“Night and day I have no respite from the pain of the world. Since Eragon blessed me, I have known nothing but hurt and fear, never happiness or pleasure. The lighter side of life, the things that make this existence bearable, these are denied me. Never do I see them. Never do I share in them. Only darkness. Only the combined misery of all the men, women, and children within a mile, battering at me like a midnight storm. This blessing has deprived me of the opportunity to be like other children. It has forced my body to mature faster than normal, and my mind even faster still. Eragon may be able to remove this ghastly ability of mine and the compulsion that accompanies it, but he cannot return me to what I was, nor what I should be, not without destroying who I have become. I am a freak, neither a child nor an adult, forever doomed to stand apart. I am not blind, you know. I see how you recoil when you hear me speak.” She shook her head. “No, this is too much to ask of me. I will not continue like this for the sake of you, Nasuada, nor the Varden, nor the whole of Alagaësia, nor even for my dear mother, were she still alive today. It is not worth it, not for anything. I could go live by myself, so that I would be free of other people’s afflictions, but I do not want to live like that. No, the only solution is for Eragon to attempt to correct his mistake.” Her lips curved in a sly smile. “And if you disagree with me, if you think I am being stupid and selfish, why, then, you would do well to remember that I am hardly more than a swaddling babe and have yet to celebrate my second birthday. Only fools expect an infant to martyr herself for the greater good. But infant or not, I have made my decision, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. In this, I am as iron.”

Nasuada reasoned with her further, but as Elva had promised, it proved to be a futile prospect. At last Nasuada asked Angela, Eragon, and Saphira to intervene. Angela refused on the grounds that she could not improve on Nasuada’s words and that she believed Elva’s choice was a personal one and therefore the girl ought to be able to do as she wished without being harried like an eagle by a flock of jays. Eragon was of a similar opinion, but he consented to say, “Elva, I cannot tell you what you should do—only you can determine that—but do not reject Nasuada’s request out of hand. She is trying to save us all from Galbatorix, and she needs our support if we are to have any chance of success. The future is hidden to me, but I believe that your ability might be the perfect weapon against Galbatorix. You could predict his every attack. You could tell us exactly how to counteract his wards. And above all else, you would be able to sense where Galbatorix is vulnerable, where he is most weak, and what we could do to hurt him.”

“You will have to do better than that, Rider, if you want to change my mind.”

“I don’t want to change your mind,” said Eragon. “I only want to make sure you have given due consideration to the implications of your decision and that you are not being overly hasty.”

The girl shifted but did not respond.

Then Saphira asked: What is in your heart, O Shining Brow?

Elva answered in a soft tone, with no trace of malice. “I have spoken my heart, Saphira. Any other words would be redundant.”

If Nasuada was frustrated by Elva’s obstinacy, she did not allow it to show, although her expression was stern, as befitted the discussion. She said, “I do not agree with your choice, Elva, but we will abide by it, for it is obvious that we cannot sway you. I suppose I cannot fault you, as I have no experience with the suffering you are exposed to on a daily basis, and if I were in your position, it is possible I would act no differently. Eragon, if you will . . .”

At her bidding, Eragon knelt in front of Elva. Her lustrous violet eyes bored into him as he placed her small hands between his larger ones. Her flesh burned against his as if she had a fever.

“Will it hurt, Shadeslayer?” Greta asked, the old woman’s voice quavering.

“It shouldn’t, but I do not know for sure. Removing spells is a much more inexact art than casting them. Magicians rarely if ever attempt it because of the challenges it poses.”

The wrinkles on her face contorted with worry, Greta patted Elva on the head, saying, “Oh, be brave, my plum. Be brave.” She did not seem to notice the look of irritation Elva directed at her.

Eragon ignored the interruption. “Elva, listen to me. There are two different methods for breaking an enchantment. One is for the magician who originally cast the spell to open himself to the energy that fuels our magic—”

“That’s the part I always had difficulty with,” said Angela. “It’s why I rely more upon potions and plants and objects that are magical in and of themselves than upon incantations.”

“If you don’t mind . . .”

Her cheeks dimpling, Angela said, “I’m sorry. Proceed.”

“Right,” growled Eragon. “One is for the original magician to open himself—”

“Or herself,” Angela interjected.

“Will you please let me finish?”

“Sorry.”

Eragon saw Nasuada fight back a smile. “He opens himself to the flow of energy within his body and, speaking in the ancient language, recants not only the words of his spell but also the intention behind it. This can be quite difficult, as you might imagine. Unless the magician has the right intent, he will end up altering the original spell instead of lifting it. And then he would have to unsay two intertwined spells.

“The other method is to cast a spell that directly counteracts the effects of the original spell. It does not eliminate the original spell, but if done properly, it renders it harmless. With your permission, this is the method I intend to use.”