Diamond Cut Diamond
Chapter Three: Preferences
What is wrong with you?
Arya inwardly cursed herself. There is no reason to go around picking fights. Particularly with someone as powerful—and unbalanced as Murtagh.
Arya paced the small room. It was Galbatorix's most secure library, and it held all the records from when the dragon riders had ruled. The king hadn't gotten rid of them, and Arya, once again, wished she knew why. Sometimes, she wished she understood the late king better…his actions often made little sense. He couldn't have kept them in the interest of history—he had destroyed many accurate histories. Maybe nostalgia? Arya wasn't sure.
The elf returned to her window seat. Of all Uru'baen, it was probably one of the most peaceful places. The seat was in was a round tower-room that served as a library. One had to climb several flights of stairs and disable several enchanted barriers to get to the room, and it was chock-full of bookshelves. The only seating in the library was the window seat Arya now inhabited. She had been studying the records there since Eragon had first found the room, and she had reached the uneventful golden age of the riders.
She intended to read all of the records—both to satisfy her curiosity and to advise Nasuada on the exact workings of the previous order's style of government. The leader planned to implement as many as she could into the doctrine that was being laid down for the future generations of Alagaesia. Arya wasn't sure how much good a piece of paper marked with good intentions would be, but she had joined the committee that was writing it.
If the doctrine was ever finished (Arya was beginning to doubt the prospect) elections would take place. The obvious candidate was Nasuada, and Arya was fairly sure the woman would get her own vote. Jormundur had presented himself as a candidate, and Arya wondered idly whether he had previously informed Nasuada of the choice. There seemed to be no ill-feeling between the two. Trianna had also chosen to run, insane as the prospect seemed, Arya was sure the woman was wily enough to get a significant percentage of the votes.
If that scheme actually works…
Arya wasn't sure Nasuada's plan for vote-counting would be workable, but she admitted it was the most probable of the ideas that had been presented. Every person who wished to cast a vote would mark a ballot provided by the government of each town (that one had been fun to mandate…Arya and Eragon had been forced to fly to each city in Alagaesia and provide them with parchment, explain the rules, swear the counters to honesty, and argue with each and every leader that Nasuada's ideas were sane, if a little new-fangled)
Eragon had been appointed to hear and record the tallies from each city and make the addition that would determine Alagaesia's new leader.
For how long the term would be was still not decided. Nor was the amount of power that that leader would have, whether the court system was to be separated from the national government totally and left to the cities, or even be divided among areas not yet specified, and scores of other important issues.
"All important decisions..." mused Arya. "But in all honesty I'd rather be up here reading. How incredibly selfish."
Arya felt the familiar stab of guilt. "Guilt has hounded me for too long," she thought. "I've been guilty since mother banished me…but what wrong have I done?"
The list presented itself, as always.
"I did not forgive my mother, I did not save Faolin and Glenwing…I let Faolin die without ever telling him how I felt. I lived and they died. I let myself be captured, I let all sorts of indignities come to me in Gil'ead, I broke Eragon's heart, I lived through so many battles and so many others did not. I lived. Why did I live?
"Because you are an elf, you are skilled in magic and swordplay, because you have sense enough to keep yourself alive, because you have experience!
"And does that make me more worthy of life than the young people, not hardened or jaded, ready for life, who fell?"
And Arya could never answer the question. She shook herself. "Nothing is accomplished by this," she said, and dove back into her reading.
Arya's sharp hearing picked up the sound of footsteps before the intruder reached the tower. She was surprised, the elf had thought this was her refuge. She reached out curiously.
"Not again…"
Arya foolishly looked around for an escape route. The elf scolded herself. "What are you, a child?"
Murtagh pulled open the door and Arya detected exasperation in his face.
She nodded in greeting and returned to her book. Murtagh returned the nod curtly and looked for something on the shelves. Selecting a book, he made to leave.
"You can't take that out of here," said Arya. Her response had been knee-jerk, she guarded the cache of history jealously.
Murtagh sighed and replaced the book. "Can I not breathe without you criticizing me, elf?"
"I simply wish to preserve the past," said Arya. "I do not want the books to get lost or stolen."
"Of course, no one would want to lose an entire library of the Riders' praise of themselves," replied Murtagh dryly.
"Praise you seem interested in," countered Arya.
"A response for everything," said Murtagh grimly. "Good day, elf, I hope my leaving does not annoy you as much as my other actions have."
And he was gone, Arya glaring at the door.
"My name is Arya," she aloud, too annoyed to even think herself foolish.
"The idiot. These books should be treated with respect—as should I. But he cares for no one but himself."
Arya immersed herself in her reading again. Deep down, however, lurked a competitive spirit that was nettled. That could have been a highly decent verbal sparring match…
Apparently the library tower was the place to be that day, for about an hour after Murtagh had taken his leave, Eragon entered. Arya straightened from her relaxed pose, curled like a cat on the seat.
"May the—" he began in the Ancient Language. Arya waved her hand.
"Enough formalities, Eragon. We have traveled together, killed together, and grieved together. I think we may greet each other as friends. Besides, I am tired of politic politeness."
Eragon nodded. "Aye. It becomes wearisome, does it not?"
"Very…that is why I have escaped here," said Arya, closed her book, making a mental note of where she had been.
"Sometimes I think the meetings will give me a more painful death than Galbatorix could have," said Eragon, smiling slightly.
Arya's mind divided itself between annoyance with his immaturity and agreement.
"How is your reading going?" Eragon asked, after a pause just slightly too long to be natural.
"Quite well, I'm enjoying it. The riders had a near-perfect system…with only one fatal flaw," said Arya.
"Oh?" asked Eragon, raising an eyebrow.
"There was too much power divided between too few individuals. It was too easy for one to take control."
Eragon nodded in acknowledgment. "And now we must try to avoid that flaw—and so many others."
"Nasuada's plans are good though. She has the mind of a leader."
"I intend to vote for her," said Eragon. "Do you?"
A smile lifted Arya's lips, and Eragon looked as if he had been rewarded. "We have all been warned not to speak of our choices."
Eragon shrugged, appearing only slightly abashed. "We are in the highest tower, I doubt anyone is listening. You do not have to answer, and my vote is fairly obvious."
"Why so? Nasuada released you from your oaths of fealty," countered Arya.
"I have served under her and know her. I realize she is responsible, and I agree with her on most points," said Eragon simply.
Arya nodded again and added "I, too, intend to cast my vote for Nasuada. She seems the most capable."
"Better than Trianna, anyway," said Eragon with a grimace. "Imagine her in control."
"She reminds me of the snake she wears,' said Arya. "But there are other candidates…though I know little of them. There is an official from teirm, yes? And Dras'leona and Gil'ead?"
Eragon nodded. "And several officials from Uru'baen. I'm worried people will vote for those who seem familiar. Nasuada may be viewed as a dangerous rebel."
"That she was, but she brought about good change—already corruption is being stamped out. Nasuada has a good chance, especially among the more radical population."
"Most that is in Surda—and the Surdans have no part in our elections," said Eragon.
"You yourself said there is much dissatisfaction in the former Empire. We shall see what it breeds," replied Arya.
Eragon acknowledged her point, then looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set.
"I must go, and if I am correct, so must you. We are to attend yet another meeting."
Arya smiled wryly. "Come, let us make haste. Though I am loathe to leave my books."
"Would you rather the books than the people?" queried Eragon as they began their descent.
Arya tilted her head to the side, in a manner she knew was unmistakably avian. "It depends on the day," she said.
I can identify with Arya sometimes…
She is so hard to keep in character. Feedback please!
Sorry for shortness!
