“You don’t believe they can, do you?”

He shrugged again.

“… Then help me escape.”

A bark of hard laughter erupted from his throat. “How? I can’t do much more than put on my boots without Galbatorix’s permission.”

“You could loosen my cuffs, and when you leave, perhaps you could forget to secure the door.”

His upper lip curled in a sneer. “There are two men stationed outside, there are wards set upon this room to warn Galbatorix if a prisoner steps outside it, and there are hundreds of guards between here and the nearest gate. You’d be lucky to make it to the end of the hallway, if that.”

“Perhaps, but I’d like to try.”

“You’d only get yourself killed.”

“Then help me. If you wanted, you could find a way to fool his wards.”

“I can’t. My oaths won’t let me use magic against him.”

“What of the guards, though? If you held them off long enough for me to reach the gate, I could hide myself in the city, and it wouldn’t matter if Galbatorix knew—”

“The city is his. Besides, wherever you went, he could find you with a spell. The only way you would be safe from him would be to get far away from here before the alarm roused him, and that you could not do even on dragonback.”

“There must be a way!”

“If there were …” He smiled sourly and looked down. “It’s pointless to consider.”

Frustrated, she shifted her gaze to the ceiling for a few moments. Then, “At least let me out of these cuffs.”

He released his breath in a sound of exasperation.

“Just so I can stand up,” she said. “I hate lying on this stone, and it’s making my eyes ache having to look at you down there.”

He hesitated, and then he rose to his feet in a single graceful movement, came over to the slab, and began to unfasten the padded restraints around her wrists and ankles. “Don’t think you can kill me,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t.”

As soon as she was free, he retreated to his former position and again lowered himself onto the floor, where he sat staring into the distance. It was, she thought, his attempt to give her some privacy as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the slab. Her shift was in tatters—burned through in dozens of locations—and it did a poor job of concealing her form, not that it had covered much to begin with.

The marble floor was cool against the soles of her feet as she made her way over to Murtagh and sat next to him. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to preserve her modesty.

“Was Tornac really your only friend growing up?” she asked.

Murtagh still did not look at her. “No, but he was as close to a father as I’ve ever had. He taught me, comforted me … berated me when I was too arrogant, and saved me from making a fool of myself more times than I can remember. If he were still alive, he would have beaten me silly for getting as drunk as I did the other day.”

“You said he died during your escape from Urû’baen?”

He snorted. “I thought I was being clever. I bribed one of the watchmen to leave a side gate open for us. We were going to slip out of the city under the cover of darkness, and Galbatorix was only supposed to find out what had happened once it was too late to catch us. He knew from the very start, though. How, I’m not sure, but I guess he was scrying me the whole while. When Tornac and I went through the gate, we found soldiers waiting for us on the other side.… Their orders were to bring us back unharmed, but we fought, and one of them killed Tornac. The finest swordsman in all the Empire brought down by a knife in the back.”

“But Galbatorix let you escape.”

“I don’t think he expected us to fight. Besides, his attention was directed elsewhere that night.”

She frowned as she saw the oddest half smile appear on Murtagh’s face.

“I counted the days,” he said. “That was when the Ra’zac were in Palancar Valley, searching for Saphira’s egg. So you see, Eragon lost his foster father almost at the same time I lost mine. Fate has a cruel sense of humor, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it does.… But if Galbatorix could scry you, why didn’t he track you down and bring you back to Urû’baen later on?”

“He was playing with me, I think. I went to stay at the estate of a man I believed I could trust. As usual, I was mistaken, though I only found that out later, once the Twins brought me back here. Galbatorix knew where I was, and he knew I was still angry over Tornac’s death, so he was content to leave me at the estate while he hunted for Eragon and Brom.… I surprised him, though; I left, and by the time he learned of my disappearance, I was already on my way to Dras-Leona. That’s why Galbatorix went to Dras-Leona, you know. It wasn’t to chastise Lord Tábor over his behavior—although he certainly did—it was to find me. But he was too late. By the time he arrived at the city, I had already met up with Eragon and Saphira, and we had set off for Gil’ead.”

“Why did you leave?” she asked.

“Didn’t Eragon tell you? Because—”

“No, not Dras-Leona. Why did you leave the estate? You were safe there, or so you thought. So why did you leave?”

Murtagh was quiet for a while. “I wanted to strike back at Galbatorix, and I wanted to make a name for myself apart from my father’s. My whole life, people have looked at me differently because I am the son of Morzan. I wanted them to respect me for my deeds, not his.” He finally looked at her, a quick glance out of the corner of one eye. “I suppose I got what I wanted, but again, fate has a cruel sense of humor.”