Inheritance (114 page)

Nasuada scowled. “You can’t expect me to believe that, with all your power, you can’t protect the dragons here in Alagaësia.”

“Maybe I could, but we cannot depend on magic alone to safeguard the dragons. We need physical barriers; we need walls and moats and cliffs too high for man, elf, dwarf, or Urgal to scale. More important, we need the safety that only distance can provide. We have to make it so difficult to reach us that the challenges of the journey will discourage even our most determined enemies from attempting it. But ignore that. Assuming that I could protect the dragons, the problem would still remain of how to keep them from
hunting livestock—ours as well as the dwarves’ and Urgals’. Do you want to have to explain to Orik why his flocks of Feldûnost keep disappearing, or do you want to have to keep appeasing angry farmers who have lost their animals? … No, leaving is the only solution.”

Eragon looked down at the fountain. “Even if there were a place for the eggs and the Eldunarí in Alagaësia, it wouldn’t be right for me to stay.”

“Why is that?”

He shook his head. “You know the answer as well as I. I’ve become
too
powerful. As long as I’m here, your authority—and that of Arya, Orik, and Orrin—will always be in doubt. If I asked them to, most everyone in Surda, Teirm, and your own kingdom would follow me. And with the Eldunarí to help me, there is no one who can stand against me, not even Murtagh or Arya.”

“You would never turn against us. That’s not who you are.”

“No? In all the years I shall live—and I might live a very long time—do you honestly believe that I will never choose to interfere with the workings of the land?”

“If you do, I’m sure it will be for a good reason, and I’m sure we will be grateful for your help.”

“Would you? No doubt I would believe my reasons were just, but that’s the trap, isn’t it? The belief that I know better and that because I have this power at my disposal, I have a responsibility to act.” Remembering her words from before, he echoed them back to her: “For the good of the many. If I was wrong, though, who could stop me? I could end up becoming Galbatorix, despite my best intentions. As it is, my power makes people tend to agree with me. I’ve seen it in my dealings throughout the Empire.… If you were in my position, would you be able to resist the temptation to meddle, just a little, in order to make things better? My presence here unbalances things, Nasuada. If I am to avoid becoming what I hate, then I have to leave.”

Nasuada lifted her chin. “I could order you to stay.”

“I hope you don’t. I would prefer to leave in friendship, not anger.”

“So you will answer to no one but yourself?”

“I will answer to Saphira and to my conscience, as I always have.”

The edge of Nasuada’s lip curled. “A man of conscience—the most dangerous kind in the world.”

Once more, the sounds of the fountain filled the gap in their conversation.

Then Nasuada said, “Do you believe in the gods, Eragon?”

“Which gods? There are many.”

“Any of them. All of them. Do you believe in a power higher than yourself?”

“Other than Saphira?” He smiled in apology as Nasuada frowned. “Sorry.” He thought seriously for a minute, then said, “Perhaps they exist; I don’t know. I saw … I’m not sure what I saw, but I may have seen the dwarf god Gûntera in Tronjheim when Orik was crowned. But if there are gods, I don’t think very highly of them for leaving Galbatorix on the throne for so long.”

“Perhaps you were the gods’ instrument for removing him. Did you ever consider that?”

“Me?” He laughed. “I suppose it could be, but either way, they certainly don’t care very much whether we live or die.”

“Of course not. Why should they? They are gods.… Do you worship any of them, though?” The question seemed of particular importance to Nasuada.

Again Eragon thought for a while. Then he shrugged. “There are so many, how could I know which ones to choose?”

“Why not the creator of them all, Unulukuna, who offers life ever lasting?”

Eragon could not help but chuckle. “As long as I don’t fall sick and no one kills me, I may live for a thousand years or more, and if I live that long, I can’t imagine I would want to continue on after death. What else can a god offer me? With the Eldunarí, I have the strength to do most anything.”

“The gods also provide the chance to see those we love again. Don’t you want that?”

He hesitated. “I do, but I don’t want to
endure
for an eternity. That seems even more frightening than someday passing into the void, as the elves believe.”

Nasuada appeared troubled. “So you do not hold yourself accountable to anyone other than Saphira and yourself.”

“Nasuada, am I a bad person?”

She shook her head.

“Then trust me to do what I believe is right. I hold myself accountable to Saphira and the Eldunarí and all of the Riders who are yet to be, and also to you and Arya and Orik and everyone else in Alagaësia. I need no master to punish me in order to behave as I ought. If I did, I would be no more than a child who obeys his father’s rules only because he fears the whip, and not because he actually means good.”

She gazed at him for several seconds. “Very well, then, I will trust you.”

The splashing of the fountain once more achieved prominence. Overhead, the light from the sinking sun picked out cracks and flaws in the underside of the stone shelf.

“What if we need your help?” she asked.

“Then I’ll help. I won’t abandon you, Nasuada. I’ll bind one of the mirrors in your study with a mirror of my own, so that you will always be able to reach me, and I’ll do the same for Roran and Katrina. If trouble arises, I’ll find a way to send assistance. I may not be able to come myself, but I
will
help.”

She nodded. “I know you will.” Then she sighed, unhappiness plain on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“It was all going so well. Galbatorix is dead. The last of the fighting has settled down. We were going to finally solve the problem of the magicians. You and Saphira were going to lead them and the Riders. And now … I don’t know what we’ll do.”

“It’ll sort out; I’m sure. You’ll find a way.”

“It would be easier with you here.… Will you at least agree to
teach the name of the ancient language to whomever we choose to lead the magicians?”

Eragon did not have to think about it, since he had already considered the possibility, but he paused while he tried to find the right words. “I could, but in time, I think we would come to regret it.”

“So you won’t.”

He shook his head.

Frustration crossed her face. “And why not? What are your reasons now?”

“The name is too dangerous to bandy about lightly, Nasuada. If a magician full of ambition but lacking scruples got hold of it, he or she could wreak an incredible amount of havoc. With it, they could destroy the ancient language. Not even Galbatorix was mad enough to do that, but an untrained, power-hungry magician? Who knows what might happen? Right now, Arya, Murtagh, and the dragons are the only ones besides me who know the name. Better to leave it at that.”

“And when you go, we will be dependent upon Arya, should we have need of it.”

“You know she will always help. If anything, I would worry about Murtagh.”

Nasuada seemed to turn inward. “You needn’t. He’s no threat to us. Not now.”

“As you say. If your goal is to keep the spellcasters in check, then the name of the ancient language is one piece of information that is better to withhold.”

“If that is truly the case, then … I understand.”

“Thank you. There’s something else you should know as well.”

Nasuada’s expression grew wary. “Oh?”

He told her, then, about the idea that had recently occurred to him concerning the Urgals. When he finished, Nasuada was quiet for a while. Then she said, “You take much upon yourself.”

“I have to. No one else can.… Do you approve? It seems the only way to ensure peace in the long run.”

“Are you sure it’s wise?”

“Not entirely, but I think we have to try.”

“The dwarves as well? Is that really necessary?”

“Yes. It’s only right. It’s only fair. And it will help maintain the balance among the races.”

“What if they don’t agree?”

“I’m sure they will.”

“Then do as you see fit. You don’t need my approval—you’ve made that clear enough—but I agree that it seems necessary. Otherwise, twenty, thirty years from now, we may be facing many of the problems our ancestors faced when they first arrived in Alagaësia.”

He bowed his head slightly. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

“When do you plan on leaving?”

“When Arya does.”

“So soon?”

“There’s no reason to wait longer.”

Nasuada leaned against the railing, her eyes fixed on the fountain below. “Will you return to visit?”

“I’ll try, but … I don’t think so. When Angela cast my fortune, she said I would never return.”

“Ah.” Nasuada’s voice sounded thick, as if she were hoarse. She turned and faced him directly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

She pressed her lips together, as if struggling not to cry. Then she stepped forward and embraced him. He hugged her back, and they stood like that for several seconds.

They parted then, and he said, “Nasuada, if you ever tire of being queen, or you want a place to live in peace, come join us. You’ll always be welcome in our hall. I cannot make you immortal, but I could prolong your years far beyond what most humans enjoy, and they would be spent in good health.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the offer, and I won’t forget it.” However, he had a feeling that she would never be able to bring herself to
leave Alagaësia, no matter how old she was. Her sense of duty was too strong.

Then he asked, “Will you give us your blessing?”

“Of course.” She took his head between her hands, kissed him upon his brow, and said, “My blessings upon you and Saphira. May peace and good fortune be with you wherever you go.”

“And with you,” he said.

She kept her hands upon him for another moment; then she released him, and he opened the glass door and exited through her study, leaving her standing alone upon the balcony.

s Eragon made his way down a flight of steps on his way toward the main entrance of the building, he happened upon the herbalist, Angela, sitting cross-legged in the dark alcove of a door. She was knitting what appeared to be a blue and white hat with strange runes along its lower part, the meaning of which was lost on him. Next to her lay Solembum, his head propped up in her lap and one of his heavy paws resting atop her right knee.

Eragon stopped, surprised. He had not seen either of them since—it took him a moment to remember—since shortly after the battle in Urû’baen. Thereafter, they had seemed to disappear.

“Greetings,” said Angela without looking up.

“Greetings,” replied Eragon. “What are you doing here?”

“Knitting a hat.”

“That I can see, but why here?”

“Because I wanted to see you.” Her needles clacked with swift regularity, their motion as entrancing as the flames of a fire. “I heard tell that you, Saphira, the eggs, and the Eldunarí are leaving Alagaësia.”

“As you predicted,” he retorted, frustrated that she had been able to discover what ought to have been the deepest secret. She could not have eavesdropped upon him and Nasuada—his wards would have prevented it—and so far as he knew, no one had told her or Solembum about the existence of the eggs or the Eldunarí.

“Well, yes, but I didn’t think to see you off.”

“How did you find out? From Arya?”

“Her? Ha! Hardly. No, I have my own ways of gathering information.” She paused in her knitting and looked up at him, her eyes
twinkling. “Not that I’ll share them with you. I have to keep
some
secrets, after all.”

“Humph.”

“Humph yourself. If you’re going to be that way, I’m not sure why I bothered coming.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just feeling a bit … uneasy.” After a moment, Eragon said, “Why did you want to see me?”

“I
wanted
to say farewell and to wish you luck on your journey.”

“Thank you.”

“Mmh. Try not to let yourself get too wrapped up in your head wherever you settle. Make sure you get out in the sun often enough.”

“I will. What of you and Solembum? Will you stay here for a while and watch over Elva? You mentioned you would.”

The herbalist snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “Stay? How can I stay when Nasuada seems intent on spying on every magician in the land?”

“You heard about that as well?”

She gave him a look. “I
disapprove
. I
disapprove
very much. I will not be treated like a child who has done something naughty. No, the time has come for Solembum and me to relocate to more friendly climes: the Beor Mountains, perhaps, or Du Weldenvarden.”

Eragon hesitated for a moment and then said, “Would you like to come with Saphira and me?”

Solembum opened one eye and studied him for a second before closing it again.