Christopher Paolini 16 страница

Who is he? asked Saphira.

Arya said, “He is Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of V& #225; ndil, and guardian of Ellesm& #233; ra since the days of Du Fyrn Skulblaka, our war with the dragons. None may enter the city unless he permits it. ”

A quarter of a mile beyond, the forest thinned and breaks appeared within the canopy, allowing planks of mottled sunlight to bar the way. Then they passed underneath two burled trees that leaned against each other and stopped at the edge of an empty glade.

The ground was strewn with dense patches of flowers. From pink roses to bluebells and lilies, spring’s fleeting treasure was heaped about like piles of rubies, sapphires, and opals. Their intoxicating aromas attracted hordes of bumblebees. To the right, a stream chuckled behind a row of bushes, while a pair of squirrels chased each other around a rock.

At first it looked to Eragon like a place where deer might bed for the night. But as he continued to stare, he began to pick out paths hidden among the brush and trees; soft warm light where normally there would be auburn shadows; an odd pattern in the shapes of the twigs and branches and flowers, so subtle that it nearly escaped detection — clues that what he saw was not entirely natural. He blinked, and his vision suddenly shifted as if a lens had been placed over his eyes, resolving everything into recognizable shapes. Those were paths, aye. And those were flowers, aye. But what he had taken to be clusters of lumpy, twisted trees were in fact graceful buildings that grew directly out of the pines.

One tree bulged at the base to form a two-story house before sinking its roots into the loam. Both stories were hexagonal, although the upper level was half as small as the first, which gave the house a tiered appearance. The roofs and walls were made of webbed sheets of wood draped over six thick ridges. Moss and yellow lichen bearded the eaves and hung over jeweled windows set into each side. The front door was a mysterious black silhouette recessed under an archway wrought with symbols.

Another house was nestled between three pines, which were joined to it through a series of curved branches. Reinforced by those flying buttresses, the house rose five levels, light and airy. Beside it sat a bower woven out of willow and dogwood and hung with flameless lanterns disguised as galls.

Each unique building enhanced and complemented its surroundings, blending seamlessly with the rest of the forest until it was impossible to tell where artifice ended and nature resumed. The two were in perfect balance. Instead of mastering their environment, the elves had chosen to accept the world as it was and adapt themselves to it.

The inhabitants of Ellesm& #233; ra eventually revealed themselves as a flicker of movement at the fringe of Eragon’s sight, no more than needles stirring in the breeze. Then he caught glimpses of hands, a pale face, a sandaled foot, an upraised arm. One by one, the wary elves stepped into view, their almond eyes fixed upon Saphira, Arya, and Eragon.

The women wore their hair unbound. It rippled down their backs in waves of silver and sable braided with fresh blossoms, like a garden waterfall. They all possessed a delicate, ethereal beauty that belied their unbreakable strength; to Eragon, they seemed flawless. The men were just as striking, with high cheekbones, finely sculpted noses, and heavy eyelids. Both sexes were garbed in rustic tunics of green and brown, fringed with dusky colors of orange, russet, and gold.

The Fair Folk indeed, thought Eragon. He touched his lips in greeting.

As one, the elves bowed from the waist. Then they smiled and laughed with unrestrained happiness. From within their midst, a woman sang:

Gala O Wyrda brunhvitr,

Abr Berundal vandr-f& #243; dhr,

Burthro laufsbl& #228; dar ekar undir,

Eom kona dauthleikr. .

Eragon clapped his hands over his ears, fearing that the melody was a spell like the one he had heard at S& #237; lthrim, but Arya shook her head and lifted his hands. “It is not magic. ” Then she spoke to her horse, saying, “G& #225; nga. ” The stallion nickered and trotted away. “Release your steeds as well. We have no further need of them and they deserve to rest in our stables. ”

The song waxed stronger as Arya proceeded along a cobblestone path set with bits of green tourmaline, which looped among the hollyhocks and the houses and the trees before finally crossing a stream. The elves danced around their party as they walked, flitting here and there as the fancy struck them, laughing, and occasionally leaping up onto a branch to run over their heads. They praised Saphira with names like “Longclaws” and “Daughter of Air and Fire” and “Strong One. ”

Eragon smiled, delighted and enchanted. I could live here, he thought with a sense of peace. Tucked away in Du Weldenvarden, as much outdoors as in, safe from the rest of the world. . Yes, he liked Ellesm& #233; ra very much indeed, more than any of the dwarf cities. He pointed to a dwelling situated within a pine tree and asked Arya, “How is that done?

“We sing to the forest in the old tongue and give it our strength to grow in the shape that we desire. All our buildings and tools are made in that manner. ”

The path ended at a net of roots that formed steps, like bare pools of earth. They climbed to a door embedded within a wall of saplings. Eragon’s heart quickened as the door swung open, seemingly of its own accord, and revealed a hall of trees. Hundreds of branches melded together to form the honeycombed ceiling. Below, twelve chairs were arrayed along each wall.

In them reposed four-and-twenty elf lords and ladies.

Wise and handsome were they, with smooth faces unmarked by age and keen eyes that gleamed with excitement. They leaned forward, gripping the arms of their chairs, and stared at Eragon’s group with open wonder and hope. Unlike the other elves, they had swords belted at their waists — hilts studded with beryls and garnets — and circlets that adorned their brows.

And at the head of the assembly stood a white pavilion that sheltered a throne of knotted roots. Queen Islanzad& #237; sat upon it. She was as beautiful as an autumn sunset, proud and imperious, with two dark eyebrows slanted like upraised wings, lips as bright and red as holly berries, and midnight hair bound under a diamond diadem. Her tunic was crimson. Round her hips hung a girdle of braided gold. And clasped at the hollow of her neck was a velvet cloak that fell to the ground in languid folds. Despite her imposing countenance, the queen seemed fragile, as if she concealed a great pain.

By her left hand was a curved rod with a chased crosspiece. A brilliant-white raven perched on it, shuffling impatiently from foot to foot. He cocked his head and surveyed Eragon with uncanny intelligence, then gave a long, low croak and shrieked, “Wyrda! ” Eragon shivered from the force of that single cracked word.

The door closed behind the six of them as they entered the hall and approached the queen. Arya knelt on the moss-covered ground and bowed first, then Eragon, Orik, Lifaen, and Nar& #237;. Even Saphira, who had never bowed to anyone, not even Ajihad or Hrothgar, lowered her head.

Islanzad& #237; stood and descended from the throne, her cloak trailing behind her. She stopped before Arya, placed trembling hands on her shoulders, and said in a rich vibrato, “Rise. ” Arya did, and the queen scrutinized her face with increasing intensity, until it seemed as if she were trying to decipher an obscure text.

At last Islanzad& #237; cried out and embraced Arya, saying, “O my daughter, I have wronged you! ”

QUEENISLANZAD& #205;

Eragon knelt before the queen of the elves and her councilors in a fantastic room made from the boles of living trees in a near-mythic land, and the only thing that filled his mind was shock. Arya is a princess! It was fitting in a way — she had always possessed an air of command — but he bitterly regretted the fact, for it placed another barrier between them when he would have torn them all away. The knowledge filled his mouth with the taste of ashes. He remembered Angela’s prophecy that he would love one of noble birth. . and her warning that she could not see if it would end for good or for ill.

He could feel Saphira’s own surprise, then her amusement. She said, It appears that we have been traveling in the presence of royalty without knowing it.

Why didn’t she tell us?

Perhaps it would have placed her in greater danger.

“Islanzad& #237; Dr& #246; ttning, ” said Arya formally.

The queen withdrew as if she had been stung and then repeated in the ancient language, “O my daughter, I have wronged you. ” She covered her face. “Ever since you disappeared, I’ve barely slept or eaten. I was haunted by your fate, and feared that I would never see you again. Banning you from my presence was the greatest mistake I have ever made. . Can you forgive me? ”

The gathered elves stirred with amazement.

Arya’s response was long in coming, but at last she said, “For seventy years, I have lived and loved, fought and killed without ever speaking to you, my mother. Our lives are long, but even so, that is no small span. ”

Islanzad& #237; drew herself upright, lifting her chin. A tremor ran her length. “I cannot undo the past, Arya, no matter how much I might desire to. ”

“And I cannot forget what I endured. ”

“Nor should you. ” Islanzad& #237; clasped her daughter’s hands. “Arya, I love you. You are my only family. Go if you must, but unless you wish to renounce me, I would be reconciled with you. ”

For a terrible moment, it seemed as if Arya would not answer, or worse, would reject the offer. Eragon saw her hesitate and quickly look at her audience. Then she lowered her eyes and said, “No, Mother. I could not leave. ” Islanzad& #237; smiled uncertainly and embraced her daughter again. This time Arya returned the gesture, and smiles broke out among the assembled elves.

The white raven hopped on his stand, cackling, “And on the door was graven evermore, what now became the family lore, Let us never do but to adore! ”

“Hush, Blagden, ” said Islanzad& #237; to the raven. “Keep your doggerel to yourself. ” Breaking free, the queen turned to Eragon and Saphira. “You must excuse me for being discourteous and ignoring you, our most important guests. ”

Eragon touched his lips and then twisted his right hand over his sternum, as Arya had taught him. “Islanzad& #237; Dr& #246; ttning. Atra estern& #237; ono thelduin. ” He had no doubt that he was supposed to speak first.

Islanzad& #237; ’s dark eyes widened. “Atra du evar& #237; nya ono varda. ”

“Un atra mor’ranr l& #237; fa unin hjarta onr, ” replied Eragon, completing the ritual. He could tell that the elves were caught off guard by his knowledge of their customs. In his mind, he listened as Saphira repeated his greeting to the queen.

When she finished, Islanzad& #237; asked, “Dragon, what is your name? ”

Saphira.

A flash of recognition appeared in the queen’s expression, but she made no comment on it. “Welcome to Ellesm& #233; ra, Saphira. And yours, Rider? ”

“Eragon Shadeslayer, Your Majesty. ” This time an audible stir rippled among the elves seated behind them; even Islanzad& #237; appeared startled.

“You carry a powerful name, ” she said softly, “one that we rarely bestow upon our children. . Welcome to Ellesm& #233; ra, Eragon Shadeslayer. We have waited long for you. ” She moved on to Orik, greeted him, then returned to her throne and draped her velvet cloak over her arm. “I assume by your presence here, Eragon, so soon after Saphira’s egg was captured, and by the ring on your hand and the sword on your hip, that Brom is dead and that your training with him was incomplete. I wish to hear your full story, including how Brom fell and how you came to meet my daughter, or how she met you, as it may be. Then I will hear of your mission here, dwarf, and of your adventures, Arya, since your ambush in Du Weldenvarden. ”

Eragon had narrated his experiences before, so he had no trouble reiterating them now for the queen. The few occasions where his memory faltered, Saphira was able to provide an accurate description of events. In several places, he simply left the telling to her. When they finished, Eragon retrieved Nasuada’s scroll from his pack and presented it to Islanzad& #237;.

She took the roll of parchment, broke the red wax seal, and, upon completing the missive, sighed and briefly closed her eyes. “I see now the true depth of my folly. My grief would have ended so much sooner if I had not withdrawn our warriors and ignored Ajihad’s messengers after learning that Arya had been ambushed. I should have never blamed the Varden for her death. For one so old, I am still far too foolish. . ”

A long silence followed, as no one dared to agree or disagree. Summoning his courage, Eragon said, “Since Arya has returned alive, will you agree to help the Varden, like before? Nasuada cannot succeed otherwise, and I am pledged to her cause. ”

“My quarrel with the Varden is as dust in the wind, ” said Islanzad& #237;. “Fear not; we will assist them as we once did, and more, because of you and their victory over the Urgals. ” She leaned forward on one arm. “Will you give me Brom’s ring, Eragon? ” Without hesitation, he pulled it off his finger and offered it to the queen, who plucked it from his palm with her slim fingers. “You should not have worn this, Eragon, as it was not meant for you. However, because of the aid you have rendered the Varden and my family, I now name you Elf Friend and bestow this ring, Aren, upon you, so that all elves, wherever you go, will know that you are to be trusted and helped. ”

Eragon thanked her and returned the ring to his finger, acutely aware of the queen’s gaze, which remained upon him with disturbing perception, studying and analyzing. He felt as if she knew everything that he might say or do. She said, “Such tidings as yours, we have not heard the like of in Du Weldenvarden for many a year. We are accustomed to a slower way of life here than the rest of Alaga& #235; sia, and it troubles me that so much could occur so swiftly without word of it reaching my ear. ”

“And what of my training? ” Eragon snatched a furtive glance at the seated elves, wondering if any of them could be Togira Ikonoka, the being who had reached into his mind and freed him of Durza’s foul influence after the battle in Farthen D& #251; r — and who had also encouraged Eragon to travel to Ellesm& #233; ra.

“It will begin in the fullness of time. Yet I fear that instructing you is futile so long as your infirmity persists. Unless you can overcome the Shade’s magic, you will be reduced to no more than a figurehead. You may still be useful, but only as a shadow of the hope that we have nurtured for over a century. ” Islanzad& #237; spoke without reproach, yet her words struck Eragon like hammer blows. He knew that she was right. “Your situation is not your fault, and it pains me to voice such things, but you must understand the gravity of your disability. . I am sorry. ”

Then Islanzad& #237; addressed Orik: “It has been long since one of your race entered our halls, dwarf. Eragon-finiarel has explained your presence, but do you have aught to add? ”

“Only royal greetings from my king, Hrothgar, and a plea, now unneeded, for you to resume contact with the Varden. Beyond that, I am here to see that the pact that Brom forged between you and the humans is honored. ”

“We keep our promises whether we utter them in this language or in the ancient language. I accept Hrothgar’s greetings and return them in kind. ” Finally, as Eragon was sure she had longed to do since they first arrived, Islanzad& #237; looked at Arya and asked, “Now, daughter, what befell you? ”

Arya began to speak in a slow monotone, first of her capture and then of her long imprisonment and torture in Gil’ead. Saphira and Eragon had deliberately avoided the details of her abuse, but Arya herself seemed to have no difficulty recounting what she had been subjected to. Her emotionless descriptions roused the same rage within Eragon as when he first saw her wounds. The elves remained completely silent throughout Arya’s tale, although they gripped their swords and their faces hardened into razor lines of cold anger. A single tear rolled down Islanzad& #237; ’s cheek.

Afterward, a lithe elf lord paced along the mossy sward between the chairs. “I know that I speak for us all, Arya Dr& #246; ttningu, when I say that my heart burns with sorrow for your ordeal. It is a crime beyond apology, mitigation, or reparation, and Galbatorix must be punished for it. Also, we are in your debt for keeping the locations of our cities hidden from the Shade. Few of us could have withstood him for so long. ”

“Thank you, D& #228; thedr-vor. ”

Now Islanzad& #237; spoke, and her voice rang like a bell among the trees. “Enough. Our guests wait tired on their feet, and we have spoken of evil things for far too long. I will not have this occasion marred by lingering on past injuries. ” A glorious smile brightened her expression. “My daughter has returned, a dragon and her Rider have appeared, and I will see us celebrate in the proper fashion! ” She stood, tall and magnificent in her crimson tunic, and clapped her hands. At the sound, the chairs and pavilion were showered with hundreds of lilies and roses that appeared twenty feet above their heads and drifted down like colorful snowflakes, suffusing the air with their heady fragrance.

She didn’t use the ancient language, observed Eragon.

He noticed that, while everyone was occupied by the flowers, Islanzad& #237; touched Arya gently on the shoulder and murmured, almost too softly to hear, “You never would have suffered so if you had taken my counsel. I was right to oppose your decision to accept the yaw& #235;. ”

“It was my decision to make. ”

The queen paused, then nodded and extended her arm. “Blagden. ” With a flutter of wings, the raven flew from his perch and landed on her left shoulder. The entire assembly bowed as Islanzad& #237; proceeded to the end of the hall and threw open the door to the hundreds of elves outside, whereupon she made a brief declaration in the ancient language that Eragon did not understand. The elves burst into cheers and began to rush about.

“What did she say? ” whispered Eragon to Nar& #237;.

Nar& #237; smiled. “To break open our finest casks and light the cook-fires, for tonight shall be a night of feast and song. Come! ” He grabbed Eragon’s hand and pulled him after the queen as she threaded her way between the shaggy pines and through banks of cool ferns. During their time indoors, the sun had dropped low in the sky, drenching the forest with an amber light that clung to the trees and plants like a layer of glistering oil.

You do realize, don’t you, said Saphira, that the king Lifaen mentioned, Evandar, must be Arya’s father?

Eragon almost stumbled. You’re right. . And that means he was killed by either Galbatorix or the Forsworn.

Circles within circles.

They stopped on the crest of a small hill, where a team of elves had set out a long trestle table and chairs. All around them, the forest hummed with activity. As evening approached, the cheery glow of fires appeared scattered throughout Ellesm& #233; ra, including a bonfire near the table.

Someone handed Eragon a goblet made of the same odd wood that he had noticed in Ceris. He drank the cup’s clear liqueur and gasped as it blazed down his throat. It tasted like mulled cider mixed with mead. The potion made the tips of his fingers and ears tingle and gave him a marvelous sense of clarity. “What is this? ” he asked Nar& #237;.

Nar& #237; laughed. “Faelnirv? We distill it from crushed elderberries and spun moonbeams. If he needs must, a strong man can travel for three days on naught else. ”

Saphira, you have to taste this. She sniffed the goblet, then opened her mouth and allowed him to pour the rest of the faelnirv down her throat. Her eyes widened and her tail twitched.

Now that’s a treat! Is there more?

Before Eragon could reply, Orik stomped over to them. “Daughter to the queen, ” he grumbled, shaking his head. “I wish that I could tell Hrothgar and Nasuada. They’d want to know. ”

Islanzad& #237; seated herself in a high-backed chair and clapped her hands once again. From within the city came a quartet of elves bearing musical instruments. Two had harps of cherrywood, the third a set of reed pipes, and the fourth nothing but her voice, which she immediately put to use with a playful song that danced about their ears.

Eragon caught only every third word or so, but what he did understand made him grin. It was the story of a stag who could not drink at a pond because a magpie kept harassing him.

As Eragon listened, his gaze wandered and alighted upon a small girl prowling behind the queen. When he looked again, he saw that her shaggy hair was not silver, like many of the elves, but bleached white with age, and that her face was creased and lined like a dry, withered apple. She was no elf, nor dwarf, nor — Eragon felt — even human. She smiled at him, and he glimpsed rows of sharp teeth.

When the singer finished, and the pipes and lutes filled the silence, Eragon found himself approached by scores of elves who wished to meet him and — more importantly, he sensed — Saphira.

The elves presented themselves by bowing softly and touching their lips with their first and middle fingers, to which Eragon responded in kind, along with endless repetitions of their greeting in the ancient language. They plied Eragon with polite questions about his exploits, but they reserved the bulk of their conversation for Saphira.

At first Eragon was content to let Saphira talk, since this was the first place where anyone was interested in having a discussion just with her. But he soon grew annoyed at being ignored; he had become used to having people listen when he spoke. He grinned ruefully, dismayed that he had come to rely on people’s attention so much since he had joined the Varden, and forced himself to relax and enjoy the celebration.

Before long the scent of food permeated the glade and elves appeared carrying platters piled with delicacies. Aside from loaves of warm bread and stacks of small, round honeycakes, the dishes were made entirely of fruit, vegetables, and berries. The berries predominated; they were in everything from blueberry soup to raspberry sauce to thimbleberry jelly. A bowl of sliced apples dripped with syrup and sprinkled with wild strawberries sat beside a mushroom pie stuffed with spinach, thyme, and currants.

No meat was to be found, not even fish or fowl, which still puzzled Eragon. In Carvahall and elsewhere in the Empire, meat was a symbol of status and luxury. The more gold you had, the more often you could afford steak and veal. Even the minor nobility ate meat with every meal. To do otherwise would indicate a deficit in their coffers. And yet the elves did not subscribe to this philosophy, despite their obvious wealth and the ease with which they could hunt with magic.

The elves rushed to the table with an enthusiasm that surprised Eragon. Soon all were seated: Islanzad& #237; at the head of the table with Blagden, the raven; D& #228; thedr to her left; Arya and Eragon by her right hand; Orik across from them; and then all the rest of the elves, including Nar& #237; and Lifaen. No chair was at the far end of the table, only a huge carved plate for Saphira.

As the meal progressed, everything dissolved around Eragon into a blur of talk and mirth. He was so caught up in the festivities, he lost track of time, aware of only the laughter and the foreign words swirling over his head and the warm glow left in his stomach by the faelnirv. The elusive harp music sighed and whispered at the edges of his hearing and sent shivers of excitement down his side. Occasionally, he found himself distracted by the lazy slit-eyed stare of the woman-child, which she kept focused on him with single-minded intensity, even when eating.

During a lull in the conversation, Eragon turned toward Arya, who had uttered no more than a dozen words. He said nothing, only looked and wondered who she really was.

Arya stirred. “Not even Ajihad knew. ”

“What? ”

“Outside of Du Weldenvarden, I told no one of my identity. Brom was aware of it — he first met me here — but he kept it a secret at my request. ”

Eragon wondered if she was explaining to him out of a sense of duty or because she felt guilty for deceiving him and Saphira. “Brom once said that what elvesdidn’t say was often more important that what they did. ”

“He understood us well. ”

“Why, though? Did it matter if anyone knew? ”

This time Arya hesitated. “When I left Ellesm& #233; ra, I had no desire to be reminded of my position. Nor did it seem relevant to my task with the Varden and dwarves. It had nothing to do with who I became. . with who I am. ” She glanced at the queen.

“You could have told Saphira and me. ”

Arya seemed to bridle at the reproach in his voice. “I had no reason to suspect that my standing with Islanzad& #237; had improved, and telling you that would have changed nothing. My thoughts are my own, Eragon. ” He flushed at her implied meaning: Why shouldshe— who was a diplomat, a princess, an elf, and older than both his father and grandfather, whoever they were — confide in him, a sixteen-year-old human?

“At least, ” he muttered, “you made up with your mother. ”

She smiled oddly. “Did I have a choice? ”

At that moment, Blagden jumped from Islanzad& #237; ’s shoulder and strutted down the middle of the table, bobbing his head left and right in a mocking bow. He stopped before Saphira, uttered a hoarse cough, and then croaked:

Dragons, like wagons,

Have tongues.

Dragons, like flagons,

Have necks.

But while two hold beer,

The other eats deer!

The elves froze with mortified expressions while they waited for Saphira’s reaction. After a long silence, Saphira looked up from her quince pie and released a puff of smoke that enveloped Blagden. And little birds too, she said, projecting her thoughts so that everyone could hear. The elves finally laughed as Blagden staggered back, cawing indignantly and flapping his wings to clear the air.

“I must apologize for Blagden’s wretched verses, ” said Islanzad& #237;. “He has ever had a saucy tongue, despite our attempts to tame it. ”

Apology accepted, said Saphira calmly, and returned to her pie.

“Where does he come from? ” Eragon asked, eager to return to more cordial footing with Arya but also genuinely curious.

“Blagden, ” said Arya, “once saved my father’s life. Evandar was fighting an Urgal when he stumbled and lost his sword. Before the Urgal could strike, a raven flew at him and pecked out his eyes. No one knows why the bird did it, but the distraction allowed Evandar to regain his balance and so win the battle. My father was always generous, so he thanked the raven by blessing him with spells for intelligence and long life. However, the magic had two effects that he did not foresee: Blagden lost all color in his feathers and he gained the ability to predict certain events. ”

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