Free Riders
Author's Note: Eragon is not mine. Char, Blaster, and Saranya are. Comment as you see fit.
Chapter 19: An Old Friend
No one answered the door after Brom's knocking. Eragon was the only one who felt slightly foolish.
"Perhaps this is the wrong house," Eragon said. "Let's try the other one."
Brom ignored him and knocked again, pounding loudly. Again no one answered. Eragon turned around in exasperation, but turned back around as someone approached the door. A young, pale woman with light blonde hair cracked it open a tiny bit. Here eyes were puffy, and Blaster sensed she had been crying, yet her voice was perfectly steady.
"Yes, what do you want?" the woman asked.
"Does Jeod live here?" Brom asked. The woman dipped her head a little, yet opened the door no further.
"Yes," she said, "he is my husband. Is he expecting you?"
"No, but it is important that we talk with him," Brom said.
"He is very busy."
"We have traveled far. It's very imperative that we see him."
"He is busy," the woman said, her face hardening.
Brom bristled, but kept his voice pleasant. "Since he is unavailable, would you please give him a message?" Her lips twitched, but she nodded in consent. "Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside."
The woman seemed a little suspicious, but said, "Very well," and abruptly closed the door. Her footsteps could be heard receding.
"That was very polite," Eragon commented.
"Keep your opinions to yourself, Eragon," Blaster snapped.
"And let me do the talking," Brom added. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers. Eragon simply clamped his mouth shut, and looked away.
The door suddenly flew open so fast, Blaster feared it might fall off its hinges. A tall man burst out of the house, wearing expensive clothes that were rumpled. His gray hair was wispy, and he had what appeared to be a mournful face with short eyebrows. A long scar stretched from his temple across his scalp.
At the sight of the trio, his eyes grew wide, and he sagged against the doorframe, speechless. He managed to open his mouth several times, then closed it, as if he were a fish. Finally, words managed to reach the man's mouth, and he asked, softly, "Brom…?"
Brom put a finger to his lips and reached forward to grab the man's arm.
"It's good to see you, Jeod," Brom said. "I'm glad your memory hasn't failed you, but do not use that name. It would be unfortunate if anyone knew I was here."
Jeod looked around wildly, the look of pure shock on his face. "I thought you were dead," he whispered.
"Surprise," Brom said, a lot less enthusiastically than he would have probably said it at a birthday party.
"What happened?" Jeod interrogated. "Why haven't you contacted me before?"
"All things will be explained in good time," Brom assured. "Do you have a place where we can talk safely?"
Jeod hesitated, gazing between Eragon, Brom, and Blaster. Even the alien had trouble reading his face. Finally, he said, "We can't talk here, but if you wait a moment, I'll take you somewhere we can."
"Fine," Brom said. Jeod nodded, then vanished behind the door.
Another opportunity to learn something about Brom? Blaster thought to himself. Am I going to have to swear not to tell anyone? Again?
Jeod reappeared a couple of minutes later, a rapier on his belt. An embroidered jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, and a plumed hat adorned his head. Brom cast a critical eye at the finery, but Jeod merely shrugged self-consciously.
Jeod took them through Teirm toward the citadel. Eragon and Blaster led the horses behind the two men. Jeod gestured to their destination, and said, "Risthart, the lord of Teirm, has decreed that all the business owners must have their headquarters in his castle. Even though most of us conduct business elsewhere, we still have to rent rooms there. It's nonsense, I know, but we abide by it anyway to keep him calm. We'll be free of eavesdroppers in there as the walls are thick."
They went through the main gate of the fortress and into the keep. Jeod strode to a side door and pointed to an iron ring. "You can tie the horses there. They won't be bothered." Once the horses had been safely tethered, he opened the door with an iron key, and led them inside.
Jeod snatched a torch from one of the many brackets that adorned the hallway. Eragon touched the wall, only to have his fingers slip on the layer of slime on it. Jeod led them down the hall, stopping before a heavy, wooden door. He unlocked it and ushered them in. This room was adorned by a bearskin rug, stuffed chairs, and full bookshelves covering the walls. Jeod threw some wood into the fireplace and touched it off with the torch. In a matter of seconds, the fire was roaring.
"You, old man," Jeod finally said, turning to Brom, "have some explaining to do."
"Who are you calling an old man?" Brom said, a smile on his face. "Last time I saw you, there was no gray in your hair. Now it looks like it's in the final stages of decomposition."
"And you look the same as you did nearly twenty years ago," Jeod said.
I've looked the same for almost fifteen, Blaster thought to himself. Damn non-aging side-effect.
"Time seems to have preserved you as a crotchety old man just to inflict wisdom upon each new generation," Jeod continued. "But enough of this! Get on with the story. That's always what you were good at." Eragon's ears seemed to perk up, and he waited ever so patiently for Brom to speak.
The old storyteller relaxed into a chair and pulled out his pipe, like always. He slowly blew a smoke ring that turned green before darting to the fireplace and flying up the chimney.
"Do you remember what we were doing in Gil'ead?" Brom finally said.
"Yes, of course," Jeod said, as if it was an obvious answer. "That sort of thing is hard to forget."
"An understatement, but true none-the-less," Brom said dryly. "When we were…separated, I couldn't find you. In the midst of all the turmoil, I stumbled into a small room. Nothing extraordinary in it—just crates and boxes—but out of curiosity, I rummaged around anyway. Fortune smiled upon me that hour, for I found what we had been looking for." Jeod suddenly looked shocked. "Once they were in my hands, I couldn't wait for you. At any second, I might have been discovered, and all would have been lost. I disguised myself best I could, fled the city and ran to the…" Brom hesitated and glanced at Eragon before saying, "ran to our friends. They stowed them in a vault, for safekeeping, and made me promise to care for whomever received them." Blaster's smile grew as he knew what Brom was talking about. "Until the day when my skills would be needed, I had to disappear. No one could know I was alive—not even you—though it grieved me to pain you unnecessarily. So, I went north and hid in Carvahall."
Eragon's jaw clenched, and Blaster knew he was getting infuriated with Brom's successful attempts to leave him in the dark.
Jeod frowned, then asked, "Then our…friends knew that you were alive all along?"
"Yes"
"I suppose the ruse was unavoidable, though I wish they had told me," Jeod sighed. "Isn't Carvahall farther north, on the other side of the Spine?" Brom inclined his head. For the first time, Jeod inspected Eragon and Blaster. His grey eyes tried to take in every detail. He finally raised an eyebrow and said, "I assume, then, that you are fulfilling your duty."
Brom shook his head. "No, it's not that simple. They were stolen a while ago—or at least that's what I presume, for I haven't received word from our friends, and I suspect their messengers were waylaid—so I decided to find out what I could. Eragon and Blastbone happened to be traveling in the same direction. We have stayed together for some time now."
Jeod looked baffled. "But, if they haven't sent you any messages, how could you know that they were—"
Brom overrode him quickly. "Eragon's uncle was brutally killed by the Ra'zac. They burned his home and nearly caught him in the process. He deserves revenge. Blastbone was staying in Carvahall for a while and he is aware of what has happened. He desires justice. However, they have left us without a trail to follow, and we need help finding them."
"I see," Jeod said. "But why have you come here? I don't know where the Ra'zac might be hiding, and anyone who does wouldn't tell you."
Brom stood, reached into his robes, and pulled out the Ra'zac's flask. He tossed it to Jeod.
"Careful with that," Blaster warned. "There's Seithr oil in there, and it's not the good kind. The Ra'zac were carrying it. Key word being were. They lost it by the trail, and we happened to come across it. If we could have access to the shipping records here in Teirm, we can trace the Empire's purchases of the oil, which, in turn, should lead us to the Ra'zac."
Lines appeared on Jeod's face as he thought. A few moments later, he pointed to the bookshelves and said, "Do you see those? They are all records from my business. One business. You have gotten yourself into a project that could take months. There is another, greater problem. The records you seek are held in this castle, but only Brand, Risthart's administrator of trade, sees them on a regular basis. Traders such as myself aren't allowed to handle them. They fear that we will falsify the results, thus cheating the Empire of its precious taxes."
"I can deal with that when the time comes," Brom said. "But we need a few days of rest before we can think about proceeding."
Jeod smiled and said, "It seems that it is my turn to help you. My house is yours, of course. Do you have another name while you are here?"
"Yes," Brom said, "I'm Neal, and the boys are Evan and Brian."
"Eragon," Jeod said, thoughtfully. "You have a unique name. Few have ever been named after the first Rider. In my life, I've read about only three people who were called such." Eragon seemed startled at that comment, surprised Jeod knew the origin of his name. Brom turned to Eragon.
"Could you go check on the horses and make sure they're all right?" the old man asked. "I don't think I tied Snowfire to the ring tightly enough." Eragon shoved himself out of his chair and left the room slamming the door. After a few moments, Brom finally spoke. "Okay, we are able to talk freely now."
"What about him?" Jeod asked, gesturing to Blaster.
"Blaster is trustworthy," Brom replied. "I trust him with my life."
"Trusted me with some of your secrets," Blaster admitted. Jeod nodded. "So, what's so important that we have to leave Eragon in the dark?"
"Our mission in Gil'ead was to take back a couple of dragon eggs that had been stolen from Galbatorix's keep," Jeod said.
"It was our mission for the Varden, ordered by their leader, Ajihad," Brom added. "The two dragon eggs that I recovered after Jeod and I were separated were sapphire and silver."
"So, you stole back Saphira and Sara?" Blaster asked.
"They hatched?" Jeod asked, astonished.
"Yes, they have," Brom said. "Eragon and Blaster aren't only after the Ra'zac, they are under my care and training." He blew another smoke ring from his pipe. "What happened to you after Gil'ead?"
"I moved here to Teirm to become a merchant, and I've been doing that for almost eight years now," Jeod replied.
"I never expected you to become a merchant," Brom said, running his hand through his beard. "After all the time you spent in books. And finding the passageway in that manner! What made you take up trading instead of remaining a scholar?"
"After Gil'ead, I didn't have much taste for sitting in musty rooms and reading scrolls," Jeod said. "I decided to help Ajihad as best I could, but I am no warrior. My father was a merchant as well—you might remember that. He helped me get started. However, the bulk of my business is nothing more than a front to get goods to Surda."
"Yet it sounds like things aren't exactly going as planned," Blaster commented. "Especially if what we heard in the bar is anything to go by."
"Yes," Jeod replied, "none of the shipments have gotten through lately, and Tronjheim is running low on supplies. Somehow, the Empire, or at least I think it's them, has discovered those of us who have been helping to support Tronjheim. But I'm still not convinced that it's the Empire. No one sees any soldiers. I don't understand it. Perhaps Galbatorix hired mercenaries to harass us."
"A likely assumption," Blaster said.
"I heard you lost a ship recently," Brom said.
"The last one I owned," Jeod said, bitterly. "Every man on it was loyal and brave. I doubt I'll ever see them again…The only option I have left is to send caravans to Surda or Gil'ead—which I know won't get there, no matter how many guards I hire—or charter someone else's ship to carry the goods. But no one will take them now."
"How many merchants have been assisting you?" Blaster asked.
"Oh, a good number up and down the seaboard," Jeod said. "All of them have been plagued by the same troubles. I know what you are thinking; I've pondered it many a night myself, but I cannot bear the thought of a traitor with that much knowledge and power. If there is one, we're all in jeopardy. You should return to Tronjheim."
"And take Eragon there?" Brom interrupted. "They'd tear him apart. It's the worst place he could be right now. Maybe in a few months or, even better, a year. Can you imagine how the dwarves will react? And how about Blaster here? Everyone will be trying to influence them, especially Islanzadí. Eragon, Blaster, Saphira, and Sara won't be truly safe in Tronjheim until I at least get them through tuatha du orothrim."
"I could care for myself," Blaster said, "but I see your point."
"And I still have a feeling that they are in need of your power and wisdom," Jeod added.
"Wisdom?" Brom snorted. "I'm just what you said earlier—a crotchety old man."
"Many would disagree."
"Let them," Brom challenged. "I've no need to explain myself. No, Ajihad will have to get along without me. What I'm doing now is much more important. Yet, the prospect of a traitor raises troubling questions. I wonder if that's how the Empire knew where to be…" He trailed off.
"And I wonder why I haven't been contacted about this," Jeod said.
"Maybe they tried," Brom said. "But if there's a traitor…" He paused. "I have to send word to Ajihad. Do you have a messenger you can trust?"
"I think so," Jeod replied. "It depends on where he would have to go."
"I don't know," Brom said, racking his brain. "I've been isolated so long, my contacts have probably died or forgotten me. Could you send him to whoever receives your shipments?"
"Yes, but it'll be risky."
"What isn't these days?" Blaster deadpanned.
"How soon can he leave?" Brom asked.
"He can go in the morning," Jeod said. "I'll send him to Gil'ead. It will be faster. What can he take to convince Ajihad the message comes from you?"
"Here," Brom said, removing his ring, "give your man my ring. And tell him that if he loses it, I'll personally tear his liver out. It was given to me by the queen."
"Aren't you cheery," Jeod commented.
Brom grunted. The trio fell silent for a few seconds.
"We'd better go and meet up with Eragon," Blaster finally said. "He worries me when he's alone. Trouble seems to find him like a magnet."
"Are you surprised?" Jeod asked.
"Not really," Brom replied.
The trio stood up and went to the door, where Eragon was waiting.
Will they get access to the records? Will Eragon be kept in the dark? When will Blaster get a bead on where Char is? Find out soon in the next chapter of Free Riders.
As mentioned before, this story is following the book, often to the letter, until right around Brom's death scene. The plan is, from there, to have Blaster and Sara continue the direction of the story, but Brom and Eragon to go down another path. Needless to say, things could get interesting, and the updates might get restricted to one per week as the whole story deviates.