Christopher Paolini 28 страница

“But they do. ”

“Sound has no control over magic. Saying a word or phrase in this language is not what’s important, it’sthinking them in this language. ” With a flick of his wrist, a golden flame appeared over Oromis’s palm, then disappeared. “However, unless the need is dire, we still utter our spells out loud to prevent stray thoughts from disrupting them, which is a danger to even the most experienced magic user. ”

The implications staggered Eragon. He thought back to when he almost drowned under the waterfall of the lake K& #243; stha-m& #233; rna and how he had been unable to access magic because of the water surrounding him. If I had known this then, I could have saved myself, he thought. “Master, ” he said, “if sound does not affect magic, why, then, do thoughts? ”

Now Oromis smiled. “Why indeed? I must point out that we ourselves are not the source of magic. Magic can exist on its own, independent of any spell, such as the werelights in the bogs by Aroughs, the dream well in Mani’s Caves in the Beor Mountains, and the floating crystal on Eoam. Wild magic such as this is treacherous, unpredictable, and often stronger than any we can cast.

“Eons ago, all magic was thus. To use it required nothing but the ability to sense magic with your mind — which every magician must possess — and the desire and strength to use it. Without the structure of the ancient language, magicians could not govern their talent and, as a result, loosed many evils upon the land, killing thousands. Over time they discovered that stating their intentions in their language helped them to order their thoughts and avoid costly errors. But it was no foolproof method. Eventually, an accident occurred so horrific that it almost destroyed every living being in the world. We know of the event from fragments of manuscripts that survived the era, but who or what cast the fatal spell is hidden from us. The manuscripts say that, afterward, a race called the Grey Folk — not elves, for we were young then — gathered their resources and wrought an enchantment, perhaps the greatest that was or ever shall be. Together the Grey Folk changed the nature of magic itself. They made it so that their language, the ancient language, could control what a spell does. . could actually limit the magic so that if you saidburn that door and by chance looked at me and thought of me, the magic would still burn the door, not me. And they gave the ancient language its two unique traits, the ability to prevent those who speak it from lying and the ability to describe the true nature of things. How they did this remains a mystery.

“The manuscripts differ on what happened to the Grey Folk when they completed their work, but it seems that the enchantment drained them of their power and left them but a shadow of themselves. They faded away, choosing to live in their cities until the stones crumbled to dust or to take mates among the younger races and so pass into darkness. ”

“Then, ” said Eragon, “it is still possible to use magic without the ancient language? ”

“How do you think Saphira breathes fire? And, by your own account, she used no word when she turned Brom’s tomb to diamond nor when she blessed the child in Farthen D& #251; r. Dragons’ minds are different from ours; they need no protection from magic. They cannot use it consciously, aside from their fire, but when the gift touches them, their strength is unparalleled. . You look troubled, Eragon. Why? ”

Eragon stared down at his hands. “What does this mean for me, Master? ”

“It means that you will continue to study the ancient language, for you can accomplish much with it that would be too complex or too dangerous otherwise. It means that if you are captured and gagged, you can still call upon magic to free yourself, as Vanir did. It means that if you are captured and drugged and cannot recall the ancient language, yes, even then, you may cast a spell, though only in the gravest circumstances. And it means that if you would cast a spell for that which has no name in the ancient language, you can. ” He paused. “But beware the temptation to use these powers. Even the wisest among us hesitate to trifle with them for fear of death or worse. ”

The next morning, and every morning thereafter so long as he stayed in Ellesm& #233; ra, Eragon dueled with Vanir, but he never lost his temper again, no matter what the elf did or said.

Nor did Eragon feel like devoting energy to their rivalry. His back pained him more and more frequently, driving him to the limits of his endurance. The debilitating attacks sensitized him; actions that previously had caused him no trouble could now leave him writhing on the ground. Even the Rimgar began to trigger the seizures as he advanced to more strenuous poses. It was not uncommon for him to suffer three or four such episodes in one day.

Eragon’s face grew haggard. He walked with a shuffle, his movements slow and careful as he tried to preserve his strength. It became hard for him to think clearly or to pay attention to Oromis’s lessons, and gaps began to appear in his memory that he could not account for. In his spare time, he took up Orik’s puzzle ring again, preferring to concentrate upon the baffling interlocked rings rather than his condition. When she was with him, Saphira insisted that he ride upon her back and did everything that she could to make him comfortable and to save him effort.

One morning, as he clung to a spike on her neck, Eragon said, I have a new name for pain.

What’s that?

The Obliterator. Because when you’re in pain, nothing else can exist. Not thought. Not emotion. Only the drive to escape the pain. When it’s strong enough, the Obliterator strips us of everything that makes us who we are, until we’re reduced to creatures less than animals, creatures with a single desire and goal: escape.

A good name, then.

I’m falling apart, Saphira, like an old horse that’s plowed too many fields. Keep hold of me with your mind, or I may drift apart and forget who I am.

I will never let go of you.

Soon afterward, Eragon fell victim to three bouts of agony while fighting Vanir and then two more during the Rimgar. As he uncurled from the clenched ball he had rolled into, Oromis said, “Again, Eragon. You must perfect your balance. ”

Eragon shook his head and growled in an undertone, “No. ” He crossed his arms to hide his tremors.

“What? ”

“No. ”

“Get up, Eragon, and try again. ”

“No! Do the pose yourself; I won’t. ”

Oromis knelt beside Eragon and placed a cool hand on his cheek. Holding it there, he gazed at Eragon with such kindness, Eragon understood the depth of the elf’s compassion for him, and that, if it were possible, Oromis would willingly assume Eragon’s pain to relieve his suffering. “Don’t abandon hope, ” said Oromis. “Never that. ” A measure of strength seemed to flow from him to Eragon. “We are the Riders. We stand between the light and the dark, and keep the balance between the two. Ignorance, fear, hate: these are our enemies. Deny them with all your might, Eragon, or we will surely fail. ” He stood and extended a hand toward Eragon. “Now rise, Shadeslayer, and prove you can conquer the instincts of your flesh! ”

Eragon took a deep breath and pushed himself upright on one arm, wincing from the effort. He got his feet underneath himself, paused for a moment, then straightened to his full height and looked Oromis in the eye.

The elf nodded with approval.

Eragon remained silent until they finished the Rimgar and went to bathe in the stream, whereupon he said, “Master. ”

“Yes, Eragon? ”

“Why must I endure this torture? You could use magic to give me the skills I need, to shape my body as you do the trees and plants. ”

“I could, but if I did, you would not understand how you got the body you had, your own abilities, nor how to maintain them. No shortcuts exist for the path you walk, Eragon. ”

Cold water rushed over the length of Eragon’s body as he lowered himself into the stream. He ducked his head under the surface, holding a rock so that he would not float away, and lay stretched out along the streambed, feeling like an arrow flying through the water.

NARDA

Roran leaned on one knee and scratched his new beard as he looked down at Narda.

The small town was dark and compact, like a crust of rye bread tamped into a crevasse along the coast. Beyond it, the wine-red sea glimmered with the last rays of the dying sunset. The water fascinated him; it was utterly different from the landscape he was accustomed to.

We made it.

Leaving the promontory, Roran walked back to his makeshift tent, enjoying deep breaths of the salty air. They had camped high in the foothills of the Spine in order to avoid detection by anyone who might alert the Empire as to their whereabouts.

As he strode among the clumps of villagers huddled beneath the trees, Roran surveyed their condition with sorrow and anger. The trek from Palancar Valley had left people sick, battered, and exhausted; their faces gaunt from lack of food; their clothes tattered. Most everyone wore rags tied around their hands to ward off frostbite during the frigid mountain nights. Weeks of carrying heavy packs had bowed once-proud shoulders. The worst sight was the children: thin and unnaturally still.

They deserve better, thought Roran. I’d be in the clutches of the Ra’zac right now if they hadn’t protected me.

Numerous people approached Roran, most of whom wanted nothing more than a touch on the shoulder or a word of comfort. Some offered him bits of food, which he refused or, when they insisted, gave to someone else. Those who remained at a distance watched with round, pale eyes. He knew what they said about him, that he was mad, that spirits possessed him, that not even the Ra’zac could defeat him in battle.

Crossing the Spine had been even harder than Roran expected. The only paths in the forest were game trails, which were too narrow, steep, and meandering for their group. As a result, the villagers were often forced to chop their way through the trees and underbrush, a painstaking task that everyone despised, not least because it made it easy for the Empire to track them. The one advantage to the situation was that the exercise restored Roran’s injured shoulder to its previous level of strength, although he still had trouble lifting his arm at certain angles.

Other hardships took their toll. A sudden storm trapped them on a bare pass high above the timberline. Three people froze in the snow: Hida, Brenna, and Nesbit, all of whom were quite old. That night was the first time Roran was convinced that the entire village would die because they had followed him. Soon after, a boy broke his arm in a fall, and then Southwell drowned in a glacier stream. Wolves and bears preyed upon their livestock on a regular basis, ignoring the watchfires that the villagers lit once they were concealed from Palancar Valley and Galbatorix’s hated soldiers. Hunger clung to them like a relentless parasite, gnawing at their bellies, devouring their strength, and sapping their will to continue.

And yet they survived, displaying the same obstinacy and fortitude that kept their ancestors in Palancar Valley despite famine, war, and pestilence. The people of Carvahall might take an age and a half to reach a decision, but once they did, nothing could deter them from their course.

Now that they had reached Narda, a sense of hope and accomplishment permeated the camp. No one knew what would happen next, but the fact that they had gotten so far gave them confidence.

We won’t be safe until we leave the Empire, thought Roran. And it’s up to me to ensure that we aren’t caught. I’ve become responsible for everyone here. . A responsibility that he had embraced wholeheartedly because it allowed him to both protect the villagers from Galbatorix and pursue his goal of rescuing Katrina. It’s been so long since she was captured. How can she still be alive? He shuddered and pushed the thoughts away. True madness awaited him if he allowed himself to brood over Katrina’s fate.

At dawn Roran, Horst, Baldor, Loring’s three sons, and Gertrude set out for Narda. They descended from the foothills to the town’s main road, careful to stay hidden until they emerged onto the lane. Here in the lowlands, the air seemed thick to Roran; it felt as if he were trying to breathe underwater.

Roran gripped the hammer at his belt as they approached Narda’s gate. Two soldiers guarded the opening. They examined Roran’s group with hard eyes, lingering on their ragged clothes, then lowered their poleaxes and barred the entrance.

“Where’d you be from? ” asked the man on the right. He could not have been older than twenty-five, but his hair was already pure white.

Swelling his chest, Horst crossed his arms and said, “Roundabouts Teirm, if it please you. ”

“What brings you here? ”

“Trade. We were sent by shopkeepers who want to buy goods directly from Narda, instead of through the usual merchants. ”

“That so, eh? What goods? ”

When Horst faltered, Gertrude said, “Herbs and medicine on my part. The plants I’ve received from here have either been too old or moldy and spoiled. I have to procure a fresh supply. ”

“And my brothers and I, ” said Darmmen, “came to bargain with your cobblers. Shoes made in the northern style are fashionable in Dras-Leona and Ur& #251; ’baen. ” He grimaced. “At least they were when we set out. ”

Horst nodded with renewed confidence. “Aye. And I’m here to collect a shipment of ironwork for my master. ”

“So you say. What about that one? What does he do? ” asked the soldier, motioning toward Roran with his ax.

“Pottery, ” said Roran.

“Pottery? ”

“Pottery. ”

“Why the hammer, then? ”

“How do you think the glaze on a bottle or jar gets cracked? It doesn’t happen by itself, you know. You have to hit it. ” Roran returned the white-haired man’s stare of disbelief with a blank expression, daring him to challenge the statement.

The soldier grunted and ran his gaze over them again. “Be as that may, you don’t look like tradesmen to me. Starved alley cats is more like it. ”

“We had difficulty on the road, ” said Gertrude.

“That I’d believe. If you came from Teirm, where be your horses? ”

“We left them at our camp, ” supplied Hamund. He pointed south, opposite where the rest of the villagers were actually hidden.

“Don’t have the coin to stay in town, eh? ” With a scornful chuckle, the soldier raised his ax and gestured for his companion to do likewise. “All right, you can pass, but don’t cause trouble or you’ll be off to the stocks or worse. ”

Once through the gate, Horst pulled Roran to the side of the street and growled in his ear, “That was a fool thing to do, making up something as ridiculous as that. Cracking the glaze! Do youwant a fight? We can’t—” He stopped as Gertrude plucked at his sleeve.

“Look, ” murmured the healer.

To the left of the entrance stood a six-foot-wide message board with a narrow shingle roof to protect the yellowing parchment underneath. Half the board was devoted to official notices and proclamations. On the other half hung a block of posters displaying sketches of various criminals. Foremost among them was a drawing of Roran without a beard.

Startled, Roran glanced around to make sure that no one in the street was close enough to compare his face to the illustration, then devoted his attention to the poster. He had expected the Empire to pursue them, but it was still a shock to encounter proof of it. Galbatorix must be expending an enormous amount of resources trying to catch us. When they were in the Spine, it was easy to forget that the outside world existed. I bet posters of me are nailed up throughout the Empire. He grinned, glad that he had stopped shaving and that he and the others had agreed to use false names while in Narda.

A reward was inked at the bottom of the poster. Garrow never taught Roran and Eragon to read, but he did teach them their figures because, as he said, “You have to know how much you own, what it’s worth, and what you’re paid for it so you don’t get rooked by some two-faced knave. ” Thus, Roran could see that the Empire had offered ten thousand crowns for him, enough to live in comfort for several decades. In a perverse way, the size of the reward pleased him, giving him a sense of importance.

Then his gaze drifted to the next poster in line.

It was Eragon.

Roran’s gut clenched as if he had been struck, and for a few seconds he forgot to breathe.

He’s alive!

After his initial relief subsided, Roran felt his old anger about Eragon’s role in Garrow’s death and the destruction of their farm take its place, accompanied by a burning desire to know why the Empire was hunting Eragon. It must have something to do with that blue stone and the Ra’zac’s first visit to Carvahall. Once again, Roran wondered what kind of fiendish machinations he and the rest of Carvahall had become entangled in.

Instead of a reward, Eragon’s poster bore two lines of runes. “What crime is he accused of? ” Roran asked Gertrude.

The skin around Gertrude’s eyes wrinkled as she squinted at the board. “Treason, the both of you. It says Galbatorix will bestow an earldom on whoever captures Eragon, but that those who try should take care because he’s extremely dangerous. ”

Roran blinked with astonishment. Eragon? It seemed inconceivable until Roran considered how he himself had changed in the past few weeks. The same blood runs in our veins. Who knows, Eragon may have accomplished as much or more than I have since he left.

In a low voice, Baldor said, “If killing Galbatorix’s men and defying the Ra’zac only earns you ten thousand crowns — large as that is — what makes you worth an earldom? ”

“Buggering the king himself, ” suggested Larne.

“That’s enough of that, ” said Horst. “Guard your tongue better, Baldor, or we’ll end up in irons. And, Roran, don’t draw attention to yourself again. With a reward like that, people are bound to be watching strangers for anyone who matches your description. ” Running a hand through his hair, Horst pulled up his belt and said, “Right. We all have jobs to do. Return here at noon to report on your progress. ”

With that their party split into three. Darmmen, Larne, and Hamund set out together to purchase food for the villagers, both to meet present needs and to sustain them through the next stage of their journey. Gertrude — as she had told the guard — went to replenish her stock of herbs, unguents, and tinctures. And Roran, Horst, and Baldor headed down the sloping streets to the docks, where they hoped to charter a ship that could transport the villagers to Surda or, at the very least, Teirm.

When they reached the weathered boardwalk that covered the beach, Roran halted and stared out at the ocean, which was gray from low clouds and dotted with whitecaps from erratic wind. He had never imagined that the horizon could be so perfectly flat. The hollow boom of water knocking against the piles beneath his feet made it feel as if he stood upon the surface of a huge drum. The odor of fish — fresh, gutted, and rotting — overwhelmed every other smell.

Glancing from Roran to Baldor, who was likewise entranced, Horst said, “Quite a sight, isn’t it? ”

“Aye, ” said Roran.

“Makes you feel rather small, doesn’t it? ”

“Aye, ” said Baldor.

Horst nodded. “I remember when I first saw the ocean, it had a similar effect on me. ”

“When was that? ” asked Roran. In addition to the flocks of seagulls whirling over the cove, he noticed an odd type of bird perched upon the piers. The animal had an ungainly body with a striped beak that it kept tucked against its breast like a pompous old man, a white head and neck, and a sooty torso. One of the birds lifted its beak, revealing a leathery pouch underneath.

“Bartram, the smith who came before me, ” said Horst, “died when I was fifteen, a year before the end of my apprenticeship. I had to find a smith who was willing to finish another man’s work, so I traveled to Ceunon, which is built along the North Sea. There I met Kelton, a vile old man but good at what he did. He agreed to teach me. ” Horst laughed. “By the time we were done, I wasn’t sure if I should thank him or curse him. ”

“Thank him, I should think, ” said Baldor. “You never would have married Mother otherwise. ”

Roran scowled as he studied the waterfront. “There aren’t many ships, ” he observed. Two craft were berthed at the south end of the port and a third at the opposite side with nothing but fishing boats and dinghies in between. Of the southern pair, one had a broken mast. Roran had no experience with ships but, to him, none of the vessels appeared large enough to carry almost three hundred passengers.

Going from one ship to the next, Roran, Horst, and Baldor soon discovered that they were all otherwise engaged. It would take a month or more to repair the ship with the broken mast. The vessel beside it, theWaverunner, was rigged with leather sails and was about to venture north to the treacherous islands where the Seithr plant grew. And theAlbatross, the last ship, had just arrived from distant Feinster and was getting its seams recaulked before departing with its cargo of wool.

A dockworker laughed at Horst’s questions. “You’re too late and too early at the same time. Most of the spring ships came and left two, three weeks ago. An’ another month, the nor’westers will start gusting, an’ then the seal and walrus hunters will return and we’ll get ships from Teirm and the rest of the Empire to take the hides, meat, and oil. Then you might have a chance of hiring a captain with an empty hold. Meanwhile, we don’t see much more traffic than this. ”

Desperate, Roran asked, “Is there no other way to get goods from here to Teirm? It doesn’t have to be fast or comfortable. ”

“Well, ” said the man, hefting the box on his shoulder, “if it doesn’t have to be fast an’ you’re only going to Teirm, then you might try Clovis over there. ” He pointed to a line of sheds that floated between two piers where boats could be stored. “He owns some barges that he ships grain on in the fall. The rest of the year, Clovis fishes for a living, like most everybody in Narda. ” Then he frowned. “What kind of goods do you have? The sheep have already been shorn, an’ no crops are in as of yet. ”

“This and that, ” said Horst. He tossed the man a copper.

The dockworker pocketed it with a wink and a nudge. “Right you are, sir. This an’ that. I know a dodge when I see one. But no need to fear old Ulric; mum’s th’ word, it is. Be seeing you, then, sir. ” He strolled off, whistling.

As it turned out, Clovis was absent from the docks. After getting directions, it took them a half hour to walk to his house on the other side of Narda, where they found Clovis planting iris bulbs along the path to his front door. He was a stout man with sunburned cheeks and a salt-and-pepper beard. An additional hour passed before they could convince the mariner that they really were interested in his barges, despite the season, and then troop back to the sheds, which he unlocked to reveal three identical barges, theMerrybell, Edeline, andRed Boar.

Each barge was seventy-five feet long, twenty feet wide, and painted rust red. They had open holds that could be covered with tarpaulins, a mast that could be erected in the center for a single square sail, and a block of above-decks cabins at the rear — or aft, as Clovis called it — of the craft.

“Their draft be deeper than that of an inland scow, ” explained Clovis, “so you needn’t fear them capsizing in rough weather, though you’d do well to avoid being caught in a real tempest. These barges aren’t meant for the open sea. They’re meant to stay within sight of land. And now be the worst time to launch them. By my honor, we’ve had nothing but thunderstorms every afternoon for a month. ”

“Do you have crews for all three? ” asked Roran.

“Well now. . see, there’s a problem. Most of the men I employ left weeks ago to hunt seals, as they’re wont to do. Since I need them only after the harvest, they’re free to come and go as they please for the rest of the year. . I’m sure you fine gentlemen understand my position. ” Clovis tried to smile, then glanced between Roran, Horst, and Baldor as if uncertain whom to address.

Roran walked the length of theEdeline, examining it for damage. The barge looked old, but the wood was sound and the paint was fresh. “If we replace the missing men in your crews, how much would it cost to go to Teirm with all three barges? ”

“That depends, ” said Clovis. “The sailors earn fifteen coppers per day, plus as much good food as they can eat and a dram of whisky besides. What your men earn be your own business. I won’t put them on my payroll. Normally, we also hire guards for each barge, but they’re—”

“They’re off hunting, yes, ” said Roran. “We’ll provide guards as well. ”

The knob in Clovis’s tanned throat jumped as he swallowed. “That’d be more than reasonable. . so it would. In addition to the crew’s wages, I charge a fee of two hundred crowns, plus recompense for any damage to the barges on account of your men, plus — as both owner and captain — twelve percent of the total profit from sale of the cargo. ”

“Our trip will have no profit. ”

That, more than anything, seemed to unnerve Clovis. He rubbed the dimple in his chin with his left thumb, began to talk twice, stopped, then finally said, “If that be the case, another four hundred crowns upon completion of the voyage. What — if I may make so bold as to inquire — do you wish to transport? ”

We frighten him, thought Roran. “Livestock. ”

“Be it sheep, cattle, horses, goats, oxen. .? ”

“Our herds contain an assortment of animals. ”

“And why do you want to take them to Teirm? ”

“We have our reasons. ” Roran almost smiled at Clovis’s confusion. “Would you consider sailing past Teirm? ”

“No! Teirm’s my limit, it is. I don’t know the waters beyond, nor would I want to be gone any longer from my wife and daughter. ”

“When could you be ready? ”

Clovis hesitated and executed two little steps. “Mayhap five or six days. No. . no, you’d better make it a week; I have affairs that I must attend to before departing. ”

“We’d pay an additional ten crowns to leave day after tomorrow. ”

“I don’t—”

“Twelve crowns. ”

“Day after tomorrow it is, ” vowed Clovis. “One way or another, I’ll be ready by then. ”

Trailing his hand along the barge’s gunwale, Roran nodded without looking back at Clovis and said, “May I have a minute alone to confer with my associates? ”

“As you wish, sir. I’ll just go for a turn about the docks until you’re done. ” Clovis hurried to the door. Just as he exited the shed, he asked, “I’m sorry, but what’d be your name again? I fear I missed it earlier, an’ my memory can be something dreadful. ”

“Stronghammer. My name is Stronghammer. ”

“Ah, of course. A good name, that. ”

When the door closed, Horst and Baldor converged on Roran. Baldor said, “We can’t afford to hire him. ”

“We can’t affordnot to, ” replied Roran. “We don’t have the gold to buy the barges, nor do I fancy teaching myself to handle them when everyone’s lives depend on it. It’ll be faster and safer to pay for a crew. ”

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