She had some explaining to do.

But how could she talk herself out of carrying around the remnants of a dragon egg in her leather pack? It might be easier than expected, as the guard didn't seem to know what exactly he was looking at, but that was also the problem. She couldn't just make up anything.

Linea had been in a town on the outskirts of Urû`baen, so close to her destination, looking to replenish her food supplies. A guard had seen the silver dragon egg-shells fall out of her bag as she searched for payment, and had questioned her about how she'd gotten them.

"I broke a vase of my mother's." Linea lied quickly.

"Why would you be carrying around garbage?" he asked, confused. He didn't seem like he wanted to cause trouble, only curious.

"Garbage?" she snapped, snatching the pieces back. As long as she was lying, she might as well play the part. "Sir, this was my mother's! She's been gone a while now! As in, gone to 'up there'." She pointed at the sky. "Sir, this is the only thing I have of her! I couldn't throw it out."

The guard looked at her sympathetically, offered his apologies about her fake mother, and moved on to observe a group of young people at a different stand. Linea let out a breath, deciding to forgo the food and simply leave. That had been a very close call.

After around two weeks of traveling, Linea had felt a rattling from her bag. She opened it, and the silver egg had tumbled out and onto the ground. Slightly wary, she'd watched the egg expectantly. It rocked and rattled, and there were tiny tapping noises coming from the inside. The half-elf had stared, wondering if she had somehow damaged the egg during her travels.

Then, wonder of wonders, it hatched! A small, scaly head had poked out from the shell, shining even brighter than the egg had. Cautiously, so cautiously, she'd bent to pick up the struggling creature. The second her skin came in contact with its wet nose, a burning sensation raced up her arm.

She knew, in that moment, a great honor had been bestowed upon her. Somehow, she, Linea of Bullridge, bandit and outcast, had been made a Dragon Rider.

Deciding it would be grossly unsafe if she traveled to Urû`baen with the freshly hatched dragon, she waited a year, learning from it and vise-verse. She learned it was a male, and named it Eloni, after her grandfather. The dragon grew rapidly in size and intelligence, quickly surpassing Linea in knowledge. Even after that year, she was still shocked that she'd been chosen. A hole she'd carried within her since Distul's death seemed to shrink just a little.

But, when she felt confident that Eloni knew enough to be hidden and avoid residents of a given village, she decided to revert to her original plan of going to Urû`baen. She'd had far too many encounters with the Empire for several lifetimes, and wanted to get back at them for it. Hiding a dragon under the king's nose seemed to be the perfect slap in the face.

So, as she bade farewell, to the merchant, she sent Eloni a mental picture of her current position, and headed off to the royal city to the east.

We have come so far, he said to her as he flew overhead.

You don't even know where we began, she answered.

I know where I did, and that is enough for now. You will, in time, reveal to me what is behind your locked doors, though.

Linea grimaced. Even though Eloni was the only one with full access to her mind, she'd blocked even him from the disastrous plan to rescue him from Galbatorix's stronghold. She was intent on keeping that a secret, though she knew she would want to divulge it at some point.

"There it is." she murmured to herself. Urû`baen was a giant city by the Ramr River. It was the capital of Alagaesia, and it was home to King Galbatorix himself.

Of course, her outlandish clothing would be unwanted here, where the women wore dresses instead of tunics and leggings. Linea ignored the glances, though, and explored the city. She'd never seen a place this big and busy in her life, as her group generally avoided large towns and her step-mother had been on the overprotective side, forbidding her from leaving Bullridge. She wove her way through the crowds, attempting to find a decent inn to stay until she could figure out what to do next.

Suddenly, the crowd began to part down the middle, as though to allow a carriage through. Someone was shouting from the center lane, and it took Linea a moment to figure out is was a herald of some sort. "Make way! Make way! You there! Back up!" snapped the unseen man. Linea continued to push her way to the front of the crowd to see who was passing, when all at once she was stumbling out into the cleared area just as a massive, black war horse came within inches of herself. She stumbled, surprised, and fell backward. The man on the horse looked down at her, the visor on his helmet down so she couldn't see his face. He stopped his horse, and they simply looked at one another for a moment.

"Well?" he said, voice sounding muffled because of the helmet. "Will you speak for your actions? A peasant who wishes to halt a procession must be punished severely, as I'm sure you're aware."

"No! Please!" called someone within the crowd. A young man pushed his way forward and helped the stunned half-elf to her feet. "Please, sir, she didn't mean anything by it. She's my sister, you see. And, well, she's not quite right in the head." He looked Linea in the eye, an intense expression on his face. "Alya, what have we told you about wandering off?"

She blinked, then understood. "But the horsey..."

"No. No horsies for you, Alya, you've been a bad girl." He turned back to the man on the horse. "Thank the gods you found her, we were looking everywhere."

"Very well," said the man impatiently. "Just keep her close. I don't need simpletons keeping me from my duties. Onward!"

The procession continued past, and the crowds went back to their business as though this were a regular occurrence.

Is everything okay? Asked Eloni in her mind.

Oh, splendid. You go back to grazing, I'll just figure out who this crazy knight was.

I can return, if you so wish. He responded mildly.

No, you stay. We'll both be killed if you show up. I'll be back soon, I just need to find room and board.

Be swift. I do not like this place.

"Are you daft?" asked the young man, turning to Linea. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I-I didn't know, exactly." she said, looking back at the procession. "Did he call me a simpleton?"

"Look, he could have called you a rabbit for all I care, you were lucky to get out of that alive. Murtagh may not be as ruthless as Galbatorix, but I've heard he doesn't like giving out favors." he said. "I'm Carver, by the way."

"Linea." she said, shaking his proffered hand. "And, thanks. You know, for helping me. Not for making me look like an idiot, though."

He shrugged. "It was look like an idiot or a beheading then and there. You take your pick."

"So who is this Murtagh?" she asked as they walked.

"You mean you don't know?" Carver asked incredulously.

"That would be the point of my question, yes." she said dryly.

"Well... it's a bit delicate, see." he said. "Murtagh is sort of the prince of the Empire."

"Galbatorix has a son?" she exclaimed, horrified.

"No! No! Well, technically, but only through adoption." he said quickly. "He's a Rider, though, like Galbatorix and that Eragon everyone's been going on about."

Linea nodded. She'd heard about Eragon before, which is where Distul had gotten the idea to steal another egg. She admired him, but knew it was a long shot to hope to meet him. "A Rider, you say? What color?"

"Er..."

She looked at him. "His dragon? What's the color of his dragon?"

"I wouldn't know. Never seen the thing myself." he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, his sword, then. What color is that?"

"Red." Carver answered. "Like blood. Why?"

"A Rider's sword is always the same color as his dragon." she told him. "Is that why Galbatorix took him in? Because he made one of the eggs hatch?"

He shook his head. "Nah, that came after Murtagh arrived. There are rumors, though, about who he really is. Ever heard of the Forsworn?"

Her green eyes darkened, but she otherwise showed no emotion. "Who hasn't?"

"They say he's the son of Morzan. The leader of the thirteen."

Linea sucked in a breath. "Son of Morzan... No wonder he nearly killed me. I heard that man had a vicious streak a mile wide."

"That's not the half of it." Carver continued. "Some even say he brought Eragon to his knees in battle. I think that's just talk, though. I mean, what reason would he have for sparing him?"

Her brow furrowed as she though about that. Why would he have spared the opposing Rider?

Perhaps all Riders have a bond. Eloni suggested. Who are we to say there isn't?

If that is so, Glabatorix wouldn't have killed so many of them.

Galbatorix is mad, on this we have both agreed.

Then what about the thirteen others?

Perhaps they were, too. What other reason would you explain Murtagh's behavior?

I honestly wouldn't know. Son of Morzan, sparing an enemy... Something just doesn't sound right in that.

"I'm supposing you're new here, then." Carver said. "Where are you from?"

"Originally? Bullridge. But I've been traveling for a long time." she told him.

"Oh? Where to?"

"Oh, nowhere particularly important." she said offhandedly.

"What brought you to this hell city?" he asked, looking around. "It's not exactly a place you'd go looking for home."

"No, that's not what I'm here for." she told him. Then she looked him up and down, figuring she could trust him, at least a little. "Sometimes when you're hiding, it's best to do it in plain sight."

Carver looked at her curiously. "That so?" When she nodded, the corner of his mouth quirked up a bit. "I have to go see to a few things. Why don't you stop by the King's Bowl Tavern tonight? It's by the herbalist's shop, you can't miss it. I think we have a few things to discuss."

"I'll do that." she promised, hefting the bag on her back.

"Think you can manage without me for a few hours?" he asked cheekily.

She smirked, thinking about the mark on her palm. "I think I'll be fine."

. . .

So... I've started reading Inheritance, can you tell? I'm on a major Eragon kick right now, so some other things might get put on hold. I think this story takes place sometime after Brisingr, but I'm not too sure. It's whenevs. No spoilers in the reviews, please!