“Do the Varden fear me?” asked Eragon quietly.

“No,” said Ajihad carefully. “We are hopeful. But if that hope proves false, then yes, we will be afraid.” Eragon looked down. “You must understand the unusual nature of your position. There are factions who want you to serve their interests and no one else’s. The moment you entered Farthen Dûr, their influence and power began tugging on you.”

“Including yours?” asked Eragon.

Ajihad chuckled, though his eyes were sharp. “Including mine. There are certain things you should know: first is how Saphira’s egg happened to appear in the Spine. Did Brom ever tell you what was done with her egg after he brought it here?”

“No,” said Eragon, glancing at Saphira. She blinked and flicked her tongue at him.

Ajihad tapped his desk before beginning. “When Brom first brought the egg to the Varden, everyone was deeply interested in its fate. We had thought the dragons were exterminated. The dwarves were solely concerned with making sure that the future Rider would be an ally—though some of them were opposed to having a new Rider at all—while the elves and Varden had a more personal stake in the matter. The reason was simple enough: throughout history all the Riders have been either elven or human, with the majority being elven. There has never been a dwarf Rider.

“Because of Galbatorix’s betrayals, the elves were reluctant to let any of the Varden handle the egg for fear that the dragon inside would hatch for a human with similar instabilities. It was a challenging situation, as both sides wanted the Rider for their own. The dwarves only aggravated the problem by arguing obstinately with both the elves and us whenever they had the chance. Tensions escalated, and before long, threats were made that were later regretted. It was then that Brom suggested a compromise that allowed all sides to save face.

“He proposed that the egg be ferried between the Varden and the elves every year. At each place children would parade past it, and then the bearers of the egg would wait to see if the dragon would hatch. If it didn’t, they would leave and return to the other group. But if the dragondid hatch, the new Rider’s training would be undertaken immediately. For the first year or so he or she would be instructed here, by Brom. Then the Rider would be taken to the elves, who would finish the education.

“The elves reluctantly accepted this plan . . . with the stipulation that if Brom were to die before the dragon hatched, they would be free to train the new Rider without interference. The agreement was slanted in their favor—we both knew that the dragon would likely chose an elf—but it provided a desperately needed semblance of equality.”

Ajihad paused, his rich eyes somber. Shadows bit into his face under his cheekbones, making them jut out. “It was hoped that this new Rider would bring our two races closer together. We waited for well over a decade, but the egg never hatched. The matter passed from our minds, and we rarely thought about it except to lament the egg’s inactivity.

“Then last year we suffered a terrible loss. Arya and the egg disappeared on her return from Tronjheim to the elven city Osilon. The elves were the first to discover she was missing. They found her steed and guards slain in Du Weldenvarden and a group of slaughtered Urgals nearby. But neither Arya nor the egg was there. When this news reached me, I feared that Urgals had both of them and would soon learn the location of Farthen Dûr and the elves’ capital, Ellesméra, where their queen, Islanzadi, lives. Now I understand they were working for the Empire, which is far worse.

“We won’t know exactly what occurred during that attack until Arya wakes, but I have deduced a few details from what you’ve said.” Ajihad’s vest rustled as he leaned his elbows on the desk. “The attack must have been swift and decisive, else Arya would have escaped. Without any warning, and deprived of a place to hide, she could have done only one thing—used magic to transport the egg elsewhere.”

“She can use magic?” asked Eragon. Arya had mentioned that she had been given a drug to suppress her power; he wanted to confirm that she meant magic. He wondered if she could teach him more words of the ancient language.

“It was one of the reasons why she was chosen to guard the egg. Anyway, Arya couldn’t have returned it to us—she was too far away—and the elves’ realm is warded by arcane barriers that prevent anything from entering their borders through magical means. She must have thought of Brom and, in desperation, sent the egg toward Carvahall. Without time to prepare, I’m not surprised she missed by the margin she did. The Twins tell me it is an imprecise art.”

“Why was she closer to Palancar Valley than the Varden?” asked Eragon. “Where do the elves really live? Where is this . . . Ellesméra?”

Ajihad’s keen gaze bored into Eragon as he considered the question. “I don’t tell you this lightly, for the elves guard the knowledge jealously. But you should know, and I do this as a display of trust. Their cities lie far to the north, in the deepest reaches of the endless forest Du Weldenvarden. Not since the Riders’ time has anyone, dwarf or human, been elf-friend enough to walk in their leafy halls. I do not even know how to find Ellesméra. As for Osilon . . . based on where Arya disappeared, I suspect it is near Du Weldenvarden’s western edge, toward Carvahall. You must have many other questions, but bear with me and keep them until I have finished.”

He gathered his memories, then spoke at a quickened pace. “When Arya disappeared, the elves withdrew their support from the Varden. Queen Islanzadi was especially enraged and refused any further contact with us. As a result, even though I received Brom’s message, the elves are still ignorant of you and Saphira. . . . Without their supplies to sustain my troops, we have fared badly these past months in skirmishes with the Empire.