to touch the tan blob in front of her curiously.
Then the world snapped into focus and she dropped her hand. "Sorry, Papa," she said.
Horst smiled at her, big grin splitting his face. "Thought you'd never wake up, bright-star. Your Mama and your brothers and me were worried."
She laughed, and started to hug him—and found herself incapable of getting up. She looked around; she was lying on a bed, several blankets tangled tight around her—looked like the infirmary. She sighed, and remembered-- "Papa—what happened? Did it work? Do you know? Where are Roran and Nasuada?"
The words tumbled out of her as her chest seized with a cold she realized was fear.
Horst put a gentling hand on her shoulder. "Slow down, Katrina. One question at a time, all right?"
She took a deep breath and looked at him with pleading eyes.
He said, "It's all right. The end of the world has not come and gone, and Nasuada and Roran are fine—they've been sitting here all night; eventually I sent them home, where I expect they are curled up asleep like puppies and kittens."
She laughed weakly. The image of her two best friends, cuddled into each other like baby animals, fit far too well.
"You are fine, Trianna is fine—still asleep, in that bed over there," he pointed, and she saw Callie curled into her mother's arms, sucking her thumb quietly, asleep. "She did a little poking around, and you've been asleep for a day now. We think it was a reaction to the mental trauma—you should be able to control your contact with Angela now."
Katrina blinked. "Wait—Angela—did she talk to Jeod?"
Horst nodded, eyes a little dark. "He trusts her, apparently. And we trust him. Bright-star, we may be going to war soon."
She took a sharp breath. "What did she say? Jeod is--" The Varden's co-leader was known for his almost-pacifistic avoidance of the concept of war with the Empire, as his partner was known for his endorsement of any means that would take down their enemies.
"Enough. Katrina, Elain is coming, and I would rather spare her and your brothers knowledge of this."
Katrina swallowed, throat like paper, and nodded.
In her mind, Angela knocked on a door. Hello, sleepyhead, she said.
Katrina retorted, You're awfully happy, aren't you?
There was a feeling like a warm hand on her shoulder and Angela said, Oh, Katrina.
--