Yazuac should have been the peak of my anxiety for quite some time. And yet, days after he'd barely survived his first spellcasting, Eragon came within an inch of far deadlier foes. Just because his stated goal was to kill the Ra'zac didn't mean he was actually ready to do it! Thankfully, Galbatorix allowed their parents to grant them expedited travel. The Lethrblaka arrived and departed before the boys caught up to them. I shudder to think how disastrously a fledgling rider, adolescent dragon, and an elderly Shur'tugal would have fared in a fight with the flesh-eaters. At the risk of sounding like even more of a pessimist than I already do, I doubt it would have been a long battle.

This little bit of serendipity would have far-reaching consequences for me. Eragon talked Brom into checking trading logs on the coast after finding a flask of seithr oil. And, just my luck, they chose a very familiar city in which to do so.

The lord of Teirm picked the most inconvenient time to strengthen their magical defenses. I probably could have found a new hole in their safeguards given enough time, but I didn't fancy squatting in the shadows for hours untold. I could just use the main gate like a normal traveler, but I didn't feel it was worth the risk— who knew what lengths Galbatorix had taken to track me? I'd always been drawn to this city; he knew it better than anyone.

It's why he'd chosen a palace just south of it as our home.

Katana interrupted my brooding as soon as it began. If you can no longer go over the wall, why not go under it?

What, like a mole? It would be almost silly enough to work, but that's the first area most strongholds reinforce against tunneling and sapping. If anything, the protections woven into the earth beneath are even more secure than those above. My reserve of power dropped below what I considered, "acceptable," levels— I'd been poking at the wards for over an hour after all. I tipped a handful of dried meat, fruit, seeds, and crystalized honey into my mouth; the combination was leathery and awkward, but it was satisfying for the moment. I hadn't relied this much on my own body's strength since my hazardous flight from the Beors. This time, at least, I was able and determined to keep it properly fueled.

I still don't know how you swallow that stuff; it seems as appetizing as a mouthful of sand.

This coming from the fish addict! I don't understand the appeal of flesh that tastes like distilled ocean!

The ocean is tasty.

Agree to disagree. I moved a safe distance from Teirm's wall, picking an old deer path through brush bordering the cliffs. Before long, I emerged onto a ledge that offered a peak at the sea. Most of my sight was still dominated by the massive white walls, but just the tiny corner of grey-tinged waves was enough to wrench my heart. Maybe we should leave Alagaesia to herself.

What do you mean?

You asked me in Carvahall what came next; what if we left this land completely? There's nothing meaningful for us here. Once Torix is dead and the boys are safe… we could just go.

I could tell Katana was pleased to hear me speak of a future beyond our current woes, but she seemed equally uneasy about the prospect. I don't know how I feel about a ship. If the worst were to happen, I'd be trapped at the bottom of the ocean.

I flinched. That is a weighty consideration, however unlikely.

I like the spirit of it, it just needs a little more work.

Unless you decided that life as a fish would suit you after all?

If I had scales again and fins where my wings once were…perhaps it would.

I stared down at the notch of grey, adrift on an inner sea of memories and schemes. Hey, why don't we swim?

Is now really the time?

No, listen; we could swim to Teirm. My audience was unimpressed. I'm serious!

Is there a secret watergate made specially for fish?

No, but there are docks. The guards question every new entrant at the main gate to the city; not the inner gates. If I intermingle with the shoppers, sailors, merchants, and the rest, they'd never notice!

Aside from the fact you'd be sopping wet.

That, dear friend, is the whole point of magic: the ability to circumvent and manipulate assumptions.

The waters around Teirm have been called artful, evocative, enigmatic, and somber. The word, "beautiful," is surprisingly far down that list for many. The sea itself is often described as such, but Teirm is not the best example of her majesty. Still, I have always considered it the fairest place in all of Alagaesia; ghostly-grey sea melting into misty-grey skies; eternity in a glance. It tends to skew cool and breezy, though the storms can be brutal in the spring and summer. It's a quiet and safe sort of place.

At least, above the waves.

There's a reason Teirm is not renowned for a culture of sea-bathing and leisure sailing; between the rocky shoals, schizophrenic weather, and unpredictable currents, many a person has drowned within easy sight of the shore. It was easy enough to keep my clothes and hair dry; quite another to navigate the alien sea-scape. The most effective method was to use the life force of the plants and creatures as a guide, combined with occasional insight gleaned through their eyes. (This can have some very interesting consequences. If, for example, a reader ever has the chance to graze the mind of a shrimp they would learn exactly how awe-ful our world truly is in their eyes.) Once I'd sorted out my sense of direction, it was simple enough to clamber onto a vacant dock and mix into the crowd.

Little did I expect that the fish were going to be the most normal creatures I met that day.

The father-son duo had made quite a bit of progress since I'd lost sight of them. They'd ventured all the way to an inner circle; one of the fanciest neighborhoods in town. Damn it all, are they walking straight to the record stores? I didn't figure Brom for such a lackadaisical planner.

Perhaps he has a contact in the city?

Brom's been holed up in a hovel for fifteen years; what friends could he possibly have here?

You spent nearly as long underground, yet you reemerged to a handful of friends.

I was strong enough to bear the barbed reference to my stay in Tronjheim with only a touch of discomfort, but even that little flinch was more reaction than I liked. I felt Katana's unspoken question and grumbled, I should be stronger than this by now. My ordeal in Farthen Dur ended nearly forty years ago! And worse things have certainly transpired since.

Katana needed no elaboration to understand my reference. Even at his worst, Galbatorix rarely makes you feel helpless. If anything, the rage he inspires seems to fuel you.

For some reason, that is a less-than-comforting thought.

My inner discussion faded off as the boys stopped in front of a curly haired woman. She was seated before an overgrown shop, scribbling furiously, holding aloft a plump toad, and paying her visitors no particular mind. When she finally spoke, Eragon was even more affronted than when he thought them ignored. Brom only seemed more amused. The trio exchanged a few more lines before Brom and Eragon continued to one of the neighboring houses.

Jeod? Why is that name so bloody familiar…

An old friend? Or an old enemy?

My few friends are back in Uru'baen, and I don't leave enemies alive.

Perhaps a coincidence then?

Perhaps.

A moment later, a man who appeared about Brom's stage of life (though he was probably much younger) flung the door wide. I idled nonchalantly until the trio ventured down the street and out of sight. It seems you had the right of things this time, Katana; Brom has at least one friend left in the world. I sighed and wiped a thin sheen of sweat from my brow. This puts us in a fine mess. We can't just hover in an alley until they return, especially if they intend to sleep here.

We could grab a room at an inn?

Too risky— at best, we'll be easy pickings for any agents passing by. At worst, Torix has actively warned them to look for us.

Sleeping in the brush then?

I was just about to agree with this unappealing plan when a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Excuse me."

I nearly jumped out of my hide and into the next life from shock; it'd been years since I was last caught totally unawares. Not many people could manage such a feat, and none of them should have been in Teirm.

I whirled in place, only to blink in confusion at an empty avenue. The only other living thing was an over-large brown and black feline cleaning its paws atop a fence. Am I finally cracking?

Do you mean, again?

Hush! I cleared my throat. "Hello?"

Hello. This voice was most decidedly neither mine nor Katana's. It was male, cordial, and impertinent.

I'd long been in the habit of mentally viewing my surroundings; as a thin blanket of awareness (imperceptible to all but the most skilled mentalists). In addition, I rarely fully shielded myself (an ironclad mind in a sea of otherwise typical people drew more attention from magic users than a stray thought here or there). My deepest secrets were so well encased that no casual encounter could unearth them. Still, it was good practice to marshal one's defenses when confronted by a new mind; especially if the source had yet to be identified as friend or foe. I sank inside layers of iron-clad control, eyes narrowed on the outside world for some sign of what on earth was happening.

"Yes, I expected as much. That's why I bothered with this tongue in the first place."

Against all logic, the voice seemed to be coming directly from… the cat. It continued, "I felt you would be too odd to ignore."

Oh fuck. There's no way; one of their kind hasn't been seen in the Empire in decades!

Which kind?

"Werecats." I swallowed hard. Very little was known of them besides one crucial thing: they did not approve of—nor ally themselves with— Galbatorix. Gingerly and with the highest caution, I reopened our mental dialogue. I would apologize for shutting you out, but I'm still not sure that it's wise to speak to you at all. At the very least, I'm not accustomed to such surprises.

Think no more of it. The cat's body purred, though his mind seemed more curious than pleased. It appears that your acquaintances and mine have now become acquainted in turn.

I twitched a smile. What does that make us?

Strangers, obviously. He dropped his heavy paw daintily before lifting the next to repeat his maintenance. And so we shall remain until you make an introduction.

I believe it's customary for the one initiating a conversation to make the first offer, but I have the strangest feeling we won't get anywhere if I wait for you.

If you'd classify that feeling as strange, I shudder to think how barren your mental landscape typically is.

The unmerited insult left me floundering for a reply. I wasn't used to being spoken to so abruptly by anyone but Torix and Katana. To bear it from a cat of all things ran counter to my instincts. I swallowed the surprise and tipped a courtly bow, My friends call me Viper.

The feline shook his head as if trying to free himself of a fly. His large, black-tufted ears gave him the momentary appearance of even greater bulk than he actually possessed. And enemies?

They don't usually have much to say once they're dead.

Congratulations; it would be most unfortunate if they did. I straightened expectantly. After he'd completed the last of his paw-cleaning he precisely set his front paws together and sat up to his full— very impressive— height. I have often been called Solembum.

As honored as I am to make your acquaintance, I still don't fully understand what interest I could hold for you.

It's been many moons since I was last in the presence of a rider, and even more since my straying thoughts have touched those of a dragon.

I did my best to appear unbothered by his words… but something in that explanation was lacking. You didn't know either fact until after we'd spoken. Also, you said that our friends and your friends had met. Where does this puzzle lead?

If you'd like to know, you need only follow me. Without another word, he flitted from the link, hopped to the ground, and strutted like a prince toward the overgrown shop and the scribbling woman.

If it's a trap, it's a very lazy one. Katana was twice as intrigued as I was, and I was well and truly fascinated.

So either it's totally safe, or we are the most gullible prey in history. As we rolled the idea back and forth, the strange woman tucked a fat toad into the breast pocket of her apron, folded her notes tidily, and opened her shop door for Solembum. The werecat snuck into the gap with a few fluid steps. His companion followed just behind. What kind of person could keep a werecat as a pet?

I doubt he's any more of a pet than I am. If he is here, it is because he wants to be.

Even more interesting. I squinted against the late-day sun at the shop's colorful sign. Flaking, curling letters read, "Angela's Herb Emporium." An herbalist in a fancy neighborhood like this? She must be very good at her craft.

All the more reason to avoid her.

I fear it's a bit late for that; Solembum knows of us. And besides, we haven't made any other plans yet.

Fine, but let the record show: I distrust this.

Noted.

-:- -:- -:-

The shop was several times more curious within than it was without. A broad array of plantlife thrived within; some from farther afield than even I'd traveled. Each one was radiant with extra life and vigor, like any moment they would burst from their earthen trappings, consume the shop itself, and explode onto the streets. I grazed the underside of a felty, purple-and-green leaf on the pad of my index finger; daintily as one would entreat the hand of a maiden. These are the happiest, healthiest plants I've seen in my entire life. Even the few that have been freshly cut or repotted are practically singing!

Then this Angela is an avid gardener?

That and more; there's magic in this, without a doubt. I dropped my hand back to my side, careful not to touch anything else; magic users could be quite territorial. I sidled between crates of crystals and scrolls near a sales counter. A wooden rod rested on one stand, a dish of small opalescent stones on another, and a familiar cat stretched out to a napping pose between the two. Behind the counter rose a wall of drawers in various sizes; an alchemist's cabinet blown up to building-sized proportions! On a whim, I whispered to the cat, "If even half of those drawers are in use, then her collection is truly massive."

Too few are dedicated to catnip for my liking. Solembum replied.

I stifled a giggle with the back of my hand. For all the legends and mysteries surrounding werecats, none ever addressed shared interests with their less-magical cousins. "How many should there be?"

Solembum's ear twitched in irritation. At least a dozen more to do it justice; each strain must be stored separately to preserve its aroma.

It was all I could do to back-pedal from my unintentional mockery. "Handsome and a connoisseur; you are a very accomplished gentleman."

I am neither gentle nor a man, but I will take your words as a compliment anyway.

My tete-e-tete with the feline distracted me long enough for the proprietress to re-emerge from her backroom. She was a striking figure despite her diminutive stature; all airy brown curls and electric energy. "Apologies for not greeting you sooner, I had to return a subject to his terrarium." She wiped a trail of liquid from her palm and wrist on an old rag before sticking it in a pocket. "First time in the shop?"

"I haven't been in town long." I decided it best to steer the conversation away from myself as swiftly as possible. "What exactly do you sell here?"

"A bit of this, and a bit of that. It depends on what you're looking to buy." Her hand idly floated toward the werecat, resting between his ears and rubbing a circle on his brow. His purring increased to thunderous volume. "I specialize in tinctures and medicines, though I have been known to take requests for more specific concoctions."

"Lotions, potions, and perfumes?" A collection of aggressively arcane-looking scrolls caught my attention. Such things were rarely of any import to a true magician, and lay people in this region had a severe distrust of magic. "Is there a demand for that kind of thing here?"

She rested her hands on the back of her waist. "Enough to keep me fed most months, though business has been slower of late."

"A product of the times, no doubt." As I spoke, Solembum decided he'd had enough pets. His purring morphed into a mighty yawn as he flexed his long, lean body. Then he hopped from the counter and sauntered into the backroom. "You have a very interesting companion."

"He likes to think so, and I have no reason to argue with him."

I waited a moment to see if she would offer any further remarks on the werecat. When she didn't, I covered the silence by feigning fascination with some crystals. "It must be difficult to source these things in Teirm."

"Yes, it would be. Lucky for me that I traveled a great deal in my youth; most of my wares I've gathered or grown myself."

"You speak like you're no longer young." In truth, she appeared to be in her mid-twenties at most. Then again, I knew better than anyone how deceiving appearances could be.

It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. "I've certainly been younger and I plan to get a bit older yet." She tossed her cloud of curls back from her face, snagged them in a nimble twist, and tucked a knitting needle into the mess. The end was carved to resemble a hooked claw, the wood fading from deep brown to morbid red. "Now, did you come to sight-see or to purchase?"

I felt the danger of over-indulging my curiosity with this woman. She was quick-witted, most probably a mage of some skill, and she had the advantage of home territory. If I tipped my hand too far, I would be in a great deal of danger. And yet… something about her was bewitching; a riddle that taunted with its inscrutable mystery. "I doubt you have a cure for what ails me; unless you happen to also sell wine?"

Half a moment later, she set a dusty bottle and a packet of herbs on the counter. "The wine itself is nothing special, but the spices have enough warmth in them to thaw the Beors." She gingerly untied the ribbon on the packet and wafted it into the air.

Immediately images of winter balls, cozy fires, and thick furs dominated my mind. I breathed deeply of the calming aroma; notes of clove and cinnamon sank into my weary spirits. "That's heavenly."

"Thank you for appreciating it." She flicked the packet closed, though the fragrance lingered pleasantly between us. "I also have a cooling drought, good medicinally for a sore throat or topically to fend off summer heat."

We talked at some length about the various conveniences and medicines she could provide. Eventually, we reached the subject of herbal teas and it wasn't long before she had a kettle on and two small cups to sample various combinations. I checked each one for toxins just to be sure, but all I found were increasingly delicious flavor profiles and a smile that utterly refused to vanish. "You're either the best businesswoman in the world or the worst; we've gone through at least a handful of silver worth of your stock!"

She shrugged, unbothered. "Gold can only do so much. Sometimes you have to stop and feed the soul." She tipped back the latest blend— rose hips, orange peel, and a strange tropical flower— and hummed. "I get the feeling it's been a while since you have?"

After an hour or two in the woman's company, her insight hardly came as a surprise. "You have no idea."

By the time I'd finished my cup and turned my attention back to her, she had a brow lifted with interest. She tapped a finger on her own cup for a moment. "Do you enjoy games?"

Something about her tone stole the careless ease from our banter. The weight of the air had shifted to the more serious; more consequential. "That depends entirely on the stakes."

She laughed heartily, knocking twice on the counter. "That might be the first decent answer that question has ever received!" She swirled the last drops of tea and tipped them into the nearest planter. She angled the cup back at herself for half a moment, inspected the dregs within, and then shook them after the liquid. "I had a game in mind with a very simple wager: truth and lies."

"That sounds like a steep price for a casual game." I'd played— or at least seen— versions of this game played at court. Someone would give two statements and another player had to guess which was true and which was false. If the speaker was caught in a lie, they drank. If not, their opponent did. It was usually just an excuse to get sloshed as fast as possible, but it had occasionally gotten all too personal in the intrigue-centric world of Uru'baen. "The bet is, in essence, 'objective truth.'"

"There is no such thing; if there is objectivity in our world, then it belongs to beings greater than us." She flapped a hand, unconcerned. "And besides, I never specified which version of the game we ought to play." I motioned for her to explain. "Each of us says two statements; one true enough and one an intentional falsehood. The other must guess aloud, but never gets to learn which is which— we each decide for ourselves."

I chewed that prospect for a moment. "What then is the gambit?"

"We learn to like or loathe one another without risking any of our precious secrets." She rested both elbows on the counter and then her chin in her hands. "I'll throw in an extra pot of tea?" I'd barely nodded when she bounced back up to heat another kettle of water. "You go first."

It took some effort to sift through which factoids would be challenging enough for a game but not too personal to share with a stranger. Decided, I intoned cryptically, "I have seen the northern sky alight with multi-colored flame, and I once swam in the southern sea."

Angela hummed as she measured out scoops of tea. "Whichever is true, I hope you have a chance to do the other. Still, I'm going to guess the second is the lie." She paused a moment before continuing, "I have glimpsed eternity, and I have a deep love of toads."

The disparity in 'likeliness' was the only reason I considered the first. "As much as I'd like to ask about what exactly you saw in the ether, that seems too vague to even count. That and the fact that you were holding one earlier today, I have to assume the latter is true."

"And you know what that makes of 'u' and 'me!'" She chuckled to herself. "If you were watching all that time, then you'd also know of my hypothesis on the subject… but that would spoil the game."

"I wasn't watching you specifically."

A moment of anticipatory silence caught us in a bubble. Slowly the hiss and then wailing of the kettle intruded, though it only seemed to stretch the pause out longer. I half expected her to ask me to leave since she'd just accused me of spying. Instead, she retrieved the shrieking kettle and rested it on an elevated metal stand to cool. When she did speak, it was only to say, "Are you going to give up that easily?"

Her style of constantly buzzing around topics grew on me more and more with every new iteration. It was tailored to keep a person continually off-balance; the mark of a master social engineer. Talking with her was to be a butterfly caught in the headwind of a hurricane; dancing with the irresistible pull of nature. Adrift on these musings, I reverted to one of the most cliche subjects for a game like ours, "I have never lain with a man, but I have lain with a woman."

"I assume you mean in the anatomical sense; merely resting beside this sex or that hardly qualifies as a confession." Angela served the first of the newest tea with a wink. It was autumn liquified; the persistent peace of a world at rest. "I may as well flip a coin for all the good it would do."

"You don't take issue with the latter?"

"Why would I? Some people have real concerns beyond the nocturnal habits of their neighbors."

"I knew I liked you."

"That one is the lie then; you found it out just this minute." She tapped a finger on the counter, impossibly observant eyes glued to mine. "You are of the nobility, and entirely human."

I blinked hard. "That isn't how the game is played!"

"You can quit if you like." She sipped her tea with perfect unconcern. "Though I admit it would be rather disappointing."

I bit the inside of my cheek. She can likely tell there's something off about me physically, as keen as her observations have been. This isn't a question or a riddle; she's telling me that she knows my station and inhuman nature. And, if that's the case, then she might even know exactly who I am! All of this I connected in moments, though I still couldn't decide exactly what to do. At length, I quirked a smile and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm far too competitive to leave a challenge unanswered."

"Yes you do, and yes you are." Angela seemed pleased by the response. She leaned her elbows on the counter and beamed. "Would you like your fortune told? Solembum and I find you intriguing, and I'd offer a fair price!"

"Thank you for the compliment, but there's no such thing as a fair price for a parlor trick." I'd studied the history, complexities, and pitfalls of divination extensively throughout my life. My mother occasionally read cards for local women, though she never claimed to have any particular power. Galbatorix too had long been obsessed with the ancient and storied past of seers and, as his student, I'd absorbed a fair amount of his knowledge. After all of that, I was only sure of two things. First: divining magic was unreliable at best and fatally reliable at worst. Second: I disliked it on principle.

"No tricks here! My methods are a bit more reliable than the average mystic."

"The first is the lie; I have every confidence that this shop is brimming with tricks. And, if you're that confident in your methods, then I have an even stronger motivation to avoid them." I finished off my tea and offered the cup for another fill. The cooler water and diluted botanicals gave it a completely different character; the ghostly filtering of sunlight through a summer canopy. "I mean no particular offense to you or your craft, but I don't care to worry about events that have not yet presented themselves."

"Then you're either very wise… or craven. Ooh, that is a delightful word, craven. One can't help but picture a great black bird cowering in fear!" She snorted as she refilled her cup. "Can't say I'm surprised, though I am a little dispirited." A twinkle appeared in her dancing eyes. "I have a feeling your fortune would be a most interesting thing."

Before I could reply, a chorus of good-natured conversation drifted through a vine-crusted window. I pivoted and squinted at a gap between two tendrils. One voice unmistakably belonged to Brom, and the presence of two additional silhouettes guaranteed Eragon and the mysterious Jeod were also with him.

"Solembum tells me that you were following those men." Her sudden shift from riddles to plain speech was twice as jarring as everything else she'd said. "Why is that?"

I hesitated, teetering between totally opposed answers. The last mouthful of tea suddenly seemed unreachable mere inches away, so thick was the tension in the air. Damn it all, she's earned at least some dreg of the truth. "Because I promised one of their mothers that I would protect her boy." I managed to curl numb fingers around my cup and raise it in a toast. In a more jaunty tone, I added, "That, or I'm a deranged stalker."

She leaned back, reappraising me from toe to tip. "If you're deranged, then so is every other person in this city."

I chuckled, polished off my last sip of liquid, and grinned. "You caught me." She fell into another chorus of easy giggles; everything seemed to amuse her to a greater or lesser extent. As the tension abated, I decided to take advantage of the lull. "It's my turn to ask you a question. You postulated about my blood and my heritage, and all that without asking my name." She nodded sagely, not offering any objection or excuse. I continued, "What do you think it is?"

Her eyes widened. "I'm flattered that you think I'm clever enough to find it in a few hours of idle chatter, but a question like that takes even the wisest of us a lifetime to master."

I rolled my eyes, an unwilling smile fixed in place where I would have liked to frown. "Well, Ms. Angela, I'm afraid that you'll have to call me something. I'll take whatever title you're willing to give."

She hummed thoughtfully, tapping her lip with a finger. "Viper is an atrocious name to introduce yourself with. Besides, there are those in this neighborhood who remember someone by that name who ran with a group of… shall we say, flamboyant vandals."

I almost forgot that it was this very street Felice and I chose to display Balor's captured mutts!

But that was thirty-some years ago, Katana remembered that evening almost as fondly as I did. Just how old is this woman?

That's a wonderful question. I nodded humbly. "Excuse the literal answer I gave your companion; I don't have many friends, and the few I do have call me Viper. But, since I'm in the middle of making a new friend, I would be most grateful for a new name."

"You may come to regret that; my taste does not align with everyone's." The witch, for she couldn't possibly be anything less, tugged a stool from beneath her counter and stepped up to peak inside a high drawer. A moment later she tugged out a book bound in poisonous green leather. The pages barely stayed in their volume, jutting out of the top and bottom with numerous stuffed-in sheets of notes. "Let's see… there's one in particular that comes to mind, but I can't put my finger on the spelling— Ah, here we are! Lovissa. Seems a bit stuck-up." She tossed the book into a completely different drawer on the way down from her perch. "So it will have to be Lovi."

The chill that had been circling my head sank into my chest. The blue-throated lily of the southern plains. No doubt about it then; she knows exactly who I am.

Are we in danger?

That is yet to be seen. She's had plenty of opportunity to cause me harm, and she doesn't strike me as the type to forfeit the advantage of surprise. The longer I swished our time together about in my head, the more certain I was of my conclusion. If anything, I would say that tipping her hand in this small way is some sort of peace offering!

Will you accept it?

I certainly don't want a quarrel with her. For once, my hesitance was more than self-preservation or mercy— though there was a healthy dollop of those as well. No… I simply enjoyed talking with this living oddity; another curiosity from the seams of our world. I cleared my throat mildly and answered aloud, "It's as good a name as any I've had, but probably not one that should be used outside of these walls." At the risk of offending my generous hostess, I added, "Or in any company but ours."

Angela choked off her laugh with a very serious expression. "Ah yes, the veil of mystique and all that. I presume the targets of your 'stalking' are unaware of your presence?"

"Only you and I are privy to it at the moment," I corrected myself hastily, "and Solembum."

"I can't promise anything on his behalf." She stacked our cups and the kettle on a wooden tray. It was the cross-section of a large tree, ringed densely enough to be at least as old as me. "But, unless you cause trouble for me, I have no reason to discuss you with anyone else."

"Then I find myself even further in your debt." I fished a small purse of coins from an interior pocket. "The least I can do is pay for the tea I've conned from you, and for another packet of it to enjoy later."

"The first was a gift." Her hands worked to a totally independent rhythm to the rest of her body, wrapping my purchase with a purplish cord. "But, if you'd feel better, I could charge you a steep mark-up on the second."

The one, the only, Angela.

Forgive the tangent, but I could not possibly wait a moment more to discuss this witch. Every word that woman speaks is half riddle and half jest; it's difficult to say if I was audience or victim of her wit. I knew basically nothing about her at the time— which is as much as most ever learn. I don't think we discussed anything of greater importance than establishing my identity; every other conversation consisted mostly of philosophy, science, snacks, and gossip (political and interpersonal). My only regret is that I never gathered the courage to submit to a fortune-telling; many events in the coming years would make me wish that I had. In any case, talking with her was more interesting and…. invigorating than anything else I'd done since Murtagh's escape from Uru'baen.

So much so in fact that it almost totally distracted me from my purpose that first day. I timed things so I left her shop just as Eragon turned a corner— this time walking alone. As tempting as it was to keep an eye on him, he was likely to be safest on his own— no one could possibly discern his station just yet. I took the opportunity to trade notes with Brom and to inadvertently reinstate an old acquaintance.

No sooner had the butler shut the door to inform his master of his most recent guest than Brom was ripping it open. He seemed furious at my presumption but kept his jaw locked tight. I slid past him into the entry hall and clicked the door closed behind me. "I'll leave before he returns, but we need to talk first."

"Fine." Brom clipped. "But I expect your best behavior; I want no trouble for these people."

"I'll try not to burn the place down in the half-hour I'm here."

His glare was poisonous. I pretended not to notice. After a brief walk through an elegant house— speaking to a great deal of taste but not to any grand lineage— we stepped into a small, extravagant library. A cursory glance picked out tomes older than Torix, histories that had been long banned, poetry collected along the entire coastline, and on and on. Seated beside a fire was the same man who'd greeted Eragon and Brom: grey hair, lean frame, fine clothing, and a kindly air. Brom was quick to shut the door behind me with a grumbled, "She's a friendly, for now."

Jeod stood, setting aside a cup of water to extend his hand. "Aren't we popular today! Any friend of Brom's is a—" Then, as he drew near enough to properly inspect me, the hand dropped back to his side. He worked his jaw once, twice, then gave up on the exertion.

I blinked and stared harder at the lined face. His voice tickled the same memory bank as his name; I was now totally positive that I'd met this man. He ducked his head— either in reflexive deference or to avoid eye contact. The gesture melted the years off of him enough for everything to click into place. "You wouldn't happen to have lived in Kuasta some fifty years ago?"

Jeod swallowed hard. "I was a boy there, yes, but I left when I was little more than that. I'm sure you're thinking of someone else—"

"No, I don't think I am. You were a scholar-in-training, as I recall."

Brom squinted back and forth between us. "You've met?"

"Jeod helped me track down a mass murderer." Many things spanned the gulf between who I'd become and the woman I'd been. For a moment, I suffered sweetly from the memory: flying over Kuasta on Katana, carrying out my then-partner's orders without shame or disgust, and organizing official resources to protect my people.

I zoned back into Jeod speaking to Brom. "—many years ago. But… you are aware then, that she is—"

"He wouldn't be much of a rebel leader if he wasn't." Rather than wait for the men to cease their fidgeting, I decided to seat myself near the fire. "Be at ease, Master Jeod. I'm off leash at the moment, as it were."

Tellingly, Jeod still looked to Brom to approve all I said. At the older man's nod, he relaxed into a sheepish grin. "I didn't mean any offense, Miss Lilly. Can we start over?"

"Only if you answer me this; how did you meet this old fart?"

Brom looked ready to snap his pipe in half over my head. His friend diffused the energy with a chuckle, "I continued my studies well after I met you. Some years ago, Brom needed my help researching for a project and I was happy to oblige him."

I waited for either of them to embellish the explanation. When none was forthcoming I shrugged. "Seems you attract all sorts with that brain of yours."

"I don't claim any particular cleverness!" Our host settled back into his seat, "I just had more liesure time to hide away in tomes than Brom did."

"Or does," the old man grumbled. "Not to spoil your little reunion, but we don't have long before Eragon returns." He tipped a candle-lighting reed into the flames and drew it to his pipe. "What did you want to discuss?"

I drew a deep breath. "I need a basic layout of your plan, so I know how close I should stay to Teirm. Also, we need to regroup and compare notes over certain… unsettling events."

Brom outlined his intentions for Teirm: gain access to the city's records, scour them for shipments of seithr oil, and deduce the ra'zac's placement from there. If all went well it shouldn't be more than a day or two— if not, it could take weeks.

Here, Jeod interrupted, "Surely you could tell us where their lair is much faster?"

I chewed my cheek in irritation but made no comment.

Brom took a long draw from his pipe, releasing his word with a cloud of smoke. "Oaths."

The scholar's shoulders slumped and he winced in pity. "My condolences." I nodded my thanks and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "What then are these other events that you spoke of?"

It was my turn to silently ask Brom how much it was safe to share. He gestured for me to proceed uninhibited. "The egg couriers, Carvahall, and Ya'zauc; to name just the most recent and startling."

Brom, already aware of my limitations, jumped in to help. "Durza was able to ambush and capture at least one elf and very nearly obtained Saphira's egg in the same stroke. Then the Ra'zac—"

I interrupted, "Who, to my knowledge, were meant to be searching the outskirts of cities farther south."

Brom paused politely then continued, "traveled all the way to Carvahall and then managed to locate and sneak up on me. Finally, an Urgal host of near-unprecedented size is moving through the Empire totally unmolested."

Jeod whistled. "One of those events on their own would be cause for concern; the three together could very well incite panic— both within the Empire and without."

I nodded. "The first two concern me more than the last, at least for both of your sakes. It speaks to a flaw in Ajihad's security."

Brom blew a cloud of smoke. "We were just discussing that very thing. Do you have any information to add?"

A helpless shrug confirmed what I saw he'd already assumed. "Unfortunately, there are multiple spiders in Uru'baen at the moment. I can only assume that any operations in the Varden are under one of their command. I will say this," I rubbed the back of my neck, "If there are agents in Tronjheim once more, they are likely to be very well integrated; a level of deep cover that makes them all but unquestionable."

"A truly disturbing thought." Jeod, likely settling into society mannerisms out of distraction, poured a cup of water from a pitcher and offered it to me. "I never expected discussing an Urgal war party to be the less depressing subject."

"By a slim margin, I fear." I sipped the cool liquid to stall for time. Vague wordings such as my oaths required were contrary to my more plain-speaking instincts. "For a swarm of that size, there must not be much by way of pest control."

"We believe that the king is at least complicit in their movements, if not much worse." Brom finally finished off the cardus weed he'd already begun and set his pipe aside.

"And I think that, whoever is directing them, is at least Durza'a level of nastiness." I briefly summarized my observations of Yazuac.

Jeod looked more and more disheartened by the moment. "Combine that with the recent attacks on those of us supplying Surda—"

"You're a smuggler?" I blinked. I knew he had nerve, at least to some extent, but heading up a front business to supply rebels took a spine of titanium.

"It isn't quite as daring as it sounds; a few fudged records here and there is the extent of my efforts." The man's humility had not changed in the decades since I'd seen him.

"You take the same risks; and more besides." I downed the last of my water and returned the cup to its tray. "But, the core issue is this: I believe that someone," I rolled my eyes theatrically, "is lining up pieces on the game board to take at least the Varden out for good. Additional military force, reduced supplies, agents in the chain of command, and now a brazen attack on two crucial members— the courier and Brom."

"It's even worse than you think," Brom interjected. "The one responsible for transporting the egg was the elven ambassador."

I froze in place. "Arya is a prisoner of the Empire?" Both men stared at me in amazement. I frowned. "My web might be less impressive than it once was, but I'm not totally incompetent!" I shook off the momentary annoyance and continued. "If she's been compromised, there's a good chance the queen will be inconsolable." I'd long kept a careful ear to the ground about my sister-princess— we were similar in age, station, and ability. Though, thus far, we'd never met (and I secretly hoped we never would).

"Oh, I'm sure she is." Brom's grim tone confirmed we were on the exact same page: one less ally to come to Aijihad's aid if the worst were to happen.

Ask them about the bridge! Katana had mostly kept her peace, mulling over all she heard. However, she was still just as fired up as I was about the attack; more so.

"Speaking of grief and grievances, I have a few of my own. A few months ago there was a brutal attack near Cantos. A bridge was destroyed and a few dozen soldiers along with it." Brom and Jeod exchanged a look that assuaged some of my initial anger— they were equally confused and disturbed. "This event provoked my 'overseer' more than any other single action in the past four years. It very nearly provoked me for that matter. I would advise you to look into who authorized and participated in that attack in particular. Their actions have killed countless Empire citizens and Varden alike." I sighed, "Since I'm sure that Cantos is a smoldering ruin by now."

"As distressing as that is," Jeod tentatively offered, "what could be gained by singling out one operative, or a handful of them?"

"They— intentionally and un-goaded— decided to initiate a major act of violence on the public infrastructure of a country that can easily crush them. An action like that doesn't help the Varden; it explicitly is meant to stir up and enrage the Empire." I folded my hands, an air of forced patience creeping into every word, "Which, if I'm not mistaken, will have devastating consequences for us all in the near future."

"Everyone except Galbatorix himself." Brom nodded, though I could tell his agreement was grudging.

"What's more, I can't help but wonder if this spy has somehow become aware of my interference. Between my duties quietly shifting to new agents in Uru'baen and an attack that explicitly violates my agreement with Ajihad…" I trailed off, letting the tense silence speak for itself. If I had been compromised, the penalty would be much steeper than death— for me and for many others besides. "For now, I can only hope that it is a coincidence."

"How might I alert you if I do scrounge up something useful?" Jeod chuckled uneasily, "I don't even know how to safely reach out to Brom, and I count him as my closest friend!"

"If you could manage to get word to Felice in Uru'baen, I would be in your debt. Ask for her in the Snakeskin Tavern in the worst part of town; you'll find her." I caught the distant sound of voices and footsteps in the entry hall. "I believe that's my cue to leave, gentleman."

Jeod asked, "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Katana was perplexed by my answer, but I waved her off for the moment. "I'll be around now and again, just to check-in. At the very least, I would like to talk more with your neighbor."

"I understand completely! Angela is a fascinating figure and a deft hand at games." His smile was all cheerful innocence; a distinct contrast to the worry and despair of mere moments before. "And, of course, you are welcome to visit me if you like."

My confused stare poorly communicated how touched I was at the offer. "You know… I may just do that." Any idea of expressing my gratitude ended at the returning rider's steps on the stairs. "Good evening, and fair winds to both of you." I tossed an informal salute, swung open the library's window, and scurried down to the garden below.

It was strangely comforting to see little Jeod grown up, learned, and enjoying life. I couldn't risk many trips into town, obviously, but I always made time to speak with him. He had become a most ambitious intellectual; there were very few subjects on which he couldn't hold space. Jeod is also one of the few people with whom I didn't mind sharing information. Nothing of great weight in the modern day, but trivia and gossip from far-gone years. He was especially interested in my perspectives on the Forsworn and the rebellion— not one other first-hand account existed for him to study. More than that, he was intrigued by my knowledge of even older history; I had access to the private library in Uru'baen after all, and we both knew it had been stocked with everything Galbatorix could steal from Vroengard. In exchange for my discussions of the past, Jeod gave me a fleeting glimpse of some of his prized possessions— tomes that even Siyamak would have coveted. If a loyalist took a single sniff of Jeod's library, he would have been burned alive like so many other scholars of his caliber. Above all, I found his bashful genius and light-hearted air quite refreshing after a lifetime of pompous know-it-alls.

The only person I visited more was Angela, and that woman could entertain an army with just her witticisms!

Ah, but where precisely was I visiting from? I didn't quite lie to Jeod that first day; I had finally thought of a place where I might be safe. It will, no doubt, seem odd to someone who doesn't know him as well, so I will do my best to explain. I was certain the last place on earth Torix would look for me was our old home. For one thing, I'd told him explicitly that I'd never step foot there again. I believe my exact words were, "If you bring me thence as a corpse, I'll haunt you for the rest of your wretched life." Also, he would naturally assume that I'd be desperately hiding in a burrow somewhere. He had every reason to believe I'd rather sleep in the woods than in a manor filled with ghosts of a past I loathed. In fact, I would rather have been anywhere else in the world.

Which is why it was perfect.

In any case, I had a roost to wait out Brom's scheme. After poor Eragon was dragged to literacy by a relentless Brom, they acquired the information they sought. Brom ran it past me just once to be sure they had not erred. I of course, could, "neither confirm nor deny the accuracy of your hypothesis, but I would consider it highly reasonable." With that, the duo and I set off [separately] for the second-largest— and second-most dangerous— place in the Empire: the lair of the Ra'zac and home of their mad priests.

Truly, it's hard to say which is worse.