“What’s that?” he asked.

“I don’t rightly know,” said Clovis. He frowned as he stared at the town, his hands planted on his hips. “It could be a fire, but no smoke is in the air. Maybe some Urgals were discovered in the area. . . .” Concern grew upon his face. “Did you perchance spy anyone on the road this morning?”

Roran shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Flint drew alongside them and shouted from the deck of theEdeline, “Should we turn back, sir?” Roran gripped the gunwale so hard that he drove splinters under his nails, ready to intercede but afraid to appear too anxious.

Tearing his gaze from Narda, Clovis bellowed in return, “No. We’d miss the tide then.”

“Aye, aye, sir! But I’d give a day’s pay to find out what caused that clamor.”

“So would I,” muttered Clovis.

As the houses and buildings shrank behind them, Roran crouched at the rear port of the barge, wrapped his arms around his knees, and leaned against the cabins. He looked at the sky, struck by its depth, clarity, and color, then into theRed Boar ’s roiling green wake, where ribbons of seaweed fluttered. The pitch of the barge lulled him like the rock of a cradle.What a beautiful day it is, he thought, grateful he was there to observe it.

After they escaped the cove—to his relief—Roran climbed the ladder to the poop deck behind the cabins, where Clovis stood with his hand on the tiller, guiding their course. The captain said, “Ah, there’s something exhilarating about the first day of a voyage, before you realize how bad the food is an’ start longing for home.”

Mindful of his need to learn what he could about the barge, Roran asked Clovis the names and functions of various objects on board, at which point he was treated to an enthusiastic lecture on the workings of barges, ships, and the art of sailing in general.

Two hours later, Clovis pointed at a narrow peninsula that lay before them. “The cove be on the far side of that.” Roran straightened off the railing and craned his neck, eager to confirm that the villagers were safe.

As theRed Boar rounded the rocky spit of land, a white beach was revealed at the apex of the cove, upon which were assembled the refugees from Palancar Valley. The crowd cheered and waved as the barges emerged from behind the rocks.

Roran relaxed.

Beside him, Clovis uttered a dreadful oath. “I knew something were amiss the moment I clapped eyes upon you, Stronghammer. Livestock indeed. Bah! You played me like a fool, you did.”

“You wrong me,” replied Roran. “I did not lie; this is my flock and I am their shepherd. Is it not within my right to call them ‘livestock’ if I want?”

“Call them what you will, I didn’t agree to haul people to Teirm.Why you didn’t tell me the true nature of your cargo, I might wonder, an’ the only answer on the horizon is that whatever venture you’re engaged in means trouble . . . trouble for you an’ trouble for me. I should toss the lot of you overboard an’ return to Narda.”

“But you won’t,” said Roran, deadly quiet.

“Oh? An’ why not?”

“Because I need these barges, Clovis, and I’ll do anything to keep them. Anything. Honor our bargain and you’ll have a peaceful trip and you’ll get to see Galina again. If not . . .” The threat sounded worse than it was; Roran had no intention of killing Clovis, though if he had to, he would abandon him somewhere along the coast.

Clovis’s face reddened, but he surprised Roran by grunting and saying, “Fair enough, Stronghammer.” Pleased with himself, Roran returned his attention to the beach.

Behind him, he heard asnick.

Acting on instinct, Roran recoiled, crouching, twisting, and covering his head with his shield. His arm vibrated as a belaying pin broke across the shield. He lowered the shield and gazed at a dismayed Clovis, who retreated across the deck.

Roran shook his head, never taking his eyes off his opponent. “You can’t defeat me, Clovis. I’ll ask you again: Will you honor our bargain? If you don’t, I’ll put you ashore, commandeer the barges, and press your crew into service. I don’t want to ruin your livelihood, but I will if you force me. . . . Come now. This can be a normal, uneventful voyage if you choose to help us. Remember, you’ve already been paid.”

Drawing himself up with great dignity, Clovis said, “If I agree, then you must do me the courtesy of explaining why this ruse were necessary, an’ why these people are here an’ where they’re from. No matter how much gold you offer me, I won’t assist an undertaking that contradicts my principles; no, I won’t. Are you bandits? Or do you serve the blasted king?”

“The knowledge may place you in greater danger.”

“I insist.”

“Have you heard of Carvahall in Palancar Valley?” asked Roran.

Clovis waved a hand. “Once or twice. What of it?”

“You see it now on the beach. Galbatorix’s soldiers attacked us without provocation. We fought back and, when our position became untenable, we crossed the Spine and followed the coast to Narda. Galbatorix has promised that every man, woman, and child from Carvahall will be killed or enslaved. Reaching Surda is our only hope of survival.” Roran left out mention of the Ra’zac; he did not want to frighten Clovis too badly.

The weathered seaman had gone gray. “Are you still pursued?”

“Aye, but the Empire has yet to discover us.”