me any boon you want and I shall grant it if it’s within my power.”
Elva glanced around the ornate bedroom, then said, “Do you have any
food? I’m hungry.”
488
PREMONITION OF WAR
Two hours later, Trianna returned, leading a pair of warriors who car-
ried a limp body between them. At Trianna’s word, the men dropped the
corpse on the floor. Then the sorceress said, “We found the assassin
where Elva said we would. Drail was his name.”
Motivated by a morbid curiosity, Nasuada examined the face of the
man who had tried to kill her. The assassin was short, bearded, and plain-
looking, no different from countless other men in the city. She felt a cer-
tain connection to him, as if his attempt on her life and the fact that she
had arranged his death in return linked them in the most intimate man-
ner possible. “How was he killed?” she asked. “I see no marks on his
body.”
“He committed suicide with magic when we overwhelmed his defenses
and entered his mind, but before we could take control of his actions.”
“Were you able to learn anything of use before he died?”
“We were. Drail was part of a network of agents based here in Surda
who are loyal to Galbatorix. They are called the Black Hand. They spy on
us, sabotage our war efforts, and—best we could determine in our brief
glimpse into Drail’s memories—are responsible for dozens of murders
throughout the Varden. Apparently, they’ve been waiting for a good
chance to kill you ever since we arrived from Farthen Dûr.”
“Why hasn’t this Black Hand assassinated King Orrin yet?”
Trianna shrugged. “I can’t say. It may be that Galbatorix considers you
to be more of a threat than Orrin. If that’s the case, then once the Black
Hand realizes you are protected from their attacks”— here her gaze
darted toward Elva—“Orrin won’t live another month unless he is
guarded by magicians day and night. Or perhaps Galbatorix has abstained
from such direct action because he wanted the Black Hand to remain
unnoticed. Surda has always existed at his tolerance. Now that it’s be-
come a threat. .”
“Can you protect Orrin as well?” asked Nasuada, turning to Elva.
Her violet eyes seemed to glow. “Maybe if he asks nicely.”
Nasuada’s thoughts raced as she considered how to thwart this new
489
menace. “Can all of Galbatorix’s agents use magic?”
“Drail’s mind was confused, so it’s hard to tell,” said Trianna, “but I’d
guess a fair number of them can.”
Magic, cursed Nasuada to herself. The greatest danger the Varden faced
from magicians—or any person trained in the use of their mind—was not
assassination, but rather espionage. Magicians could spy on people’s
thoughts and glean information that could be used to destroy the Varden.
That was precisely why Nasuada and the entire command structure of
the Varden had been taught to know when someone was touching their
minds and how to shield themselves from such attentions. Nasuada sus-
pected that Orrin and Hrothgar relied upon similar precautions within
their own governments.
However, since it was impractical for everyone privy to potentially
damaging information to master that skill, one of Du Vrangr Gata’s many
responsibilities was to hunt for anyone who was siphoning off facts as
they appeared in people’s minds. The cost of such vigilance was that Du
Vrangr Gata ended up spying on the Varden as much as on their ene-
mies, a fact that Nasuada made sure to conceal from the bulk of her fol-
lowers, for it would only sow hatred, distrust, and dissent. She disliked
the practice but saw no alternative.
What she had learned about the Black Hand hardened Nasuada’s con-
viction that, somehow, magicians had to be governed.
“Why,” she asked, “didn’t you discover this sooner? I can understand
that you might miss a lone assassin, but an entire network of spellcasters
dedicated to our destruction? Explain yourself, Trianna.”
The sorceress’s eyes flashed with anger at the accusation. “Because here,
unlike in Farthen Dûr, we cannot examine everyone’s minds for duplic-
ity. There are just too many people for us magicians to keep track of.
That is why we didn’t know about the Black Hand until now, Lady
Nasuada.”
Nasuada paused, then inclined her head. “Understood. Did you discover
the identities of any other members of the Black Hand?”
“A few.”
“Good. Use them to ferret out the rest of the agents. I want you to de-
stroy this organization for me, Trianna. Eradicate them as you would an
490
infestation of vermin. I’ll give you however many men you need.”
The sorceress bowed. “As you wish, Lady Nasuada.”
At a knock on the door, the guards drew their swords and positioned
themselves on either side of the entranceway, then their captain yanked
open the door without warning. A young page stood outside, a fist raised
to knock again. He stared with astonishment at the body on the floor,
then snapped to attention as the captain asked, “What is it, boy?”
“I have a message for Lady Nasuada from King Orrin.”
“Then speak and be quick about it,” said Nasuada.
The page took a moment to compose himself. “King Orrin requests
that you attend him directly in his council chambers, for he has received
reports from the Empire that demand your immediate attention.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I must attend to this. Trianna, you have your orders. Captain, will you
leave one of your men to dispose of Drail?”
“Aye, Ma’am.”
“Also, please have him locate Farica, my handmaid. She will see to it
that my study is cleaned.”
“And what of me?” asked Elva, tilting her head.
“You,” said Nasuada, “shall accompany me. That is, if you feel strong
enough to do so.”
The girl threw back her head, and from her small, round mouth ema-
nated a cold laugh. “I’m strong enough, Nasuada. Are you?”
Ignoring the question, Nasuada swept forth into the hallway with her
guards clustered around her. The stones of the castle exuded an earthy
smell in the heat. Behind her, she heard the patter of Elva’s footsteps and
was perversely pleased that the ghastly child had to hurry to keep pace
with the adults’ longer stride.
491
The guards remained behind in the vestibule to the council chambers
while Nasuada and Elva proceeded inside. The chambers were bare to
the point of severity, reflecting the militant nature of Surda’s existence.
The country’s kings had devoted their resources to protecting their peo-
ple and overthrowing Galbatorix, not to decorating Borromeo Castle
with idle riches as the dwarves had done with Tronjheim.
In the main room lay a rough-hewn table twelve feet long, upon which
a map of Alagaësia was staked open with daggers at the four corners. As
was custom, Orrin sat at the head of the table, while his various advis-
ers—many of whom, Nasuada knew, vehemently opposed her—
occupied the chairs farther down. The Council of Elders was also present.
Nasuada noticed the concern on Jörmundur’s face as he looked at her and
deduced that Trianna had indeed told him about Drail.
“Sire, you asked for me?”
Orrin rose. “That I did. We have now—” He stopped in midword as he
noticed Elva. “Ah, yes, Shining Brow. I have not had the opportunity to
grant you audience before, though accounts of your feats have reached
my ear and, I must confess, I have been most curious to meet you. Have
you found the quarters I arranged for you satisfactory?”
“They are quite nice, Sire. Thank you.” At the sound of her eerie voice,
the voice of an adult, everyone at the table flinched.
Irwin, the prime minister, bolted upright and pointed a quivering finger
at Elva. “Why have you brought this. . this abomination here?”
“You forget your manners, sir,” replied Nasuada, though she understood
his sentiment.
Orrin frowned. “Yes, do restrain yourself, Irwin. However, his point is
valid, Nasuada; we cannot have this child present at our deliberations.”
“The Empire,” she said, “has just tried to assassinate me.” The room
echoed with cries of surprise. “If it were not for Elva’s swift action, I
would be dead. As a result, I have taken her into my confidence; where I
go, she goes.” Let them wonder what it is exactly Elva can do.
“This is indeed distressing news!” exclaimed the king. “Have you caught
the blackguard responsible?”
Seeing the eager expressions of his advisers, Nasuada hesitated. “It
492
would be best to wait until I can give you an account in private, Sire.”
Orrin appeared put out by her response, but he did not pursue the is-
sue. “Very well. But sit, sit! We have just received the most troubling re-
port.” After Nasuada took her place opposite him—Elva lurking behind
her—he continued: “It seems that our spies in Gil’ead have been deceived
as to the status of Galbatorix’s army.”
“How so?”
“They believe the army to be in Gil’ead, whereas we have here a mis-
sive from one of our men in Urû’baen, who says that he witnessed a great
host march south past the capital a week and a half ago. It was night, so
he could not be sure of their numbers, but he was certain that the host
was far larger than the sixteen thousand that form the core of Galba-
torix’s troops. There may have been as many as a hundred thousand sol-
diers, or more.”
A hundred thousand! A cold pit of fear settled in Nasuada’s stomach.
“Can we trust your source?”
“His intelligence has always been reliable.”
“I don’t understand,” said Nasuada. “How could Galbatorix move that
many men without our knowing of it before? The supply trains alone
would be miles long. It’s been obvious the army was mobilizing, but the
Empire was nowhere near ready to deploy.”
Falberd spoke then, slapping a heavy hand on the table for emphasis:
“We were outfoxed. Our spies must have been deceived with magic to
think the army was still in their barracks in Gil’ead.”
Nasuada felt the blood drain from her face. “The only person strong
enough to sustain an illusion of that size and duration—”
“Is Galbatorix himself,” completed Orrin. “That was our conclusion. It
means that Galbatorix has finally abandoned his lair in favor of open
combat. Even as we speak, the black foe approaches.”
Irwin leaned forward. “The question now is how we should respond.
We must confront this threat, of course, but in what manner? Where,
when, and how? Our own forces aren’t prepared for a campaign of this
magnitude, while yours, Lady Nasuada—the Varden—are already accus-
tomed to the fierce clamor of war.”
493
“What do you mean to imply?” That we should die for you?
“I but made an observation. Take it how you will.”
Then Orrin said, “Alone, we will be crushed against an army so large.
We must have allies, and above all else we must have Eragon, especially
if we are to confront Galbatorix. Nasuada, will you send for him?”
“I would if I could, but until Arya returns, I have no way to contact the
elves or to summon Eragon.”
“In that case,” said Orrin in a heavy voice, “we must hope that she ar-
rives before it is too late. I do not suppose we can expect the elves’ assis-
tance in this affair. While a dragon may traverse the leagues between
Aberon and Ellesméra with the speed of a falcon, it would be impossible
for the elves to marshal themselves and cross that same distance before
the Empire reaches us. That leaves only the dwarves. I know that you
have been friends with Hrothgar for many years; will you send him a plea
for help on our behalf? The dwarves have always promised they would
fight when the time came.”
Nasuada nodded. “Du Vrangr Gata has an arrangement with certain
dwarf magicians that allows us to transfer messages instantaneously. I will
convey your—our—request. And I will ask Hrothgar to send an emissary
to Ceris to inform the elves of the situation so that they are forewarned,
if nothing else.”
“Good. We are quite a ways from Farthen Dûr, but if we can delay the
Empire for even a week, the dwarves might be able to get here in time.”
The discussion that followed was an exceedingly grim one. Various tac-
tics existed for defeating a larger—although not necessarily superior—
force, but no one at the table could imagine how they might defeat Gal-
batorix, especially when Eragon was still so powerless compared to the
ancient king. The only ploy that might succeed would be to surround Er-
agon with as many magicians, dwarf and human, as possible, and then at-
tempt to force Galbatorix to confront them alone. The problem with that
plan, thought Nasuada, is that Galbatorix overcame far more formidable
enemies during his destruction of the Riders, and his strength has only
grown since. She was certain that this had occurred to everyone else as
well. If we but had the elves’ spellweavers to swell our ranks, then victory
might be within our reach. Without them... If we cannot overthrow Galba-
torix, the only avenue left may be to flee Alagaësia across the sundering sea
494