Murtagh kept careful track of the streets as Lyreth hurried him through the city. If he had to run, he wanted to know exactly where he was.
Lyreth brought him to a small stone houseโone of the few all-stone structures in Gilโeadโtucked away in the corner of a square that was surrounded by cramped log-built dwellings jammed cheek by jowl. The ground was dirt, and there was a watering trough in the center for horses. The whole place felt dark, sheltered, and somewhat decrepit, and the only other living creature to be seen was a bedraggled rooster pecking at the dried mud outside what looked to be a candlemakerโs shop.
Lyreth used an iron key to unlock the front door of the stone house, and then he waved Murtagh in. โQuickly, quickly now.โ
Waryโand somewhat curiousโMurtagh entered. As dangerous as the situation was, his desire to know was stronger than his sense of self-preservation. Howย wereย the former members of Galbatorixโs nobility surviving? In a di๏ฌerent set of circumstances, he knewย heย would have been the one hiding like a rabbit trying to escape a hungry hawk.
The buildingโs shabby face belied its luxurious interior. Dwarven rugs covered the tiled ๏ฌoor. Carved balustrades lined a marble staircase that climbed to a second story. Dramatic portraits hung on the wallsโportraits that were too detailed, too lifelike, to have been created without the help of
magic. A gold and silver chandelier hung from the wood-braced ceiling, and cut gems dangled from the chandelier in a rainbow of tears.
โThis way,โ said Lyreth, leading Murtagh past the anteroom into a modestly sized but beautifully decorated dining hall. Silken tapestries depicting battles between dragons, elves, and humans adorned the walls, and the candlesticks on the long table looked to be solid gold.
โPlease, make yourself comfortable.โ Lyreth gestured at a velvet-backed chair at one end of the table.
Murtagh counted thirteen chairs around the table, including his own.
The number gave him a cold chill of realization.
He took o๏ฌ his bedroll and set it down by the table, close at hand. Then he gathered his cloak and sat. โWhat is this place?โ he asked. He suspected he already knew the answer.
โA place of safety,โ Lyreth said, seating himself. He waved at the guards, and two of them took up posts by the entrance while the others ๏ฌled out of the hall. โFormora had it built as a sanctuary from Galbatorix if ever the need arose. Alsoโโhe indicated the chairsโโas a location where the Forsworn could meet in private, away from the kingโs prying eyes.โ
Formora. She had been an elf, and one of Galbatorixโs favorites among the Forsworn. By all accounts, she had been cunning, cruel, and capricious to the extreme, even as measured by the standards of her fellow traitors. Murtagh remembered Lord Varis telling him that, when she was provoked, her habit had been to cut her foes apart with magic, piece by pieceโฆwhile keeping them alive for as long as possible. That, and she had been overly fond of candied fruits.
Murtagh glanced around the room. Heโd heard of such places before. Secret hiding holes where the Forsworn could protect themselves, if not from the king, then at least from the kingโs other servants. Galbatorixโs followersโwilling or otherwiseโwere hardly known for their cooperative nature, and the king had encouraged their backstabbing and bloody machinations with often undisguised glee. The walls of the house would be laced with powerful wards, and more than wards: traps that would far exceed
the strength and complexity of those he had encountered in the catacombs. The whole structure was probably riddled with charged gems.
โWere they ever truly free of Galbatorixโs gaze?โ Murtagh said.
Lyreth shrugged. โWere any of us?โ He clicked his ๏ฌngers, and a manservant in a ๏ฌne woolen coat hurried into the hall, his polished bootheels tapping a precise tempo against the hard ๏ฌoor. The man placed a silver platter on the table and o๏ฌoaded a decanter of cut crystal, a bottle of wine, two gold goblets, and a tiered tray of assorted delicacies: sweetmeats, aspic with candied fruit, bite-sized berry pies, and what looked to Murtagh like honey-glazed pastries.
His mouth watered. It had been well over a year since heโd tasted anything resembling proper ๏ฌne food, and he found himself suddenly nostalgic for the ๏ฌavors of his childhood.
The servant poured the wine, and then brought Murtagh one of the goblets as well as the tray of delicacies so that he might make his own selection.
Murtagh took some of the aspic, a berry pie, and two honey-glazed pastries. The servant then attended to Lyreth, who selected a sweetmeat and nothing more.
โYou may go,โ said Lyreth, and the servant bowed and retired from the room.
A honey-glazed pastry was halfway to Murtaghโs mouth when thoughts of poison and spells stayed his hand. Lyreth noticed and, in an o๏ฌhand manner, said, โThe food is safe, if youโre wondering. The wine too.โ And he gave Murtagh a crooked smile before taking a sip from his own goblet.
Murtagh deliberated for a moment and then popped the pastry into his mouth. It melted with sweet, buttered deliciousness, and he fought to keep his pleasure from showing.
โMy family acquired this place some years ago,โ said Lyreth, nibbling at the sweetmeat on his plate. โWe kept it as a safeguard against exactly this sort of eventuality.โ
โMmm.โ Murtagh tasted the wine; he recognized the vintage. A red grown in the vineyards of the south, near Aroughs, bottled near ๏ฌfty years
ago. He doubted more than a few dozen bottles remained in the land. โYou honor me,โ he said, raising the goblet.
Lyreth shrugged. โWhat good does it do to hoard ๏ฌne wine in these trying times? We might all be dead tomorrow.โ
โAs you say.โ Murtagh took another carefully controlled sip as he studied Lyreth. The man appeared to have been under considerable stress (and understandably so); he was thinner than Murtagh remembered, and his skin had the unhealthy pallor of an invalid con๏ฌned to bed. Seeing him the worse for wear was the source of some satisfaction for Murtagh, although, despite himself, he empathized with Lyreth and the di๏ฌculties he must have faced since Galbatorixโs fall. It couldnโt be easy, living every day in fear of being caught out.
โYou smell of ๏ฌsh,โ said Lyreth abruptly. โBaths are hard to come by on the road.โ
โWere you responsible for killing Muckmaw? Itโs all my guards have been able to talk about since yesterday. I thought it might have been you.โ
Murtagh toyed with the stem of his goblet as he considered how to answer. The conversation was a duel for information, and they both knew it, but the unspoken reality was that Lyreth held no power over him. If Murtagh wanted to leave, or to attack, there was little the other man could do about it. โI may have played a part in the matter.โ
Lyreth made an unimpressed sound. โYouโve certainly managed to stir up the local peasantry. They seem to think Eragon himself is wandering the land, curing their ills.โ
โIf only.โ
At that, Lyreth made a face and took a deep qua๏ฌ of his wine. โBlasted Rider.โ
Murtagh could feel Thornโs ongoing concern.ย Peace, he said to the dragon.ย I have his measure.
And it was true. Murtagh had had ample opportunity to study Lyreth and the group of eldest sons he associated with at court. To the last, they had been arrogant, cruel, overcon๏ฌdent, and yet also deeply insecure. There was no such thing as safety around Galbatorix, and their parents had all been
born to power and in๏ฌuence, or else had acquired it through cunning and savagery. None of which bred kindness in their o๏ฌspring. Murtagh had always been the outcast of their generation: the only known child of the Forsworn; ostensibly ignored by Galbatorix during his childhood, yet still understood to be favored by the king; groomed for power and yet powerless himself, with Galbatorix holding his fatherโs estate in his stead until he came of age. Added to that, Murtaghโs own distrust and inexperience when it came to navigating the treacherous currents of power, and he had been both an object of fear and a ๏ฌgure of scorn and ridicule that they had used poorly however they could. Only once Tornac took him under his wing had Murtagh begun to learn how to defend himself, in more ways than one.
He ate a spoonful of aspic. Of Lyreth, he had no fond memories. Two experiences remained in Murtaghโs mind as emblematic of the man. The ๏ฌrst was when Lyreth and a number of other boys had set out to steal cherries from Lord Barstโs private garden in the citadel at Urรปโbaen. Murtagh had tagged along, hoping that they might let him be part of the group. Theyโd barely started picking the cherries when one of Barstโs men discovered them and held them at spearpoint. All of them save Lyreth, who managed to slip away, only to return a few minutes later, leading Lord Barst and loudly declaiming the misbehavior of the other boys.
Despite their noble lineage, Barst proceeded to thrash the lot of them. But he spared Lyreth, which earned the young noble no end of hate from the other boys, although most of them were devious enough to hide their true feelings. Lyrethโs family was too wealthy and well placed to openly oppose.
The second incident had been on Murtaghโs ๏ฌfteenth birthday. No one save Tornac had seemed to mark the signi๏ฌcance of the day, but somehow word must have gotten out in the court, probably from the pages. How else to explain that, on that day of all days, as Murtagh climbed the narrow spiral staircase that led to his chambers, a group of boys had ambushed him and beaten him and left him bruised and bleeding on the sharp stone steps?
The attackers had worn party masks of a type common at court, but Murtagh could guess their names regardless. And as the ๏ฌsts and feet had
pummeled his sides, heโd heard a semi-familiar voice cry,ย โThatโs it! Get him! Knock him down!โย And he knew the voice as Lyrethโs.
None of the boys ever admitted what they had done. They continued to treat him the same as ever about the citadel, and the only hint of acknowledgment was several snide comments made when they saw him limping the next day: โHa! What happened? Did a horse step on your foot? Murtagh Crookshank! Ha!โ
Murtagh had never forgotten. Nor forgiven.
He eyed the decorations in the hall. Despite the houseโs rich appointments, he guessed Lyreth found the place uncomfortably con๏ฌning. For one who had grown up in the citadel in Urรปโbaen and on Lord Thavenโs vast holdings, living in such a small house would feel like being locked in a closet.
He must be going mad trapped in here, Murtagh thought.
โHow fares your father?โ he asked. What he didnโt say was,ย Is Thaven still alive?
Lyrethโs expression remained studiously ๏ฌat. โAs well as could be expected.โ
โOf course. In these trying times.โ That earned him a twitch of annoyance from Lyreth.ย Good. The more he could needle the man, the more Lyreth was likely to slip and say something he shouldnโt. โThe Empire couldnโt last forever,โ said Murtagh. โAt some point Galbatorix was bound to fall. It was inevitable.โ
โMaybe,โ said Lyreth with undisguised bitterness. โBut it didnโt have to happen during our lives.โ
โNo, but thatโs not ours to say, is it?โ
Lyreth opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again and said, โWere you there? At the end? Whenโฆheย died?โ
โI was.โ
The manโs gaze ๏ฌicked toward him from under bloodless lids. His eyes were grey blue, like distant thunderheads. โHow was it done? Iโve heard con๏ฌicting accounts.โ
โWith kindness.โ
โYou mock me.โ โNot at all.โ
A faint frown formed on Lyrethโs brow. โHim?ย Kindness? Thatโs preโโ โYou never were the brightest,โ Murtagh said in an uninterested tone.
โCunning, that Iโll give you. Determined, even. But not very bright.โ
Lyreth inhaled through pinched nostrils. โKeep your secrets, then. Iโll learn the truth of it regardless. Tell me this, at least, if you would soย kindlyย deign. How did you and that dragon of yours escape Urรปโbaen? Both Eragon and Arya were there, I understand. Surely they tried to stop you.โ
โDo you really expect me to explain?โ said Murtagh. โWould it help you to know the spells I used? Or the dangers we braved? Does any of that matter? Su๏ฌce it to say, we escaped, and at no small risk.โ The truth, of course, was nothing so dramatic. He and Thorn had simplyโฆleft. They had played their part in toppling GalbatorixโEragon never would have been able to work magic on the king if Murtagh hadnโt used the Name of Names to break the kingโs spellsโand after, neither Eragon nor Murtagh had the stomach to continue ๏ฌghting.
Not for the ๏ฌrst time, Murtagh re๏ฌected on the fact that if he had been in Eragonโs place, he wouldnโt have thought to forceย empathyย on Galbatorix. It wasnโt part of his nature. Perhaps that was a failing of hisโMurtagh was willing to admit it wasโbut he didnโt feel that his lack of charity toward Galbatorix was wrong, not given what the king had done to him and Thorn.
He placed the small pie in his mouth and chewed, enjoying the ๏ฌavors of blueberries and blackberries admixed.
Lyreth shifted in his seat, as if there were burrs pricking him from beneath. โAnd since then? What have you been up to, Murtagh? Wild stories have reached my ears. Tales of a red dragon seen here or there. Whispers of magic that only a Rider or an elf might be capable of casting.โ
With the ๏ฌne linen napkin from by his plate, Murtagh dabbed the corners of his mouth, brushing crumbs o๏ฌ his stubble. โThorn and I have been traveling the land, seeing what there is to see. What of you and your family, Lyreth? How have you managed since Galbatorix fell?โ
โWell enough,โ Lyreth muttered.
โNo doubt. But how long can you continue to live in hiding? Eventually someone will realize who you are. You would be best served to surrender and cast yourself on the queenโs mercy. Sheย doesย show mercy on occasion, or so Iโm told.โ
โDonโt speak to me of that pu๏ฌed-up pretender. Sheโs a commoner, without a drop of noble blood in her veins, not from any of the proper families nor from the old lineages of the Broddrings.โ
โThose who conquer, rule,โ said Murtagh calmly. โSo it has always been.
You forget your history if you think otherwise.โ
โI forgetย nothing.โ A feverish gleam appeared in Lyrethโs otherwise insipid eyes. โYouโre right, though, Murtagh. The current state of a๏ฌairs canโt continue. My family arenโt the only ones hiding. A number of the most powerful noblesโmen and women whose names you would recognizeโ have been biding their time, consolidating their positions for when the moment is ripe.โ
โRipe for what?โ
Lyreth leaned forward, suddenly animated. โWhatย areย you doing here, Murtagh? Muckmaw dead, and all of Gilโead in a commotion. What is it? Are you raising troops? Killing Nasuadaโs lieutenants? What?โ
โYouโve grown obvious, Lyreth,โ said Murtagh in a lazy tone. โYou wouldnโt have lasted a week at court like this.โ
โBah.โ Lyreth waved his hand and sank back in his chair. โEvents are afoot, and directness is needed. If you are too cautious, the prize shall go to anotherโฆ. Youย couldย take the throne, Murtagh. You know that, yes? And all the great families would rally to your bannerโฆthose of us who still have some standing, that is. Hamlin and Tharos were fools. They couldnโt wait, they couldnโt gather the army they needed, and so their rebellions failed. Hamlin ended up with his head on a pike outside these very walls, and Tharos will spend the rest of his life in Nasuadaโs dungeons. Unlessโฆโ
Murtagh cocked his head. Nothing Lyreth said was particularly surprising, although the implications were far from pleasant. โAre you really so eager to return to the days of Galbatorix, Lyreth? Would you see me
raised above you, to rule in perpetuity, undying and unchanging? Is that really your wish?โ
โIt would be better than what we have now!โ
You mean, it would free you from hiding and again place your family in a position of power.
A sly expression formed on Lyrethโs face. โBesides, think of the advantages for you, Murtagh. I know you always chafed under Galbatorixโs strictures. Were the crown yours, you could rule as you see ๏ฌt, with our men and gold as your bulwark. And it would be good for our kind. Nasuada cannot hold her own against Arya. A Dragon Rider as queen of the elves, who ever heard of such nonsense? Eragon is a threat as well. Heโs building a force of Riders out in the east. Once theyโre grown and trained, who can stand against him? Only you, Murtagh. And I know there is no love lost between the two of you.โ
The pretense to intimacy made Murtagh bristle. โOh you do, do you?โ โI know it to be true. Come, Murtagh. What say you? All of the Empire
could be yours. And more too. Galbatorix should never have su๏ฌered Surda to exist. You could break them and unite this land in a way that has never been done before. All of humanity gathered under a single standard. Then the elves might fear us, and the dwarves too.โ
The wine and the delicacies no longer sat so well within Murtaghโs stomach. The future Lyreth described was more tempting than Murtagh wanted to admit. Were he to claim the throne, few could challenge him or Thorn, and neither Eragon nor Arya would be eager to again plunge the land into war. They would tolerate his existence and, in time, perhaps come to respect his authority. In one fell swoop, he could restore glory to his familyโs name and secure power such to protect Thorn and himself against all but the most dangerous of foes.
But in order to elevate himself like that, he would have to depose Nasuada, and her fate thereafter could only be exile, imprisonment, or death. And that he could not countenance.ย Then I would truly be known as a betrayer, he thought. Not just to the common folk, but to the one person, besides Thorn, who fully trusted him. Nasuada was the very reason heโd
been able to break free of his bondage and help topple Galbatorix. To then act against herโฆNo. It was unthinkable.
He let the idea go, and he felt no regret.
Lyreth ๏ฌdgeted, seemingly on tenterhooks as he waited.
Instead of replying directly, Murtagh decided to unbalance the other man, to step sideways when a forward step was expected. From the pouch on his belt, he produced the bird-skull amulet heโd found in Ceunon. He placed it on the table and slid it to the other end.
โHave you seen one of these before?โ
Lyreth picked up the amulet with fore๏ฌnger and thumb and held it dangling before him, much as Carabel had done. He showed no reaction aside from bland curiosity, but Murtagh wondered if, perhaps, there was a ๏ฌicker of some emotion in the manโs eyes. For a moment, Murtagh debated touching Lyrethโs mind, but there was no way for such an action to be interpreted as anything but an attack. In any case, as with all the children of nobility, Lyreth had been raised with extensive training on how to protect his thoughts from eavesdroppers or intruders. Success was not guaranteed even if Murtagh tried, not unless he were willing to totally break Lyrethโs mind.
It might be worth it, he thought. Lyreth and his family posed no small threat to Nasuada and the stability of her realm. If Murtagh could do something about itโฆ
He licked his lips, muscles tightening in anticipation of action. A few quick words, a barrage of mental violence, and he would have complete control over everyone in the house.
Surely he knows that. The thought gave Murtagh sudden pause. Whyย wasย Lyreth willing to take such an enormous risk?
Lyreth dropped the amulet on the table. โWhat a barbaric creation. I canโt say I have, and Iโm glad of it tooโฆ. But you have yet to answer me, Murtagh. Come now, what will it be? The crown, or a lifetime of skulking in the shadows until the queenโs pet magicians hunt you down like a rabid dog?โ
Murtagh smiled slightly as he rolled the wine in the goblet, studying his distorted re๏ฌection. โNeither,โ he said, gathering his will in preparation to attack. He lifted his gaze to meet Lyrethโs storm-cloud eyes. โI walk alone these days, Lyreth. Thorn and I answer to no man, and we will not be beholden to anyone, least of all your family. But Iย willย know the truth of what youโre planning.โ
Lyrethโs expression didnโt change, as if Murtagh had done no more than make a passing comment on the weather. โYou never did know your place,โ he said.
A powerful itch kindled in the middle of Murtaghโs palm. He opened his mouthโ
Lyrethโs ๏ฌnger pressed against the edge of the table.
Clunk!ย The ๏ฌoor dropped out beneath Murtagh, the room tilted like a pinwheel, and his stomach lurched as he plummeted into blinding darkness.
