Paolini, Christopher - Inheritance Trilogy, Book 2 - Eldest (v1.5) by Unknown Page B

either challenge Galbatorix or sub-
    mit and pass away.”
    The scope of what Nasuada was suggesting disturbed Eragon. So many
    risks and unknown dangers were involved, it was almost absurd to con-
    sider such a venture. However, it was not his place to make the decision,
    and he accepted that. Nor would he dispute it further. We have to trust in
    her judgment now.
    “But what of you, Nasuada? Will you be safe while we’re gone? I must
    think of my vow. It’s become my responsibility to ensure that you won’t
    have your own funeral soon.”
    Her jaw tightened as she gestured at the door and the warriors beyond.
    “You needn’t fear, I am well defended.” She looked down. “I will admit. .
    one reason for going to Surda is that Orrin knows me of old and will offer
    his protection. I cannot tarry here with you and Arya gone and the Coun-
    72
    cil of Elders still with power. They won’t accept me as their leader until I
    prove beyond doubt that the Varden are under my control, not theirs.”
    Then she seemed to draw on some inner strength, squaring her shoul-
    ders and lifting her chin so she was distant and aloof. “Go now, Eragon.
    Ready your horse, gather supplies, and be at the north gate by dawn.”
    He bowed low, respecting her return to formality, then left with
    Saphira.
    After dinner, Eragon and Saphira flew together. They sailed high above
    Tronjheim, where crenulated icicles hung from the sides of Farthen Dûr,
    forming a great white band around them. Though it was still hours until
    night, it was already nearly dark within the mountain.
    Eragon threw back his head, savoring the air on his face. He missed the
    wind—wind that would rush through the grass and stir the clouds until
    everything was tousled and fresh. Wind that would bring rain and storms
    and lash the trees so they bent. For that matter, I miss trees as well, he
    thought. Farthen Dûr is an incredible place, but it’s as empty of plants and
    animals as Ajihad’s tomb.
    Saphira agreed. The dwarves seem to think that gems take the place of
    flowers. She was silent as the light continued to fade. When it was too
    dark for Eragon to see comfortably, she said, It’s late. We should return.
    All right.
    She drifted toward the ground in great, lazy spirals, drawing nearer to
    Tronjheim—which glowed like a beacon in the center of Farthen Dûr.
    They were still far from the city-mountain when she swung her head,
    saying, Look.
    He followed her gaze, but all he could see was the gray, featureless
    plain below them. What?
    Instead of answering, she tilted her wings and glided to their left, slip-
    ping down to one of the four roads that radiated from Tronjheim along
    the cardinal compass points. As they landed, he noticed a patch of white
    on a small hill nearby. The patch wavered strangely in the dusk, like a
    floating candle, then resolved into Angela, who was wearing a pale wool
    tunic.
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    The witch carried a wicker basket nearly four feet across and filled
    with a wild assortment of mushrooms, most of which Eragon did not
    recognize. As she approached, he gestured at them and said, “You’ve been
    gathering toadstools?”
    “Hello,” laughed Angela, putting her load down. “Oh no, toadstool is far
    too general a term. And anyway, they really ought to be called frogstools,
    not toadstools.” She spread them with her hand. “This one is sulphur tuft,
    and this is an inkcap, and here’s navelcap, and dwarf shield, russet tough-
    shank, blood ring, and that is a spotted deceiver. Delightful, isn’t it!” She
    pointed to each in turn, ending on a mushroom with pink, lavender, and
    yellow splashed in rivulets across its cap.
    “And that one?” he asked, indicating a mushroom with a lightning-blue
    stem, molten-orange gills, and a glossy black two-tiered cap.
    She looked at it fondly. “Fricai Andlát, as the elves might say. The stalk
    is instant death, while the cap can cure most poisons. It’s what Tunivor’s
    Nectar is extracted