Chapter 11

'This is probably the most idiotic thing he's made me do yet,' Murtagh told Thorn, kicking aside a chair that was blocking his way and entering the room. After ordering Murtagh and Thorn to stay at Geoulnaresque for two days in case Sared showed up, Galbatorix was now making the Rider search the entire palace for any traces of Seleara, now that Sared wasn't an obstacle. The fact that his own daughter had been kidnapped didn't seem to concern the king. After almost two days, Murtagh and Thorn didn't really have a chance of catching up with Eragon and Saphira. They could have been anywhere by now. Yet Galbatorix insisted that finding the flower of immortality was more important than finding Medea. And Murtagh had no choice but to obey.

Thorn was waiting outside, communicating with his Rider mentally to keep him company and offer suggestions. So far, Murtagh had searched every room in the palace that hadn't been destroyed, finding nothing. 'We don't even know that it's in the palace,' he continued. 'Or that it exists.'

'I think it does,' Thorn replied pensively. 'Sared went back inside, risking his life – what would be more worth that than the flower of immortality? Why else would he go back?'

'Because he wanted to escape unnoticed in case he thought I'd kill him once we were outside,' Murtagh argued stubbornly, opening an old wooden chest in the corner of the room and throwing out its contents: a stack of pieces of paper and parchment, some items of clothing and small bags full of herbs. The clothes resembled the ones that Sared usually wore, but they looked older than the prince himself – the colours were faded and the material was torn in several places. 'But if you're right and he's taken Seleara, why do I have to search the whole damn palace for it?'

'Maybe Galbatorix wants to make sure it's not here? He might be hoping that Sared didn't have time to get it.'

Murtagh kicked some of Sared's belongings aside in frustration, causing one of the pieces of parchment to unravel. Glancing at it automatically, Murtagh noticed that it was a letter addressed to Sared, and picked it up curiously. The ink had faded in places, making the general meaning of the letter hard to understand, but it was the date at the bottom which caught Murtagh's attention. The letter was sent forty-five years ago.

Murtagh frowned, rereading the date to make sure he wasn't mistaken. Sared couldn't possibly be that old – he looked like he was barely older than Murtagh. Intrigued, the Rider unravelled the other pieces of parchment one by one, finding that all of them were letters addressed to Sared. 'Thorn?' he called after a while.

'Yes?'

'I found a stack of letters addressed to Sared. Want to know when the first one was sent?'

'When?'

'A hundred and sixty years ago.'

Medea lay on her stomach on the damp grass next to Eragon, plucking blades of grass out of the ground nervously. For the past two days, they had been hiding in a deep valley some distance away from Geoulnaresque. Eragon assured Medea that no one from the palace would be able to see them, as they were too far away from the palace for the human eye to notice them. However, Saphira's heightened vision would supposedly enable her to see the palace perfectly. When Thorn and Murtagh left Geoulnaresque, they would most likely head in the direction of the valley, as this was the shortest way back to Uru'baen. Then, Saphira and Eragon would attempt to intercept them. It seemed like a good plan, but Medea still couldn't shake off an odd feeling of anxiety.

For the past two nights, Sared haunted her dreams. His mouth fixed in a smirk, his cold eyes staring her down, his almost unnaturally strong hands gripping her shoulders. The dreams felt so real that they made her wake up in the middle of the night, gasping, looking around wildly. Then she lay flat on her back for the remainder of the night, not daring to move in case Sared showed up and she wouldn't be able to see him.

Despite Eragon's guess that Sared had died when Geoulnaresque was destroyed, as Saphira did not see him exit the palace like everyone else, for some reason Medea had a feeling that he was still alive, somewhere. And nothing frightened her more than the thought that eventually, he could find her again.

'What are you thinking?' Eragon asked suddenly.

'Just worrying about you,' Medea replied without meeting his eye. She was too embarrassed to tell him the truth, seeing as he had done his best to persuade her that with him and Saphira around, Sared was no threat to her. She didn't want him to think that she was a coward. But it was also true that she was worried about him and Saphira – Thorn and Murtagh had proved to be stronger than them the last time they met, so they probably had a good chance of defeating Saphira and Eragon again.

The Rider smiled slightly. 'Why?'

'Because you told me that they were stronger, and more experienced, and I was thinking, what if they hurt you or worse, and it will be all my fault, and... stop laughing at me!' she said indignantly, shoving Eragon.

'You have a leaf in your hair and you look like a child when you're worried, so excuse me if I don't take you seriously,' he chortled, watching with amusement as she shook her head, trying to get rid of the leaf. Reaching out, he plucked it out of her hair. 'Saphira and I will be fine,' he said quietly. 'I don't want you to worry about us.'

Medea smiled. 'But you know I will, don't you?'

Eragon rolled his eyes. 'Yes. I know you will.'

'Those letters were probably addressed to Sared's ancestors,' Murtagh told Thorn, leaning over the railing of the veranda. Thorn was sprawled out outside it, squinting at his Rider lazily. The heat was making him sleepy.

'And all of them were called Sared,' the dragon replied sarcastically.

'I know what you're getting at,' Murtagh said in a bored tone. 'But this doesn't prove that Seleara exists. For all we know, all of his ancestors did have the same name as him. Maybe it's customary in their culture.'

'Or maybe he's over a hundred and sixty years old, and all those letters were addressed to him. Why would he keep letters that weren't his?'

'Thorn, it doesn't matter to us,' Murtagh said through his teeth. 'Even if Seleara existed, would you really want HIM to have it?' He knew that Thorn would understand that he was talking about Galbatorix. 'He would live forever, he would be invincible – and we would never be free!'

Thorn was silent for a few moments. All around them, the palace servants were scurrying to and fro, packing up their belongings. Every time they passed the Rider and the dragon, they would glance at them warily and pick up pace; Murtagh and Thorn barely noticed them, oblivious to what was going on around them. 'He'll make us find Sared anyway,' the dragon finally said. 'When we tell him that we didn't find Seleara in the palace, he'll think that Sared has it.'

'Majesty, we didn't find any traces of Seleara,' Murtagh said, watching Galbatorix's face for signs of displeasure. The King, however, displayed no emotions. But then, the clarity of the image provided by scrying was far from perfect, so he couldn't be sure.

He didn't mention the letters. He reckoned that the fewer reasons Galbatorix had to believe that Seleara existed, the more likely he would be to give up pursuing it. It was a huge assumption, but Murtagh had to try.

'What are you talking about, Murtagh?' Galbatorix asked, raising his eyebrows.

'Sir, you ordered me to search the palace...'

'I gave no such orders,' Galbatorix interrupted quickly. 'I know that Prince Sared told you that Seleara was not in his possession. Why would I distrust his word?' Without giving Murtagh a chance to respond, he continued, 'I want you to return to the palace. Prince Sared is already here – he was forced to flee and seek my protection after you attacked him in his own palace. We need to discuss your behaviour, Murtagh. It has... displeased me greatly.'

Galbatorix's face dissolved for a moment, replaced by the smug face of Sared. He was there, right next to Galbatorix. Now Murtagh understood why Galbatorix was acting this way: he didn't want Sared to know that he ordered Murtagh to search Geoulnaresque for Seleara.

And Sared was alive. Sared was at Uru'baen, feeding Galbatorix lies, causing trouble for Murtagh and Thorn.

In that moment, Murtagh didn't know whom he hated more: Galbatorix or Sared.

A.N.: My exams are finally over! Which means I have more time to write, so hopefully I'll update more often during the summer holidays (if I can hide from my parents with a laptop, because according to them, I am killing my eyes with all this sitting in front of a computer). Anyway, thank you very much for all the reviews for the previous chapter, and hope you like this one!