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Spedyalarm: Hmm.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls or The Inheritance Cycle.

When Daemon woke up the next morning, it was still dark. The sun hadn't even begun to rise, but the faint traces of light could be seen in the sky so it wasn't too early. Carefully getting off his bed, he quietly unhooked his sword and placed it under his bed. He had no need to bring it with him, as he would be with Saphira most of the day.

Quietly moving to the bedroom door so he didn't wake Eragon, Daemon gave his sleeping friend once glance before quickly ducking out the room and shutting the door quietly. He inhaled as he saw a hallway with doors on either side, one of which was Brom's, the other was Jeod and his wife's bedroom.

Making his way out of Jeod's house, Daemon looked left and right to ensure nobody had spotted him. Of course, the streets were deserted, nobody would be awake at this time. With the skills and stealth of a Nightingale, Daemon stuck to the shadows and made his way out of the city.

As he made his way towards the cliff Saphira was located on, his mind went back to what she had taught him the last time he was in dragon form. The flying, the hunting, even the ground combat she put him through. For some reason, he had this... desire to impress Saphira, and he had no idea why that was but he just brushed it off as giddiness or excitement, to show how he's progressed since his first and so far only transformation.

Coming to the bottom of the cliff, Daemon contemplated whether to shout for Saphira with his mind, but figured she was most likely still asleep and he didn't want to wake her up right now. So he began to scale the cliff as he did the other night with Eragon, easily making it up without incident. However, just as he reached the top, he was soon staring at a blue-scaled snout and a pair of, rather beautiful, sapphire-blue eyes. Wait, what? Since when did he start thinking Saphira had beautiful eyes? Well, she did but... He shook off the feelings as part of him still waking up.

Good morning. Saphira chuckled in his head and pulled her head back, stepping back to let him onto the cliff with her.

You know, I was trying to be quiet so I didn't wake you. Daemon remarked as he stood and straightened. Last thing I wanted to deal with today is a grouch dragoness who didn't get her beauty sleep.

And do you remember the last time you called me such? Saphira retorted, raising a scaly brow at him. He chuckled at the memory and nodded and Saphira soon joined him. Although it was thoughtful of you to consider me like that, you didn't need to. I was already awake when I smelled you exiting the city.

Smelled me? Daemon frowned and sniffed himself. if I needed a wash, all you had to do was say so.

Saphira laughed. Not that way, silly! I mean your scent! At Daemon's confused blink, she shook her head and elaborated. Your scent has gotten stronger since you became a dragon, to the point I can smell it from here while you're in the city. You may appear human, but to other creatures like myself, you'll have the scent of a dragon.

Ah, well that explains it. Daemon nodded in understanding. I don't smell bad, do I?

No, quite frankly, you smell quite... good. Saphira turned her head shyly as she said this and quickly shook her head to get back on track. The sun was beginning to rise and she wanted to get started on their day now. So, shall we get started?

Yes. Daemon said and moved away to a log where he could put his stuff, since he didn't want to risk tearing his outfit apart. He took his boots off first, followed by his gloves, then he took off the top half of his armour and placed it next to his boots and gloves. He contemplated whether to keep his pants on, but decided to just do so and hope it transforms with him. He looked over at Saphira and saw her staring intently at him. He couldn't help but blush since there was technically a female watching him get half-naked. Saphira, please stop staring.

Saphira blinked for a second before chuckling. Come now, Daemon, don't tell me you're a shy male. She glanced up and down his partially exposed body, and her tail gave a playful twitch. After all, you don't wear clothes as a dragon. I don't see what the big deal is?

It's called privacy and respecting it. Daemon retorted, deciding to just keep his pants on and hope for the best. He closed his eyes, concentrated... and the transformation began.

He grunted as he felt his skin start to change. It quickly went from its usual pink to the silvery-blue coloration of his scales. Speaking of scales, they appeared shortly after, and ran down his body from head to toe and (thankfully) over his pants. He felt his internal organs shift around and new layers of muscle flow over his limbs. He opened his eyes and watched as fingers and toes grew wicked claws and thickened into the talons of a dragon. Two lumps appeared on his back and he felt the skin stretch as his bones changed into the shoulder and wing bones. He thought they would break through the skin, but then realized he had started growing. His chest inflated and his torso lengthened out, along with his neck. His spine stretched down and his tail began to grow out of his backside. Spikes erupted down his backbone and around his face, as horns grew out above his rapidly shrinking ears. He fell onto all fours as his wings emerged fully from his back, and he felt his face begin to push outwards. His muzzle grew out and an itching sensation in his mouth alerted him to his teeth getting longer and sharper, and multiplying into his deadly fangs. He continued to grow and change until he was the same proud dragon that he had been days before. The last thing to change was his eyes; the pupils went from round dots to slits, and the dark blue-silver color became deeper and more intense, more silver than it was blue this time.

A content purr left the male dragon as he stretched his wings, tail and legs like a cat, stretching his long neck out for a moment before turning to look at Saphira. The dragoness was staring at him with her mouth slightly agape. An amused look passed through the male dragon's eyes and he gave his body a once over. How do I look? Did I miss anything.

That was... amazing. Saphira finally said in a soft whisper. I know you can transform into a dragon, but to witness it with my own eyes... it was purely amazing. Did it hurt?

A little. Daemon admitted. But not too badly. I think I'll get used to it the more I keep transforming, and soon it'll be like putting clothes on. Now, are we going to get started on our flight... or do you want to keep staring and admire my majestic appearance?

His words snapped the dragoness from her staring and she growled at him. It is you who will be staring at me as I beat you in the race we're going to have. There is a stream just beyond these trees. Try and keep up. She thrust her wings downward in a powerful stroke and leaped into the air. Daemon watched her graceful form for a moment, then crouched low and threw himself into the air after her. No way was he going to let her beat him.

It was late in the morning when Eragon woke. The first thing he noticed was the absence of Daemon, but then remembered that he was spending the day with Saphira. He got dressed, washed his face in the basin, then held the mirror up and brushed his hair into place. Something about his reflection made him stop and look closer. His face had changed since he had run out of Carvahall just a short while ago. Any baby fat was gone now, stripped away by traveling, sparring, and training. His cheekbones were more prominent, and the line of his jaw was sharper. There was a slight cast to his eyes that, when he looked closely, gave his face a wild, alien appearance. He held the mirror at arm's length, and his face resumed its normal semblance—but it still did not seem quite his own.

A little disturbed, he slung his bow and quiver across his back, then left the room. Before he had reached the end of the hall, the butler caught up with him and said, "Sir, Neal left with my master for the castle earlier. He said that you could do whatever you want today because he will not return until this evening."

Eragon thanked him for the message, then eagerly began exploring Teirm. For hours he wandered the streets, entering every shop that struck his fancy and chatting with various people. Eventually he was forced back to Jeod's by his empty stomach and lack of money.

When he reached the street where the merchant lived, he stopped at the herbalist's shop next door. It was an unusual place for a store. The other shops were down by the city wall, not crammed between expensive houses. He tried to look in the windows, but they were covered with a thick layer of crawling plants on the interior. Curious, he went inside.

At first he saw nothing because the store was so dark, but then his eyes adjusted to the faint greenish light that filtered through the windows. A colorful bird with wide tail feathers and a sharp, powerful beak looked at Eragon inquisitively from a cage near the window. The walls were covered with plants; vines clung to the ceiling, obscuring all but an old chandelier, and on the floor was a large pot with a yellow flower. A collection of mortars, pestles, metal bowls, and a clear crystal ball the size of Eragon's head rested on a long counter.

He walked to the counter, carefully stepping around complex machines, crates of rocks, piles of scrolls, and other objects he did not recognize. The wall behind the counter was covered with drawers of every size. Some of them were no larger than his smallest finger, while others were big enough for a barrel. There was a foot-wide gap in the shelves far above.

A pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from the dark space, and a large, fierce cat leapt onto the counter. It had a lean body with powerful shoulders and oversized paws. A shaggy mane surrounded its angular face; its ears were tipped with black tufts. White fangs curved down over its jaw. Altogether, it did not look like any cat Eragon had ever seen. It inspected him with shrewd eyes, then flicked its tail dismissively.

On a whim, Eragon reached out with his mind and touched the cat's consciousness. Gently, he prodded it with his thoughts, trying to make it understand that he was a friend.

You don't have to do that.

Eragon looked around in alarm. The cat ignored him and licked a paw. Saphira? Daemon? Where are you? he asked. No one answered. Puzzled, he leaned against the counter and reached for what looked like a wood rod.

That wouldn't be wise.

Stop playing games, you two, he snapped, then picked up the rod. A shock of electricity exploded through his body, and he fell to the floor, writhing. The pain slowly faded, leaving him gasping for air. The cat jumped down and looked at him.

You aren't very smart for a Dragon Rider. I did warn you.

You said that! exclaimed Eragon. The cat yawned, then stretched and sauntered across the floor, weaving its way between objects.

Who else?

But you're just a cat! he objected.

The cat yowled and stalked back to him. It jumped on his chest and crouched there, looking down at him with gleaming eyes. Eragon tried to sit up, but it growled, showing its fangs. Do I look like other cats?

No...

Then what makes you think I am one? Eragon started to say something, but the creature dug its claws into his chest. Obviously your education has been neglected. I—to correct your mistake—am a werecat. There aren't many of us left, but I think even a farm boy should have heard of us.

I didn't know you were real, said Eragon, fascinated. A werecat! He was indeed fortunate. They were always flitting around the edges of stories, keeping to themselves and occasionally giving advice. If the legends were true, they had magical powers, lived longer than humans, and usually knew more than they told.

The werecat blinked lazily. Knowing is independent of being. I did not know you existed before you bumbled in here and ruined my nap. Yet that doesn't mean you weren't real before you woke me.

Eragon was lost by its reasoning. I'm sorry I disturbed you.

I was getting up anyway, it said. It leapt back onto the counter and licked its paw. If I were you, I wouldn't hold on to that rod much longer. It's going to shock you again in a few seconds.

He hastily put the rod back where he had found it. What is it?

A common and boring artifact, unlike myself.

But what's it for?

Didn't you find out? The werecat finished cleaning its paw, stretched once more, then jumped back up to its sleeping place. It sat down, tucked its paws under its breast, and closed its eyes, purring.

Wait, said Eragon, what's your name?

One of the werecat's slanted eyes cracked open. I go by many names. If you are looking for my proper one, you will have to seek elsewhere. The eye closed. Eragon gave up and turned to leave. However, you may call me Solembum.

Thank you, said Eragon seriously. Solembum's purring grew louder.

The door to the shop swung open, letting in a beam of sunlight. Angela entered with a cloth bag full of plants. Her eyes flickered at Solembum and she looked startled. "He says you talked with him."

"You can talk with him, too?" asked Eragon.

She tossed her head. "Of course, but that doesn't mean he'll say anything back." She set her plants on the counter, then walked behind it and faced him. "He likes you. That's unusual. Most of the time Solembum doesn't show himself to customers. In fact, he says that you show some promise, given a few years of work."

"Thanks."

"It's a compliment, coming from him. You're only the third person to come in here who has been able to speak with him. The first was a woman, many years ago; the second was a blind beggar; and now you. But I don't run a store just so I can prattle on. Is there anything you want? Or did you only come in to look?"

"Just to look," said Eragon, still thinking about the werecat. "Besides, I don't really need any herbs."

"That's not all I do," said Angela with a grin. "The rich fool lords pay me for love potions and the like. I never claim that they work, but for some reason they keep coming back. But I don't think you need those chicaneries. Would you like your fortune told? I do that, too, for all the rich fool ladies."

Eragon laughed. "No, I'm afraid my fortune is pretty much unreadable. And I don't have any money."

Angela looked at Solembum curiously. "I think... " She gestured at the crystal ball resting on the counter. "That's only for show anyway—it doesn't do anything. But I do have... Wait here; I'll be right back." She hurried into a room at the back of the shop.

She came back, breathless, holding a leather pouch, which she set on the counter. "I haven't used these for so long, I almost forgot where they were. Now, sit across from me and I'll show you why I went to all this trouble." Eragon found a stool and sat. Solembum's eyes glowed from the gap in the drawers.

Angela laid a thick cloth on the counter, then poured a handful of smooth bones, each slightly longer than a finger, onto it. Runes and symbols were inscribed along their sides. "These," she said, touching them gently, "are the knucklebones of a dragon. Don't ask where I got them; it is a secret I won't reveal. But unlike tea leaves, crystal balls, or even divining cards, these have true power. They do not lie, though understanding what they say is... complicated. If you wish, I will cast and read them for you. But understand that to know one's fate can be a terrible thing. You must be sure of your decision."

Eragon looked at the bones with a feeling of dread. There lies what was once one of Saphira's kin. To know one's fate... How can I make this decision when I don't know what lies in wait for me and whether I will like it? Ignorance is indeed bliss. "Why do you offer this?" he asked.

"Because of Solembum. He may have been rude, but the fact that he spoke to you makes you special. He is a werecat, after all. I offered to do this for the other two people who talked with him. Only the woman agreed to it. Selena was her name. Ah, she regretted it, too. Her fortune was bleak and painful. I don't think she believed it—not at first."

Emotion overcame Eragon, bringing tears to his eyes. "Selena," he whispered to himself. His mother's name. Could it have been her? Was her destiny so horrible that she had to abandon me? "Do you remember anything about her fortune?" he asked, feeling sick.

Angela shook her head and sighed. "It was so long ago that the details have melted into the rest of my memory, which isn't as good as it used to be. Besides, I'll not tell you what I do remember. That was for her and her alone. It was sad, though; I've never forgotten the look on her face."

Eragon closed his eyes and struggled to regain control of his emotions. "Why do you complain about your memory?" he asked to distract himself. "You're not that old."

Dimples appeared on Angela's cheeks. "I'm flattered, but don't be deceived; I'm much older than I look. The appearance of youth probably comes from having to eat my own herbs when times are lean."

Smiling, Eragon took a deep breath. If that was my mother and she could bear to have her fortune told, I can too. "Cast the bones for me," he said solemnly.

Angela's face became grave as she grasped the bones in each hand. Her eyes closed, and her lips moved in a soundless murmur. Then she said powerfully,

"Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!"

The wind was a comforting feeling as it brushed against the scales of the two dragons while they laid together on top of the cliff overlooking Teirm. Having returned from their flight not that long ago, Daemon and Saphira had contented themselves with just laying side-by-side and staring out at the horizon.

Their race had ended in a draw, which led Saphira wanting to even the score with a friendly brawl and so Daemon obliged her. They both got some good hits in with their friendly fighting, but Saphira was the one who came out as the winner. Something was she all-too eager to remind him of. Afterwards, they just had a casual flight together, showing off their acrobatic skills in an attempt to outdo one another. When Saphira saw Daemon on the verge of besting her, she dragged him down for a second playful fight, which ended up becoming more than one brawl. Saphira won most of them, much to the displeasure of Daemon's newfound draconic pride.

I must admit, Daemon, you adapted well to your dragon body. Saphira complimented. Why, one might think you have been a dragon your whole life.

Like I said before, I have an great teacher. Daemon shrugged his broad shoulders.

If your attempts to flatter me are to make me go soft on you for our next fight, you are mistaken. Saphira said, a smug tone entering her voice. As always, I will win.

Maybe I was letting you win. Daemon said, narrowing his eyes playfully at hers and she replicated the action, narrowing her eyes at him. They stared each other down for a moment before they burst out laughing before turning their gazes back to the horizon, enjoying the view.

Saphira glanced at Daemon and her mind began to wander. She wasn't wrong when she said Daemon had adapted well to his dragon body. He had done so very quickly and masterfully, which helped because she didn't want to spend months training him like he was a new hatchling. But a bigger part could be thanks to Daemon's dragon instincts, that he had most likely embraced to help with the changes and adaptability to his new body.

She also had to admit, she very much enjoyed spending time with him and was glad she had chosen to ask him to spend the day with her. If they were to be at Teirm for a while, she wanted some company. Some dragon company and he was the only one around. She could tell Daemon was also happy to have spent the day with her, being given the chance to be a dragon again and get used to his new body. Finally having another dragon to spend time with helped Saphira take her mind off all the bad things that lay at the back of her thoughts, things that always crept up when she worried about her Eragon on this journey. She was grateful that Daemon had come along to help watch over his friend, and now that he was part-dragon, Saphira was able to relax a little.

Her eyes went from his head and started to examine his body. Saphira had liked Daemon since she had met him, though it was a rocky start since she didn't know if she could trust him, and it didn't help when she saw he had killed dragons and absorbed their souls, until he proved he could be trusted and that caused her to soften and warm up to him, becoming good friends that playfully tease one another. But now that he was a dragon... something was different between them now, maybe it was her starting to see him in a different light. She wasn't sure what it was, nor how to proceed. She knew it wasn't romantic feelings or anything like that, far from it... but it didn't feel like simple feelings of friendship either.

She stole another glance at him. He really did make quite a handsome dragon. Subtly, she shuffled closer to him, Daemon unaware as he stared out at the horizon, lost in his own thoughts and possible memories. It was only when Saphira was close enough that their shoulders touched did he snap from his daydreaming to look at her but she gave a fanged smile.

She was about to say something when she felt something wet hit the top of her head. She blinked and both her and Daemon looked up to see grey clouds rolling in and a downpour started. Soon enough, the rain came pouring down and covering the two dragons, as well as the land around them, in a drizzle. Saphira groaned.

I hate the rain. She muttered. We should find a dense part of the trees and...

She trailed off as she felt the rain stop splattering onto her body, as well as a shadow overcome her. She looked, only to see Daemon with his wing stretched over her, covering her from the rain. She looked at him, only to see him giving her his own fanged smile, Better?

Thoughtful of you, but won't you be getting wet?

I don't really mind the rain. Daemon said and turned to stare forward again when Saphira darted her head forward, and brushed her cheek against his own, causing him to freeze and stare at her, a warm and fuzzy feeling building in his gut.

You're sweet, Daemon. Thank you. Saphira said and laid down.

D-Don't mention it. Daemon muttered, unable to understand why he was feeling so shy like... like some young boy with a crush on a pretty girl. He shook that thought away as soon as it popped into his head. Maybe it was just him overthinking it.

Saphira curled up, tucking her head under his wing and against her side. She allowed the sound of rain hitting his wing membrane, as well as the scent from his body, and his bulk, to lull her into a peaceful slumber.

The words rang in Eragon's ears; he recognized them from the ancient language and realized with apprehension that to use them for magic, Angela must be a witch. She had not lied; this was a true fortunetelling. Minutes slowly passed as she studied the bones.

Finally, Angela leaned back and heaved a long sigh. She wiped her brow and pulled out a wineskin from under the counter. "Do you want some?" she asked. Eragon shook his head. She shrugged and drank deeply. "This," she said, wiping her mouth, "is the hardest reading I've ever done. You were right. Your future is nigh impossible to see. I've never known of anyone's fate being so tangled and clouded. I was, however, able to wrestle a few answers from it."

Solembum jumped onto the counter and settled there, watching them both. Eragon clenched his hands as Angela pointed to one of the bones. "I will start here," she said slowly, "because it is the clearest to understand."

The symbol on the bone was a long horizontal line with a circle resting on it. "Infinity or long life," said Angela quietly. "This is the first time I have ever seen it come up in someone's future. Most of the time it's the aspen or the elm, both signs that a person will live a normal span of years. Whether this means that you will live forever or that you will only have an extraordinarily long life, I'm not sure. Whatever it foretells, you may be sure that many years lie ahead of you."

No surprises there—I am a Rider, thought Eragon. Was Angela only going to tell him things he already knew?

"Now the bones grow harder to read, as the rest are in a confused pile." Angela touched three of them. "Here the wandering path, lightning bolt, and sailing ship all lie together—a pattern I've never seen, only heard of. The wandering path shows that there are many choices in your future, some of which you face even now. I see great battles raging around you, some of them fought for your sake. I see the mighty powers of this land struggling to control your will and destiny. Countless possible futures await you—all of them filled with blood and conflict—but only one will bring you happiness and peace. Beware of losing your way, for you are one of the few who are truly free to choose their own fate. That freedom is a gift, but it is also a responsibility more binding than chains."

Then her face grew sad. "And yet, as if to counteract that, here is the lightning bolt. It is a terrible omen. There is a doom upon you, but of what sort I know not. Part of it lies in a death—one that rapidly approaches and will cause you much grief. But the rest awaits in a great journey. Look closely at this bone. You can see how its end rests on that of the sailing ship. That is impossible to misunderstand. Your fate will be to leave this land forever. Where you will end up I know not, but you will never again stand in Alagaësia. This is inescapable. It will come to pass even if you try to avoid it."

Her words frightened Eragon. Another death . . . who must I lose now? His thoughts immediately went to Saphira, Daemon, Brom, and Roran. Then he thought about his homeland. What could ever force me to leave? And where would I go? If there are lands across the sea or to the east, only the elves know of them.

Angela rubbed her temples and breathed deeply. "The next bone is easier to read and perhaps a bit more pleasant." Eragon examined it and saw a rose blossom inscribed between the horns of a crescent moon.

Angela smiled and said, "An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates—for that is a magical symbol—and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."

Of noble birth, thought Eragon in surprise. How could that ever happen? I have no more standing than the poorest of farmers.

"Now for the last two bones, the tree and the hawthorn root, which cross each other strongly. I wish that this were not so—it can only mean more trouble—but betrayal is clear. And it will come from within your family."

"Roran wouldn't do that!" objected Eragon abruptly.

"I wouldn't know," said Angela carefully. "But the bones have never lied, and that is what they say."

Doubt wormed into Eragon's mind, but he tried to ignore it. What reason would there ever be for Roran to turn on him? To take his thoughts off it, he looked at the bones before noticing one that Angela hadn't brought up. It was in the middle of the others, somehow managing to touch each of them. On its surface was a symbol of the sun, rising over what appeared to be a lake, and its reflection showing in the still water.

"Wait, what about that one?" Eragon asked, pointing to it. "You didn't mention that one."

"Hmm," Angela tapped her chin in thought. She then cleared her throat and continued, "I never mentioned it because it is yet another I have not seen before. It is the symbol for the celestial mirror. See how it lies in the middle touching the others? It means that someone you know, or will know, shares almost the same future as you do; the fate, the romance, the betrayal."

"After all that, death might be welcome," Eragon joked nervously. Betrayal from Roran? It couldn't happen! It won't!

"It might be," said Angela solemnly, then laughed slightly. "But you shouldn't fret about what has yet to occur. The only way the future can harm us is by causing worry. I guarantee that you'll feel better once you're out in the sun."

"Perhaps." Unfortunately, he reflected wryly, nothing she said will make sense until it has already happened. If it really does, he amended himself. "You used words of power," he noted quietly.

Angela's eyes flashed. "What I wouldn't give to see how the rest of your life plays out. You can speak to werecats, know of the ancient language, and have a most interesting future. Also, few young men with empty pockets and rough traveling clothes can expect to be loved by a noblewoman. Who are you?"

Eragon realized that the werecat must not have told Angela that he was a Rider. He almost said, "Evan," but then changed his mind and simply stated, "I am Eragon."

Angela arched her eyebrows. "Is that who you are or your name?" she asked.

"Both," said Eragon with a small smile, thinking of his namesake, the first Rider.

"Now I'm all the more interested in seeing how your life will unfold. Who were the two with you yesterday?"

Eragon decided that two more names couldn't hurt. "Daemon and Brom."

A guffaw suddenly burst out of Angela, doubling her over in mirth. She wiped her eyes and took a sip of wine, then fought off another attack of merriment. Finally, gasping for breath, she forced out, "Oh... that one! I had no idea!"

"What is it?" demanded Eragon.

"No, no, don't be upset," said Angela, hiding a smile. "It's only that—well, he is known by those in my profession. I'm afraid that the poor man's doom, or future if you will, is something of a joke with us."

"Don't insult him! He's a better man than any you could find!" snapped Eragon.

"Peace, peace," chided Angela with amusement. "I know that. If we meet again at the right time I'll be sure to tell you about it. But in the meantime you should—" She stopped speaking as Solembum padded between them. The werecat stared at Eragon with unblinking eyes.

Yes? Eragon asked, irritated.

Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls. Oh, and tell your Dragonborn friend to trust his heart's desires, not his mind.

Before Eragon could ask what Solembum meant, the werecat walked away, waving his tail ever so gracefully. Angela tilted her head, coils of dense hair shadowing her forehead. "I don't know what he said, and I don't want to know. He spoke to you and only you. Don't tell anyone else."

"I think I have to go," said Eragon, shaken.

"If you want to," said Angela, smiling again. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, especially if you buy some of my goods. But go if you wish; I'm sure that we've given you enough to ponder for a while."

"Yes." Eragon quickly made his way to the door. "Thank you for reading my future." I think.

When Saphira woke from her peaceful nap, the first thing she noticed was the absence of Daemon's warm bulk beside hers and she lifted her head, looking around for him. She felt a little at ease and relaxed when she saw him over by the log where he had left his clothes, halfway dressed and in the midst of getting his boots back on. Saphira felt a little bit of disappointment that his dragon time had come to an end so soon, as she had been quite enjoying it.

Daemon soon noticed she was awake and sent her a smile. Hey you, sleep well?

Quite well. She thought privately to herself, to him she said. Yes, I did. I appreciate you being a blanket for me. Daemon ducked his head down with a small blush at her words. In truth, he didn't know why he did that. He just felt the urge to do so, that it was the right thing to do. The same feeling came back when her head rolled next to his, as well as the other thing he did while she slept...

Saphira stood and stretched like a cat, letting her bones bone and she yawned deeply before snapping her jaws shut. She was about to suggest they go hunting when her stomach rumbled deeply, causing Daemon to look at her with amusement as her cheeks went red.

Apologies, I forgot that we didn't go hunting yet. Saphira said, shuffling her feet. Will you wait while I fetch us something to eat?

Already did some hunting for us both. Daemon said and pointed to something on her right, causing her to look and see a dead doe lying not too far away from her. She turned back to him and cocked her head as if asking For me? Daemon chuckled at her look and explained. I got hungry myself and went hunting, but I knew you'd probably be feeling hungry yourself or disappointed I went hunting without you. So, I compromised and brought you some dinner myself... He stopped with a blush at the longing gaze Saphira was sending him.

Very sweet of you, Daemon. She told him before digging into her meal.

Soon enough, Eragon arrived and joined them. He recounted the day he had in Teirm, telling them of his visit to Angela's shop and her telling his fortune, as well as Solembum's message for himself and Daemon. The Dragonborn was quite curious in the werecat's words, but didn't let them worry him just now since it could mean something much, much later... or it could mean nothing.

Saphira thought differently though. You should remember what the werecat told you. It's important.

How do you know? Eragon asked curiously.

I'm not sure, but the names he used feel powerful. Kuthian, she said, rolling the word around. No, we should not forget what he said.

Do you think I should tell Brom?

It's your choice, but think of this: he has no right to know your future. To tell him of Solembum and his words will only raise questions you may not want to answer. And if you decided to only ask him what those words mean, he will want to know where you learned them. Do you think you can lie convincingly to him?

No, admitted Eragon. Maybe I won't say anything. Still, this might be too important to hide. They talked until there was nothing more to say. Then they sat together companionably, watching the trees until dusk. Eragon laughed when Saphira 'thanked' Daemon for her meal by leaning over and giving him a lick on the cheek, causing the Dragonborn to blush as red as a red apple.

After saying goodnight to Saphira, the two descended the cliff and made their way back to Jeod's house. Brom and Jeod explained the new plan that they developed that day. The citadel was heavily fortified during the day with guards patrolling the grounds. In order to get into the room with all the shipping records, their best bet was to break into the citadel at night. Guards still patrolled the grounds but with enough guile, they should be able to get in undetected.

For the next two days, Brom would teach Eragon how to read. Actually, to speed up the process, Brom started teaching him that very night. After several hours of rigorous drills, Brom called their lessons an end for that night. Both Eragon and Daemon returned to their room, exhausted from today's events. Once they were in their beds, they quickly fell asleep and entered the land of dreams.

And that's it for this chapter.