A/N: Yay! I'm very happy! I finished this chapter in two hours! :D I really like it actually. Anyway, I have a few things I'd like to say: 1) Thank you to for the AWESOME reviews! I got a couple of amazing ideas out of them. 2) I named my other chapters. I I will say, I totally fail a naming things, so, yeah. 3) This chapter may cause a little confusion. PM me any questions about it.

Murtagh was tired. He still couldn't believe the good fortune that had befallen him; perhaps his bad luck splurge had finally come to an end. He had told everything to Nasuada and Eragon, but mostly Nasuada. Galbatorix was a conundrum; he wanted Alagäesia to be peaceful and warless, yet he was all too willing to kill anyone who stood in his way, or worse. Nevertheless, he was a logical, if mad, king. He should've known Galbatorix would recapture him. His efforts hadn't been strong in the beginning, but they had become more urgent as time passed. He always wondered if the evil king knew that Thorn would hatch for him; he was the son of a rider, after all, and a very powerful one, at that. It was the same with Eragon who, he had just discovered, was Brom's son.

While he was growing up in Urû'baen, he always wondered if Galbatorix had a real reason for keeping him, when he just as easily could have killed him and been done with it.

He thought about what Nasuada had said: "I do wonder: what someone, who never knew how sinister Galbatorix really is, of course, would think of him." He thought he knew the answer to that. Nobody had ever told him Galbatorix was evil and remorseless, he'd decided that on his own. He was charismatic, more than anyone who had ever met him could imagine. But by the glint in his eye, you could tell he had neither mercy in him, nor any intention to please anyone but himself. Yes, he was confused. And tired.

He had been sleeping for far too long, and restlessness had overcome him, but he was still completely and utter exhausted! The tent was dark and quiet; he gained if enough strength to use magic and ensure that. Nasuada had probably left hours ago, but he couldn't tell and he had no desire to find out or do anything but sleep, which he could not. He thought about contacting Thorn, but then realized how peaceful it was, and was reluctant to do so.

Little Misery, Thorn's voice boomed in his head after they had exchanged greetings. Have you recovered?

I wish I had. I need to draw upon your strength, Thorn. That is, if you're well enough.

Of course. Murtagh sighed with relief. Take as much as you need.

Long needed energy coursed through Murtagh as his dragon's vitality flowed into his aching limbs. He became conscious of how weak he really was, as his breathing became less labored, and his ears ceased ringing.

Are you still alright, Thorn? Asked Murtagh, thinking of the toll dragon must be taking

Yes. You're recuperation is more important than my comfort.

The red rider felt guilty and selfish for not thinking more of his companion. But his focus shifted after about five minutes.

I suppose I can't go wandering about the Varden to be seen by anyone, but by Moragthal, it's boring in here. He was aware that he was in a bad place with his half-brother, but he decided to use his mind to speak to him anyway.

Eragon?

Barzul! Murtagh? What ever do you want?

To leave this blasted tent. What should I do? I would've rather spoken to Nasuada, but I don't know where she is.

Just… meet me outside. I'll make sure you're not seen. And don't ever contact me again unless it's a dire emergency! Murtagh smirked.

As he waited outside the tent, he glanced around, making sure there was no one to see him.

He spied Saphira flying low over the horizon, and she landed nearby within a few minutes.

Eragon was muttering to himself as he dismounted. "… Nasuada, but no, she insisted on –" Saphira snarled and Eragon ceased his mumbling.

"I'll take you Nasuada," the blue rider said curtly, without preamble, "but that's all. Personally, I don't really see the difference it makes if any of the Varden sees you with his own eyes; word of your of your presence will spread once Du Vrangr Gata realizes who the new magician is."

With that, Eragon set off at a brisk pace, not bothering to even meet Murtagh's eyes. "Who're Du Vrangr Gata?" asked Murtagh.

"If I tell you, you have to swear in the Ancient Language not to tell."

Murtagh muttered a handful of words, irritated.

"Du Vrangr Gata is the network of magicians I lead. They're like the Varden's Black Hand. I'm sure you're familiar with them."

"No," said Murtagh, "not Galbatorix' Black Hand, anyway. I know Selena that was the title Selena adopted."

Eragon looked surprised. "Was she really as ruthless as she was made out to be?" he asked quietly.

The elder brother shrugged. "I don't remember her very well."

Eragon seemed lost in thought the whole way to the mysterious maroon pavilion. He strode straight past the guards, despite their protestations, leaving Saphira confused, light sparkling off her scales. The sun loomed high overhead in noontime position.

Nasuada was deep in conversation with a handsome man, almost as pale as Murtagh, whose skin refused to tan even under Hadarac-like conditions. The man's skin, however, had relented, just slightly, giving him the same honey coloring as the elves.

The Varden's leader started when she spotter the riders lurking in the corner.

"Your majesty," she cut into the man's sentence. "It seems we have some guests."

His longish dark hair flying behind him, the mysterious male whipped around to face the corner where Nasuada's eyes lingered. "Shadeslayer. And friend." The man squinted at Murtagh for moment, gasped, then yelled, "Guards!"

Nasuada rolled her and scowled, as if she had expected nothing less of this fellow. "Call off your guards, Orrin."

Orrin held a hand up when his sentry approached.

"Murtagh, this is King Orrin. I'm sure you've heard about him. King Orrin, this is Murtagh, son of Morzan."

Orrin narrowed his eyes and cocked an eyebrow at Nasuada. Murtagh got the impression he did not like her. "This is like the Urgals all over again," he said.

"If this is anything like the Urgals, you should be glad," the dark skinned maiden snapped. "And Murtagh shall be regarded much higher that Urgals, due to his magic use and competence. You are dismissed."

Orrin fumed at this. "You can't dismiss me so easily! I have as much power as you do, if not more!"

"Please," Nasuada said. Still scowling, Orrin relented and departed. Eragon followed suit, not having any reason to stay.

"Sorry, my lady," Murtagh said, suppressing a smile. So that was the renowned King Orrin.

"It's alright, I suppose. That was a conversation that needed ending. I was just about to send for you. Your well?"

Murtagh nodded.

"Good. I must tell you something."

Gotta run! I think I'm trouble. Read and Review!

-Seastar