Christopher Paolini 8 страница

The streets were wide and crammed. Dwarves of various clans hurried about their business or stood haggling in and around shops. Many were garbed in strange, exotic costumes, such as a block of fierce black-haired dwarves who wore silver helmets forged in the likeness of wolf heads.

Eragon stared at the dwarf women the most, as he had only caught brief glimpses of them while in Tronjheim. They were broader than the men, and their faces were heavyset, yet their eyes sparkled and their hair was lustrous and their hands were gentle on their diminutive children. They eschewed frippery, except for small, intricate brooches of iron and stone.

At the Feld& #251; nost’s piercing footsteps, the dwarves turned to look at the new arrivals. They did not cheer as Eragon had expected, but rather bowed and murmured, “Shadeslayer. ” As they saw the hammer and stars upon Eragon’s helm, admiration was replaced by shock and, in many cases, outrage. A number of the angrier dwarves contracted around the Feld& #251; nost, glaring between the animals at Eragon and shouting imprecations.

The back of Eragon’s neck prickled. It seems that adopting me wasn’t the most popular decision Hrothgar could make.

Aye, agreed Saphira. He may have strengthened his hold on you, but at the cost of alienating many of the dwarves. . We’d better get out of sight before blood is shed.

Thorv and the other guards rode forward as if the crowd was nonexistent, clearing the way through seven additional tiers until only a single gate separated them from the mass of Celbedeil. Then Thorv turned left, toward a great hall pressed against the side of the mountain and protected in fore by a barbican with two machicolated towers.

As they neared the hall, a group of armed dwarves streamed out from between the houses and formed a thick line, blocking the street. Long purple veils covered their faces and draped over their shoulders, like mail coifs.

The guards immediately reined in their Feld& #251; nost, faces hard. “What is it? ” Eragon asked Orik, but the dwarf only shook his head and strode forward, a hand on his ax.

“Etzil nithgech! ” cried a veiled dwarf, raising a fist. “Formv Hrethcarach. . formv Jurgencarmeitder nos eta goroth bahst Tarnag, d& #251; r encesti rak kythn! Jok is warrev az barz& #251; leg& #251; r d& #251; r d& #251; rgrimst, Az Sweldn rak Anh& #251; in, m& #244; gh tor rak Jurgenvren? N& #233; & #251; dim etal os rast knurlag. Knurlag ana. . ” For a long minute, he continued to rant with growing spleen.

“Vrron! ” barked Thorv, cutting him off, then the two dwarves began arguing. Despite the harsh exchange, Eragon saw that Thorv seemed to respect the other dwarf.

Eragon shifted to the side — trying to get a better view past Thorv’s Feld& #251; nost — and the veiled dwarf abruptly fell silent, jabbing at Eragon’s helm with an expression of horror.

“Knurlag qana qir& #226; n& #251; D& #251; rgrimst Ingeitum! ” he screamed. “Qarz& #251; l ana Hrothgar oen volfild—”

“Jok is frekk d& #251; rgrimstvren? ” interrupted Orik quietly, drawing his ax. Worried, Eragon glanced at Arya, but she was too intent on the confrontation to notice him. He surreptitiously slid his hand down and around Zar’roc’s wire-wrapped hilt.

The strange dwarf stared hard at Orik, then removed an iron ring from his pocket, plucked three hairs from his beard, twined them around the ring, and threw it onto the street with an impervious clink, spitting after it. Without a word, the purple-shrouded dwarves filed away.

Thorv, Orik, and the other warriors flinched as the ring bounced across the granite pavement. Even Arya seemed taken aback. Two of the younger dwarves blanched and reached for their blades, then dropped their hands as Thorv barked, “Eta! ”

Their reactions unsettled Eragon far more than the raucous exchange had. As Orik strode forward alone and deposited the ring in a pouch, Eragon asked, “What does it mean? ”

“It means, ” said Thorv, “that you have enemies. ”

They hurried through the barbican to a wide courtyard arrayed with three banquet tables, decorated with lanterns and banners. Before the tables stood a group of dwarves, foremost among them a gray-bearded dwarf swathed in wolfskin. He spread his arms, saying, “Welcome to Tarnag, home of D& #251; rgrimst Ragni Hefthyn. We have heard much praise of you, Eragon Shadeslayer. I am & #219; ndin, son of Der& #251; nd and clan chief. ”

Another dwarf stepped forward. He had the shoulders and chest of a warrior, topped with hooded black eyes that never left Eragon’s face. “And I, Gannel, son of Orm Blood-ax and clan chief of D& #251; rgrimst Quan. ”

“It is an honor to be your guests, ” said Eragon, inclining his head. He felt Saphira’s irritation at being ignored. Patience, he murmured, forcing a smile.

She snorted.

The clan chiefs greeted Arya and Orik in turn, but their hospitality was lost on Orik, whose only response was to extend his hand, the iron ring on his palm.

& #219; ndin’s eyes widened, and he gingerly lifted the ring, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger as if it were a venomous snake. “Who gave this to you? ”

“It was Az Sweldn rak Anh& #251; in. And not to me, but to Eragon. ”

As alarm spread across their faces, Eragon’s earlier apprehension returned. He had seen lone dwarves face an entire group of Kull without shirking. The ring must symbolize something dreadful indeed if it could undermine their courage.

& #219; ndin frowned as he listened to the muttering of his advisers, then said, “We must consult on this issue. Shadeslayer, a feast is prepared in your honor. If you would allow my servants to guide you to your quarters, you can refresh yourself, and then we might begin. ”

“Of course. ” Eragon handed Snowfire’s reins to a waiting dwarf and followed a guide into the hall. As he passed through the doorway, he glanced back and saw Arya and Orik bustling away with the clan chiefs, their heads pressed close together. I won’t be long, he promised Saphira.

After crouching through dwarf-sized corridors, he was relieved that the room assigned to him was spacious enough to stand freely. The servant bowed and said, “I will return when Grimstborith & #219; ndin is ready. ”

Once the dwarf was gone, Eragon paused and took a deep breath, grateful for the silence. The encounter with the veiled dwarves hovered in his mind, making it difficult for him to relax. At least we won’t be in Tarnag long. That should prevent them from hindering us.

Peeling off his gloves, Eragon went to a marble basin set on the floor next to the low bed. He put his hands in the water, then jerked them out with an involuntary yelp. The water was almost boiling. It must be a dwarf custom, he realized. He waited until it cooled a bit, then doused his face and neck, rubbing them clean as steam swirled off his skin.

Rejuvenated, he stripped out of his breeches and tunic and outfitted himself in the clothes he had worn to Ajihad’s funeral. He touched Zar’roc, but decided it would only insult & #219; ndin’s table and instead belted on his hunting knife.

Then, from his pack, he took the scroll Nasuada had charged him with delivering to Islanzad& #237; and weighed it in his hand, wondering where to hide it. The missive was too important to leave out in the open, where it could be read or stolen. Unable to think of a better place, he slipped the scroll up his sleeve. It’ll be safe there unless I get into a fight, in which case I’ll have bigger problems to worry about.

When at last the servant returned for Eragon, it was only an hour or so past noon, but the sun had already vanished behind the looming mountains, plunging Tarnag into dusk. Exiting the hall, Eragon was struck by the city’s transformation. With the premature advent of night, the dwarves’ lanterns revealed their true strength, flooding the streets with pure, unwavering light that made the entire valley glow.

& #219; ndin and the other dwarves were gathered in the courtyard, along with Saphira, who had situated herself at the head of a table. No one appeared interested in disputing her choice.

Has anything happened? asked Eragon, hurrying toward her.

& #219; ndin summoned extra warriors, then had the gates barred.

Does he expect an attack?

At the very least, he’s concerned about the possibility.

“Eragon, please join me, ” said & #219; ndin, gesturing at the chair to his right. The clan chief seated himself as Eragon did, and the rest of the company hurriedly followed suit.

Eragon was happy when Orik ended up beside him with Arya directly across the table, although both looked grim. Before he could ask Orik about the ring, & #219; ndin slapped the table and roared, “Ignh az voth! ”

Servants streamed out of the hall, bearing platters of beaten gold piled high with meats, pies, and fruit. They divided into three columns — one for each table — and deposited the dishes with a flourish.

Before them were soups and stews filled with various tubers, roasted venison, long hot loaves of sourdough bread, and rows of honeycakes dripped with raspberry preserve. In a bed of greens lay filleted trout garnished with parsley, and on the side, pickled eel stared forlornly at an urn of cheese, as if hoping to somehow escape back into a river. A swan sat on each table, surrounded by a flock of stuffed partridges, geese, and ducks.

Mushrooms were everywhere: broiled in juicy strips, placed atop a bird’s head like a bonnet, or carved in the shape of castles amid moats of gravy. An incredible variety was on display, from puffy white mushrooms the size of Eragon’s fist, to ones he could have mistaken for gnarled bark, to delicate toadstools sliced neatly in half to showcase their blue flesh.

Then the centerpiece of the feast was revealed: a gigantic roasted boar, glistening with sauce. At least Eragon thought it was a boar, for the carcass was as large as Snowfire and took six dwarves to carry. The tusks were longer than his forearms, the snout as wide as his head. And the smell, it overwhelmed all others in pungent waves that made his eyes water from their strength.

“Nagra, ” whispered Orik. “Giant boar. & #219; ndin truly honors you tonight, Eragon. Only the bravest dwarves dare hunt Nagran, and it is only served to those who have great valor. Also, I think he makes a gesture that he will support you over D& #251; rgrimst Nagra. ”

Eragon leaned toward him so no one else could hear. “Then this is another animal native to the Beors? What are the rest? ”

“Forest wolves big enough to prey on a Nagra and nimble enough to catch Feld& #251; nost. Cave bears, which we call Urzhadn and the elves call Beorn and for which they dubbed these peaks, though we do not call them such ourselves. The mountains’ name is a secret that we share with no race. And—”

“Smer voth, ” commanded & #219; ndin, smiling at his guests. The servants immediately drew small curved knives and cut portions of the Nagra, which they set on everyone’s plates — except for Arya’s— including a weighty piece for Saphira. & #219; ndin smiled again, took a dagger, and sliced off a bit of his meat.

Eragon reached for his own knife, but Orik grabbed his arm. “Wait. ”

& #219; ndin chewed slowly, rolling his eyes and nodding in an exaggerated fashion, then swallowed and proclaimed, “Ilf gauhnith! ”

“Now, ” said Orik, turning to the meal as conversation erupted along the tables.

Eragon had never tasted anything like the boar. It was juicy, soft, and oddly spicy — as if the meat had been soaked in honey and cider — which was enhanced by the mint used to flavor the pork. I wonder how they managed to cook something so large.

Very slowly, commented Saphira, nibbling on her Nagra.

Between bites, Orik explained, “It is custom, from days when poisoning was rampant among clans, for the host to taste the food first and declare it safe for his guests. ”

During the banquet, Eragon divided his time between sampling the multitude of dishes and conversing with Orik, Arya, and dwarves farther down the table. In that manner, the hours hastened by, for the feast was so large, it was late afternoon before the last course had been served, the last bite consumed, and the last chalice drained. As servants removed the tableware, & #219; ndin turned to Eragon and said, “The meal pleased you, yes? ”

“It was delicious. ”

& #219; ndin nodded. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I had the tables moved outside yesterday so the dragon might dine with us. ” He remained intently focused on Eragon all the while he spoke.

Eragon went cold inside. Intentionally or not, & #219; ndin had treated Saphira as no more than a beast. Eragon had intended to ask about the veiled dwarves in private, but now — out of a desire to unsettle & #219; ndin — he said, “Saphira and I thank you. ” Then, “Sir, why was the ring thrown at us? ”

A painful silence crept over the courtyard. Out of the corner of his eye, Eragon saw Orik wince. Arya, however, smiled as if she understood what he was doing.

& #219; ndin put down his dagger, scowling thickly. “The knurlagn you met are of a tragic clan. Before the Riders’ fall, they were among the oldest, richest families of our kingdom. Their doom was sealed, though, by two mistakes: they lived on the western edge of the Beor Mountains, and they volunteered their greatest warriors in Vrael’s service. ”

Anger broke through his voice with sharp cracks. “Galbatorix and his ever-cursed Forsworn slaughtered them in your city of Ur& #251; ’baen. Then they flew on us, killing many. Of that clan, only Grimstcarvlorss Anh& #251; in and her guards survived. Anh& #251; in soon died of grief, and her men took the name Az Sweldn rak Anh& #251; in, The Tears of Anh& #251; in, covering their faces to remind themselves of their loss and their desire for revenge. ”

Eragon’s cheeks stung with shame as he fought to keep his face expressionless. “So, ” said & #219; ndin, glowering at a pastry, “they rebuilt the clan over the decades, waiting and hunting for recompense. And now you come, bearing Hrothgar’s mark. It is the ultimate insult to them, no matter your service in Farthen D& #251; r. Thus the ring, the ultimate challenge. It means D& #251; rgrimst Az Sweldn rak Anh& #251; in will oppose you with all their resources, in every matter, big or small. They have set themselves against you utterly, declared themselves blood enemies. ”

“Do they mean me bodily harm? ” asked Eragon stiffly.

& #219; ndin’s gaze faltered for a moment as he cast a look at Gannel, then he shook his head and uttered a gruff laugh that was, perhaps, louder than the occasion warranted. “No, Shadeslayer! Not even they would dare hurt a guest. It is forbidden. They only want you gone, gone, gone. ” Yet Eragon still wondered. Then & #219; ndin said, “Please, let us talk no more of these unpleasant matters. Gannel and I have offered our food and mead in friendship; is that not what matters? ” The priest murmured in concordance.

“It is appreciated, ” Eragon finally relented.

Saphira looked at him with solemn eyes and said, They are afraid, Eragon. Afraid and resentful because they have been forced to accept a Rider’s assistance.

Aye. They may fight with us, but they don’t fight for us.

CELBEDEIL

The dawnless morning found Eragon in & #219; ndin’s main hall, listening as the clan chief spoke to Orik in Dwarvish. & #219; ndin broke off as Eragon approached, then said, “Ah, Shadeslayer. You slept well? ”

“Yes. ”

“Good. ” He gestured at Orik. “We have been considering your departure. I had hoped you’d be able to spend some time with us. But under the circumstances, it seems best if you resume your journey early tomorrow morning, when few are in the streets who might trouble you. Supplies and transportation are being readied even as I speak. It was Hrothgar’s orders that guards should accompany you as far as Ceris. I have increased their numbers from three to seven. ”

“And in the meantime? ”

& #219; ndin shrugged his fur-bound shoulders. “I had intended to show you the wonders of Tarnag, but it would be foolish now for you to wander mine city. However, Grimstborith Gannel has invited you to Celbedeil for the day. Accept if you wish. You’ll be safe with him. ” The clan chief seemed to have forgotten his earlier assertion that Az Sweldn rak Anh& #251; in would not harm a guest.

“Thank you, I might at that. ” As Eragon left the hall, he pulled Orik aside and asked, “How serious is this feud, really? I need to know the truth. ”

Orik answered with obvious reluctance: “In the past, it was not uncommon for blood feuds to endure for generations. Entire families were driven extinct because of them. It was rash of Az Sweldn rak Anh& #251; in to invoke the old ways; such a thing has not been done since the last of the clan wars. . Until they rescind their oath, you must guard against their treachery, whether it be for a year or a century. I’m sorry that your friendship with Hrothgar has brought this upon you, Eragon. But you are not alone. D& #251; rgrimst Ingeitum stands with you in this. ”

Once outside, Eragon hurried to Saphira, who had spent the night coiled in the courtyard. Do you mind if I visit Celbedeil?

Go if you must. But take Zar’roc. He followed her advice, also tucking Nasuada’s scroll into his tunic.

When Eragon approached the gates to the hall’s enclosure, five dwarves pushed the rough-hewn timbers aside, then closed in around him, hands on their axes and swords as they inspected the street. The guards remained as Eragon retraced yesterday’s path to the barred entrance of Tarnag’s foremost tier.

Eragon shivered. The city seemed unnaturally empty. Doors were closed, windows were shuttered, and the few pedestrians in evidence averted their faces and turned down alleys to avoid walking past him. They’re scared to be seen near me, he realized. Perhaps because they know Az Sweldn rak Anh& #251; in will retaliate against anyone who helps me. Eager to escape the open street, Eragon raised his hand to knock, but before he could, one door grated outward, and a black-robed dwarf beckoned from within. Tightening his sword belt, Eragon entered, leaving his guards outside.

His first impression was of color. A burning-green sward splayed around the pillared mass of Celbedeil, like a mantle dropped over the symmetrical hill that upheld the temple. Ivy strangled the building’s ancient walls in foot after foot of hairy ropes, dew still glittering on the pointed leaves. And curving above all but the mountains was the great white cupola ribbed with chiseled gold.

His next impression was of smell. Flowers and incense mixed their perfumes into an aroma so ethereal, Eragon felt as if he could live on the scent alone.

Last was sound, for despite clumps of priests strolling along mosaic pathways and spacious grounds, the only noise Eragon could discern was the soft thump of a rook flying overhead.

The dwarf beckoned again and strode down the main avenue toward Celbedeil. As they passed under its eaves, Eragon could only marvel at the wealth and craftsmanship displayed around him. The walls were spotted with gems of every color and cut — though all flawless — and red gold had been hammered into the veins lacing the stone ceilings, walls, and floor. Pearls and silver provided accents. Occasionally, they passed a screen partition carved entirely of jade.

The temple was devoid of cloth decorations. In their absence, the dwarves had carved a profusion of statues, many depicting monsters and deities locked in epic battles.

After climbing several floors, they passed through a copper door waxy with verdigris and embossed with intricate, patterned knots into a bare room floored with wood. Armor hung thickly on the walls, along with racks of staff-swords identical to the one Angela had fought with in Farthen D& #251; r.

Gannel was there, sparring with three younger dwarves. The clan chief’s robe was rucked up over his thighs so he could move freely, his face a fierce scowl as the wood shaft spun in his hands, unsharpened blades darting like riled hornets.

Two dwarves lunged at Gannel, only to be stymied in a clatter of wood and metal as he spun past them, rapping their knees and heads and sending them to the floor. Eragon grinned as he watched Gannel disarm his last opponent in a brilliant flurry of blows.

At last the clan chief noticed Eragon and dismissed the other dwarves. As Gannel set his weapon on a rack, Eragon said, “Are all Quan so proficient with the blade? It seems an odd skill for priests. ”

Gannel faced him. “We must be able to defend ourselves, no? Many enemies stalk this land. ”

Eragon nodded. “Those are unique swords. I’ve never seen their like, except for one an herbalist used in the battle of Farthen D& #251; r. ”

The dwarf sucked in his breath, then let it hiss out between his teeth. “Angela. ” His expression soured. “She won her staff from a priest in a game of riddles. It was a nasty trick, as we are the only ones allowed to use h& #251; thv& #237; rn. She and Arya. . ” He shrugged and went to a small table, where he filled two mugs with ale. Handing one to Eragon, he said, “I invited you here today at Hrothgar’s request. He told me that if you accepted his offer to become Ingeitum, I was to acquaint you with dwarf traditions. ”

Eragon sipped the ale and kept silent, eyeing how Gannel’s thick brow caught the light, shadows dripping down his cheeks from the bony ridge.

The clan chief continued: “Never before has an outsider been taught our secret beliefs, nor may you speak of them to human or elf. Yet without this knowledge, you cannot uphold what it means to be knurla. You are Ingeitum now: our blood, our flesh, our honor. You understand? ”

“I do. ”

“Come. ” Keeping his ale in hand, Gannel took Eragon from the sparring room and conveyed him through five grand corridors, stopping in the archway to a dim chamber hazy with incense. Facing them, the squat outline of a statue swelled ponderously from floor to ceiling, a faint light cast across the brooding dwarf face hacked with uncharacteristic crudeness from brown granite.

“Who is he? ” asked Eragon, intimidated.

“G& #251; ntera, King of the Gods. He is a warrior and a scholar, though fickle in his moods, so we burn offerings to assure his affection at the solstices, before sowing, and at deaths and births. ” Gannel twisted his hand in a strange gesture and bowed to the statue. “It is to him we pray before battles, for he molded this land from the bones of a giant and gives the world its order. All realms are G& #251; ntera’s. ”

Then Gannel instructed Eragon how to properly venerate the god, explaining the signs and words that were used for homage. He elucidated the meaning of the incense — how it symbolized life and happiness — and spent long minutes recounting legends about G& #251; ntera, how the god was born fully formed to a she-wolf at the dawn of stars, how he had battled monsters and giants to win a place for his kin in Alaga& #235; sia, and how he had taken K& #237; lf, the goddess of rivers and the sea, as his mate.

Next they went to K& #237; lf’s statue, which was carved with exquisite delicacy out of pale blue stone. Her hair flew back in liquid ripples, rolling down her neck and framing merry amethyst eyes. In her hands, she cupped a water lily and a chunk of porous red rock that Eragon did not recognize.

“What is that? ” he asked, pointing.

“Coral taken from deep within the sea that borders the Beors. ”

“Coral? ”

Gannel took a draught of ale, then said, “Our divers found it while searching for pearls. It seems that, in brine, certain stones grow like plants. ”

Eragon stared with wonder. He had never thought of pebbles or boulders as alive, yet here was proof that all they needed was water and salt to flourish. It finally explained how rocks had continued to appear in their fields in Palancar Valley, even after the soil had been combed clean each spring. They grew!

They proceeded to Ur& #251; r, master of the air and heavens, and his brother Morgothal, god of fire. At the carmine statue of Morgothal, the priest told how the brothers loved each other so much, neither could exist independently. Thus, Morgothal’s burning palace in the sky during the day, and the sparks from his forge that appeared overhead every night. And also thus, how Ur& #251; r constantly fed his sibling so he would not die.

Only two more gods were left after that: Sindri — mother of the earth — and Helzvog.

Helzvog’s statue was different from the rest. The nude god was bowed in half over a dwarf-sized lump of gray flint, caressing it with the tip of his forefinger. The muscles of his back bunched and knotted with inhuman strain, yet his expression was incredibly tender, as if a newborn child lay before him.

Gannel’s voice dropped to a low rasp: “G& #251; ntera may be King of the Gods, but it is Helzvog who holds our hearts. It was he who felt that the land should be peopled after the giants were vanquished. The other gods disagreed, but Helzvog ignored them and, in secret, formed the first dwarf from the roots of a mountain.

“When his deed was discovered, jealousy swept the gods and G& #251; ntera created elves to control Alaga& #235; sia for himself. Then Sindri brought forth humans from the soil, and Ur& #251; r and Morgothal combined their knowledge and released dragons into the land. Only K& #237; lf restrained herself. So the first races entered this world. ”

Eragon absorbed Gannel’s words, accepting the clan chief’s sincerity but unable to quell a simple question: How does he know? Eragon sensed that it would be an awkward query, however, and merely nodded as he listened.

“This, ” said Gannel, finishing the last of his ale, “leads to our most important rite, which I know Orik has discussed with you. . All dwarves must be buried in stone, else our spirits will never join Helzvog in his hall. We are not of earth, air, or fire, but ofstone. And as Ingeitum, it is your responsibility to assure a proper resting place for any dwarf who may die in your company. If you fail — in the absence of injury or enemies — Hrothgar will exile you, and no dwarf will acknowledge your presence until after your death. ” He straightened his shoulders, staring hard at Eragon. “You have much more to learn, yet uphold the customs I outlined today and you will do well. ”

“I won’t forget, ” said Eragon.

Satisfied, Gannel led him away from the statues and up a winding staircase. As they climbed, the clan chief dipped a hand into his robe and withdrew a simple necklace, a chain threaded through the pommel of a miniature silver hammer. He gave it to Eragon.

“This is another favor Hrothgar asked of me, ” Gannel explained. “He worries that Galbatorix may have gleaned an image of you from the minds of Durza, the Ra’zac, or any number of soldiers who saw you throughout the Empire. ”

“Why should I fear that? ”

“Because then Galbatorix could scry you. Perhaps he already has. ”

A shiver of apprehension wormed down Eragon’s side, like an icy snake. I should have thought of that, he berated himself.

“The necklace will prevent anyone from scrying you or your dragon, as long as you wear it. I placed the spell myself, so it should hold before even the strongest mind. But be forewarned, when activated, the necklace will draw upon your strength until you either take it off or the danger has passed. ”

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