He opened the screen to their bedroom, where he found two trays of food—mostly fruit—that had been placed by the lintel during the night. By the trays was a bundle of clothes with a paper note pinned to it. Eragon had difficulty deciphering the flowing script, since he had not read for over a month and had forgotten some of the letters, but at last he understood that it said:

Greetings, Saphira Bjartskular and Eragon Shadeslayer.

I, Bellaen of House Miolandra, do humble myself and apologize to you, Saphira, for this unsatisfactory meal. Elves do not hunt, and no meat is to be had in Ellesméra, nor in any of our cities. If you wish, you can do as the dragons of old were wont, and catch what you may in Du Weldenvarden. We only ask that you leave your kills in the forest so that our air and water remain untainted by blood.

Eragon, these clothes are for you. They were woven by Niduen of Islanzadí’s house and are her gift to you.

May good fortune rule over you,

Peace live in your heart,

And the stars watch over you.

Bellaen du Hljödhr

When Eragon told Saphira the message, she said,It does not matter; I won’t need to eat for a while after yesterday’s meal. However, she did snap up a few seed cakes.Just so that I don’t appear rude, she explained.

After Eragon finished breakfast, he hauled the bundle of clothes onto his bed and carefully unfolded them, finding two full-length tunics of russet trimmed with thimbleberry green, a set of creamy leggings to wrap his calves in, and three pairs of socks so soft, they felt like liquid when he pulled them through his hands. The quality of the fabric shamed the weaving of the women of Carvahall as well as the dwarf clothes he wore now.

Eragon was grateful for the new raiment. His own tunic and breeches were sadly travel-worn from their weeks exposed to the rain and sun since Farthen Dûr. Stripping, he donned one of the luxurious tunics, savoring its downy texture.

He had just laced on his boots when someone knocked on the screen to the bedroom. “Come in,” he said, reaching for Zar’roc.

Orik poked his head inside, then cautiously entered, testing the floor with his feet. He eyed the ceiling. “Give me a cave any day instead of a bird’s nest like this. How fared your night, Eragon? Saphira?”

“Well enough. And yours?” said Eragon.

“I slept like a rock.” The dwarf chuckled at his own jest, then his chin sank into his beard and he fingered the head of his ax. “I see you’ve eaten, so I’ll ask you to accompany me. Arya, the queen, and a host of other elves await you at the base of the tree.” He fixed Eragon with a testy gaze. “Something is going on that they haven’t told us about. I’m not sure what they want from you, but it’s important. Islanzadí’s as tense as a cornered wolf . . . I thought I’d warn you beforehand.”

Eragon thanked him, then the two of them descended by way of the stairs, while Saphira glided to earth. They were met on the ground by Islanzadí arrayed in a mantle of ruffled swan feathers, which were like winter snow heaped upon a cardinal’s breast. She greeted them and said, “Follow me.”

Her wending course took the group to the edge of Ellesméra, where the buildings were few and the paths were faint from disuse. At the base of a wooded knoll, Islanzadí stopped and said in a terrible voice, “Before we go any farther, the three of you must swear in the ancient language that you will never speak to outsiders of what you are about to see, not without permission from me, my daughter, or whoever may succeed us to the throne.”

“Why should I gag myself?” demanded Orik.

Why indeed?asked Saphira.Do you not trust us?

“It is not a matter of trust, but of safety. We must protect this knowledge at all costs—it’s our greatest advantage over Galbatorix—and if you are bound by the ancient language, you will never willingly reveal our secret. You came to supervise Eragon’s training, Orik-vodhr. Unless you give me your word, you may as well return to Farthen Dûr.”

At last Orik said, “I believe that you mean no harm to dwarves or to the Varden, else I would never agree. And I hold you to the honor of your hall and clan that this isn’t a ploy to deceive us. Tell me what to say.”

While the queen tutored Orik in the correct pronunciation of the desired phrase, Eragon asked Saphira,Should I do it?

Do we have a choice?Eragon remembered that Arya had asked the same question yesterday, and he began to have an inkling of what she had meant: the queen left no room to maneuver.

When Orik finished, Islanzadí looked expectantly at Eragon. He hesitated, then delivered the oath, as did Saphira. “Thank you,” said Islanzadí. “Now we may proceed.”

At the top of the knoll, the trees were replaced by a bed of red clover that ran several yards to the edge of a stone cliff. The cliff extended a league in either direction and dropped a thousand feet to the forest below, which pooled outward until it merged with the sky. It felt as if they stood on the edge of the world, staring across an endless expanse of forest.

I know this place,realized Eragon, remembering his vision of Togira Ikonoka.

Thud.The air shivered from the strength of the concussion.Thud. Another dull blow made Eragon’s teeth chatter.Thud. He jammed his fingers in his ears, trying to protect them from the painful spikes in pressure. The elves stood motionless.Thud. The clover bent under a sudden gust of wind.

Thud.From below the edge of the cliff rose a huge gold dragon with a Rider on its back.

CONVICTION