“That may not be necessary.”
“Oh?”
Nasuada gestured toward the main part of the citadel. “Before he left, Eragon enchanted a scrying mirror, that I might communicate with him more easily than by courier. He did the same for all the kings and queens of the land.”
Murtagh allowed himself a rueful smile. “Of course he did. He’s getting clever, that one…. Have you spoken to him of me?”
“Not since you arrived.”
He nodded. “I see. Well, perhaps your mirror will suffice. I would prefer to avoid having to fly all the way out to Arngor. Not if this creature is loose in Alagaësia.”
Concern darkened her expression. “How great a threat do you really think it is?”
“I don’t know, but…” He shook his head. “If even half of what I saw is true, Azlagûr may be more dangerous than Galbatorix ever was.”
Nasuada pressed her lips together, and for a few minutes, they watched the sunset in silence. She, of all people, had a true understanding of Galbatorix’s cruelty and depravity, and she had witnessed firsthand the staggering extent of his power. The king had humbled them all. It was only through the greatest of luck—and not a little skill—that they had overcome him.
She turned to Thorn. “What of you? Did you feel anything of this Azlagûr?”
No. I was too busy razing Nal Gorgoth, and by the time I found Murtagh, the caves were empty of all but vermin.
“The thing to do,” said Murtagh, “is to find El-harím and the barrows of Anghelm and wherever else black smoke might rise from the ground. Perhaps we will chance upon Azlagûr at one of them, or at least we may learn more of note.”
“El-harím,” mused Nasuada. “How strange.”
“You know of it?”
“A name from an old rhyme.” She paused for a moment, considering, and then recited:
In El-harím, there lived a man, a man with yellow eyes.
To me, he said, “Beware the whispers, for they whisper lies.
Do not wrestle with the demons of the dark,
Else upon your mind they’ll place a mark;
Do not listen to the shadows of the deep,
Else they haunt you even when you sleep.”
The words struck Murtagh with unexpected familiarity. At first he could not place them, but then he remembered: the Hall of the Soothsayer, when Nasuada had allowed him to touch her mind, that he might prove his intentions. “Ah! You used that poem to shield your thoughts.”
Nasuada nodded, and he could see a shadow of the memory in her eyes. “I learned the rhyme as a child in Surda, but I cannot recall anything of its origin.”
He made a wry face. “I only caught snatches of it before. I’d forgotten until now.” He shook his head, grim. “Yet more proof that something of the Draumar has been known for many a year. If we’d but had the eyes to see and the ears to listen, we could have discovered their existence long ago.”
“Your mention of eyes makes me wonder,” said Nasuada. “I don’t suppose Grieve’s were yellow?”
“No. That they were not. One thing is certain—the Draumar need rooting out, and the children they’ve stolen need rescuing. I also want to have a talk with Captain Wren and put a stop to the whole business with the werecat younglings, whatever that is. As soon as I’m able, we’ll set out.”
Nasuada lifted her chin. The diamond set in the center of her crown glinted in the sunset’s ruddy light. “You forget, I have not given you leave to depart Ilirea.”
Murtagh studied her, uncertain what game she was playing. In a casual-seeming way, he allowed his gaze to wander around the chamber. Were there soldiers or spellcasters hidden behind the walls? He nearly went searching with his mind, but then decided he didn’t want to know. If Nasuada were going to turn against him, he would rather leave that for the future. Even so…
Thorn, were you able to retrieve Ithring when you rescued me?
I was.
Did you bring it here?
I did.
Murtagh looked back at Nasuada and, in a bland tone, said, “I don’t happen to see my sword. Do you know where it is?”
A slight smile touched Nasuada’s lips. “I thought you might ask.” From within a fold of her dress, she produced a small silver bell that she rang twice before putting it away.
Once more the oak doors swung open, and Alín entered. Crosswise in her arms, she carried Ithring and Niernen. And not just them. Atop the weapons lay the cloth-wrapped bundle that Murtagh recognized as containing Glaedr’s scale, and beside it, a familiar dented brass goblet.
Alín brought the items to Murtagh. One by one, she handed them to him, and then curtsied to Nasuada and said, “Your Majesty.”
She started to depart, but Nasuada held out her hand in a commanding gesture. “A moment, Alín. Tell me, have you had any cause for complaint here in Ilirea?”
Alín made a slight curtsy. “Oh no, Your Majesty. Not at all.”
“And would you be willing to accept me as your queen and to serve as one of my faithful subjects?”
Murtagh caught a quick, uncertain glance from Alín, but then she said, “If you will have me, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent,” said Nasuada with aplomb. “Then it is settled. Tomorrow you may swear to me formally at court. However, there is another matter. Murtagh has told me much of your history, and it seems to me you are a person of uncommon spirit and fortitude. It would be foolish of me, as queen, to overlook such virtues. Thus, I ask: Would you also be willing to accept a position as one of my royal maids?”
Alín grew very still, and when she answered, her voice was smalclass="underline" “This is a great honor you offer me, Your Majesty.”
“It is.”
A faint tremble passed through Alín’s frame. “And what if I decline, Your Majesty?”
“Then I will bid you good fortune, and you may follow your heart’s desire wherever it leads.”
Alín lifted her head, her eyes shining. “In that case, I would be proud to accept.”
Nasuada nodded in acknowledgment. “The head of my retinue, Farica, will speak to you then about your roles and responsibilities.”
Again Alín curtsied. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“You may go now.”
As she withdrew, Alín bobbed to Murtagh and murmured, seemingly out of habit, “Kingkiller.” Murtagh winced, and her cheeks paled as she realized what she’d said. She ducked her head and hurried away.
Once Alín was departed, and the doors closed, Nasuada turned her gaze on Murtagh. He found it difficult to meet her eyes, but meet them he did. “Was it well done?” she asked.
“It was,” he said. Of her own and with no standing to her name, Alín would have found it difficult to make her way outside Nal Gorgoth without patronage or protection of a sort Murtagh was in no position to supply. Elevating her to a royal maid was an act of charity on the part of Nasuada, but he knew there was more to it than that. Kings and queens could not afford to think of charity alone. Alín was their strongest link to the Draumar, and their best source of information on the cult. It was wise of Nasuada to keep her close, and to earn her loyalty that others might not turn Alín against them. Very well done indeed, he thought.
“She holds you in high regard,” said Nasuada, and there was no mistaking the slight edge to her voice.