Inheritance

A MAN OF CONSCIENCE

Warm light streamed through the windows along the right of the hallway, illuminating patches of the far wall where banners, paintings, shields, swords, and the heads of various stags hung between the dark, carved doors that dotted the wall at regular intervals.

As Eragon strode toward Nasuada’s study, he gazed out the windows at the city. From the courtyard, he could still hear the bards and musicians performing by the banquet tables laid out in Arya’s honor. The celebrations had been ongoing since she and Firnen had returned to Ilirea with him and Saphira the previous day. But now they were beginning to wind down and, as a result, he had finally been able to arrange a meeting with Nasuada.

He nodded to the guards outside the study, then let himself into the room.

Inside, he saw Nasuada reclined on a padded seat, listening to a musician strumming on a lute and singing a beautiful, if mournful, love song. On the end of the seat sat the witch-child, Elva, engrossed with a piece of embroidery, and in a nearby chair, Nasuada’s handmaid, Farica. And curled up on Farica’s lap lay the werecat Yelloweyes in his animal form. He looked sound asleep, but Eragon knew from experience that he was probably awake.

Eragon waited by the door until the musician finished.

“Thank you. You may go,” said Nasuada to the player. “Ah, Eragon. Welcome.”

He bowed slightly to her. Then, to the girl, he said, “Elva.”

She eyed him from under her brow. “Eragon.” The werecat’s tail twitched.

“What is it you wish to discuss?” asked Nasuada. She took a sip from a chalice resting on a side table.

“Perhaps we could speak in private,” said Eragon, and motioned with his head toward the glass-paneled doors behind her, which opened onto a balcony overlooking a quadrangle with a garden and fountain.

Nasuada considered for a moment, then rose from her seat and swept toward the balcony, the train of her purple dress trailing behind her.

Eragon followed, and they stood side by side, gazing at the spouting water of the fountain, cool and gray within the shadow cast by the side of the building.

“What a beautiful afternoon,” said Nasuada as she took a deep breath. She looked more at peace than when he had last seen her, only a few hours before.

“The music seems to have put you in a good mood,” he observed.

“No, not the music: Elva.”

He cocked his head. “How so?”

A strange half smile graced Nasuada’s face. “After my imprisonment in Uru’baen-after what I endured … and lost-and after the attempts on my life, the world seemed to lose all color for me. I did not feel myself, and nothing I did could stir me from my sadness.”

“I thought as much,” he said, “but I did not know what to do or say that might help.”

“Nothing. Nothing you could have said or done would have helped. I might have gone on like that for years, if not for Elva. She told me … she told me what I needed to hear, I suppose. It was the fulfillment of a promise she made me, long ago, in the castle at Aberon.” Eragon frowned and glanced back into the room, where Elva sat poking at her embroidery. For all they had gone through together, he still did not feel as if he could trust the girl, and he feared that she was manipulating Nasuada for her own selfish ends.

Nasuada’s hand touched his arm. “You don’t need to worry about me, Eragon. I know myself too well for her to unbalance me even if she tried. Galbatorix couldn’t break me; do you think she could?”

He looked back at her, his expression grim. “Yes.”

She smiled again. “I appreciate your concern, but in this, it’s unfounded. Let me enjoy my good mood; you can put your suspicions to me at a later time.”

“All right.” Then he relented a bit and said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thank you. As am I.… Are Saphira and Firnen still cavorting about as they were earlier? I don’t hear them anymore.”

“They are, but they’re above the overhang now.” His cheeks warmed somewhat as he touched Saphira’s mind.

“Ah.” Nasuada placed her hands-one atop the other-upon the stone balustrade, the uprights of which were carved into the shape of flowering irises. “Now, why did you wish to meet? Have you arrived at a decision with regard to my offer?”

“I have.”

“Excellent. Then we may proceed apace with our plans. I have already-”

“I’ve decided not to accept.”

“What?” Nasuada looked at him with incredulity. “Why? To whom else would you entrust the position?”

“I don’t know,” he said gently. “That’s something you and Orrin will have to figure out on your own.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You won’t even help us choose the right person? And you expect me to believe that you would follow orders from anyone but me?”

“You misunderstand,” he said. “I don’t want to lead the magicians, and I won’t be joining them either.”

Nasuada stared at him for a moment; then she walked over and closed the glass-paneled doors to the balcony so that Elva, Farica, and the werecat could not overhear their conversation. Turning back to him, she said, “Eragon! What are you thinking! You know you have to join. All of the magicians who serve me have to. There can’t be any exceptions. Not one! I can’t have people think that I’m playing favorites. It would sow dissent among the ranks of the magicians, and that is exactly what I don’t want. As long as you are a subject of my realm, you have to abide by its laws, or my authority means nothing. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, Eragon.”

“You don’t. I’m well aware of it, which is why Saphira and I have decided to leave Alagaesia.”

Nasuada put a hand on the railing, as if to steady herself. For a time, the splashing of the water below was the only sound.

“I don’t understand.”

So, once more, as he had with Arya, he set forth the reasons why the dragons, and therefore he and Saphira, could not stay in Alagaesia. And when he finished, he said, “It never would have worked for me to take charge of the magicians. Saphira and I have to raise the dragons and train the Riders, and that must take precedence before all else. Even if I had the time, I couldn’t lead the Riders and still answer to you-the other races would never stand for it. Despite Arya’s choice to become queen, the Riders have to remain as impartial as possible. If we start to play favorites, it will destroy Alagaesia. The only way I would consider accepting the position would be if the magicians were to include those of every race-even the Urgals-but that’s not likely to happen. Besides, it would still leave the question of what to do about the eggs and the Eldunari.”

Nasuada scowled. “You can’t expect me to believe that, with all your power, you can’t protect the dragons here in Alagaesia.”

“Maybe I could, but we cannot depend on magic alone to safeguard the dragons. We need physical barriers; we need walls and moats and cliffs too high for man, elf, dwarf, or Urgal to scale. More important, we need the safety that only distance can provide. We have to make it so difficult to reach us that the challenges of the journey will discourage even our most determined enemies from attempting it. But ignore that. Assuming that I could protect the dragons, the problem would still remain of how to keep them from hunting livestock-ours as well as the dwarves’ and Urgals’. Do you want to have to explain to Orik why his flocks of Feldunost keep disappearing, or do you want to have to keep appeasing angry farmers who have lost their animals? … No, leaving is the only solution.”

Eragon looked down at the fountain. “Even if there were a place for the eggs and the Eldunari in Alagaesia, it wouldn’t be right for me to stay.”

“Why is that?”

He shook his head. “You know the answer as well as I. I’ve become too powerful. As long as I’m here, your authority-and that of Arya, Orik, and Orrin-will always be in doubt. If I asked them to, most everyone in Surda, Teirm, and your own kingdom would follow me. And with the Eldunari to help me, there is no one who can stand against me, not even Murtagh or Arya.”

“You would never turn against us. That’s not who you are.”

“No? In all the years I shall live-and I might live a very long time-do you honestly believe that I will never choose to interfere with the workings of the land?”

“If you do, I’m sure it will be for a good reason, and I’m sure we will be grateful for your help.”

“Would you? No doubt I would believe my reasons were just, but that’s the trap, isn’t it? The belief that I know better and that because I have this power at my disposal, I have a responsibility to act.” Remembering her words from before, he echoed them back to her: “For the good of the many. If I was wrong, though, who could stop me? I could end up becoming Galbatorix, despite my best intentions. As it is, my power makes people tend to agree with me. I’ve seen it in my dealings throughout the Empire.… If you were in my position, would you be able to resist the temptation to meddle, just a little, in order to make things better? My presence here unbalances things, Nasuada. If I am to avoid becoming what I hate, then I have to leave.”

Nasuada lifted her chin. “I could order you to stay.”

“I hope you don’t. I would prefer to leave in friendship, not anger.”

“So you will answer to no one but yourself?”

“I will answer to Saphira and to my conscience, as I always have.”

The edge of Nasuada’s lip curled. “A man of conscience-the most dangerous kind in the world.”

Once more, the sounds of the fountain filled the gap in their conversation.

Then Nasuada said, “Do you believe in the gods, Eragon?”

“Which gods? There are many.”

“Any of them. All of them. Do you believe in a power higher than yourself?”

“Other than Saphira?” He smiled in apology as Nasuada frowned. “Sorry.” He thought seriously for a minute, then said, “Perhaps they exist; I don’t know. I saw … I’m not sure what I saw, but I may have seen the dwarf god Guntera in Tronjheim when Orik was crowned. But if there are gods, I don’t think very highly of them for leaving Galbatorix on the throne for so long.”

“Perhaps you were the gods’ instrument for removing him. Did you ever consider that?”

“Me?” He laughed. “I suppose it could be, but either way, they certainly don’t care very much whether we live or die.”

“Of course not. Why should they? They are gods.… Do you worship any of them, though?” The question seemed of particular importance to Nasuada.

Again Eragon thought for a while. Then he shrugged. “There are so many, how could I know which ones to choose?”

“Why not the creator of them all, Unulukuna, who offers life ever lasting?”

Eragon could not help but chuckle. “As long as I don’t fall sick and no one kills me, I may live for a thousand years or more, and if I live that long, I can’t imagine I would want to continue on after death. What else can a god offer me? With the Eldunari, I have the strength to do most anything.”

“The gods also provide the chance to see those we love again. Don’t you want that?”

He hesitated. “I do, but I don’t want to endure for an eternity. That seems even more frightening than someday passing into the void, as the elves believe.”

Nasuada appeared troubled. “So you do not hold yourself accountable to anyone other than Saphira and yourself.”

“Nasuada, am I a bad person?”

She shook her head.

“Then trust me to do what I believe is right. I hold myself accountable to Saphira and the Eldunari and all of the Riders who are yet to be, and also to you and Arya and Orik and everyone else in Alagaesia. I need no master to punish me in order to behave as I ought. If I did, I would be no more than a child who obeys his father’s rules only because he fears the whip, and not because he actually means good.”

She gazed at him for several seconds. “Very well, then, I will trust you.”

The splashing of the fountain once more achieved prominence. Overhead, the light from the sinking sun picked out cracks and flaws in the underside of the stone shelf.

“What if we need your help?” she asked.

“Then I’ll help. I won’t abandon you, Nasuada. I’ll bind one of the mirrors in your study with a mirror of my own, so that you will always be able to reach me, and I’ll do the same for Roran and Katrina. If trouble arises, I’ll find a way to send assistance. I may not be able to come myself, but I will help.”

She nodded. “I know you will.” Then she sighed, unhappiness plain on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“It was all going so well. Galbatorix is dead. The last of the fighting has settled down. We were going to finally solve the problem of the magicians. You and Saphira were going to lead them and the Riders. And now … I don’t know what we’ll do.”

“It’ll sort out; I’m sure. You’ll find a way.”

“It would be easier with you here.… Will you at least agree to teach the name of the ancient language to whomever we choose to lead the magicians?”

Eragon did not have to think about it, since he had already considered the possibility, but he paused while he tried to find the right words. “I could, but in time, I think we would come to regret it.”

“So you won’t.”

He shook his head.

Frustration crossed her face. “And why not? What are your reasons now?”

“The name is too dangerous to bandy about lightly, Nasuada. If a magician full of ambition but lacking scruples got hold of it, he or she could wreak an incredible amount of havoc. With it, they could destroy the ancient language. Not even Galbatorix was mad enough to do that, but an untrained, power-hungry magician? Who knows what might happen? Right now, Arya, Murtagh, and the dragons are the only ones besides me who know the name. Better to leave it at that.”

“And when you go, we will be dependent upon Arya, should we have need of it.”

“You know she will always help. If anything, I would worry about Murtagh.”

Nasuada seemed to turn inward. “You needn’t. He’s no threat to us. Not now.”

“As you say. If your goal is to keep the spellcasters in check, then the name of the ancient language is one piece of information that is better to withhold.”

“If that is truly the case, then … I understand.”

“Thank you. There’s something else you should know as well.”

Nasuada’s expression grew wary. “Oh?”

He told her, then, about the idea that had recently occurred to him concerning the Urgals. When he finished, Nasuada was quiet for a while. Then she said, “You take much upon yourself.”

“I have to. No one else can.… Do you approve? It seems the only way to ensure peace in the long run.”

“Are you sure it’s wise?”

“Not entirely, but I think we have to try.”

“The dwarves as well? Is that really necessary?”

“Yes. It’s only right. It’s only fair. And it will help maintain the balance among the races.”

“What if they don’t agree?”

“I’m sure they will.”

“Then do as you see fit. You don’t need my approval-you’ve made that clear enough-but I agree that it seems necessary. Otherwise, twenty, thirty years from now, we may be facing many of the problems our ancestors faced when they first arrived in Alagaesia.”

He bowed his head slightly. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

“When do you plan on leaving?”

“When Arya does.”

“So soon?”

“There’s no reason to wait longer.”

Nasuada leaned against the railing, her eyes fixed on the fountain below. “Will you return to visit?”

“I’ll try, but … I don’t think so. When Angela cast my fortune, she said I would never return.”

“Ah.” Nasuada’s voice sounded thick, as if she were hoarse. She turned and faced him directly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

She pressed her lips together, as if struggling not to cry. Then she stepped forward and embraced him. He hugged her back, and they stood like that for several seconds.

They parted then, and he said, “Nasuada, if you ever tire of being queen, or you want a place to live in peace, come join us. You’ll always be welcome in our hall. I cannot make you immortal, but I could prolong your years far beyond what most humans enjoy, and they would be spent in good health.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the offer, and I won’t forget it.” However, he had a feeling that she would never be able to bring herself to leave Alagaesia, no matter how old she was. Her sense of duty was too strong.

Then he asked, “Will you give us your blessing?”

“Of course.” She took his head between her hands, kissed him upon his brow, and said, “My blessings upon you and Saphira. May peace and good fortune be with you wherever you go.”

“And with you,” he said.

She kept her hands upon him for another moment; then she released him, and he opened the glass door and exited through her study, leaving her standing alone upon the balcony.