Chapter 10

They lunched at Fasaloft, a bustling lakeside village. It was a charming place set on a rise overlooking the lake. As they ate in the hostel's common room, Eragon listened intently to the gossip and was relieved to hear no rumors of him and Saphira.

The trail, now a road, had grown steadily worse over the past two days. Wagon wheels and iron-shod hooves had conspired to tear up the ground, making many sections impassable. An increase in travelers forced Saphira to hide during the day and then catch up with Brom and Eragon at night.

For days they continued south along Leona Lake's vast shore he was heartened when they met men who said that Dras-Leona was an easy day's ride ahead of them. Eragon rose early the following morning. His fingers twitched with anticipation at the thought of finally finding the Ra'zac.

{The two of you must be careful,} said Saphira. {The Ra'zac could have spies watching for travelers that fit your description.}

'We'll do our best to remain inconspicuous,' he assured her.

{Just be careful} she warned and then went to hide herself for the night.

The road was clogged with farmers taking their goods to market in Dras-Leona. Brom and Eragon were forced to slow their horses and wait for wagons that blocked the way. Although they saw smoke in the distance before noon, it was another league before the city was clearly visible. Unlike Term, a planned city, Dras-Leona was a tangled mess that sprawled next to Leona Lake. Ramshackle buildings sat on crooked streets, and the heart of the city was surrounded by a dirty, pale yellow wall of daubed mud.

Several miles east, a mountain of bare rock speared the sky with spires and columns, a tenebrous nightmare ship. Near-vertical sides rose out of the ground like a jagged piece of the earth's bone. Brom pointed. "That is Helgrind. It's the reason Dras-Leona was originally built. People are fascinated by it, even though it's an unhealthy and malevolent thing." He gestured at the buildings inside the city's wall. "We should go to the center of the city first."

As they crept along the road to Dras-Leona, Eragon saw that the highest building within the city was a cathedral that loomed behind the walls. It was strikingly similar to Helgrind, especially when its arches and flanged spires caught the light. "Who do they worship?" he asked.

Brom grimaced in distaste. "Their prayers go to Helgrind. It's a cruel religion they practice. They drink human blood and make flesh offerings. Their priests often lack body parts because they believe that the more bone and sinew you give up, the less you're attached to the mortal world. They spend much of their time arguing about which of Helgrind's three peaks is the highest and most important and whether the fourth—and lowest—should be included in their worship."

"That's horrible," said Eragon.

"Yes," said Brom grimly, "but don't say that to a believer. You'll quickly lose a hand in 'penance.'"

At Dras-Leona's enormous gates, they led the horses through the crush of people. Ten soldiers were stationed on either side of the gates, casually scanning the crowd. Eragon and Brom passed into the city without incident.

The houses inside the city wall were tall and thin to compensate for the lack of space. Those next to the wall were braced against it. Most of the houses hung over the narrow, winding streets, covering the sky so that it was hard to tell if it was night or day. Nearly all the buildings were constructed of the same rough brown wood. which darkened the city even more. The air reeked like a sewer; the streets were filthy.

A group of ragged children ran between the houses, fighting over scraps of bread. Deformed beggars crouched next to the entrance gates, pleading for money. Their cries for help were like a chorus of the damned. 'We don't even treat animals like this,' thought Eragon, shaking his head at the site. Although he'd seen worse, it was still a sad sight to see.

"It gets better farther in," said Brom. "Right now we need to find an inn and form a strategy. Dras-Leona can be a dangerous place to even the most cautious. I don't want to remain on the streets any longer than necessary."

They forged deeper into Dras-Leona, leaving the squalid entrance behind. They found lodging at the Golden Globe, which was cheap but not decrepit. A narrow bed was crammed against one wall of the room, with a rickety table and a basin alongside it. Eragon took one look at the mattress and said, "I'm sleeping on the floor. There are probably enough bugs to eat a man alive."

"Well, I wouldn't want to deprive them of a meal," said Brom, dropping his bags on the mattress. Eragon set his own on the floor and pulled off his bow.

"What now?" he asked.

"We find food and beer. After that, sleep. Tomorrow we can start looking for the Ra'zac." Before they left the room, Brom warned, "No matter what happens, make sure that your tongue doesn't loosen. We'll have to leave immediately if we're given away."

The inn's food was barely adequate, but its beer was excellent. By the time they stumbled back to the room, Eragon's head was buzzing slightly. He unrolled his blankets on the floor and slid under them as Brom tumbled onto the bed.

Just before Eragon fell asleep, he contacted Saphira: 'We're going to be here for a few days, but this shouldn't take as long as it did at Teirm. When we discover where the Ra'zac are, you might be able to help us get them. I'll talk to you in the morning, as I plan on waking early.'

{You've been drinking}, came the accusing thought. Eragon considered it for a moment and had to agree that she was absolutely right.

'Eh, I drunk at least twice as much as Brom but its only a slight buzz, nothing much.'

Her disapproval was clear, but all she said was, {I won't envy you in the morning.}

-x-x-x-x-x-

Eragon woke in the morning feeling fine, just as he expected. As his body's tolerance to outside substances was strong. Brom on the other hand woke rolling out of bed, grumbling to himself. He dunked his head in a cold basin of water and left the room, to recover Eragon assumed.

When he returned he belted on his sword and smoothed out his robe. "The first thing we need to do is ask some discreet questions. I want to find out where the Seithr oil was delivered in Dras-Leona and where it was taken from there. Most likely, soldiers or workmen were involved in transporting it. We have to find those men and get one to talk."

They left the Golden Globe and searched for warehouses where the Seithr oil might have been delivered. Near the center of Dras-Leona, the streets began to slant upward toward a palace of polished granite. It was built on a rise so that it towered above every building except the cathedral.

The courtyard was a mosaic of mother-of-pearl, and parts of the walls were inlaid with gold. Black statues stood in alcoves, with sticks of incense smoking in their cold hands. Soldiers stationed every four yards watched passerby keenly.

"Who lives there?" asked Eragon in awe.

"Marcus Tábor, ruler of this city. He answers only to the king and his own conscience, which hasn't been very active recently." said Brom.

They walked around the palace, looking at the gated, ornate houses that surrounded it.

By midday they had learned nothing useful, so they stopped for lunch. "This city is too vast for us to comb it together," said Brom. "Search on your own. Meet me at the Golden Globe by dusk." He glowered at Eragon from under his bushy eyebrows.

"I'm trusting you won't do anything stupid."

"I won't," promised Eragon. Brom handed him some coins, then strode away in the opposite direction.

Throughout the rest of the day, Eragon talked with shopkeepers and workers, trying to be as pleasant and charming as he could. His questions led him from one end of the city to the other and back again. No one seemed to know about the oil. Wherever he went, the cathedral stared down at him. It was impossible to escape its tall spires.

At last, he found a man who had helped ship the Seithr oil and remembered to which warehouse it had been taken. Eragon went to look at the building, then returned to the Golden Globe. It was over an hour before Brom came back, slumped with fatigue. "Did you find anything?" asked Eragon.

Brom brushed back his white hair. "I heard a great deal of interesting things today, not the least of which is that Galbatorix will visit Dras-Leona within the week."

"What?" exclaimed Eragon.

Brom slouched against the wall, the lines on his forehead deepening. "It seems that Tábor has taken a few too many liberties with his power, so Galbatorix has decided to come teach him a lesson in humility. Its the first time the king has left Urû'baen in over ten years."

"I'm guessing he also knows of us?" Asked Eragon.

"Of course he knows of us, but I'm sure he hasn't been told our location. If he had, we would already be in the Ra'zac's grasp. However, this means that whatever we're going to do about the Ra'zac must be accomplished before Galbatorix arrives. We don't want to be anywhere within twenty leagues of him. The one thing in our favor is that the Ra'zac are sure to be here, preparing for his visit."

"I want to get the Ra'zac," said Eragon, "but not if it means fighting the king. He could probably tear me to pieces at the moment."

That seemed to amuse Brom." Very good: caution. And you're right; you wouldn't stand a chance against Galbatorix. Now tell me what you learned today. It might confirm what I heard."

Eragon shrugged. "It was mostly drivel, but I did talk with a man who knew where the oil was taken. It's just an old warehouse. Other than that, I didn't discover anything useful."

"My day was a little more fruitful than yours. I heard the same thing you did, so I went to the warehouse and talked with the workers. It didn't take much cajoling before they revealed that the cases of Seithr oil are always sent from the warehouse to the palace."

"And that's when you came back here," finished Eragon.

"No, it's not! Don't interrupt. After that, I went to the palace and got myself invited into the servants' quarters as a bard. For several hours I wandered about, amusing the maids and others with songs and poems and asking questions all the while." Brom slowly filled his pipe with cards weed. "It's really amazing all the things servants find out. Did you know that one of the earls has three mistresses, and they all live in the same wing of the palace?" He shook his head and lit the pipe. "Aside from the fascinating tidbits, I was told, quite by accident, where the oil is taken from the palace."

"And that is ...?" asked Eragon wondering where this was going.

Brom puffed on his pipe and blew a smoke ring. "Out of the city, of course. Every full moon two slaves are sent to the base of Helgrind with a month's worth of provisions. Whenever the Seithr

oil arrives in Dras-Leona, they send it along with the provisions. The slaves are never seen again. And the one time someone followed them, he disappeared too."

"I thought the Riders demolished the slave trade," said Eragon.

"Unfortunately, it has flourished under the king's reign."

"So the Ra'zac are in Helgrind," said Eragon, thinking of the rock mountain.

"There or somewhere nearby."

"If they are in Helgrind, they'll be either at the bottom—and protected by a thick stone door— or higher up where only their flying mounts, or Saphira, can reach. Top or bottom, their shelter will no doubt be disguised." He thought for a moment. "If Saphira and I go flying around Helgrind, the Ra'zac are sure to see us not to mention all of Dras-Leona."

"It is a problem," agreed Brom.

Eragon frowned. "What if we took the place of the two slaves? The full moon isn't far off. It would give us a perfect opportunity to get close to the Ra'zac."

Brom tugged his beard thoughtfully. "That's chancy at best. If the slaves are killed from a distance, we'll be in trouble. We can't harm the Ra'zac if they aren't in sight."

"We don't know if the slaves are killed at all," Eragon pointed out. "I'm sure they are," said Brom, his face grave. Then his eyes sparkled, and he blew another smoke ring. "Still, it's an intriguing idea. If it were done with Saphira hidden nearby and a . . . "His voice trailed off. "It might work, but we'll have to move quickly. With the king coming, there isn't much time."

"Should we go to Helgrind and look around? It would be good to see the land in daylight so we won't be surprised by any ambushes," said Eragon.

Brom fingered his staff. "That can be done later. Tomorrow I'll return to the palace and figure out how we can replace the slaves.I have to be careful not to arouse suspicion, though—I could easily be revealed by spies and courtiers who know about the Ra'zac."

"I can't believe it; we actually found them that fast," said Eragon quietly. 'One problem will soon be solved.'

"The toughest part is yet to come, but yes, we've done well," said Brom. "If fortune smiles on us, you may soon have your revenge and the Varden will be rid of a dangerous enemy. What comes after that will be up to you."

Eragon opened his mind and told Saphira, 'We found the Ra'zac's lair!

{Where?} He quickly explained what they had discovered. {Helgrind,} she mused.{ A fitting place for them.}

'Soon this long hunt will be over.'

-x-x-x-x-x-

Eragon woke a little after he felt Brom leave the room. He'd left a note snatched in charcoal on the wall. It consisted of him telling Eragon to explore the city but lay low.

After reading the message he wiped it it out, making sure no one else would see it. He equipped his trusty red sword and left the golden globe. Ambling through the streets, stopping to observe whatever interested him. There were many intriguing stores, but none quite as exciting as Angela's herb shop in Teirm. At times he glared at the dark, claustrophobic houses and wished that he were free of the city. When he grew hungry, he bought a wedge of cheese and a loaf of bread and ate them, sitting on a curb.

Later, in a far corner of Dras-Leona, he heard an auctioneer rattling off a list of prices. Curious, he headed toward the voice ant arrived at a wide opening between two buildings. Ten men stood on a waist-high platform. Arrayed before them was a richly dressed crowd that was both colorful and boisterous. Where are the goods for sale? wondered Eragon.

The auctioneer finished his list and motioned for a young man behind the platform to join him. The man awkwardly climbed up, chains dragging at his hands and feet. "And here we have our first item, proclaimed the auctioneer. "A healthy male from the Hadarac Desert, captured just last month, and in excellent condition. Look at those arms and legs; he's strong as a bull! He'd be perfect as a shield-bearer, or, if you don't trust him for that, hard labor. But let me tell you, lords and ladies, that would be a waste. He's bright as a nail, if you can get him to talk a civilized tongue!" The crowd laughed, and Eragon just shook his head.

It wasn't his problem and even if he wanted to do something, it might bring unwanted attention. Maybe after he took out the king he could abolish slavery, but that would have to be for later down the line.

He eventually just wandered aimlessly until he realized he was in front of the cathedral. Its twisted spires were covered with statues and scrollwork. Snarling gargoyles crouched along the eaves. Fantastic beasts writhed on the walls, and heroes and kings marched along their bottom edges, frozen in cold marble. Ribbed arches and tall stained-glass windows lined the cathedral's sides, along with columns of differing sizes. A lonely turret helmed the building like a mast.

Recessed in shadow at the cathedral's front was an iron-bound door inlaid with a row of silver script that Eragon recognized as the ancient language. As best he could tell, it read: May thee who enter here understand thine impermanence and forget thine attachments to that which is beloved.

The entire building gave Eragon a ominous feeling. There was something menacing about it, as if it were a predator crouched in the city, waiting for its next victim. A broad row of steps led to the cathedral's entrance. Eragon solemnly ascended them and stopped before the door, he pushed on the door. It swung open smoothly, gliding on oiled hinges. He stepped inside.

The silence of a forgotten tomb filled the empty cathedral.

The air was chill and dry. Bare walls extended to a vaulted ceiling that was so high Eragon felt no taller than an ant. Stained-glass windows depicting scenes of anger, hate, and remorse pierced the walls, while spectral beams of light washed sections of the granite pews with transparent hues, leaving the rest in shadow. His hands were shaded a deep blue.

Between the windows stood statues with rigid, pale eyes. He returned their stern gazes, then slowly trod up the center row, afraid to break the quiet. His leather boots padded noiselessly on the polished stone floor. The altar was a great slab of stone devoid of adornment. A solitary finger of light fell upon it, illuminating motes of golden dust floating in the air.

Behind the altar, the pipes of the wind organ pierced the ceiling and opened themselves to the elements. The instrument would play it music only when a gale rocked Dras-Leona.

But his attention was caught by something in his haki. Two hunched figures with beaks were approaching the cathedrals entrance. And a short distance behind them a line of soldiers were advancing.

'Oh this will be interesting,' he thought to himself. He unsheathed the red sword, before coating it in haki as he tapped silently against the floor. Covering the distance the entrance in an instant.

While he waited for them to come closer, he connected his mind with his draconic companion. 'Saphira the Ra'zac has caught wind of us. Their coming for me and they even brought a squadron of soldiers with them.'

{Eragon, get run away now-}

He cut her off before she could continue. 'I'll be fine. Contact Brom and make sure he's alright. If he's fine tell him to leave immediately. I'll catch up later.'

Finishing communicating what he wanted, he cut off his connecting with her, he focused on the ra'zac ahead of him. He decided to see just how fast their reflexes were.

With a simple swing he sent a long black blade of air towards down the stairs towards them. They would see it just as they came it into sight.

'Lets dance you ugly bastards'