“Thanks.”

“It’s a compliment, coming from him. You’re only the third person to come in here who has been able to speak with him. The first was a woman, many years ago; the second was a blind beggar; and now you. But I don’t run a store just so I can prattle on. Is there anything you want? Or did you only come in to look?”

“Just to look,” said Eragon, still thinking about the werecat. “Besides, I don’t really need any herbs.”

“That’s not all I do,” said Angela with a grin. “The rich fool lords pay me for love potions and the like. I never claim that they work, but for some reason they keep coming back. But I don’t think you need those chicaneries. Would you like your fortune told? I do that, too, for all the rich fool ladies.”

Eragon laughed. “No, I’m afraid my fortune is pretty much unreadable. And I don’t have any money.”

Angela looked at Solembum curiously. “I think . . .” She gestured at the crystal ball resting on the counter. “That’s only for show anyway—it doesn’t do anything. But I do have . . . Wait here; I’ll be right back.” She hurried into a room at the back of the shop.

She came back, breathless, holding a leather pouch, which she set on the counter. “I haven’t used these for so long, I almost forgot where they were. Now, sit across from me and I’ll show you why I went to all this trouble.” Eragon found a stool and sat. Solembum’s eyes glowed from the gap in the drawers.

Angela laid a thick cloth on the counter, then poured a handful of smooth bones, each slightly longer than a finger, onto it. Runes and symbols were inscribed along their sides. “These,” she said, touching them gently, “are the knucklebones of a dragon. Don’t ask where I got them; it is a secret I won’t reveal. But unlike tea leaves, crystal balls, or even divining cards, these have true power. They do not lie, though understanding what they say is . . . complicated. If you wish, I will cast and read them for you. But understand that to know one’s fate can be a terrible thing. You must be sure of your decision.”

Eragon looked at the bones with a feeling of dread.There lies what was once one of Saphira’s kin. To know one’s fate . . . How can I make this decision when I don’t know what lies in wait for me and whether I will like it?Ignorance is indeed bliss. “Why do you offer this?” he asked.

“Because of Solembum. He may have been rude, but the fact that he spoke to you makes you special. Heis a werecat, after all. I offered to do this for the other two people who talked with him. Only the woman agreed to it. Selena was her name. Ah, she regretted it, too. Her fortune was bleak and painful. I don’t think she believed it—not at first.”

Emotion overcame Eragon, bringing tears to his eyes. “Selena,” he whispered to himself. His mother’s name.Could it have been her? Was her destiny so horrible that she had to abandon me? “Do you remember anything about her fortune?” he asked, feeling sick.

Angela shook her head and sighed. “It was so long ago that the details have melted into the rest of my memory, which isn’t as good as it used to be. Besides, I’ll not tell you what I do remember. That was for her and her alone. It was sad, though; I’ve never forgotten the look on her face.”

Eragon closed his eyes and struggled to regain control of his emotions. “Why do you complain about your memory?” he asked to distract himself. “You’re not that old.”

Dimples appeared on Angela’s cheeks. “I’m flattered, but don’t be deceived; I’m much older than I look. The appearance of youth probably comes from having to eat my own herbs when times are lean.”

Smiling, Eragon took a deep breath.If that was my mother and she could bear to have her fortune told, I can too. “Cast the bones for me,” he said solemnly.

Angela’s face became grave as she grasped the bones in each hand. Her eyes closed, and her lips moved in a soundless murmur. Then she said powerfully,“Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!” and tossed the bones onto the cloth. They fell all jumbled together, gleaming in the faint light.

The words rang in Eragon’s ears; he recognized them from the ancient language and realized with apprehension that to use them for magic, Angela must be a witch. She had not lied; this was a true fortunetelling. Minutes slowly passed as she studied the bones.

Finally, Angela leaned back and heaved a long sigh. She wiped her brow and pulled out a wineskin from under the counter. “Do you want some?” she asked. Eragon shook his head. She shrugged and drank deeply. “This,” she said, wiping her mouth, “is the hardest reading I’ve ever done. You were right. Your future is nigh impossible to see. I’ve never known of anyone’s fate being so tangled and clouded. I was, however, able to wrestle a few answers from it.”

Solembum jumped onto the counter and settled there, watching them both. Eragon clenched his hands as Angela pointed to one of the bones. “I will start here,” she said slowly, “because it is the clearest to understand.”

The symbol on the bone was a long horizontal line with a circle resting on it. “Infinity or long life,” said Angela quietly. “This is the first time I have ever seen it come up in someone’s future. Most of the time it’s the aspen or the elm, both signs that a person will live a normal span of years. Whether this means that you will live forever or that you will only have an extraordinarily long life, I’m not sure. Whatever it foretells, you may be sure that many years lie ahead of you.”