Orik anticipated Eragon’s question, saying, “That is Celbedeil, the greatest temple of dwarfdom and home of Dûrgrimst Quan—the Quan clan—who act as servants and messengers to the gods.”

Do they rule Tarnag?asked Saphira. Eragon repeated the query.

“Nay,” said Arya, stepping past them. “Though the Quan are strong, they are small in numbers, despite their power over the afterlife . . . and gold. It is the Ragni Hefthyn—the River Guard—who control Tarnag. We will stay with their clan chief, Ûndin, while here.”

As they followed the elf off the outcropping and through the gnarled forest that blanketed the mountain, Orik whispered to Eragon, “Mind her not. She has been arguing with the Quan for many a year. Every time she visits Tarnag and speaks with a priest, it produces a quarrel fierce enough to scare a Kull.”

“Arya?”

Orik nodded grimly. “I know little of it, but I’ve heard she disagrees strongly with much that the Quan practice. It seems that elves do not hold with ‘muttering into the air for help.’ ”

Eragon stared at Arya’s back as they descended, wondering if Orik’s words were true, and if so, what Arya herself believed. He took a deep breath, pushing the matter from his mind. It felt wonderful to be back in the open, where he could smell the moss and ferns and trees of the forest, where the sun was warm on his face and bees and other insects swarmed pleasantly.

The path took them down to the edge of the lake before rising back toward Tarnag and its open gates. “How have you hidden Tarnag from Galbatorix?” asked Eragon. “Farthen Dûr I understand, but this . . . I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Orik laughed softly. “Hide it? That would be impossible. No, after the Riders fell, we were forced to abandon all our cities aboveground and retreat into our tunnels in order to escape Galbatorix and the Forsworn. They would often fly through the Beors, killing anyone who they encountered.”

“I thought that dwarves always lived underground.”

Orik’s thick eyebrows met in a frown. “Why should we? We may have an affinity for stone, but we like the open air as much as elves or humans. However, it has only been in the last decade and a half, ever since Morzan died, that we have dared return to Tarnag and other of our ancient dwellings. Galbatorix may be unnaturally powerful, but even he would not attack an entire city alone. Of course, he and his dragon could cause us no end of trouble if they wanted, but these days they rarely leave Urû’baen, even for short trips. Nor could Galbatorix bring an army here without first defeating Buragh or Farthen Dûr.”

Which he nearly did,commented Saphira.

Cresting a small mound, Eragon jolted with surprise as an animal crashed through the underbrush and onto the path. The scraggly creature looked like a mountain goat from the Spine, except that it was a third larger and had giant ribbed horns that curled around its cheeks, making an Urgal’s seem no bigger than a swallow nest. Odder still was the saddle lashed across the goat’s back and the dwarf seated firmly on it, aiming a half-drawn bow into the air.

“Hert dûrgrimst? Fild rastn?” shouted the strange dwarf.

“Orik Thrifkz menthiv oen Hrethcarach Eragon rak Dûrgrimst Ingeitum,” answered Orik. “Wharn, az vanyali-carharûg Arya. Né oc Ûndinz grimstbelardn.” The goat stared warily at Saphira. Eragon noted how bright and intelligent its eyes were, though its face was rather droll with its frosty beard and somber expression. It reminded him of Hrothgar, and he almost laughed, thinking how very dwarfish the animal was.

“Azt jok jordn rast,” came the reply.

With no discernible command on the dwarf’s part, the goat leaped forward, covering such an extraordinary distance it seemed to take flight for a moment. Then rider and steed vanished between the trees.

“What was that?” asked Eragon, amazed.

Orik resumed walking. “A Feldûnost, one of the five animals unique to these mountains. A clan is named after each one. However, Dûrgrimst Feldûnost is perhaps the bravest and most revered of the clans.”

“Why so?”

“We depend upon Feldûnost for milk, wool, and meat. Without their sustenance, we could not live in the Beors. When Galbatorix and his traitorous Riders were terrorizing us, it was Dûrgrimst Feldûnost who risked themselves—and still do—to tend the herds and fields. As such, we are all in their debt.”

“Do all dwarves ride Feldûnost?” He stumbled slightly over the unusual word.

“Only in the mountains. Feldûnost are hardy and sure-footed, but they are better suited for cliffs than open plains.”

Saphira nudged Eragon with her nose, causing Snowfire to shy away.Now those would be good hunting, better than any I had in the Spine or hence! If I have time in Tarnag—

No,he said.We can’t afford to offend the dwarves.

She snorted, irritated.I could ask permission first.

Now the path that had concealed them for so long under dark boughs entered the great clearing that surrounded Tarnag. Groups of observers had already begun to gather in the fields when seven Feldûnost with jeweled harnesses bounded out from the city. Their riders bore lances tipped with pennants that snapped like whips in the air. Reining in his strange beast, the lead dwarf said, “Thou art well-come to this city of Tarnag. By otho of Ûndin and Gannel, I, Thorv, son of Brokk, offer in peace the shelter of our halls.” His accent grumbled and rasped with a rough burr quite unlike Orik’s.