“The Empire,” she said, “has just tried to assassinate me.” The room echoed with cries of surprise. “If it were not for Elva’s swift action, I would be dead. As a result, I have taken her into my confidence; where I go, she goes.” Let them wonder what it is exactly Elva can do.
“This is indeed distressing news!” exclaimed the king. “Have you caught the blackguard responsible?”
Seeing the eager expressions of his advisers, Nasuada hesitated. “It would be best to wait until I can give you an account in private, Sire.”
Orrin appeared put out by her response, but he did not pursue the issue. “Very well. But sit, sit! We have just received the most troubling report.” After Nasuada took her place opposite him — Elva lurking behind her — he continued: “It seems that our spies in Gil’ead have been deceived as to the status of Galbatorix’s army.”
“How so?”
“They believe the army to be in Gil’ead, whereas we have here a missive from one of our men in Urû’baen, who says that he witnessed a great host march south past the capital a week and a half ago. It was night, so he could not be sure of their numbers, but he was certain that the host was far larger than the sixteen thousand that form the core of Galbatorix’s troops. There may have been as many as a hundred thousand soldiers, or more.”
A hundred thousand! A cold pit of fear settled in Nasuada’s stomach. “Can we trust your source?”
“His intelligence has always been reliable.”
“I don’t understand,” said Nasuada. “How could Galbatorix move that many men without our knowing of it before? The supply trains alone would be miles long. It’s been obvious the army was mobilizing, but the Empire was nowhere near ready to deploy.”
Falberd spoke then, slapping a heavy hand on the table for emphasis: “We were outfoxed. Our spies must have been deceived with magic to think the army was still in their barracks in Gil’ead.”
Nasuada felt the blood drain from her face. “The only person strong enough to sustain an illusion of that size and duration—”
“Is Galbatorix himself,” completed Orrin. “That was our conclusion. It means that Galbatorix has finally abandoned his lair in favor of open combat. Even as we speak, the black foe approaches.”
Irwin leaned forward. “The question now is how we should respond. We must confront this threat, of course, but in what manner? Where, when, and how? Our own forces aren’t prepared for a campaign of this magnitude, while yours, Lady Nasuada — the Varden — are already accustomed to the fierce clamor of war.”
“What do you mean to imply?” That we should die for you?
“I but made an observation. Take it how you will.”
Then Orrin said, “Alone, we will be crushed against an army so large. We must have allies, and above all else we must have Eragon, especially if we are to confront Galbatorix. Nasuada, will you send for him?”
“I would if I could, but until Arya returns, I have no way to contact the elves or to summon Eragon.”
“In that case,” said Orrin in a heavy voice, “we must hope that she arrives before it is too late. I do not suppose we can expect the elves’ assistance in this affair. While a dragon may traverse the leagues between Aberon and Ellesméra with the speed of a falcon, it would be impossible for the elves to marshal themselves and cross that same distance before the Empire reaches us. That leaves only the dwarves. I know that you have been friends with Hrothgar for many years; will you send him a plea for help on our behalf? The dwarves have always promised they would fight when the time came.”
Nasuada nodded. “Du Vrangr Gata has an arrangement with certain dwarf magicians that allows us to transfer messages instantaneously. I will convey your — our — request. And I will ask Hrothgar to send an emissary to Ceris to inform the elves of the situation so that they are forewarned, if nothing else.”
“Good. We are quite a ways from Farthen Dûr, but if we can delay the Empire for even a week, the dwarves might be able to get here in time.”
The discussion that followed was an exceedingly grim one. Various tactics existed for defeating a larger — although not necessarily superior — force, but no one at the table could imagine how they might defeat Galbatorix, especially when Eragon was still so powerless compared to the ancient king. The only ploy that might succeed would be to surround Eragon with as many magicians, dwarf and human, as possible, and then attempt to force Galbatorix to confront them alone. The problem with that plan, thought Nasuada, is that Galbatorix overcame far more formidable enemies during his destruction of the Riders, and his strength has only grown since. She was certain that this had occurred to everyone else as well. If we but had the elves’ spellweavers to swell our ranks, then victory might be within our reach. Without them... If we cannot overthrow Galbatorix, the only avenue left may be to flee Alagaësia across the sundering sea and find a new land in which to build a life for ourselves. There we could wait until Galbatorix is no more. Even he cannot endure forever. The only certainty is that, eventually, all things shall pass.
They moved on then from tactics to logistics, and here the debate became far more acrimonious as the Council of Elders argued with Orrin’s advisers over the distribution of responsibilities between the Varden and Surda: who should pay for this or that, provide rations for laborers who worked for both groups, manage the provisions for their respective warriors, and how numerous other related subjects should be dealt with.
In the midst of the verbal fray, Orrin pulled a scroll from his belt and said to Nasuada, “On the matter of finances, would you be so kind as to explain a rather curious item that was brought to my attention?”
“I’ll do my best, Sire.”
“I hold in my hand a complaint from the weavers’ guild, which asserts that weavers throughout Surda have lost a good share of their profits because the textile market has been inundated with extraordinarily cheap lace — lace they swear originates with the Varden.” A pained look crossed his face. “It seems foolish to even ask, but does their claim have basis in fact, and if so, why would the Varden do such a thing?”
Nasuada made no attempt to hide her smile. “If you remember, Sire, when you refused to lend the Varden more gold, you advised me to find another way for us to support ourselves.”
“So I did. What of it?” asked Orrin, narrowing his eyes.
“Well, it struck me that while lace takes a long time to make by hand, which is why it’s so expensive, lace is quite easy to produce using magic due to the small amount of energy involved. You of all people, as a natural philosopher, should appreciate that. By selling our lace here and in the Empire, we have been able to fully fund our efforts. The Varden no longer want for food or shelter.”
Few things in her life pleased Nasuada so much as Orrin’s incredulous expression at that instant. The scroll frozen halfway between his chin and the table, his slightly parted mouth, and the quizzical frown upon his brow conspired to give him the stunned appearance of a man who had just seen something he did not understand. She savored the sight.
“Lace?” he sputtered.
“Yes, Sire.”
“You can’t fight Galbatorix with lace!”
“Why not, Sire?”
He struggled for a moment, then growled, “Because... because it’s not respectable, that’s why. What bard would compose an epic about our deeds and write about lace?”
“We do not fight in order to have epics written in our praise.”
“Then blast epics! How am I supposed to answer the weavers’ guild? By selling your lace so cheaply, you hurt people’s livelihoods and undermine our economy. It won’t do. It won’t do at all.”