“And you want to pirate her,” concluded Roran.

“I do. Not only to spite the Empire or because theDragon Wing is reputed to be the fastest square-rigged ship of her tonnage, but because she’s already fully provisioned for a long voyage. And since her cargo is food, we’d have enough for the whole village.”

Loring uttered a strained cackle. “I ’ope you can sail her yourself, Longshanks, ’cause not one of us knows how to handle anything larger than a barge.”

“A few men from the crews of my ships are still in Teirm. They’re in the same position I am, unable to fight or flee. I’m confident they’ll jump at a chance to get to Surda. They can teach you what to do on theDragon Wing. It won’t be easy, but I don’t see much choice in the matter.”

Roran grinned. The plan was to his liking: swift, decisive, and unexpected.

“You mentioned,” said Birgit, “that in the past year none of your ships—nor those from other merchants who serve the Varden—have reached their destination. Why, then, should this mission succeed when so many have failed?”

Jeod was quick to answer: “Because surprise is on our side. The law requires merchant ships to submit their itinerary for approval with the port authority at least two weeks before departure. It takes a great deal of time to prepare a ship for launch, so if we leave without warning, it could be a week or more before Galbatorix can launch intercept vessels. If luck is with us, we won’t see so much as the topmast of our pursuers. So,” continued Jeod, “if you are willing to attempt this enterprise, this is what we must do. . . .”

ESCAPE

After they considered Jeod’s proposal from every possible angle and agreed to abide by it—with a few modifications—Roran sent Nolfavrell to fetch Gertrude and Mandel from the Green Chestnut, for Jeod had offered their entire party his hospitality.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” said Jeod, rising, “I must go reveal to my wife that which I should never have hidden from her and ask if she’ll accompany me to Surda. You may take your pick of rooms on the second floor. Rolf will summon you when supper is ready.” With long, slow steps, he departed the study.

“Is it wise to let him tell that ogress?” asked Loring.

Roran shrugged. “Wise or not, we can’t stop him. And I don’t think he’ll be at peace until he does.”

Instead of going to a room, Roran wandered through the mansion, unconsciously evading the servants as he pondered the things Jeod had said. He stopped at a bay window open to the stables at the rear of the house and filled his lungs with the brisk and smoky air, heavy with the familiar smell of manure.

“Do you hate him?”

He started and turned to see Birgit silhouetted in the doorway. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders as she approached.

“Who?” he asked, knowing full well.

“Eragon. Do you hate him?”

Roran looked at the darkening sky. “I don’t know. I hate him for causing the death of my father, but he’s still family and for that I love him. . . . I suppose that if I didn’t need Eragon to save Katrina, I would have nothing to do with him for a long while yet.”

“As I need and hate you, Stronghammer.”

He snorted with grim amusement. “Aye, we’re joined at the hip, aren’t we? You have to help me find Eragon in order to avenge Quimby on the Ra’zac.”

“And to have my vengeance on you afterward.”

“That too.” Roran stared into her unwavering eyes for a moment, acknowledging the bond between them. He found it strangely comforting to know that they shared the same drive, the same angry fire that quickened their steps when others faltered. In her, he recognized a kindred spirit.

Returning through the house, Roran stopped by the dining room as he heard the cadence of Jeod’s voice. Curious, he fit his eye to a crack by the middle door hinge. Jeod stood opposite a slight, blond woman, who Roran assumed was Helen.

“If what you say is true, how can you expect me to trust you?”

“I cannot,” answered Jeod.

“Yet you ask me to become a fugitive for you?”

“You once offered to leave your family and wander the land with me. You begged me to spirit you away from Teirm.”

“Once. I thought you were terribly dashing then, what with your sword and your scar.”

“I still have those,” he said softly. “I made many mistakes with you, Helen; I understand that now. But I still love you and want you to be safe. I have no future here. If I stay, I’ll only bring grief to your family. You can return to your father or you can come with me. Do what will make you the happiest. However, I beg you to give me a second chance, to have the courage to leave this place and shed the bitter memories of our life here. We can start anew in Surda.”

She was quiet for a long time. “That young man who was here, is he really a Rider?”

“He is. The winds of change are blowing, Helen. The Varden are about to attack, the dwarves are gathering, and even the elves stir in their ancient haunts. War approaches, and if we’re fortunate, so does Galbatorix’s downfall.”

“Are you important among the Varden?”

“They owe me some consideration for my part in acquiring Saphira’s egg.”

“Then you would have a position with them in Surda?”

“I imagine so.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and she did not draw away.