Summoning Japan to Alagaësia

by sijodtovtkhbhgfvbvnvn

Japan is transferred to the world of Alagaësia just before the start of Eragon. Loosely based on the same premise as Nihonkoku Shoukan.

14. Questions and Answers

Unfortunately not much goes on in this chapter. I originally had intended for more stuff to happen, but the chapter became too long (especially by Wattpad standards) so some of the eventful stuff will have to be carried over to the next chapter.

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Questions and Answers

"You foolish boy!" Brom scolded him after they had reconvened with Saphira, a safe distance from Teirm.

"I didn't know they weren't enemies," squawked Eragon.

"And if they were, that doesn't make what you did any less foolish! When encountering possible enemies, one needs to be careful. You need to take stock of the situation, take stock of your opponent, and consider his intentions. The sword should only be drawn as a last resort, when all other options have been exhausted, for you cannot afford to raise the stakes to a matter of life and death every time you meet someone suspicious. And if it got to that point, you should have just cut him down the moment you got your sword out, and not given them a chance to react at all by flaunting Zar'roc and openly declaring your intentions!"

"I understand," Eragon said ashamedly.

"You will stay out here," he told Eragon after berating him for a little longer. "We can't be sure the plague hasn't already touched us, but here in the woods is infinitely safer than in the city. If worse comes to worst, I will have to attempt healing."

"You really can heal it?" Eragon murmured.

"If Saphira offers to share her energy, I probably can," confirmed Brom, eyeing Saphira. She released a puff of hot air from her snout, and Brom ignored the memories that the scene reminded him of. "I will ask Jeod about the shipping records and the situation in the city. We can start planning by nightfall. If possible, try to hunt and forage for food. I had counted on us replenishing our provisions in Teirm, but nothing has gone according to plan today."

"I will hunt," said Eragon.

"Just don't do it close to Teirm. The city is tainted."

"The barbarian I hurt," Eragon began uncertainly, "Was that a barbarian woman?"

"It was," said Brom tersely. Let his son's guilty conscience be a lesson for him.

Eragon looked abashedly to the ground. "So those two barbarians we met aren't behind the plague?" he asked after a while. "Where are the barbarians that did the wicked deed?"

"Why do you think it was barbarians that were behind this, Eragon?" Brom asked.

Eragon looked at him with disbelief. "Because barbarians hate us who live in the Empire. They seek our suffering!"

Brom raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"

"Why is this even a question?" asked Eragon incredulously. "Just look at what they did to Teirm! Is that not proof enough?"

Brom opened his mouth, then closed it again. He realized they were going nowhere with this conversation, and he had places to be. Standing up, he said, "We will discuss this another time. For now, I only ask that you not rush into battle with the first barbarian you see. Being able to avert a threat without bloodshed is a laudable skill, and one you would be wise to pick up."

Eragon nodded. "If I see them, I will wait for them to make their intentions clear."

"Good!" said Brom. "I will be going back now. If the gates have closed and I haven't returned, do not fret. At most, I will be back tomorrow."

Eragon nodded. "I will have fresh game for us when you return."

Brom marched through the frosty grass, vapor forming every time he exhaled. There was even occasional snow on the ground thereabouts. An unusually cold winter for this part of the world, where the mild winds of the ocean thawed the coastline.

The skies were already starting to darken as he approached Teirm for the second time of the day. He guardedly walked the deathlike streets. Having used magic out in the open, on top of Jeod uttering his name, he needed to be extra careful. Arriving at the doorstep, he knocked.

The door opened, and he was ushered in by Jeod. "It is good to see you again, old man," Jeod said, a grin on his face. He looked slightly haggard, dressed in a fine tunic and hose.

Brom grinned back. "It is good to see you too. Do you have a place where we can talk safely?"

"I think one of the rooms in the house will have to do," said Jeod. "Normally I would have suggested my office in Risthart's citadel, but that would be ill-advised right now."

"Lead the way," offered Brom.

As they walked, Brom's eyes scanned the interior of the house, appreciating the luxurious ornamentation. It was a refreshing view after his past decades of spartan living. To think Jeod had become such a well-endowed merchant. "Have you had supper yet?" Jeod asked, opening the door to one of the rooms.

"Not yet," answered Brom as he stepped inside. Bookshelves covered the walls, along with a flaming fireplace and an oval writing desk.

"Neither have I," said Jeod. "With my butler gone, Tsubasa the nihonjin has been preparing the meals, but after today…" He grimaced. "Helen, my wife, has grudgingly agreed to cook up a stew. Do you wish to dine with us?"

Broom shook his head. "I dine with Eragon." They sat down at the desk, where two cut-crystal goblets of wine had already been prepared for nourishment.

"Very well. Now, tell me what happened to you after Morzan and his dragon crashed down on us!"

"Can you be sure that we will not be overheard?"

"I can't," admitted Jeod. "But I trust the nihonjin."

"And your wife?"

Jeod frowned. "Let's just speak quietly."

With some struggle, Brom reached for the magic, muttering the spell that would prevent any sounds they made from leaving the room, wishing he did not have to. Each grasping of the power was harder than the last. "Now they won't hear us," he announced.

And Brom regaled him with the tale of the battle, his discovery of the egg, and his escape back to the Varden and the treaty he helped mediate.

"And then I went north and hid in Carvahall," he finished.

Jeod sighed. "I suppose the ruse was unavoidable, though I wish they had told me. Your companion, he is the next Rider, isn't he?"

"He is," answered Brom, and then voiced something that had plagued him for some time: "Something must have befallen the ambassador, for her to send the egg away in such a manner. Have you heard any words from the Varden?"

"No," said Jeod. "Not for many months, not that they would share such deep secrets with me."

"I see," said Brom gravely. "Well, let us hope that she is safe and sound. The Varden cannot afford the misfortune of otherwise." Then he told Jeod of the reason they were in Teirm.

"The plague might prove a perverse blessing for your task," considered Jeod. "The city watch is in shambles, I believe. You might be able to sneak into the castle, into the room where the records are kept, and out again without any consequence. I would be willing to help you in this endeavor."

"We should make our move as soon as possible, then, before the watch recovers," said Brom. "Besides, the sooner Eragon and I leave this plague-infested city behind us, the better."

"If I hadn't known you better, I would have taken offense," said Jeod with a bitter smile. "You really haven't changed at all, old man."

Brom wanted to retort, but with Jeod's close brush with death and still poor health, any quips on account of his graying hair seemed unseemly. "Indeed, I will be old forever."

Jeod sighed. "And how many men would not go to the ends of the world for that which you were bestowed." Then his expression grew more serious. "I think tomorrow I should be well enough to partake in your enterprise. Perhaps we can meet at the eastern square, at sundown. Will Eragon join us?"

"I would not be able to stop the boy," muttered Brom.

Jeod frowned slightly. "So long as he does not get in the vicinity of my house," he said.

"He won't," assured Brom. "The young fool has learned his lesson, or so I hope."

Jeod nodded, before leaning closer. "The plague was unleashed by a Shade," he said.

Brom's eyes widened. "There was a Shade here?" he asked, surprised. Of all the things, he had not expected a Shade.

Jeod's face seemed to grow paler even as he spoke, and his eyes grew clouded. "Was it twelve days ago?" he murmured. "I was on my way to meet a fellow Eyes, and there he was. Maroon eyes, crimson hair. The other Eyes had already fallen by his hand, and then he walked toward me like a nightmare."

Despite being the storyteller, Brom was the one captured; he did not speak.

"He asked if I liked cats, and then said my silence was what provoked him to unleash the plague. Suddenly the doors of the wagons that accompanied him opened, and out streamed a black mass of black rats. They moved toward Teirm. And then the Shade just left."

"And this was outside the city? Where did this happen?" prodded Brom.

"More than a mile to the southeast," responded Jeod, face still troubled.

"It must have been a harrowing encounter to say the least, but at least you survived it," said Brom. "And then the plague as well! This is starting to sound like one of my more fanciful tales."

Jeod smiled weakly. "Perhaps you need to refine your craft."

Brom was thoughtful. "So the rats do have something to do with it, just like in the lores." Not merely the fleas, as Ebrithil had insisted. "We need to inform the Varden."

"The plague has devastated our network of agents in Teirm," said Jeod. "It is still too early to know which of our messengers have survived."

"Well, get on with it as soon as that has been cleared up," said Brom. "A Shade in the Empire… we need to use this to our advantage."

Jeod seemed dismayed. "A Shade is slaying our race by the thousands, and all you can think about is how this will favor the Varden?" he questioned.

"The Shade is already there, and it will cause damage, as is the nature of Shades," Brom pointed out. "If there is nothing we can do about that, we might as well capitalize on it." The same goes for the plague.

Jeod looked like he had been slapped. "Everything for the Varden," he said. "Our livelihoods, our lives…"

"And all for a better future," finished Brom. Perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut. Jeod's brush with the Shade was still fresh in his mind, and Brom was not known for being tactful with words, except when it really mattered.

"I suppose it is all worth it," Jeod said with an exhausted expression.

"The Shade will not last forever," encouraged Brom. "They are as foolhardy as they are powerful, with the foresight of a drunk woodsman. Sooner or later it will end up a casualty of its own destruction."

"Sooner, I would hope," sighed Jeod. "I apologize for my demeanor, my old friend. These have been trying times."

"It's no trouble," answered Brom.

"My business is crumbling," said Jeod. "Mine, and that of the other merchants that secretly aid the Varden. Our ships keep disappearing, and none of our shipments have gotten to Tronjheim. I fear the Varden is running low on supplies."

"The Empire!" grumbled Brom. "They must have found out, somehow."

Jeod sighed. "If that is true, then there is a traitor in our midst, a traitor with much knowledge and power. If there is one, we're all in jeopardy."

"These are trying times for us all," agreed Brom. "And with the plague, your prospects of sending supplies have diminished as it is. But all is not lost, for we are allied with the elves, and I have no doubt that they will redouble their efforts on their end to keep us supplied."

"Let us hope so," said Jeod with half-hearted conviction.

"Also, have the—what are they called, the Japarians?—have they demanded some form of restitution from us?" Will I be forced to defend someone's utterly foolish actions?

Jeod shook his head. "No. I have barely talked to them since the unfortunate event, but they didn't seem to be interested in compensation. And they call themselves nihonjin," he added.

So they were not like other barbarians, then, who elected to settle any possible feuds or ill-will with violence. It comported well with his earlier impressions; their demeanor, their composure evinced a lack of that primal ferociousness he had come to associate with the northern barbarians he had met back in the days. Even more, his hunch had told him they were unseasoned in the ways of battle. And from the brief glances in that hectic moment, by all accounts their garments were more intricate than those donned by the usual barbarians.

"How is it they were in your house?" asked Brom.

Jeod took a breath. "Over four months ago, a ship arrived at our port. It was large, larger than most ships I've seen, and its hull is flatter than the ones we make, and is colored orange. The ship had two masts with sails that are square and flat, like that of an unrolled scroll, and the color of dark orange. I recognized instantly that this ship was not built in the Empire."

"So that's what I saw," remarked Brom. "For a moment I had thought my eyes were playing tricks on me."

"It is quite a thing to behold," agreed Jeod. "Once the ship docked, they stepped outside. Over six dozen nihonjin, with an even greater number staying behind. Because they were distant foreigners speaking a completely foreign language, no one knew what to do, and so Lord Risthart left them be. I invited two of them into my estate to have an opportunity to learn more about them and their foreign lands."

Brom massaged his temples. "So we attacked your honored guests. I can see why we are sleeping out in the woods like brigands." He snorted.

"It was most unfortunate, what happened," said Jeod. "Why did Eragon attack them?"

"Because he heard whisperings that the plague was caused by barbarians," growled Brom. "And brilliant as he is, he absorbed every word as unadulterated truth and declared a feud on the barbarians."

Worry etched itself on Jeod's face. "There are such rumors? Of course…" he sighed. "Our distrust of foreigners runs deep, as Galbatorix extends his dogma throughout our lands."

"You speak of the claims of the Empire being the bearer of civilization, and everyone else being savages who hate us for being civilized?" asked Brom. Such tellings had become increasingly more common in Carvahall, being bolstered by those coming from the outside who were especially eager to preach such views.

"Yes."

"Is this affecting the people's disposition toward the Varden?" Brom asked.

"Yes," uttered Jeod.

Brom nodded gravely. "It is as I feared," he said. The king truly was sly. Instead of fighting the Varden head on, he was fighting the very virtues that were the foundations of the Varden's power. For now, people like Jeod and others were holding on. But in thirty years? Fifty years? The future was starting to look grim.

"We are all doing our best," Jeod said quietly. "But what if our best isn't enough?"

"We must fight to the end." For Saphira. Deciding he had nothing more to add to this line of discussion, he asked, "And how goes your scholarly pursuits? After all, you seem to have stumbled upon quite a treasure trove. Heslant himself would envy you for your chance to explore peoples from afar! Now, forgive an old man's curiosity, but what have you learned?"

"I have just begun," admitted Jeod.

"That is obvious," grunted Brom. "And what have you learned?"

Jeod leaned back in the chair. "I knew we were going to trudge into this topic eventually." His face lost its gloom as his lips upturned in a small smile. "Very well. So! They come from an island to the west, across the ocean. The island they call Nihon."

"Nihon," repeated Brom.

"Most here know it as Japan however. I must admit some confusion on this myself. Japan seems to be another name for their island, I've been told, but not one they're using themselves."

"And Japarian?" asked Brom.

Jeod's brows wrinkled. "A play on the words 'Japan' and 'barbarian', one must think. Sadly, it has become the common name to refer to them, apart from barbarian itself. As I've said, they call themselves nihonjin." Jeod sipped some wine. "They speak a completely different tongue, which they call nihongo. It sounds like nothing I've ever heard in my life, and I'm led to believe it has no connection to any of the known languages. Communicating with them has been challenging thus. I've been trying to teach them the common language."

Brom took some time to consider the implications. "They come from the west, you say. Have you asked them about Alalëa?"

"I have, and they do not recognize it. I also asked them if they had any knowledge of the elves. It turns out they are completely unaware of the existence of elves. Dwarves and Urgals as well. Also," Jeod continued, "magic is completely alien to them. As in, they didn't know it existed."

"Most people don't believe magic exists," Brom pointed out.

"Yes, but… the two living with us say that none among their fellow seafarers had known of its existence until they witnessed it first hand during a performance by Risthart's court magician. They claim magic itself does not exist in Nihon."

"They could be lying," posed Brom. "But with how rare magic is, especially in a land devoid of elves and dragons—I assume—it is not surprising few of them would know about magic. And even more if—" he paused. "They don't know the ancient language, do they?"

"No," said Jeod, blinking.

"There you have it, then," settled Brom. "Without the ancient language, it is next to impossible to work magic, and no way to teach it. It might well be the truth that there are no users of gramarye among their kin, with only rare instances of someone releasing wild magic."

"A sound conclusion," said Jeod. Then he asked, "Do you regard them as barbarians?"

"They're nothing like the barbarians I've encountered during my travels," reflected Brom. "My instincts tell me they are not ruled by violence. They did not respond to aggression with aggression, although that might have been out of fear." Yes, they had clearly been terrified. "Their garments seem elaborate, and not something weaved by barbarian hands. Do they trade with some other lands, from which they might have procured such finery?"

"I don't think so," answered Jeod. "They've never mentioned ties with some other country, and that makes sense. Alalëa to the west is forsaken land, and us to the east have never heard of them until now. And it is not just their exquisite clothes made of marvelous fabrics that they have. Their tea is spectacular, and they have paper."

Brom's eyebrows lifted at that. "They have access to this elven manufacture?"

"That is right!" said Jeod emphatically. "Despite them never having had any contacts with the elves. Their country seems to be brimming with skilled craftsmen."

"Country?" asked Brom, confused. "You said it was an island." He did not even bother to inform Jeod that papermaking was a skill reserved for the elves.

"They are an island and a country," said Jeod. "An island country!"

Jeod was misunderstanding the term "country", Brom realized. And he would not be the only one. For many people, it had become another word for any place that was inhabited, for any society that was outside the borders of actual countries like the Empire and Surda. It was a natural consequence of the concept itself not being native to humans. "Country" as a concept was originated by the elves, who meant it to describe an expansive territory all under the rule of a central authority with an organized government (he still cursed elven political philosophy, and its tendency to needlessly complicate mundane matters—how much he had hated those lessons!). The humans who had first settled in Palancar Valley had not been familiar with the concept, nor regarded their settlement or their homeland in such terms.

However…

"I know it is hard to believe," continued Jeod. "But Nihon is no mere tribe or a small island community. Look at their crafts."

"Tea can be concocted by tribespeople," said Brom. "Even finery can be tailored by a larger village." Jeod looked ready to object. "That ship," said Brom slowly. "Are you saying that ship is their make?"

"Why couldn't it be?" asked Jeod. "They are no mere tribe. Nihon is a kingdom. They have a king, who has a town as his seat of power!"

"A king…" muttered Brom. "Nothing like ours, I pray," he grumbled.

"From what I've heard, he is most benevolent," said Jeod.

Brom snorted. "That's what they always say. Our own king is even more beneficent, for he is the 'savior of our people'."

Jeod grimaced. "I know that you can't trust such claims."

"If they truly built that ship," said Brom, "then we are certainly dealing with something more than a small community of islanders. Do you realize what an undertaking that is, to build such a ship?"

"I do," said Jeod. "That ship is fairly large."

"Such ships weigh over a hundred tons!" exclaimed Brom. "Hundred! This one might well be over two hundred, from what I saw. That is almost five hundred thousand pounds! Do you realize the amount of resources, men, and skill that it takes to construct such colossal works? Not even Beirland could achieve that."

"A country could achieve that," said Jeod with a smug expression. "They also have coins of silver. A small community would have no need for a coinage system in their trading."

"Yes, yes, they are a small kingdom," said Brom impatiently. "What is the name of their king?"

"...I forgot," Jeod admitted.

"I wish to speak with them," said Brom without delay.

"What, now?" asked Jeod, surprised.

"I need to know more," said Brom without pause. "If they are a country, albeit a small one, that is very significant news. And one that can build such a huge ship?" Then it occurred to Brom. "Why are they here? Are they trying to establish ties with the Empire?"

"I believe they tried to, but Risthart sees fit to ignore their overtures," Jeod answered. "I cannot say if he has informed the king or not, but if he has, the king does not appear to be interested."

"If we could get them on our side," considered Brom. "Do you know anything about the forces they can muster?" Since they were an island, Brom did not have such expectations, but he had to get the question out of the way.

Jeod hesitated. "They told me they can't fight wars."

"It is as expected," said Brom. "Small as their realm is, they would be unfamiliar with war. Skirmishes would be their way of conflict, skirmishes and duels. I would have been immensely surprised if an island had a standing force. What they do have, it seems, are highly skilled craftsmen, quite a few workmen, and even some expertise in the arts of engineering. If they can build a craft a hundred tons in weight, imagine how many bows and arrows they could provide for the cause, not to mention shields. Have you told them about the Varden?"

"No," answered Jeod. "I have not told them much of anything about the Empire either."

"We are in need of allies and supporters," said Brom. "Every little counts. I know they aren't thrilled about my presence, but perhaps there is something you could do to convince them? I would be willing to part with a few of my coins if that would resolve the bad blood."

Jeod took a breath. "When I last saw them, Marie was still quite distressed about everything that's happened… I will ask if they wish to talk, but I might not prove successful. I'm guessing it could not wait for a few days?"

Brom shook his head frustratingly. "Eragon will lose patience if we stay for longer than is necessary for his task. If we manage to see the records tomorrow, I cannot explain to him why we should linger for longer!" He muttered a curse into his beard. "There is also the matter that other people in the city might have learned of my actual name, because you divulged it earlier, and this has increased the risks. We'll leave in two days at the latest."

Jeod nodded tiredly. "I wish you would stay for longer, friend. How I missed our discussions by the campfire. But I suppose we all have our duties to fulfill."

"I do as well," said Brom. "I haven't forgotten about the eagerness with which you asked me everything I knew about the elves, including the size of their chimneys! You were almost as persistent as Eragon is now." He continued, "So, will you ask the… nihonjin if they wish to talk to me?"

"I will," answered Jeod. "But… there is one last thing I want to mention before I do, so this isn't sprung on you during our talks with them, should they even accept." He appeared chary for a moment, then said, "They cured my plague."

A palpable silence reigned. "Pardon me?" said Brom. "You told me they were unfamiliar with magic."

"They didn't use magic!" asserted Jeod. "They used a remedy."

Brom eyed him skeptically. "It didn't seem like the black sickness had addled your brain," he noted.

"I know it sounds preposterous, but bear with me!" insisted Jeod. "They had a needle attached to something that looked like glass but wasn't, and they stuck it in my arms regularly, for several days. I was near my death before they began their ministrations."

"That doesn't mean your recovery had anything to do with their practices," countered Brom. "The elves have expounded on this fallacy."

"They also used their cures on themselves, some bead-like object they swallowed. They told me it was crafted by a healer's guild. It was offered to Helen as well, and the plague hasn't caught any of them, despite them having stayed close to me. Don't you find that the least strange?"

"…not one of them has fallen sick. Curious, is it not?"

"A remedy has never been found," said Brom. "Not even by the elves."

"It is impossible, and yet… I recovered, and my wife and guests escaped its reach entirely," said Jeod quietly.

Brom nodded. "I will consider what you said. Now, will you ask them?"

"I will try."

Realizing this may be the last time they talked in private, Brom added: "And remember to inform the Varden of all this if you can get ahold of your messenger."

Jeod nodded. "Please wait here." He rose from his chair and left the room, closing the door behind him.

As Brom waited, he thought over how he should approach this. Revealing the existence of the Varden and his role in it upfront would be too risky, at least during a first meeting. Besides, how much would they be able to communicate? Jeod had said they did not speak the common tongue where they came from, and had only had a few months to acquire it. They had not seemed fluent in it at all during their brief meeting.

These outlanders… he could not deny harboring some curiosity toward them. How different would their culture, practices, and customs be? These could vary considerably between different peoples, as he had learned from his time with the elves and the dwarves. But these present outlanders were humans, so they would be similar on a fundamental level. After all these years spent consociating with other races, he still preferred dealing with his own kind over the dwarves, and especially the elves.

Minutes passed before the door opened and Jeod walked in. Behind him stood a young man, Tsubasa if Brom remembered correctly. He seemed overly cautious, even skittish, and he hesitated at the doorstep. Then he stepped in, eyes on the floor.

Jeod gestured to Brom. "Tsubasa, this is Brom, an old friend of mine," introduced Jeod. "Brom, this is Tsubasa, an envoy from the country of Nihon and a honored guest of my estate."

"Well met, Tsubasa of Nihon," greeted Brom. He extended his hand for a handshake, slowly walking up to him, but Tsubasa answered with a short bow of his upper torso. "Greetings," he said feebly. The accent was thick, and Brom had thought it unrecognizable. But now that he reflected on it, there was something in the accent that he found familiar.

"Understandably, Marie could not come along," Jeod informed.

"Leave Marie," Tsubasa said falteringly as he met Brom in the eyes. He seemed to be gathering his courage, before uttering, "You, leave her."

"Of course," said Brom amicably, guessing the purport of Tsubasa's words. "I extend my deepest apologies for our transgressions and for the harm inflicted on—"should he say "your ward?" Or were they married? Jeod had not indicated either. "—Marie," he finished.

Tsubasa did not immediately respond as he seemed to be pondering Brom's words.

"He says he is sorry for attacking Marie," Jeod told Tsubasa.

A look of realization came over Tsubasa's face. "I will tell Marie. That you say apologies," he answered.

"I thank you for not rejecting my apology outright," said Brom. As they spoke, he had gotten a closer look at the young man. Indeed, his garments were skillfully embroidered, and the fabric itself was of remarkable quality. Specks of dried blood stained his attire where his abdomen was, no doubt from when Marie had pushed him against the wall, but otherwise the garb was quite clean. The man did not have the build of a farmer; his skin was too smooth, his hands too uncalloused. But neither was he rotund like the highborn and the wealthy were wont to be.

"Marie decides if she accept your apologies," continued Tsubasa. He might not be her guardian, then, thought Brom. His accent, where have I heard it before? It reminds me of the desert… Ajihad! he realized. The accents of the wandering tribes shared some resemblance with that of Tsubasa's, although it was not similar enough that anyone would immediately make the connection. In all likelihood, whatever similarity that existed was nothing but a fluke.

"I hope she does," responded Brom. He decided to keep to simple words and phrases, to make sure he would be understood. "I'm willing to pay coins"—he fished for a crown in his bag, which he held up for emphasis—"if I can earn her forgiveness that way."

Tsubasa nodded, and Brom could tell he was starting to feel more at ease, though he was still somewhat nervous. "I will tell her later. If she accepts, you pay her how much?"

"Are you two not married?" Brom could not help but ask. Why else would he be paying her, rather than Tsubasa?

Tsubasa's eyes widened. "N-no," he said, quickly shaking his head, eyes on the floor. "She's a… friend," he finished hesitantly.

Brom was starting to believe the man was naturally timid. Regardless, his answer surprised Brom slightly, as that meant Marie was living here without supervision.

"I see," Brom said unperturbed. He had lived with the elves after all, so the idea did not catch him off-balance, and even among his kind it was not wholly unheard of. "Well, I would offer her twenty crowns. I will be gone in two days, so perhaps we could settle this before then?"

"I… think it is possible," replied Tsubasa.

"That is good," said Brom. "Now, how about we take a seat? I am curious about Nihon and would like to learn some more."

The two sat down at the desk, while Jeod offered to bring some water for Tsubasa, who not only declined the offer for wine, but also wished for the water to be served cold. "The water from our ship" he had said.

"Do you have a question?" asked Tsubasa cautiously, glancing at where Brom's sword hung. He carried himself with the ease of someone about to receive his writ of execution.

"I have quite a few questions," answered Brom. "To start, this Nihon, is it a country, a kingdom? Have Jeod taught you what a country is?"

"I think so," said Tsubasa uneasily. "A country is a place, where something rules people."

"You mean where someone rules the people," Brom gently offered, as Jeod returned with a glass for Tsubasa.

But Tsubasa shook his head. "A country is too large," he said. "The rule is a… number of people who… together are something more. They create law. People follow law. And they rule people that way. And even more…" he trailed off.

"A government," said Brom once he realized what Tsubasa had meant. Already he knows the meaning of the word better than most Imperials! "I'm impressed how much you remember of what Jeod taught you. You are quite clever, Tsubasa."

"I didn't teach him the concept of government," Jeod remarked, now also sitting. "They must have a similar word and idea in their language."

"That is a complex word," mumbled Brom. "We only acquired the concept from the elves."

Jeod chuckled. "And yet Nihon would seem to have such a concept themselves!"

Brom resisted the urge to snort. "So Nihon is a country?" he asked again. If they have a government…

"Yes," answered Tsubasa. "Island country." Despite his nervousness, the man seemed to possess a certain refinement to his manners, a high degree of self-discipline that matched a member of the gentry. It was evident merely from the way he imbibed his water; with deliberation and restraint that would not be expected of most peasants. And him Eragon named a savage barbarian? His son was duller than he had thought.

"What is the name of your king?" asked Brom.

"Naruhito," replied Tsubasa.

"King Naruhito," enunciated Brom. He lifted his glass. "Let us toast once to his name." He was not sure whether Tsubasa would grasp this particular custom, but he did, and Jeod joined them as glasses clinked. "May his rule be long and fortuitous." He took a sip of the now lukewarm wine.

Tsubasa did not seem loath to pay tribute to his king, so Brom surmised that he did not object to his rule, or was concealing his scruples. His instincts told him it was the former. "Bunsye," Tsubasa said quietly as he drank.

"So, are you here on his behest?" asked Brom. "Did King Naruhito send you here to seek ties with the Empire, the country we are in right now?"

"Government send us here," said Tsubasa. "Yes, we seek ties with the Empire."

"From what I've heard, your overtures—sorry, your attempts have not been successful."

"We failed," said Tsubasa. "But we learn your language, so is good."

"I understand your frustration with your lack of success," started Brom. "And I understand you can't return home to your king empty-handed, that he might not accept you back before you have succeeded in your task."

"King Naruhito is not… person to accept," expressed Tsubasa.

"He won't accept you back?" asked Jeod. "I'm sorry for you, Tsubasa, and for Marie. You did the best you could, but the Empire—" he stopped himself.

"There might still be some options," suggested Brom, seeing the opening. "Jeod, could you bring a map?"

"There is one right here in the study," said Jeod. "Just a moment… here it is!" He unfolded the map best he could on the desk, careful not to spill the beverages. Then they moved the candles closer, for the sun was now well beyond the horizon and one could scarcely see the manuscriptions.

"What I suggest," said Brom as he motioned his hand over the map, "is to seek ties with the country to the south, the country of Surda." He pointed to it with a finger. "They are a wealthy country, and I think would be more than happy to establish ties with Nihon."

Tsubasa looked from Brom to Jeod. "How is ties between the Empire and Surda?"

"Poor," admitted Jeod. "Things are tense between us two."

Brom had a sinking feeling, and he blasted Jeod in his mind. "You don't wish to seek ties with Surda because of that?"

"No, is fine," said Tsubasa. "I just wonder. And Surda language. Is it very different from Teirm language?"

"No, we speak the same language," said Brom. "All humans do. Well, not Nihon, I suppose."

Tsubasa had a skeptical expression. "Surda is far from Teirm," he said. "And different country. But you say same language?"

"Yes, yes," said Brom. He certainly is thorough. "Everyone in the Empire and Surda speaks the common language. What skill you have gained in the common language you can also use in Surda." He pointed and said, "This is Aberon, the capital and largest city in Surda. You can't get there by ship. But"—and he pointed to another city—"you can get to Dauth here. And there is also Reavstone here, where you can also sail to." Dark as it was, he wondered whether Tsubasa could make out the markings.

"And Surda king, is King Orrin?" asked Tsubasa.

"Yes, King Orrin," replied Jeod. "King Orrin of the House of Langfeld."

"Interesting," said Tsubasa.

"Perhaps you would have more luck in Surda?" pressed Brom. "Sailing there would take less than two weeks for you. I'm sure Jeod would not mind offering you this map to help you on your journey."

"Of course not," added Jeod. "This map is yours, Tsubasa, if you'd like it."

"Okay. Thank you," said Tsubasa awkwardly. "I will tell other nihonjin of Surda, your words."

"You will be sailing there, then?" asked Brom.

Tsubasa shook his head. "Government decide, if they should decide."

Brom tried to absorb his words. "But if your efforts here failed, why not simply change course for the south? Pardon my curiosity, but if you have no hopes of fostering ties with the Empire, what would you lose by shifting your efforts to Surda? At least there you might yet have the chance to establish ties with a country of Alagaësia."

Tsubasa shrugged. "Government decide to decide if we should."

"So you must first sail back to Nihon, to request their permission before you can go on to Surda?" Brom asked, almost in disbelief.

"Hard to explain," said Tsubasa. He seemed to consider the right words. "Government first decide, if it should decide. If it decide to decide, then government can decide if we can seek ties with Surda."

Brom could not help it; he was at a loss for words. Their talks had been nothing as expected. If there was one thing he could appreciate about other humans, it was their way of taking swift and decisive actions, without being burdened by the weight of previous decisions. Humans adapted quickly to changing events, would seize the opportunity, and recognized that a decision was only what made the best sense under the circumstances, something that could be nimbly adjusted or disregarded. Especially in contingencies such as those faced by the nihonjin.

Why, then, did he feel as though he were back in Tronjheim, negotiating with Hrothgar's retinue? The dwarves were a race slow to reach decisions, and yet once a decision had been reached, it was set in stone. And therefore, a race slow to change. But even dwarves recognized the shifting of stones.

Their allies to the north were slower still.

"Tsubasa, are you saying that your government must first decide whether to enter deliberations on the matter of sending your envoys to Surda?" asked Jeod confusedly.

Tsubasa took a while to answer, undoubtedly working to understand Jeod's convoluted phrase. "Yes, government decide whether to consider. If it decides yes, then it can consider."

"And how long would that take?" asked Brom, struggling to maintain his mask of patience.

"Hard to guess," responded Tsubasa. "If fast, four years. Maybe."

"That is fast?!" Brom exclaimed, unable to stop himself. Their envoys were already here! It was simply a matter of sailing southward, rather than tarry in a city where no success awaited their diplomatic endeavors. Yet not only did the decision rest with their king, it would take him at least four years to reach it? Their king had to be quite advanced in his years, not to mention utterly dimwitted. Did they perhaps have an intransigent council, one that had been bestowed too much power?

"Yes, fast," said Tsubasa, sounding almost amused behind the nervousness. "Are you from Surda?" he asked. "You want us go there, very much."

"No, although I wish. No, I hail from a village in the north. I am simply concerned for your sake," Brom said smoothly. "It seemed to me Surda would prove your best option for your plight."

"Thank you for suggest," offered Tsubasa. "I will tell other nihonjin. We tell Nihon government."

Still, he had waited a hundred years, and knew well the struggle against Galbatorix was a sluggish one. If in four years they could gain a new ally or supporter, even a small island kingdom that evidently had an impotent monarch, that should be considered auspicious. Before moving on to the next topic, Brom decided to provide one last piece of information: "I have heard words that Surda has ties with some kingdom in the east, where the Beor Mountains lie." He pointed to it on the map, and Tsubasa's eyes widened. "Should you get to Surda, perhaps ask them to help introduce you to the kingdom by the mountains?"

Tsubasa nodded jerkily. "I will tell others."

"Now," said Brom, sipping on his wine, "I would like to spend the rest of the time learning more about your country."

"If you tell me about magic, I will answer," said Tsubasa.

Brom frowned, eying him with narrowed eyes. "The workings of magic are one of the most guarded secrets here," Brom said decidedly. "You already know as much about magic as most people in the Empire."

"I don't know anything about magic," Tsubasa answered uneasily.

"Exactly!" declared Brom. "The secrets of magic are only for those who practice it," he said with finality.

"O-okay," mumbled Tsubasa.

"Perhaps I could still give you a general overview on magic, after I've asked some questions about Nihon," offered Brom. He was, after all, speaking to an envoy.

"Gen—sorry, what do you say?"

"A simple explanation of magic," clarified Brom. "If you entertain my questions, I will explain some simple things about magic."

"Yes, I agree," Tsubasa said hesitantly.

"Yes, yes," said Brom. Now was the time to find out more about their potential supporters, including things that could be used to draw them into an alliance. "Well, I am curious about many a thing. Now, I don't expect you to know this, but how many people do you think live in Nihon?"

"How many people?" asked Tsubasa. "You mean a number?"

"Aye," said Brom. "The number of people that live in your country. Do you have a few thousand, perhaps?" Brom did not have much hope of an answer, as such involute knowledge was privy only to the highly learned. Most people, especially humans, had a poor grasp of numbers.

Tsubasa appeared to be concentrating. "One. And twenty," he said slowly, and Brom realized he was struggling to recall the numbers in their language.

And so did Jeod, for he said, "You mean one-hundred and twenty, Tsubasa?"

"Yes," said Tsubasa.

"That is very f—"

"One-hundred and twenty thousand-thousand," said Tsubasa.

"One-hundred twenty thousand?" Brom repeated. He whistled. "That is a respectable number. Your lands must be highly fertile." Of course, it could not compare to Surda's one million inhabitants, still it was more than he had expected. It was clear now that the people of Nihon sustained themselves by tilling the riches of their lands, and not simply by hunting and fishing and foraging. In that sense, they were more similar to the Empire and Surda than the nomadic tribes, islanders or not.

"Indeed it is!" remarked Jeod, delight coloring his face. "For an island, that is almost unfathomable. And to think you would know the size of your population, and so precisely at that… you nihonjin are very knowledgeable."

Brom snorted. "He is just one nihonjin, Jeod. Or are all Imperials mad like Galbatorix?"

"It isn't just him," insisted Jeod. "I've spoken with others as well. From what I've gathered, every one of their seafarers knows their age."

Brom heard the floor creak, then the door opened and the nihonjin woman burst in. She was tense and agitated, but seemed to calm somewhat when her gaze found Tsubasa. "Tsubasa!" she exclaimed and then other words of foreign meaning. It was hard to glimpse much under the candlelight—his acuity was not what it once was—but the left side of her attire was coated in dried blood, and she eyed Brom warily as she slowly approached them, her eyes reddened and her face pale. "I cannot hear sound from the outside, so I had to see if Tsubasa was fine," she said determinedly, but Brom could hear the slight quiver in her voice. She spoke with much less of an accent than Tsubasa.

"I used magic to stop the sound from leaving the room," blurted Brom, no longer caring to be discreet. In the past day, he had somehow managed to slip more of his secrets than all his years in Carvahall. Why not humor fate by playing along?

Marie's eyes widened for a moment. "Are you talking about secret things? Why do you need Tsubasa?" She surreptitiously stood next to the other nihonjin.

How ironic, that his spell to hide the fact they were discussing clandestine matters was the very thing that gave it away. The elves might not believe in providence, but today, he felt the travails of his secret keeping really amounted to wrestling against the will of some higher power. And this time, the one made privy was also quite fluent in the common language. "We were discussing your country, and I offered some advice on how you might seek ties with other countries, like Surda. But the Empire doesn't like Surda, which is why I used magic to shield the conversation."

As she nodded, Jeod asked, "Why don't you take a seat as well, Marie?" He gestured to a chair, and she reluctantly accepted the offer, sitting next to Tsubasa. Then Jeod turned to Brom. "This is Marie, another envoy from Nihon. Marie, this is Brom, an old friend of mine."

She's a fellow envoy? The revelation surprised him slightly, but he himself had belonged to an order where men and women were entrusted the same responsibilities. If only it hadn't been a century ago, where now its customs and practices seemed almost distant in his mind.

"Greetings, Jeod," said Marie.

"Well met, Marie," answered Brom. "I must apologize for the deeds of my travel companion. He thought you the enemy, because of rumors he had heard."

"It is not your fault, Brom," said Marie with a strained smile. "Many people here don't like us nihonjin, I understand that the community surrounding influences him."

Her leniency surprised him, as well as her proficiency with their language, even if her use of words were a bit queer. How could a community be surrounding someone? Trees could surround, walls could surround, but a community? And what did she mean by saying Eragon had been influenced? By whom? Did she mean… by the community? It ought not to make any sense, yet the way she had tied the words together reminded him of the way that elves might speak, when they engaged in their intellectual exercises.

"I thank you for your forgiveness," responded Brom. "I shall lecture him later on his wrongdoings." In the meantime, Jeod had excused himself to fetch another glass of water for Marie.

Marie nodded, and for a moment none of them said anything. Then she asked, "What are you asking Tsubasa, about?"

"About your travels here, and your attempts to seek ties with the Empire," said Brom. "Tsubasa told me you have been unsuccessful, and I've been asking if you might try to seek ties with the Surda instead. Is that a possibility?"

"The government of Nihon decides that," responded Marie. "I think it is possible, but will take time."

"Tsubasa said it would take years to decide," said Jeod, returning with the water. "Is King Naruhito very busy with other matters?"

Marie glanced at Tsubasa, before saying, "Jeod, King Naruhito doesn't decide."

"Are you saying he is indecisive, unable to come to a decision?" asked Jeod confusedly. "And I don't mean to be disrespectful toward your monarch," he added.

"It's fine, Jeod," assured Marie. "Naruhito doesn't decide this. It's not his responbi—responsili—" she struggled with the word. "Responsibility," she finally managed to utter. "It's not his."

Jeod stared at her, mouth unmoving.

"Is your kingdom not under his rule?" asked Brom.

"He is king, but he doesn't rule," answered Marie.

"Then who rules Nihon?" asked Brom.

Marie shook her head. "Not one person. Many persons together decide about the country."

"A council, then?" surmised Brom.

"A council?" asked Marie

"A group of people who together make the decisions and rule over the rest," answered Brom the best he could.

"Different from the word, government?" asked Tsubasa.

"Aye, it is different," said Brom. But how was he to explain it? He was surprised he was not yet nursing a headache.

"A government is much vaster," explained Jeod. "Tax collectors, guards, jailers, heralds, administrators, soldiers. In essence, everyone who is working for those in power of the country. A council consists of a few people at the top of the government who discuss and decide matters of rule."

"Maybe the rule in Nihon is similar to councils," said Marie. "But it is hard to compare."

"And your king does not"—he coughed before continuing—"does not interfere in proceedings, the matters of the council?" asked Jeod.

"No, our king doesn't," said Marie. "He can't—he's not allowed."

"Not allowed…" murmured Jeod, disbelieving. "Not allowed…"

Surely they had misunderstood? An entire country under the reign of a council? A council could rule over a village, certainly, maybe even a town, but something as large as a country? Their role would be merely advisory—to that of the actual ruler. Perhaps if the country was a very small one, but Tsubasa had said theirs had over a hundred thousand people, island or not. While it was not unheard of for a council to hold a large sway over a king, everything was still ordained in his name. He would certainly still be "allowed" to make decisions. From the sounds of it, the king of Nihon had as much as been overthrown, by his own council no less!

But they were digressing. "Tsubasa said it would take several years for your council to come to a decision," said Brom. "Do you think so?"

"Yes, I think," said Marie, and Brom swore to himself. "I also have a question for you," continued Marie.

"And what is that?" asked Brom.

"The magic you have," said Marie. "Can I ask how you use it?"

Yet again with the magic! "Fine," said Brom.

"What can you do with magic?" asked Marie.

"A lot of things," conceded Brom. "I can create a fire, fling people away, and heal wounds, as you have seen." Both the nihonjin seemed to be listening intently.

"You can do anything?" she asked, amazed.

"There are limits," offered Brom. "To create a spell, one needs to use the ancient language."

For some reason, the two nihonjin, especially Tsubasa, seemed almost skeptical.

"Without ancient language, no magic?" posed Tsubasa. "Language is sound. Do you say sound make magic?"

Brom suddenly felt like he was treading dangerous ground. Curiosity was one thing, but the questions they were asking were astute. Too astute. How were they on the cusp of figuring out that which took students of the Order years to do, if the latter ever did?

"That is simply the way it works," said Jeod credulously. "The ancient language is the language of magic."

"But language is made of sound," Marie said slowly, catching Brom's controlled expression. "If I drop coins, and coins make the same sound that creates magic when you speak it, does magic happen, with the coins?"

Jeod blinked. "No, that's not…" he said bemusedly. "Brom can explain it better, if he wishes to." He coughed.

Brom quickly recovered his unfazed demeanor. "No, of course coins can't practice magic!" he groused. "Can pigs fly?" He snorted, and he heard Jeod chortle. At least his friend would fall for his misdirection. "No, only people can use magic by speaking the ancient language, if they have the innate ability. It is simply the way the world works."

"Ability?" repeated Marie.

"Yes, most people can't practice magic, regardless of whether they speak the ancient language or not. Only a few have the ability."

"Do you know, how many?" asked Tsubasa. "If are thousand people, how many are magicians?"

Brom did not immediately grasp the question, so Marie clarified, "If there are a thousand people, how many of them can do magic?"

What a convoluted question, thought Brom. A question of such arithmetic nature was greatly uncommon, especially of his own kind—many humans could not even count their own age! Perhaps if he was discoursing with accomplished scholars, merchants, or exchequers, something of the like might have been asked. These nihonjin are shrewd, extremely shrewd. "I do not know," admitted Brom. "Perhaps less than one."

Tsubasa nodded, and Marie asked, "You say: there are limits. What are limits of magic? Can you destroy mountains? Lift the water in the sea?"

Brom was unsure how to answer without giving too much away. Not even Jeod knew of this basic limitation of magic—or at least he thought. "No, that's well beyond the limits of what any magician can do."

"What are the limits?" said Marie.

Brom was unsure what to say in response, but fortunately Jeod chose to interject: "Even I'm not sure. I can only guess that we aren't supposed to know, but even so, it is obvious you can't destroy mountains with magic. That is simply unthinkable, it goes against common sense."

Tsubasa and Marie exchanged a few words in their language. "Magic seems impossible, to us nihonjin," Marie then said.

"But it exists, and you have seen it yourself," Jeod pointed out, and Marie seemed to wince slightly at his words, her hand against where her wound had been.

"It is because how we understand the world," Marie explained. "Sorry, it is hard to describe, because we see different worlds, and have different way to think."

Jeod's eyes glinted in the candlelight, and he turned to Tsubasa. "You nihonjin are far from the only ones to doubt the existence of magic, however... I have to admit I'm curious. You seem to profess"—a cough interrupted his words—"...profess that magic goes against the order of nature, and the order of the heavens, such that you have conceived in Nihon. Could you try to… try to describe the body of knowledge your scholars have amassed on the philosophy of nature and the heavens. Excuse me, in simpler words, could you try to explain how you 'understand the world', as Marie put it?"

Brom ignored the urge to roll his eyes. Jeod and his scholastic inclinations had led the topic astray— and not for the first time. But this time it was for the best, and Brom welcomed this reprieve from their bothersome queries on the workings of magic. Let them trifle themselves with such senseless erudition as human philosophy of nature, and then they could move on to the questions he had about Nihon.

Marie nodded. "Yes, Jeod, I will try." Her forehead scrunched in concentration. In confusion, Jeod returned his attention to her. "Everything that happens, is a trade," she finally said. "Nothing can happen without the trade. Even if you lift a rock, or breathe."

"Trade?" said Jeod, frowning. "I'm breathing right now. I'm quite certain I'm not trading anything." He kept throwing glances at Tsubasa, who seemed content to listen. Brom could understand his confusion; a woman expounding on the subject of natural philosophy was quite unprecedented, at least among humans. Not that the topic made much sense, whether it was a man or a woman.

"I don't know the word in your language," admitted Marie. "I will call it strength, or energy, I think."

Brom froze.

"Energy?" stated Jeod.

Marie nodded. "The world is energy, moving around. This is why things happen in the world. If magic is possible, that means magic also is a trade of energy."

Jeod sighed. "This doesn't really make sense to me. Energy is a word for the strength, the vitality we have within us which keeps us from feeling tired, and which we can exert for grueling tasks. It has nothing to do with the theology of the heavens, or the scholastic treatises on natural philosophy. The word 'power' seems perhaps—Brom?"

Brom knew he had completely lost his placid countenance, but he paid it no mind. "Where did you hear this?!" he exclaimed, his mind still in a state of disbelief.

"Where I heard, Brom, what are you—" began Jeod.

"Not you." Brom shook his head impatiently. He stared at Marie, who gulped under the scrutiny. "I'm sorry, what do you mean?" she said in an amiable, but careful, tone.

Jeod swept a questioning gaze at Brom. "Does…" he coughed. "Does what she says make sense to you?"

Truth to be told, Brom was not entirely sure. He had never heard anyone claim that "the world was energy". Yet her muddled explication about energy being present in the world, flowing around, resonated with his learnings from the Riders and the elves, and rhymed with his own experience on the matter. And of course, there was the conjecture about magic being a "trade of energy", which seemed too close to the truth to be a mere coincidence.

"Your notion of energy," Brom said brusquely to Marie. "Where did you learn about it?"

"Ahh, Jeod taught me the word 'energy'. I think it is similar to a word in our language. The notion of that word is from scholars."

Now that he considered it, how could he be sure that Marie understood the word "energy" the way he and the elves did? Jeod—as with most humans—evidently did not, and Marie had been taught the language by the former. She could be using the same word, but have an entirely different concept behind it, even more so as she was simply trying to translate a word in her own language, and had found "energy" the most apt word.

"How do your scholars understand the concept of energy?" asked Brom, trying to regain his placid composure.

Marie nodded. "Maybe energy is a wrong word, but it is… how quick something moves—when you compare how heavy it is. And it can change to how warm something is, and how much light there is. And some other things. Sorry it is hard to explain." But she needed not continue, for Brom understood enough, and his alarm was renewed.

Jeod shook his head. "That's not energy, Marie. Energy is the word that describes the strength in our body and mind, the strength that sustains us. I'm sorry, but I think—"

"Is energy only present in our body and mind, Marie?" asked Brom.

"I'm using the wrong word," said Marie apologetically. "I don't know your language well—"

"Neither does Jeod!" Brom interrupted, causing the scholar to gape. "The concept you have been describing, which we shall call energy! Is it present only in our body and mind?"

"No," answered Marie. "It is everywhere. It never disappears. It only trades, and that's why things happen in the world. I mean one reason why things happen in the world."

Bits of her belief sounded strikingly similar to elven thought, except in the latter's case, it was not just a belief. And therein lay a fundamental difference; Marie conveyed her views on energy with a religious fervor—it was not founded on evidence and need not be proven, instead it was unquestionably true by its very virtues. And it appeared as though the nihonjin regarded energy as central to the order of the world, and that which decreed all existence and ascribed all happenings, much like any other religion conceived by humans. Was their philosophy of energy their very religion, and 'energy' their providence? An old elven saying echoed in his mind: Religion is to humans what reason is to älfya…

"How did your scholars reach this understanding?" asked Brom.

"We use… I don't know how to describe."

"Jeod told me you have no ties with the elves," said Brom while ignoring the bewildered look on Jeod's face. "Never in your history. Is this true?"

"Yes, Brom," said Marie. She sounded sincere.

"And you didn't come across this notion of energy from some old text?"

"No," said Marie.

"What are you saying, Brom?" asked Jeod. "Are the elves familiar with this… eccentric doctrine on… energy?"

Today was a disaster, Brom determined. "Elves don't share the human view of nature and the heavens," he said vaguely.

"I suspected as much," said Jeod, "But it is naught but impossible to acquire the elven scholastics. But surely most elves don't share this strange view about energy?"

"They don't," assured Brom. Not fully, at least.

Jeod sighed. "I feel like new questions are piling up faster than we can answer them. I would have liked to ask how the elves regard the terrestrial and celestial realms, but we have already digressed so," he said before coughing.

"Jeod, you need more water," urged Marie. "You still recover from the plague. Water is important."

I still need to ask them about that, Brom reminded himself. Did they really cure Jeod's bout of blight?

Jeod glanced at one of several empty glasses. "Very well, I will refill my glass. Do"—he again coughed—"any of you want some more refreshments?"

After all of them declined, Jeod left the room to replenish his glass.

"You can't create water, with magic?" asked Tsubasa.

"No," Brom answered earnestly. There was no harm in admitting that much.

"Because, it is too much energy?" guessed Tsubasa.

"Enough!" Brom barked. He had to remind himself why he found secretly intruding other people's minds so objectionable, for it was becoming sorely tempting.

"Sorry," murmured Tsubasa, avoiding his gaze.

"We can talk about other things," suggested Marie as she grasped Tsubasa's arm with her hand. "Do you want to ask something?"

"Yes, I have plenty of questions," said Brom, seeing the opportunity to steer the conversation to safer grounds. "You see, I'm an old man, and I've traveled afar. Yet during all my wanderings I've never heard of a country to the west, let alone a fine kingdom such as yours." As he spoke, Jeod returned, who informed them that supper would be ready in less than an hour. He had also brought more candles, a welcome reprieve from the near-dark. Brom continued, "Do you know how old your kingdom is?" A trying question, to be sure. The humans from Palancar's homeland had not had the practice of keeping written records of the year and date of events, and had only started doing such after being imparted such practices by the elves and the dwarves.

"Hard to answer," answered Marie. "The king's family is at least… one thousand and seven hundred years."

"That old?" Jeod murmured. "A single line has ruled for seventeen centuries? Even the Broddring line did not last for seven." His eyes widened. "Their country is older than ours!"

It was impressive, Brom had to admit, if their reckoning was sound. Which was something his kind did poorly. His lessons on history with Ebrithil had made that clear enough.

"Rumor says more than two thousand and…six hundred years, but only one thousand and seven hundred years we can really know," Marie elaborated.

"But how could you really know?" asked Brom. "How could you know that it was one thousand seven hundred years ago?"

"Because we write the names of dead and new kings and queens when they become kings and queens," explained Marie. "We do this for one thousand and seven hundred years."

"You keep written historical records?" asked Brom, surprised. "But how would you know of the runic alphabet, when you are not from these lands?"

"Not the runic alphabet. They have their own alphabet, their runes are different," answered Jeod over the bemused faces of the nihonjin.

"Their own alphabet!" repeated Brom. What in tarnation?

These nihonjin were of his kind, so how could they have their own alphabet? During his teachings under Ebrithil, many peoples and cultures had been studied, but out of all of them only the elves, the dwarves, and the Grey Folk had devised the way of letters. Humans, including the disciples of Tosk, had adopted and modified the letters of the dwarves for their own use.

Jeod gave a wry smile. "Nothing about them makes any sense, does it?"

"What do their letters look like?" asked Brom impatiently.

"I have not seen much of it myself," admitted Jeod, "busy as I've been with teaching them our language. And…" he stopped himself.

"I can show," offered Marie.

Brom nodded as Marie rummaged for something in a bag made of what looked like smooth black textiles. Did they perhaps bring a scroll from beyond the shores? Surely books wouldn't exist…

"A book!" exclaimed Jeod, eyes wide. Brom swore inwardly.

The book was thin, and the elements had been kind to it, as it seemed free of stains, rot, and creases. But it appeared to lack a spine or any form of covering, so what was holding the pages together? Brom was well-versed in the work of bookbinding, including the methods and techniques of their trade, but the handiwork of this book was beyond him. Marie flicked through the pages, displaying pure white pages so unwrinkled and rippleless they seemed to be gleaming, and a sense of unease gnawed at his mind as he looked from the book to the nihonjin.

"So these are your letters," murmured Jeod, before coughing.

They looked nothing like the runes of the dwarves, or indeed anything he had ever beheld. But he could immediately see that this was no rudimentary writing. The scripts were much too complex, much too varied for that. These were the trappings of a civilization.

And it was not just the indecipherable scripts that caught his eye, but also the scribing itself. The letters never varied in color, not even in shade. It was the exact same pitch black, wherever the page his eyes fell on. The letters were also astonishingly crisp and sharp against the starkly white parchment, and even though Brom had no grasp of their writing, the scribing seemed utterly precise and spotless—the lines perfectly straight, the circles perfectly round. The manuscript was not illuminated—and it need not be.

"I've never seen such scribework," uttered Jeod quietly. "It is immaculate."

Marie handed the book to Brom, who held it between his hands. Light. It was light. And the parchment felt smooth in his hands, almost like—

Brom narrowed his eyes, but held his tongue. The Fair Folk were the only race who knew the secrets of papermaking. The nihonjin had lied about their lack of associations with the elves, he realized. Because the elves had instructed them to? Queen Islanzadí certainly had not seen it fit to inform the Varden about their ties to this distant human kingdom, instead had kept them in the dark! Brom resisted the urge to snort. Their alliance with the elves had never been an equal one, of what could be expected between a rebel group of a few thousand exiled humans and the greatest race under the heavens, and Brom was bitterly reminded of this truth at times like these. The elves could do whatever they pleased, even if their dealings had consequences for them all, and Brom could not even request to be kept apprised. The Varden, meanwhile, could do naught but inform the elves of all their actions and dealings, dependent as they were on the latter's magnanimity.

Worse still, Islanzadí had not directed them toward the Varden or even Surda. Was Brom's task all in vain?

"This is some fine paper," Brom said pointedly, causing Jeod to gasp. "And what is decreed in this book?"

"Decreed?" asked Marie.

"What is written," clarified Brom.

"Ahh… it—"

"Diplomats," Tsubasa said. "It writes, what we, diplomats, do. Should do."

"It was written instructions for your diplomatic endeavors?" Brom could not help the skepticism in his voice. Manuscripts were ridiculously costly and difficult to make, and for something so mundane? Islanzadí must have been very generous indeed.

"Yes, Brom." Marie nodded. "I know you want to know more about Nihon," she continued. "We can show you… banner of Nihon, if you want?"

They had a banner? "Certainly," said Brom.

Marie dug for a piece of fabric in their bag, and stretched it out. It was square and white, with a large crimson red-filled circle at the center. It was simple yet impeccable in its uniform colors, shape, and proportions. The fabric itself was undeniably of excellent make.

"So that's the banner… of Nihon," Jeod said quietly.

"Yes, it is the banner of our country," said Marie. "The red is the sun."

"The sun?" Brom mused out loud. "Do you worship the sun?" he asked. He knew it occurred among some tribes.

"No." Marie shook her head. "The sun is because… sun rises on Nihon, and is important for our country… sorry, it is hard to explain," she finished.

Brom was starting to understand why Jeod had mostly refrained from probing them about their kingdom. Jeod had been right—their grasp of the common tongue was still much too woeful for him to obtain the answers he sought. He had thought Marie more fluent than she was, if only because she did not speak with much of an accent. Then how did the elves communicate with them? Did they know the ancient language? He was tempted to ask but knew now was not the time to undo their ruse, not while he was still unsure of Islanzadí's intentions.

"Tsubasa and me, come from toekio city," Marie said. "Toekio is the capital city in Nihon."

"City?" repeated Brom. "Capital city?"

"Yes. I know Urû'baen is the capital city in the Empire. And Toekio in Nihon."

"Where King Naruhito lives," added Jeod. "I remember you told me that." He coughed.

Beirland had a town, Brom reminded himself. Nihon might well have a town the size of Eoam, which for their islander senses would be large as a city. Doru Araeba was an exception by virtue of its inhabitants. "Do you know how many people live in this Toekio?" asked Brom. He did not commonly ask such an abstruse question, but these nihonjin were clearly exceptionally knowledgeable.

Tsubasa answered quickly: "If ten people in Nihon, one people is in Toekio."

Brom's mouth opened and closed. He heard Tsubasa mutter something to Marie. "That's ten thousand people!" Brom finally exclaimed. "I am to believe a hundred thousand people live on your island, and ten thousand in just one city? An island, no less!"

"By the gods," Jeod murmured. "That is as much as Narda… More, even."

A human city on an island. He had heard of queerer things, he supposed.

"Your peasants must be hard at work, to feed so many mouths on so little land," remarked Brom. "Are there many slaves in your country?" he asked easily.

The nihonjin's eyes widened at his question. Then Marie shook her head. "No slaves in Nihon!" she stated. "It is not allowed. I have heard the Empire allows it?"

"Your king is certainly more benevolent," said Brom, feeling gratified. "Slaves are everywhere in the Empire, especially the larger cities. Surda also forbids slavery," he said passingly. "Perhaps your kingdom and theirs think alike."

"You say, the Empire doesn't like Surda," began Tsubasa, "How much, doesn't like? Do they fight?"

"An uneasy peace lingers between the Empire and Surda," Brom carefully responded. "But there are whisperings… that it might not last. There are those who think the Empire has been too lenient."

"Might not last?" asked Tsubasa. "If not last, what do you think happens?"

"War," said Brom simply. Jeod opened his mouth to say something, but stopped to cough. He looked quite weary now, the eventful day having taken its toll. Would he really be able to accompany them tomorrow?

"War," repeated Tsubasa, while Marie looked troubled. "But… the Empire is much bigger, than Surda. Is stronger. I guessing Surda doesn't want war, and, if war happens, is because only Empire wants?"

Brom was once again struck by the acuminous questions. Before he could answer, though, Tsubasa added: "If Empire want war, is because of other reason, like more land. Is there land in Surda, that the Empire think is the Empire? Or all of Surda?"

Brom tried to comprehend the question. Was Tsubasa asking of the whys and wherefores behind a war? Wasn't ill will enough? The ill will and wickedness of the cursed king? Such an answer might not have sufficed before the ilks of Ebrithil, but some human wayfarer? "The king seeks to become the master of the Alagaësian lands, and Surda stands in his way."

Tsubasa frowned. "The Empire wants land in Surda? Some land in Surda? Or all?"

"The Empire wants all of Surda!" Brom said empathetically. "Why?" asked Tsubasa, but Brom pressed on: "And Surda knows this all too well, having lived in the shadow of this threat for over a hundred years, which was the last they fought." Just how much was he supposed to tell them about the War of Alagaësia?

"One hundred years?" asked Marie. "That is a long time." She glanced over at Jeod, who seemed to have fallen asleep in his chair.

"Aye, it is"—for us mortals at least—"and long has the king waited to settle the score with Surda."

For some reason, the two nihonjin seemed skeptical. They exchanged some quick words with each other. "A government doesn't think, plan for one-hundred years," said Marie slowly. "What happens one-hundred years before doesn't say what will happen today. What is important is how are things today? With relations, and power and other things."

Brom blinked. He could not comprehend what they were saying, but he knew skepticism for what it was, and he had to right it. "The king has not had a change of heart since the first battle with Surda," said Brom. "His ambition—"

"The king was alive?" interrupted Marie. "One hundred years ago," she added.

"Very much so," answered Brom. "He does not age like the rest of our kind, because of the magic he possesses."

Her eyes widened. "The king is… has magic too?"

"He does," said Brom curtly. Had it been a mistake to reveal the king's magic? Would it perhaps make them more eager to seek ties with the Empire?

"The king of Surda," said Tsubasa. "Has magic?"

Should he lie? "No," responded Brom, and the two foreigners went on to exchange more words in their strange language.

"What do you mean, our kind?" Marie asked as she turned to him.

"Our kind… humans? Yes, I'm talking about humans," replied Brom.

"What do you know about other kinds?" continued Marie. "Elves and dwarves, could you tell us about them?"

You certainly go to great lengths to keep your fraternization with the elves a secret. Well, two could play at that game. "I don't know much about the elves, beyond the few whisperings I've heard during my travels," said Brom. "The dwarves on the other hand, are believed to dwell in the Beor Mountains," he pointed to a spot on the map, and Tsubasa's eyes seemed to narrow for a moment. "The dwarves are short in stature but stout and hardy, and have a penchant for all manner of rocks."

"Sorry Brom," apologized Marie, "I don't understand. Can you use easier words to describe dwarves?"

"They are short"—Brom motioned his hand, as if petting a child on his head—"but strong. They are durable, and don't get hurt easily."

"How long is until a dwarf is dead, because old?" asked Tsubasa.

Brom almost snorted at his use of words. "They usually live for over a hundred years, much longer than us humans." The two seemed intrigued at the answer.

"And they speak, language?" continued Tsubasa.

"Aye they speak the language of the dwarves." As we do the language of the humans, he had almost found himself saying, but would no longer be able to from this day.

"Do dwarves have countries?" Marie then asked, and Brom once again had to think through his response. This whole circumstance of meeting with envoys from distant shores was still novel to him; he had never entertained the idea and what information he ought to share in such an encounter. He had sworn secrecy to Hrothgar on divulging the location of the dwarven realm to outsiders, save for those already in the know. Yet this was an unprecedented opportunity to foster an alliance with an entirely new country, something none of them had anticipated when pledges of secrecy were being made. To add further complications, he also had to consider that the nihonjin were covertly maintaining exchanges with the elves, which meant he could not take anything they said at face value and so he had to play along with their farce, all the while trying to decipher the hidden meanings of their answers spoken in a language they could scarcely understand… he could feel the weariness and frustration growing in him.

"I don't know," he answered a little brusquely.

Marie nodded. "Beor is far away. What we hear… in Teirm, I think is very different from the truth about there."

Brom was not certain what she was trying to convey. At any rate, there was little else they could discuss regarding matters of securing ties with their country so long as the schemes of the elves remained an unknown. If any breakthrough was to be made, Islanzadí would have to be sought out, he thought grudgingly. Until then, he could only hope that they would take up on his advice to sail to Surda. Was there anything—

"They cured my plague."

"Jeod told me that you offered him a remedy for the plague," began Brom. "He insisted that it helped him recover."

"Yes. Do you feel sick?" asked Marie in a concerned tone.

"No, I feel fine," assured Brom. As fine as any traveler could feel while journeying through the harshness of winter.

"Sorry, I should have told you. Don't walk close to where other people are, because the plague is there. And avoid blood and coughing from other people."

That was sound advice, Brom supposed, for someone who had no inkling about the true nature of the plague. At least he hadn't been advised to huddle by a fire, where the smoke would purify the air from the foul miasma. In fact, there had been a curious absence of any attempt at cleansing the miasma in Jeod's home, not even fumigation. Perhaps they had simply run out of means, with how many days had passed since perdition had struck. "This I know," said Brom. "Fear not, the plague will not afflict me."

Marie hesitated, then picked out something from her bag, which she showed Brom. It looked like a bottle of a vial of a shape he had never witnessed before, made of glass that was… darkened? She shook it in her hand which produced a clinking sound. "The remedy is inside, it looks a little like pearl," Marie said, before placing the vial back in the bag.

"Who gave it to you?" Brom asked. So the elves had finally found a remedy, which they were now sharing with this island kingdom before they did their very allies!

Tsubasa answered him: "Is made by taa-kaeda, a…"

"A guild, similar to a guild, in Nihon," Marie finished.

Brom had to repeat the words in his head a few times for them to make sense. "Are you saying that your people made it?" he asked, utterly disbelieving. If they were lying, then their kin were certainly not gracious liars.

Marie nodded. "Yes," she confirmed. "It is called tetracycline."

"I see," Brom said, unable to hide the skepticism in his voice. "Does it also cleanse the miasma, the foul air that is said to spread the plague?"

Tsubasa shook his head. "Miasma, smell does not spread plague."

The answer surprised Brom. "How does the plague spread, by your reckoning?" he asked.

Tsubasa eyed Marie, who nodded. "To understand better, I will explain what the plague is first." She seemed to think over her words. "The plague is… small animals, too small for our eye to see."

Turmoiled thoughts started whirring inside Brom. No, it can't be…

"They attack us from inside us and the number of the animal grows more and more. It makes us sick and that is the plague. The animal can spread to other people that are close, through the air and blood and when we touch each other or things that others touch later. It is also in other animals sometimes, like fleas."

Brom let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. He opened his mouth but could not muster the words, feeling truly lost for the first time since entering Jeod's estate. "How do you know?" he finally managed to ask, his voice quieter than he would have liked it.

Tsubasa shrugged. "Scholar difference," he said.

"How could you know…" Brom muttered, half to himself. Had the elves shared everything they knew of the world with them, a small island kingdom? It did not make any sense!

"Is okay Brom," Marie reassured. "I know it is hard to believe. We call this animal…"

"Yersinia pestis," Tsubasa interjected. I have never heard the elves utter such a name. It did not even sound like the ancient language.

"The remedy tetracycline kills yersinia pestis inside people," Marie finished.

"May I see this tetra—this remedy for myself?" Brom requested, barely able to maintain his composure.

"Only looking at it?" Marie asked.

"Yes."

It looked like Marie was deliberating, but then she nodded. "It is getting dark to see," she remarked as she fetched the remedy.

"The candles are still burning brightly." Which would be needed, he admitted sourly. His nocturnal sight had grown worse with the years, as the remnants from his ties with Saphira faded into memory.

The vial Marie placed on the desk by the candles, allowing Brom to scrutinize it more closely. He saw in the glassware not the handiwork of the elves, nor that of the dwarves or his own race. Some white fabric encircled it horizontally, covering perhaps half the vessel from the center. On it was displayed more of the nihonjin's foreign letters, in the same immaculate scribing. Brom would not be surprised if the fabric itself was yet more paper.

Marie unscrewed some kind of cork, then tipped the vial against her outstretched palm and shook it slightly, before holding her hand out for Brom to examine. In her hand was now the "bead-like object" Jeod had spoken of. It was perfectly oblong-shaped, and split in two different colors at its midpoint. Carefully, Brom tried to pry it with his mind, but sensed nothing. Was the remedy truly not the work of magic? Perhaps he ought to—

The sound of footsteps against the creaking floor caught the attention of the three. The door opened to reveal Helen by the doorway, holding a candlestick. She glanced at the only sleeping figure in the room. "Are you awake, Jeod? Jeod!" Jeod twitched slightly as he opened his bleary eyes. A brief moment of confusion came upon his face before he shrugged it off. "Oh, my excuses, I must have fallen asleep," he mumbled as he blinked.

"I have made supper," said Helen. "A beef stew seasoned with saffron and cardamom, and soft white bread with Leona cheese from inland." She eyed Brom with a supercilious expression, enhanced by the candlelight.

Was it already time? Time must have passed by quicker than he had anticipated. They must have spoken for a long time, and yet he felt as though he had more questions than when they first started.

Jeod thanked Helen before turning to Brom. "Are you sure you will not have supper with us, old friend?" he asked Brom as Helen was absorbed in a conversation with Marie.

"Yes. Eragon awaits me," Brom grunted, hiding his inner quandaries. I have done what I could, he tried to convince himself. He would not be able to see the nihonjin again, for he was accompanying his son on his quest, not the other way around.

"Excuse me, Lady Marie," Brom implored as her conversation with Helen died down. He was unsure how to address her, but given his task some deference would not be uncalled for. "I wish to settle our debt, and part on friendly terms." He dug for the coins. "Would twenty crowns be enough of a price, Lady Marie?"

Marie blinked. "What…"

---

Finally he is back, Eragon remarked to Saphira as he stirred strips of boar meat in the pot. It had been a wretched day, but at least his hunt had been successful. "Well?" he asked once the old man arrived at the camp.

"I was able to settle the debt with the nihonjin—the outlanders, without payment by blood," Brom grumbled, setting down his pack. "All thanks to your free-swinging spirit." Red-faced, Eragon looked away as Brom sat down. "We will enter the city tomorrow, as the sun sets. We will meet with Jeod, who will be assisting us. With the plague sweeping the city, few guards are still going about their duty. Even so, you will follow my lead and do as I say, understood?"

"Yes."

As they ate their meal, Eragon asked, "Do you think the plague has spread beyond Teirm?"

"I don't know," said Brom absentmindedly.

Are we dragons also affected by it? asked Saphira.

"You're not," responded Brom. He seemed unusually pensive, staring unblinkingly into the flames.

"They will pay for this," Eragon murmured.

That seemed to bring Brom out of his musings. "They?" he repeated. Frowning, he said, "You have to renege on your vow of vengeance against the nihonjin."

"What!" Eragon exclaimed in disbelief. "Perhaps the ones we met weren't responsible, but the others?"

Brom shook his head. "There is no proof that any of them were responsible."

"Are you defending the barbarians?" Eragon uttered. Why is he so reproachful? "Why would you—"

"They have not wronged you," Brom interrupted. "You need to—"

"This is my oath to make," Eragon insisted, staring into the trees. How could Brom not understand? He had lived in Carvahall for many summers now, a village ever under threat by the Urgals and barbarians from the north.

"Eragon," began Brom quietly, "you shouldn't make enemies on a whim, and not with these outlanders." Eragon turned around, retort ready on his tongue. And then he saw Brom's expression, and it was not reproach Eragon saw on his face.

It was fear.