"Stay," Jeod barked jokingly with a skewed smile. Brom huffed and reluctantly downed another precious vial of vivid green Wiggenweld potion. Harry had given him six vials already and the storyteller had only barely pulled through.
"Why is it so ineffectual?" Eragon asked Harry, who was bent over his cloth medkit, wrapping up the large flask of Wiggenweld. It was now half empty. Saphira was watching through Eragon's eyes, nameless emotions leaking over the bond at the sight of the dwindling potion.
Harry sighed. "Injuries inflicted by magic resist magical healing. We're lucky we had this potion on hand, already brewed. I might have accidentally killed him otherwise."
"No more wallowing in guilt," Brom snapped. "I dove over the bowl. You did something stupid, but men your age are to be expected to do that. If you want to repent, spar with Eragon every day to the best of your abilities."
He struggled to sit up in his bed. Jeod hurried to stop him but Brom smacked him away. "I'm not paralyzed, just cut up," Brom crabbed. "Jeod. Nobody is saying anything about last night? Nobody knew anything?"
Jeod winced. "Not entirely. I've heard from the gossip in Ristheart's keep. His magicians know something happened, and they're nervous. And that has made his guards nervous. On the bright side, I've managed to clear the last hurdles for the shipment. Unfortunately, coming up with reasons why I now want to delay my ship – filled with perishable foods that have already been languishing for over a month at harbor – when I worked so hard to get it through-" Jeod trailed off. "You'd better pray for a quick recovery. The fact that I haven't instantly ordered Captain Tarence to cast off after getting clearance, it's raising eyebrows. If you want to catch that ship, you've got a week. Two aspiring aides have already tried to seize my cargo for themselves."
Jeod looked down with concern at the wrappings over Brom's chest. "Are you going to be up for it?"
Brom coughed. "I'll be fine. I won't be hauling sails, but I can sit on the deck and wait for an attack."
"And then fight?" Jeod asked guardedly.
Brom snorted. "Out at sea, where we can use all the magic we want? They're as good as dead."
Harry followed Eragon out of the room. He glanced back at the doorway. "Can we chat for a moment?" he asked.
Eragon nodded. Harry led him to his bedroom. There was a bowl sitting there innocently in the middle of the floor. Eragon was immediately wary. "Tell me you're not going to try again," he said.
Harry shook his head. "Not like that. I'm just scrying in Alagaesia. Look, I've been having these dreams about an elf lady-"
Eragon startled. "-Being tortured by a Shade," he finished.
"You too?" Harry asked eagerly. "I would have sworn- maybe it's just a prophecy thing. I used to get dreams like that all the time, too. I never thought they'd continue here in Alagaesia but- never mind. I overheard a rumor that Durza was headed towards Surda, same direction as the Urgals, to somehow attack or punish them. But the elf is in Gil'ead, on the other side of the Empire. So I was thinking I could spring her while you two go finish your mission at Morzan's castle."
Eragon felt dizzy. He sat on the edge of Harry's bed, gazing down at the bowl. "You want to leave us?"
"Temporarily," Harry promised. "It's just- I've been getting these dreams every night. It feels like it's urgent, like soon the opportunity to rescue her will be gone. I don't know who she is or why she's important, but I have to be getting these dreams for a reason, right? I figure your mission to Kuasta is a family matter for you and Brom. I'd just be a bother. But I can feel it; this is important. It's got to be done."
Eragon didn't know what to say. "How will you find us again?" he asked. "Alagaesia is huge, neither of us know where we'll go after we finish our missions."
Harry laid his wand flat on his palm. "Point me, Eragon." The wand spun to point at Eragon.
"That'll work no matter the distance?" Eragon asked dubiously.
Harry nodded. "It's how I found the elf. I just aligned one of Jeod's maps to north and did it with the wand on the map. It pointed straight at Gil'ead."
"If you can do that, so can our enemies, right?" Eragon insisted. "Brom might make us use magic to block that."
Harry took a deep breath. Eragon sensed he was about to deliver bad news. "I know. Which is why if we can't find each other any other way, I was thinking we could both just go find the Varden."
"Didn't Brom say we shouldn't?" Eragon's mind immediately went to all the reasons Brom had given as to why going straight to the Varden was a terrible idea. There were almost certainly ones he hadn't mentioned, too.
Harry nodded. "He did. But either I'll be able to find you right after rescuing the elf with the point me charm and it won't matter, or it will be far enough in the future that you'll get the experience to go there safely, right? The Varden's just the only place I can think of where both of us can be open about our identities without being hunted."
Eragon opened and closed his mouth. He grasped for counterarguments, but the urgency of the elf's situation overrode most of them. He realized something else, too.
"You don't want to tell Brom," Eragon accused.
Harry nodded.
"Eventually I bet I could convince him. But I have a few cards I haven't shown you lot. A couple of aces I can play here, away from all eyes. And I don't have time to fight with him about this."
Eragon's instinct was to say to go through with it. Fuck Brom and his secrets, see how he liked it when he was the one without all the information. But he remembered how many times Brom had told them absolutely critical information relevant to their mission, things Eragon wouldn't have known to ask about or look for (like guarding his mind) that would have instantly gotten them captured or killed if they had gone ahead ignorant. Harry wanted to do something perilous. He was looking for trouble. Brom might have some critical piece of information for Harry that Harry wasn't going to get if he never told Brom.
But then he realized again that Harry was plenty capable himself. He had his broomstick, the charm that made him almost as invisible as glass, and magic that the Empire would not be – could not be expecting. Whatever other 'tricks' Harry had up his sleeve, Eragon forced himself to keep in mind that Harry had more experience than him. Eragon did not know all the details, but he knew enough to know that Harry was not some farmer or tradesman. He knew how to get things done.
Eragon let out a shaky sigh. "I can't believe I'm saying this but fine. I won't tell Brom. How is this all going to work? Are you going to take the tent? The food?"
Harry rubbed his forehead. "I hadn't thought about that. You two should take as much as possible. I can make more of those. You can't."
There was another moment of awkward silence.
"When do you leave?" Eragon asked finally.
"Whenever you do," Harry answered. "We'll split up right before you board your ship. That gives the two of us time to figure out logistics, and time for me to make replacements for the stuff you're taking with you. Saphira's new saddle, a second tent, more food. We can split the Wiggenweld. Half for Brom to finish recovering, half to heal the elf woman."
The following days were tense. Brom was bedridden for five of the seven days. During those days, Eragon avoided the man. He was still angry Brom had kept Selena a secret, but he was also worried being in his presence might let Brom guess Eragon was hiding something from him. Harry seemed to be doing the same.
Brom definitely noticed they were avoiding him. With any luck, he put it down to them still being angry over his keeping secrets.
They got a lot done each day. In the mornings Eragon had reading lessons with Brom and sometimes Jeod when Brom couldn't help and Jeod was available. Harry usually spent the mornings brewing with ingredients he bought from the Herbalist's shop and his own blood, and working on healing Brom.
If Jeod's house staff were annoyed about Harry lighting a fire in one of the guest rooms and producing strange fumes that discolored the plaster ceilings, they said nothing about it. Eragon noticed the potions Harry was producing were far more varied than the ones he'd made back at the castle. His little cloth medkit was getting full of strange liquids, pastes, balms, and oils.
During the day, Harry worked on whatever project he had in front of him. For the first day it was Saphira's saddle. He spent most of the day commandeering Jeod's cellar and muttering over some ordinary thing like a tent, boots, a belt, and such. Eragon had walked in on him numerous times doing utterly bizarre things like walking on the walls in his newly-purchased leather boots, clapping his hands in wide arcs as hard as he could – completely silently – or dragging barrels of food around the cellar while they were attached to his belt by twine.
After lunch, Eragon and Harry drew a crowd sparring behind Jeod's house. Brom wasn't there to tell them what to do, so they just fought back and forth to hone the forms they did know. Eragon found Harry a much more formidable opponent when he was truly engaged in their spars than the normal lackadaisical approach he took to fighting with blades.
Despite Harry's numerous advantages – age, athleticism, experience – Eragon still managed to beat Harry at least as often as he lost, and often moreso when Eragon also fought his hardest. Those were the most fun bouts they had, trading blows at full strength, fighting fast and hard, using everything Brom had taught them in an effort to get the upper hand, those fights were exhilarating and exhausting in equal measure. They were also the fights that drew cheers from the spectators. Wooden swords clacked against each other, mingled with grunts of exertion, scuffling feet on flagstones, and heavy breaths as they fought back and forth until one of them finally managed a good strike and the children exploded into cheers, along with applause from the enthusiastic adults watching.
After that Eragon went to visit Saphira until sunset. The first evening, Harry came with him to deliver the new saddle.
The guard at the gate waved to them as they passed. Eragon felt a pang of sadness at the interaction. With the Empire the way it was, he could never let his guard down around the Imperial men. He was forced to fool the amiable guardsman. The man should have been on alert and suspicious according to Jeod. That Eragon and Harry walked past with a smile was a betrayal of the guard's trust. It did not matter that it was necessary, Eragon was uncomfortable with it. It was not in line with the notion of honor Carvahall had instilled in him. He would never fit in, never belong in Alagaesia now that he was a Dragon Rider.
That in turn set him to musing over Angela's prophecy, worrying if that might not be one of the possible interpretations for 'leaving Alagaesia forever.' Harry would probably try to cheer him up – Eragon already knew what he would say. Maybe you'll just change Alagaesia so it has room for you, so you'll be leaving this Alagaesia in the past forever.
Saphira's presence, as always, eased many of his worries. They kept constant companionship through their mental bond, even as far apart as they were while Eragon was in the city, but nothing beat Eragon being able to lean up against her warm scales, look her in her beautiful blue eyes, or fly with her in the air.
The saddle proved a stunning success. Not only did the disillusionment work perfectly – all Saphira had to do to activate or deactivate it was twitch her foretalon three times in succession – but it had many more features Eragon had not expected.
"It's indestructible," Harry said for a start. "Well, nothing is perfect, but this comes close. You'll need basilisk venom or fiendfyre to destroy it. The other theoretically possible way to destroy it is – a bit ironically – dragonfire. If you're anticipating a dogfight – dragonfight? – then I wouldn't trust my life to that warranty. But everything short of that is fine. It's immune to water damage, cutting, tearing, ripping, crushing, burning, freezing, and decay."
Eragon looked down at Harry from atop Saphira's back, feeling the saddle beneath him. It was unbelievably comfortable, far nicer to sit in than it should have been. It felt like there was a chair back behind him, and that he was sitting in the world's greatest pillow which somehow distributed his weight across his whole backside and thighs without digging in uncomfortably anywhere.
This feels very odd, Saphira remarked. Like I am swimming with balloons tied to my back.
"Featherweight charm," Harry explained when Eragon prompted him. "No matter how much weight you put on top of or tie to the saddle, Saphira won't feel it. You do have to be careful; everything still has inertia, but she won't struggle to lift any weight. It extends to your own body, too. Just a bit. It makes you light enough to sit upright for longer, so you can fly for longer without tiring. I couldn't put a bed in, but this is the next best thing."
He showed off the rest of the features like a trader peddling his wares. "You can't fall off the saddle; you have to deliberately dismount. Butt warmer slash cooler, depending on the weather. I managed to link the umbrella charm to the saddle, so you can fly in the rain without getting wet."
Eragon looked down bemusedly. "Anything else?"
Harry turned apprehensive. "There were a lot of features I wanted to add but couldn't figure out. I did add one thing, though I wouldn't trust my life to it. In theory, if you jump off the saddle at great height, it should stop your fall before you hit the ground. Don't rely on it, but if you're out of options…"
Eragon nodded. "Can we test it now?" he asked eagerly. Harry mounted his broom with a grin.
"Let's find out."
In the evenings, they practiced magic. Eragon was not too ashamed to admit Harry had surpassed him in that field, and was making great strides in using magic without his wand. There were still times though, where Harry's spells acted unpredictably compared to Eragon's. Harry's scrying spell for example. It often let him scry places he hadn't been to, but just as often refused to show him what Eragon was able to find. Though neither of them could scry the castle (thanks to Harry's wards) Eragon was able to see the outside of the castle walls, behind which an opaque white bubble covered the interior and grounds. Harry could not make the castle the focus of his spell at all.
Yet when Harry scried Therinsford, he was able to see it in full detail despite never having been there.
As their departure loomed closer, everybody got antsy. Brom wanted to be recovered for the voyage, Jeod worried about Brom, Eragon, his ship and crew, Helen worried about Jeod's business and the consequences that would follow if the ship went down, and Harry worried about their impending split.
Eragon worried most of all. He worried about what would happen when Harry was no longer there to provide them with unheard of magical advantages, how Brom would react to Harry running off, what would happen on the voyage, if Saphira might get spotted, and perhaps most of all, what would he find at Morzan's castle?
By the fifth day, Brom was out of bed. He walked with a cane and shuffled wherever he went, but he was mobile. Anxiety pent up in Eragon like a dammed river. He'd fallen into a routine in Teirm. Just like he'd done when they were on the road traveling, just like when he was living at the castle, just like all his childhood spent on Garrow's farm.
No matter where he went, routine snuck up on Eragon and he adjusted to his circumstances. Three times now he'd been confronted with upheaval, and the fourth was fast approaching.
Eragon knocked on the cellar door.
"Yeah?" Harry answered from the other side. Eragon opened the heavy oak door. Cool, earthy air emerged from the cellar. Harry was working on a new tent. It wasn't as handsome as the luxury tent he'd bought from the traders, the one Eragon was familiar with, but a new, basic and practical one.
"Did you manage to get it to work?" Eragon asked the wizard.
Harry gestured to the flap. "See for yourself."
Eragon crouched inside and gaped. Harry had clearly gotten better at this.
The new tent's room was twice as big as the old one. Not only that, there were more doors in it, presumably leading to even more space. The central room was set up like a living room with couches, a rug, and a hearth, complete with a merrily flickering fire that breathed no smoke.
Harry followed him in, leading him through an arch on the left. "Dining room and kitchen," Harry pointed out, gesturing to a set of odd boxes and metal appliances Eragon did not know the purpose of. There was a picnic table in the middle of the room and a lantern hanging from the ceiling that gave off daylight rather than candlelight.
On the other side of the hallway was a bathroom and two bedrooms. One had a single large bed, the other had two bunk beds to accommodate four total. "For me, and if I have guests," Harry explained. "If it gets full, I can always shuffle around the furniture and conjure new bunks."
They returned to the living room. "You got a lot better at this," Eragon finally managed.
Harry nodded, grinning. "Yeah? That last one was what, my second time ever casting that charm? This time I had a vision going into it, too." He sat on the couch. Eragon let himself fall into an armchair opposite him.
"You're sure about this?" Eragon asked. He did not need to specify what Harry was sure about.
Harry nodded. "I am. I've prepared everything I can think you'd need. I split the meals and raw groceries into quarters and took a fourth of both. You know how to pitch and collapse the tent and how to use the expanded backpack. I added a summoning charm to them both so if you manage to fumble them overboard, you can call them back to your hand. Saphira has her saddle, you've got Zar'roc and your bow, I gave you a medkit with all the stuff Brom will need and instructions on how to use them – hope you kept up with your reading practice-"
"As if Brom or Jeod would let me forget," Eragon muttered.
Harry cackled. "If there's something else you think you'll need, tell me now and I'll do my best to make it happen before Sunday."
Eragon thought for a moment. "Could you copy my best arrow to fill my whole quiver?"
"I can do you one better," Harry said with a grin. "I can make it endlessly full."
During reading lessons, Eragon always gravitated towards Domina Abr Wyrda for practice. The more he learned, the more he was able to extract from the marching lines of inked letters. It often made him feel like a child, sounding out words with the phonetic rules Brom had taught in an effort to connect which arrangement of letters was which word. He obviously could speak the common tongue well enough, he simply had to put the right letters to the right sounds until he made the connection and figured out the word he was looking at.
And the learning got exponentially faster, too. At a certain point, Eragon did not need to be certain he'd sounded out a word right (the common tongue was riddled with spelling inconsistencies and oddities that felt cobbled together, and no spelling or phonetic rule was complete without at least a dozen exceptions), because he had learned and read enough of the surrounding words in the sentence or paragraph to guess what the mystery word was.
He was always envious to see Harry's eyes ghost across a page, flying over rows of text with hardly a pause, zipping back and forth as he made his way down the page at the speed of an arrow in flight. But he took solace in the fact that he could get to be that quick too one day.
Harry had secretly duplicated copies of all the books in Jeod's library and stocked them away in his new tent in boxes in the bunk room, Eragon knew. But Jeod made him an offer that he wanted to accept, even if Harry could have done the same thing for him too.
"How would you like to keep that book?" Jeod offered.
Eragon glanced down at Domina Abr Wyrda in his lap. "This?"
The merchant nodded. "So few young men want to read. This has clearly caught your interest and spurred your desire to master reading. It's rare, but books are for reading and I have read that one enough myself. You should keep it."
"What if your ship sinks and it's lost to the ocean?" Eragon pointed out. "That would be a waste."
"If that happens, I will have bigger things to worry about than a lost book," Jeod said firmly.
Eragon's eyes went back down to the illustration of the mountain city with the giant carved gemstone at its top. Tronjheim, he now knew it was called. Capped by the Star Sapphire, which the dwarves called Isidar Mithrim in their language. Sounding out dwarven words was tricky. He felt sure he had missed something
"Thank you," Eragon said, his gratitude heartfelt. "I will treasure it always."
Jeod grinned. "Until you finish reading it and have more questions. Then it will seem inadequate and you'll have to find another book. And there, the life of a bibliophile truly begins."
"It's the perfect place," Jeod pointed out, tapping the triangular island off the coast. "Shartooth has no true cities, only settlements dotted on the east side. Further to the west would be the perfect place to hide a base or shipyard for the Empire's enforcers.
Brom shook his head. "It's too obvious. It's the very first place any sailor would think to look."
Jeod shrugged. "Blatant can be effective. You remember, Hefring was a known thief. Nobody batted an eye until it was too late. How much room would they need? A sheltered cove, intermittent shipments of supplies, it could easily be small enough to hide in plain sight and reap the rewards of advantageous positioning."
Brom pushed himself up in his chair to reach over the map. His breath hitched and he winced in pain. Eragon felt a pang of worry. Brom was still not in good condition.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jeod asked in concern.
Brom growled and waved him off. "I'll be fine. I could be bedridden and it still wouldn't matter. I am far more concerned with this." Brom tapped the point of the cape that jutted north and insulated Teirm from the full force of the western ocean's tides.
"It's much closer, connected by land for easier resupply, and locks down the southern route far better, given any ships will have to round the peninsula to move towards Surda. I would be surprised if there were not several of these concealed pirate yards along the coast – how else would they stop shipments that originated from further south, say Feinster or Aroughs? It is likely your men will have to either give Alagaesia wide berth on their voyage, or risk being attacked on the later legs of their journey, where we will no longer be with them to guard their ship." Brom dragged his fingertip along the coast, drawing a wide route far out to sea.
"But if the ships were never heard from again, my money is on closer rather than further. And the cape of Teirm is closest."
"Also inhabited," Jeod pointed out.
Brom scowled. Eragon sighed and deafened his ears to Brom's and Jeod's bickering. They both seemed to live for this. Jeod especially came alive when recalling old bits and scraps of lore he'd read in some book or testimony or journal, and Brom liked arguing his points. It took some of the sharpness off of Brom's 'betrayal' in bringing them to Teirm. Brom was having a great time with an old friend. It was hard to begrudge him that when talking with Jeod brought out a different, livelier and happier side of the man than Eragon had ever seen.
Harry was disinterested. He was slouched in a chair opposite the map, sitting so low that his eyes were barely level with the paper. He toyed with his wand, turning it over and passing it between his hands.
"Enough," Brom finally announced, leaning back into his chair. "It does not matter where they come from. All it informs us of is where we must pay the lion's share of vigilance. "
"You can plan your route to have the wind at your backs when you cross their path," Jeod pointed out. "That would make it matter quite a bit."
Brom scowled. "Do you have a map of the winds? And how they will change over the next few days?"
"No, but the prevailing winds on the coast cycle with the time of day," Jeod explained. "Scholars theorize the tides influence the air over the water."
"Does that include you?" Brom snarked.
Jeod shrugged. "It seems likely. Most days, all being equal, wind blows from sea to land during the day, then reverses at night. And it happens with such regularity it may well be connected to the morning and evening tide. But it may not be. Those scholars search for reasons to fit their theories. I prefer to observe the lack of reasonings and surmise the phenomenon as coincidental until more is known."
"In either case, cross the passage between Sharktooth and the mainland during the day if you suspect the pirates are on the island and you wish to flee to the coast. In the night if you wish to flee out to sea. I will pass this along to Captain Tarence tomorrow morning before you depart." Jeod rubbed the passage in question with his finger.
"Either way, you can round the cape during the evening if you think they might be based there. You will easily be able to control the timing of your approach to the Sharktooth Strait."
Eragon knocked on Harry's bedroom door late that night. "Yeah?" came the muffled reply.
"It's Eragon."
"Come in."
Harry's room was full of oddities and junk. Four iron cauldrons had been emptied of their contents, supported by blackened wire holders. There were odd stains in the ceiling above them, many-colored like an oil slick. Bits of junk and tools were scattered across the room, pieces of apparel and jewelry next to old rags, toys, and crude wood carvings in little piles of shavings.
Harry was hunched over his bowl, wand on the carpet next to it. The surface of the water gleamed with foggy images. Eragon recognized the unconscious face of the elf he'd dreamed of weeks ago. Even unconscious, her features were agonized, her lips drawn taut in a perpetual wince. There were deep purple bags beneath her closed eyes, and blood trickled from the corner of her lips which were bitten raw.
"Where is that?" Eragon asked.
Harry concentrated. The image panned out. The elf was barely covered with rags, chained by manacles on her wrists and ankles that were welded to an iron ring in a carriage. There were four guards inside with her, all with blades drawn and held to her body even while she was unconscious.
"They think she'll put up that great a fight?" Eragon murmured, awed.
Harry shrugged. He focused and the scrying bowl took an even broader view, now outside the carriage and looking down at a column of twelve armored guards and two cloaked men escorting the carriage on their own horses. They moved in an odd formation that left a gap right in front of the carriage. All the figures were foggy and blurred, too obscured to make out their identity. Oddly enough, the background was cast in razor sharp detail.
Behind the escort, a sprawling and low city sat on the shore of a lake, surrounded by walls that were shorter than Teirm's, at least from their vantage. Even beyond the walls, the city continued to spread like spilled milk over the cleared land, houses and streets that were well outside the direct protection of the walls. It was late evening there, same as in Teirm. How odd it was to Eragon, to be seeing the same sunlight in two vastly different places at once.
"You said you thought she was being kept at Gil'ead?" Eragon asked. "This is it?"
Harry nodded. "I think so. They're moving her. I can't decide if that's good or bad for me."
Eragon frowned. "Why wouldn't it be good? You don't have to break into a guarded building for her anymore."
Harry shook his head. "They've got to know that too. That's why they sent eighteen men along to watch her."
"They must be headed to Uru'baen," Eragon realized. "If the lake is on that side, I remember Jeod's map. They are headed south. Towards the capital."
Harry nodded. "And if what Brom says is true, there's no way we'll be able to rescue her from under Galbatorix's nose."
"It really is now or never," Eragon murmured. Their impending split the next morning loomed even closer. Any notion he might have entertained of not going through with their plan was wiped away. "When are you going to leave?"
Harry turned to him with a serious look. "Tonight."
The immediacy of Harry's plans worried Eragon even more. Harry revealed that he had already packed most of what he was taking. The things that were 'his' that he was leaving to them, he'd piled up by the door.
"Tent with almost all the food," Harry pointed. "I took enough for myself for a couple weeks, then I can buy as much as I want with the gold. I left you half the gold. Half of it's minted into the Empire's crowns, the other half is still ingots. That's also in the tent. I copied my copies of Jeod's books and put them in an expanded box in your tent, too. This is the other critical thing." Harry handed him a white matchstick box with a red plus on it.
"Your medkit?" Eragon hissed. "The elf is going to need this!"
Harry shook his head. "I made another one. All the stuff I bought from Angela was plenty. There are instructions written in there for each potion. I tried to enchant some bandages with simple healing spells, you'll have to tell me if they work. Of course, all the potions are brewed with my blood and not-" Harry stopped himself.
Saphira's, Eragon thought.
"Just remember that they aren't going to have the same strength as the Wiggenweld potions," Harry said. "I left you with two vials of Wiggenweld. The elf is going to need the other six."
Eragon swallowed and nodded. "Does that mean you're leaving right now?"
Harry glanced at the window. The moon outside was a thin crescent. "Yeah. There's just one last thing. If you want to contact me, I made you this."
The wizard brought out a rough wooden carving of a bird. It looked very much like a beginner's work. Eragon cupped its blocky legs in his hands. The bird came alive, ruffling its oaken feathers and turning its head to look at him.
"Give it a letter and tell it to deliver it to me and it will find me," Harry said. He handed a second carving over. "And this one is for Jeod. Same deal, though it's supposed to be for Brom and him to keep in touch." He flicked his wand at the window and pushed it open utterly silently. Harry tugged on his new boots and gloves and sat on the windowsill. He waved his wand in a sweeping arc across the room.
All the collected junk either packed itself into his bag or vanished into nothingness. The stained ceiling fixed itself along with the damaged carpet. For a brief moment, everything in the room swirled around him, righting itself, straightening paintings and making the bed. At the center of it all, Harry was grinning in a gleeful, self-satisfied sort of way. Like the childish wonder of magic still hadn't been lost on Harry, who'd been using it for half his life.
In that moment, he looked like something out of a storybook; a figure with whimsical magic who appeared in a child's life, turned it on its head, then vanished into the ether. Some kind of spirit or fairy, prepared to depart forever. Eragon felt very much like the child, standing there watching, a couple of toy birds in his hands.
"You will come back, right?" Eragon whispered, worried.
Harry sent him a little smile. "Of course."
And then he let himself fall over the edge.
AN: Lots of big words for a pretty small chapter. I had planned to spend a while with Brom during his recovery, but it would have dragged on, and Jeod is right that he couldn't very well stall his ship after fighting so hard to get it out of port.
I like Teirm and it could have been fun to spend more time exploring what a nice, walled city was like when they had a rich sponsor and basically unlimited money, but Eragon's mission is too direct to waffle around in Teirm exploring for more than a few days. It makes me wonder if I shouldn't send them to Dras Leona anyways. I have an idea for an important scene between Brom and Eragon that I'd like to write, but it doesn't have to be in Dras Leona. Maybe they'll visit Feinster or Belatona, instead. Let me know
I also wanted to spend more time with Jeod. We've got a bit more time with him before there is a LONG Jeod Hiatus, which makes me sad.