Eragon glared at her the whole time.
When it was over, Trianna was clenching her dress with both fists, twisting the fabric. Her face was white and scared. She quickly curtsied to Saphira, then, with a barely controlled motion, turned and fled. Acting as if nothing had happened, Saphira lifted a leg and licked a claw. It was nearly impossible to get the door open, she sniffed.
Eragon could not contain himself any longer. Why did you do that? he exploded. You had no reason to interfere!
You needed my help, she continued, unperturbed.
If I’d needed your help, I would have called!
Don’t yell at me, she snapped, letting her jaws click together. He could sense her emotions boiling with as much turmoil as his. I’ll not have you run around with a slattern who cares more for Eragon as Rider than you as a person.
She wasn’t a slattern, roared Eragon. He pounded the wall in frustration. I’m a man now, Saphira, not a hermit. You can’t expect me to ignore... ignore women just because of who I am. And it’s certainly not your decision to make. At the very least, I might have enjoyed a conversation with her, anything other than the tragedies we’ve dealt with lately. You’re in my head enough to know how I feel. Why couldn’t you leave me alone? Where was the harm?
You don’t understand. She refused to meet his eyes.
Don’t understand! Will you prevent me from ever having a wife and children? What of a family?
Eragon. She finally fixed one great eye on him. We are intimately linked.
Obviously!
And if you pursue a relationship, with or without my blessing, and become... attached... to someone, my feelings will become engaged as well. You should know that. Therefore — and I warn you only once — be careful who you choose, because it will involve both of us.
He briefly considered her words. Our bond works both ways, however. If you hate someone, I will be influenced likewise... I understand your concern. So you weren’t just jealous?
She licked the claw once more. Perhaps a little.
Eragon was the one who growled this time. He brushed past her into the room, grabbed Zar’roc, then stalked away, belting on the sword.
He wandered through Tronjheim for hours, avoiding contact with everyone. What had occurred pained him, though he could not deny the truth of Saphira’s words. Of all the matters they shared, this was the most delicate and the one they agreed upon least. That night — for the first time since he was captured at Gil’ead — he slept away from Saphira, in one of the dwarves’ barracks.
Eragon returned to their quarters the following morning. By unspoken consent, he and Saphira avoided discussing what had transpired; further argument was pointless when neither party was willing to yield ground. Besides, they were both so relieved to be reunited, they did not want to risk endangering their friendship again.
They were eating lunch — Saphira tearing at a bloody haunch — when Jarsha trotted up. Like before, he stared wide-eyed at Saphira, following her movements as she nibbled off the end of a leg bone. “Yes?” asked Eragon, wiping his chin and wondering if the Council of Elders had sent for them. He had heard nothing from them since the funeral.
Jarsha turned away from Saphira long enough to say, “Nasuada would like to see you, sir. She’s waiting in her father’s study.”
Sir! Eragon almost laughed. Only a little while ago, he would have been calling people sir, not the other way around. He glanced at Saphira. “Are you done, or should we wait a few minutes?”
Rolling her eyes, she fit the rest of the meat into her mouth and split the bone with a loud crack. I’m done.
“All right,” said Eragon, standing, “you can go, Jarsha. We know the way.”
It took almost half an hour to reach the study because of the city-mountain’s size. As during Ajihad’s rule, the door was guarded, but instead of two men, an entire squad of battle-hardened warriors now stood before it, alert for the slightest hint of danger. They would clearly sacrifice themselves to protect their new leader from ambush or attack. Though the men could not have failed to recognize Eragon and Saphira, they barred the way while Nasuada was alerted of her visitors. Only then were the two allowed to enter.
Eragon immediately noticed a change: a vase of flowers in the study. The small purple blossoms were unobtrusive, but they suffused the air with a warm fragrance that — for Eragon — evoked summers of fresh-picked raspberries and scythed fields turning bronze under the sun. He inhaled, appreciating the skill with which Nasuada had asserted her individuality without obliterating Ajihad’s memory.
She sat behind the broad desk, still cloaked in the black of mourning. As Eragon seated himself, Saphira beside him, she said, “Eragon.” It was a simple statement, neither friendly nor hostile. She turned away briefly, then focused on him, her gaze steely and intent. “I have spent the last few days reviewing the Varden’s affairs, such as they are. It was a dismal exercise. We are poor, overextended, and low on supplies, and few recruits are joining us from the Empire. I mean to change that.
“The dwarves cannot support us much longer, as it’s been a lean year for farming and they’ve suffered losses of their own. Considering this, I have decided to move the Varden to Surda. It’s a difficult proposition, but one I believe necessary to keep us safe. Once in Surda, we will finally be close enough to engage the Empire directly.”
Even Saphira stirred with surprise. The work that would involve! said Eragon. It could take months to get everyone’s belongings to Surda, not to mention all the people. And they’d probably be attacked along the way. “I thought King Orrin didn’t dare openly oppose Galbatorix,” he protested.
Nasuada smiled grimly. “His stance has changed since we defeated the Urgals. He will shelter and feed us and fight by our side. Many Varden are already in Surda, mainly women and children who couldn’t or wouldn’t fight. They will also support us, else I will strip our name from them.”
“How,” asked Eragon, “did you communicate with King Orrin so quickly?”
“The dwarves use a system of mirrors and lanterns to relay messages through their tunnels. They can send a dispatch from here to the western edge of the Beor Mountains in less than a day. Couriers then transport it to Aberon, capital of Surda. Fast as it is, that method is still too slow when Galbatorix can surprise us with an Urgal army and give us less than a day’s notice. I intend to arrange something far more expedient between Du Vrangr Gata and Hrothgar’s magicians before we go.”
Opening the desk drawer, Nasuada removed a thick scroll. “The Varden will depart Farthen Dûr within the month. Hrothgar has agreed to provide us with safe passage through the tunnels. Moreover, he sent a force to Orthíad to remove the last vestiges of Urgals and seal the tunnels so no one can invade the dwarves by that route again. As this may not be enough to guarantee the Varden’s survival, I have a favor to ask of you.”
Eragon nodded. He had expected a request or order. That was the only reason for her to have summoned them. “I am yours to command.”
“Perhaps.” Her eyes flicked to Saphira for a second. “In any case, this is not a command, and I want you to think carefully before replying. To help rally support for the Varden, I wish to spread word throughout the Empire that a new Rider — named Eragon Shadeslayer — and his dragon, Saphira, have joined our cause. I would like your permission before doing so, however.”