Jeod rubbed his neck and then, with a wry expression, said, “If we don’t reach an understanding, you had better kill me; it’d be easier than explaining to Helen that I shouted at her for naught.”

“You have my sympathy, Longshanks,” said Loring.

“It’s not her fault . . . not really. She just doesn’t understand why so much misfortune has befallen us.” Jeod sighed. “Perhaps it’s my fault for not daring to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” piped Nolfavrell.

“That I’m an agent for the Varden.” Jeod paused at their dumbfounded expressions. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning. Roran, have you heard rumors in the past few months of the existence of a new Rider who opposes Galbatorix?”

“Mutterings here and there, yes, but nothing I’d give credence to.”

Jeod hesitated. “I don’t know how else to say this, Roran . . . but thereis a new Rider in Alagaësia, and it’s your cousin, Eragon. The stone he found in the Spine was actually a dragon egg I helped the Varden steal from Galbatorix years ago. The dragon hatched for Eragon and he named her Saphira. That is why the Ra’zac first came to Palancar Valley. They returned because Eragon has become a formidable enemy of the Empire and Galbatorix hoped that by capturing you, they could bring Eragon to bay.”

Roran threw back his head and howled with laughter until tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and his stomach hurt from the convulsions. Loring, Birgit, and Nolfavrell looked at him with something akin to fear, but Roran cared not for their opinions. He laughed at the absurdity of Jeod’s assertion. He laughed at the terrible possibility that Jeod had told the truth.

Taking rasping breaths, Roran gradually returned to normal, despite an occasional outburst of humorless chuckles. He wiped his face on his sleeve and then regarded Jeod, a hard smile upon his lips. “It fits the facts; I’ll give you that. But so do a half dozen other explanations I’ve thought of.”

Birgit said, “If Eragon’s stone was a dragon egg, then where did it come from?”

“Ah,” replied Jeod, “now there’s an affair I’m well acquainted with. . . .”

Comfortable in his chair, Roran listened with disbelief as Jeod spun a fantastic story of how Brom—grumpy old Brom!—had once been a Rider and had supposedly helped establish the Varden, how Jeod had discovered a secret passageway into Urû’baen, how the Varden arranged to filch the last three dragon eggs from Galbatorix, and how only one egg was saved after Brom fought and killed Morzan of the Forsworn. As if that were not preposterous enough, Jeod went on to describe an agreement between the Varden, dwarves, and elves that the egg should be ferried between Du Weldenvarden and the Beor Mountains, which was why the egg and its couriers were near the edge of the great forest when they were ambushed by a Shade.

A Shade—ha!thought Roran.

Skeptical as he was, Roran attended with redoubled interest when Jeod began to talk of Eragon finding the egg and raising the dragon Saphira in the forest by Garrow’s farm. Roran had been occupied at the time—preparing to leave for Dempton’s mill in Therinsford—but he remembered how distracted Eragon had been, how he spent every moment he could outdoors, doing who knows what. . . .

As Jeod explained how and why Garrow died, rage filled Roran that Eragon had dared keep the dragon secret when it so obviously put everyone in danger.It’s his fault my father died!

“What was he thinking?” burst out Roran.

He hated how Jeod looked at him with calm understanding. “I doubt Eragon knew himself. Riders and their dragons are bound together so closely, it’s often hard to differentiate one from the other. Eragon could have no more harmed Saphira than he could have sawed off his own leg.”

“He could have,” muttered Roran. “Because of him, I’ve had to do things just as painful, and I know—he could have.”

“You’ve a right to feel as you do,” said Jeod, “but don’t forget that the reason Eragon left Palancar Valley was to protect you and all who remained. I believe it was an extremely hard choice for him to make. From his point of view, he sacrificed himself to ensure your safety and to avenge your father. And while leaving may not have had the desired effect, things would have certainly turned out far worse if Eragon had stayed.”

Roran said nothing more until Jeod mentioned that the reason Brom and Eragon had visited Teirm was to see if they could use the city’s shipping manifests to locate the Ra’zac’s lair. “And did they?” cried Roran, bolting upright.

“We did indeed.”

“Well, where are they, then? For goodness’ sake, man, say it; you know how important this is to me!”

“It seemed apparent from the records—and I later had a message from the Varden that Eragon’s own account confirmed this—that the Ra’zac’s den is in the formation known as Helgrind, by Dras-Leona.”

Roran gripped his hammer with excitement.It’s a long way to Dras-Leona, but Teirm has access to the only open pass between here and the southern end of the Spine. If I can get everyone safely heading down the coast, then I could go to this Helgrind, rescue Katrina if she’s there, and follow the Jiet River down to Surda.

Something of Roran’s thoughts much have revealed themselves on his face, because Jeod said, “It can’t be done, Roran.”

“What?”

“No one man can take Helgrind. It’s a solid, bare, black mountain of stone that’s impossible to climb. Consider the Ra’zac’s foul steeds; it seems likely they would have an eyrie near the top of Helgrind rather than bed near the ground, where they are most vulnerable. How, then, would you reach them? And if you could, do you really believe that you could defeat both Ra’zac and their two steeds, if not more? I have no doubt you are a fearsome warrior—after all, you and Eragon share blood—but these are foes beyond any normal human.”