Murtagh: The World of Eragon by Christopher Paolini

Author:Christopher Paolini [Paolini, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

The feast dragged on, course after course, and the players continued to weave their savage melody throughout. It was a strange celebration. None of the villagers spoke to Murtagh or Thorn, not even when they waited upon Murtagh. Only Bachel conversed with them, and she seemed more interested in indulging in food and drink than talk.

Murtagh didn’t mind. The many months he’d spent traveling alone with Thorn had accustomed him to sitting and watching and thinking. And there was a certain pleasure in being served, as he had been at Galbatorix’s court; he heard the careless clip of authority harden his voice when he spoke to the man attending him.

It fit with his armor.

Nevertheless, Murtagh recognized his own feelings, and he knew them for a trap that could lull him into complacency. So while he welcomed the treatment due his rank, he also made an effort to observe the villagers and attempt to deduce something of their nature.

One point in particular struck him: when Bachel issued an order, the villagers scurried about like mice before a cat, almost desperate to please her. And yet they didn’t seem afraid. Or if they were, it was an odd sort of fear. Mostly, he saw deference and respect in their actions. If he could understand the reasons why, he felt he would understand the mystery at the heart of Nal Gorgoth.

Shadow filled the valley, and the stars were cold sparks in the night sky when Bachel finally pushed away her plate, dabbed her lips, and leaned back in her throne. Her skin glowed from the rubbed-in grease, and her whole being, face and body together, seemed swollen from the vast amount of food she had ingested.

“A most bounteous feast,” said Murtagh. “Your cooks are to be commended.”

Bachel nodded in a satisfied manner. “I thank you for your kind words. Such a feast as this, and more besides, are your rightful reward. Yours and Thorn’s. Were it within my power, I would set a thousand days of celebration in your honor. It is only what you deserve.”

Murtagh eyed her, wondering at the praise. Was it possible that the rumors about the Dreamers, and Bachel herself, were falsities? Or else misleading? Perhaps Bachel was not as he had thought. After all, were someone to judge him on hearsay, they would deem him a villain fit to frighten even the stoutest of hearts.

Then: “My Lady, we have eaten and eaten well. Might we now talk?”

“Of course, my son. What would you speak of?”

So many questions had Murtagh, he was almost at a loss to begin. “I have heard your people called the Dreamers. Would that be correct?”

A stillness took Bachel’s face, and with a single draft, she emptied her chalice and placed it beside her litter. “It is.”

“And what is it you dream of?”

“Of remaking the very face of the land.” Bachel turned her dark-rimmed eyes upon him. “As has been fated since the beginning of time. And as you and Thorn are destined to help bring to pass.

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