Okay, I am AT LONG LAST AND FINALLY updating. DANG this story is so complicated! I keep forgetting about certain things, which is seriously pitiful, because I friggin' wrote it. OMG. Anyway, I was about to forget about the last egg, but I didn't. Ha.

Off topic: I'm watching Curious George. It's hilariously distracting, because he thinks he's winning at miniature golf when he gets a score of 257. Hahahahahaha XXDD. It's really funny. I can't believe it's a show for four year-olds. Don't ask me why I'm watching it. Yeah. So:

Disclaimer: I don't own Inheritance. I'm too lazy to say anything else, so don't sue me.

ANYway, READ! And review!

Eragon leaned against Saphira, kneading his forehead. King Orrin had left for Feinster two days ago. Knowing him, he had probably already arrived in the city. Eragon was beginning to think that the king's obsession with Nasuada was unhealthy. He also couldn't believe that Lady Borromeo was related to him. She was so kind and rational, and her brother was the exact opposite.

Perhaps your obsession with Lady Borromeo is unhealthy, Saphira commented.

I am not obsessed! Eragon snapped. She's a lot like me, that's all.

It was true. Eragon and Mayrse seemed to have more than a little bit in common. They both used magic, and were very skilled in it. They shared the same hobbies and interests. And Eragon even thought that, if you tilted your head the right way, they looked quite alike.

There she is now, the charmer herself.

Blast you.

"Lady Borromeo!" Eragon barreled out onto the path in her wake, kicking up piles of dust with his accelerated footfalls.

Orrin's sister whirled around, then smiled. "Please," she said, "call me Mayrse." The sunset behind her illuminated her face. She reminded Eragon of someone, vaguely, as if a figure from a dream.

"Mayrse," Eragon agreed. "I'd like to know which spell you used to calm Orrin. I have a feeling it may come in handy at a later time."

Mayrse nodded thoughtfully. "I actually created it myself. My father challenged me to compose a spell for this purpose. Only, not in particular for my brother." She sat down in the grass beside the path in between two tents, spreading her skirts. She didn't seem to mind soiling her garments.

Mayrse continued. "We didn't have many spell books in the palace at the time, and I exhausted my resources quickly. At first I tried incorporating the subject's name. Calm Eragon Shadeslayer. That worked just fine – if the subject's name was accessible. If I were to say, Calm Eragon Shadeslayer, yet direct the spell at Saphira, some kind of misfire would inevitably occur.

"I came to my father with this dilemma, he gave me some very poor advice: Think around the problem. So I sat in my room, brooding and ruminating over the problem. Then I realized how limited my thinking was. Focusing on one subject was like insisting the entire population was male or female, fat or skinny, blind or seeing. Whether or not a person fits under any of those categories, there is one general term that categorizes them all. Human.

"So I threw every other thought I had away, and chose a spell that had already been created. One that works in nature. Anger really is only an animal instinct. And when I spoke Calm the storm in the ancient language, a feeling of calm overcame me."

Eragon was surprised by Lady Borromeo's high level of thinking. "Scholars use the idea in the formulation of many spells. I'm impressed. Does the spell only work on humans, though?"

"Oh, no. That is the reason why it has proven so useful. The simplicity of it is what makes it to complex. The spell eliminates anger from whatever emanates it."

"Is there an enchantment that I could use to defeat Galbatorix with a single word?" Eragon joked.

"If only it were that simple. Galbatorix is not part of the general population. He is one all his own," Mayrse replied.

"Perhaps it's time to return to rudimentary level thinking."

"Perhaps you are correct, Shadeslayer."

Eragon jumped as the scrying mirror in Nasuada's pavilion lit up, showing the face of Lady Nasuada. Caught red-handed.

"Eragon!" she exclaimed. "Thank goodness. I've been trying to reach somebody for hours now. I sent a messenger, but since there really is nothing else I can do, I figured I'd try this."

"My lady? You're speaking awfully fast," Eragon observed. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes. An emergency. Murtagh's been kidnapped by the soldier who can't feel pain. And we can't seem to locate Thorn."

"Murtagh's been kidnapped? And I suppose his ability to use magic just escaped him?"

"I saw it with my own eyes, Eragon!" Nasuada exclaimed indignantly. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. "Something seized control of him, like an invisible force. He couldn't even scream..." Nasuada's eyes swam with tears.

"Where do you think they took him?"

"To Urû'baen, of course! Where else? We need you in Feinster, as soon a humanly possible!"

"I'll be there as quick as I possibly can."

Thorn was growing irritated. Ever since Murtagh had killed the two-legged Meriam, he'd been a sitting duck, his pond being the outskirts of Feinster, on the same rock outcropping he'd found before.

It didn't make much sense to Thorn - why would Murtagh, or any other human for that matter, kill a person like Meriam? A life for a life? It didn't make the Red-faced, Orange-haired Zoë girl come back alive, and out of the void. Revenge might be sweet, but not for long. It turned sour once in the stomach. If dragons killed every one of their kind who ever did wrong, who ever harmed something or some one of value to another dragon, dragons would be extinct. Gone. And the same with humans.

That was what Thorn had tried to tell Murtagh before he executed Meriam, but for what? He should have known that Murtagh wouldn't listen, would shut him out for all it was worth.

Thorn blew a puff of smoke. It was difficult, being on the sidelines for so long, instead of the marching up in the front line of battle alongside Murtagh. His rider seemed to be slipping away from him.

If I had a rider,I would never-

Did I ask for your opinion? Thorn snapped.

The little dragon mentally chucked.

Thorn. It was Murtagh.

Murtagh?

I need you to- pain shot through Thorn's veins. It wasn't his own, though.

Little Misery?

A calm voice filled Thorn's head, and paralyzing fear overcame him.

Your master's time has come, Galbatorix's voice told Thorn. I have no use for him if he insists on creating petty problems. He will die slowly and painfully, one piece at a time being dragged into the void, as he is dragged to Urû'baen so that I can snuff out the final scrap of life that remains when he arrives. And you shall be snuffed out right beside him. Thorn felt any overwhelming sense of guilt and grief fill a newly emptied space. Part of Murtagh. The part that let him communicate with his rider was gone. Missing like a piece of a puzzle. He could still see what Murtagh saw, smell the smells and feel the sensations. That would suffice.

Thorn tried to spread his wings. But it was as if they were pinned to the ground. He tried to move his limbs. They felt as if they were encrusted in stone. He even tried to open his mouth. Nothing. He felt nothing but the energy of the effort sapping at his strength. One could only survive like this for so long.

If I had a rider -

Quiet before I eat you.

That was a lot shorter than I intended, but when I woke up this morning, I was like, "I'm gonna update Flattery!" and I did. So I'm proud of myself. It only took two hours. Anyway, you can definitely review, and have a great Turkey Day!

REVIEW! And I was thinking about putting that in the middle of the chapter, but I figured it would piss you guys off.

Chao,

-Seastar