Eragon leaned toward him so no one else could hear. “Then this is another animal native to the Beors? What are the rest?”

“Forest wolves big enough to prey on a Nagra and nimble enough to catch Feldûnost. Cave bears, which we call Urzhadn and the elves call Beorn and for which they dubbed these peaks, though we do not call them such ourselves. The mountains’ name is a secret that we share with no race. And—”

“Smer voth,” commanded Ûndin, smiling at his guests. The servants immediately drew small curved knives and cut portions of the Nagra, which they set on everyone’s plates—except for Arya’s— including a weighty piece for Saphira. Ûndin smiled again, took a dagger, and sliced off a bit of his meat.

Eragon reached for his own knife, but Orik grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

Ûndin chewed slowly, rolling his eyes and nodding in an exaggerated fashion, then swallowed and proclaimed, “Ilf gauhnith!”

“Now,” said Orik, turning to the meal as conversation erupted along the tables.

Eragon had never tasted anything like the boar. It was juicy, soft, and oddly spicy—as if the meat had been soaked in honey and cider—which was enhanced by the mint used to flavor the pork.I wonder how they managed to cook something so large.

Very slowly,commented Saphira, nibbling on her Nagra.

Between bites, Orik explained, “It is custom, from days when poisoning was rampant among clans, for the host to taste the food first and declare it safe for his guests.”

During the banquet, Eragon divided his time between sampling the multitude of dishes and conversing with Orik, Arya, and dwarves farther down the table. In that manner, the hours hastened by, for the feast was so large, it was late afternoon before the last course had been served, the last bite consumed, and the last chalice drained. As servants removed the tableware, Ûndin turned to Eragon and said, “The meal pleased you, yes?”

“It was delicious.”

Ûndin nodded. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I had the tables moved outside yesterday so the dragon might dine with us.” He remained intently focused on Eragon all the while he spoke.

Eragon went cold inside. Intentionally or not, Ûndin had treated Saphira as no more than a beast. Eragon had intended to ask about the veiled dwarves in private, but now—out of a desire to unsettle Ûndin—he said, “Saphira and I thank you.” Then, “Sir, why was the ring thrown at us?”

A painful silence crept over the courtyard. Out of the corner of his eye, Eragon saw Orik wince. Arya, however, smiled as if she understood what he was doing.

Ûndin put down his dagger, scowling thickly. “The knurlagn you met are of a tragic clan. Before the Riders’ fall, they were among the oldest, richest families of our kingdom. Their doom was sealed, though, by two mistakes: they lived on the western edge of the Beor Mountains, and they volunteered their greatest warriors in Vrael’s service.”

Anger broke through his voice with sharp cracks. “Galbatorix and his ever-cursed Forsworn slaughtered them in your city of Urû’baen. Then they flew on us, killing many. Of that clan, only Grimstcarvlorss Anhûin and her guards survived. Anhûin soon died of grief, and her men took the name Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, The Tears of Anhûin, covering their faces to remind themselves of their loss and their desire for revenge.”

Eragon’s cheeks stung with shame as he fought to keep his face expressionless. “So,” said Ûndin, glowering at a pastry, “they rebuilt the clan over the decades, waiting and hunting for recompense. And now you come, bearing Hrothgar’s mark. It is the ultimate insult to them, no matter your service in Farthen Dûr. Thus the ring, the ultimate challenge. It means Dûrgrimst Az Sweldn rak Anhûin will oppose you with all their resources, in every matter, big or small. They have set themselves against you utterly, declared themselves blood enemies.”

“Do they mean me bodily harm?” asked Eragon stiffly.

Ûndin’s gaze faltered for a moment as he cast a look at Gannel, then he shook his head and uttered a gruff laugh that was, perhaps, louder than the occasion warranted. “No, Shadeslayer! Not even they would dare hurt a guest. It is forbidden. They only want you gone, gone, gone.” Yet Eragon still wondered. Then Ûndin said, “Please, let us talk no more of these unpleasant matters. Gannel and I have offered our food and mead in friendship; is that not what matters?” The priest murmured in concordance.

“It is appreciated,” Eragon finally relented.

Saphira looked at him with solemn eyes and said,They are afraid, Eragon. Afraid and resentful because they have been forced to accept a Rider’s assistance.

Aye. They may fight with us, but they don’t fight for us.

CELBEDEIL

The dawnless morning found Eragon in Ûndin’s main hall, listening as the clan chief spoke to Orik in Dwarvish. Ûndin broke off as Eragon approached, then said, “Ah, Shadeslayer. You slept well?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He gestured at Orik. “We have been considering your departure. I had hoped you’d be able to spend some time with us. But under the circumstances, it seems best if you resume your journey early tomorrow morning, when few are in the streets who might trouble you. Supplies and transportation are being readied even as I speak. It was Hrothgar’s orders that guards should accompany you as far as Ceris. I have increased their numbers from three to seven.”