After two days in the Spine, they came upon a rock ledge from which they could see clearly out of the mountains. Eragon noticed how the land flattened in the distance, and he groaned at the leagues they still had to traverse. Brom pointed. “Down there and to the north lies Teirm. It is an old city. Some say it’s where the elves first landed in Alagaësia. Its citadel has never fallen, nor have its warriors ever been defeated.” He spurred Snowfire forward and left the ledge.

It took them until noon the next day to descend through the foothills and arrive at the other side of the Spine, where the forested land quickly leveled out. Without the mountains to hide behind, Saphira flew close to the ground, using every hollow and dip in the land to conceal herself.

Beyond the forest, they noticed a change. The countryside was covered with soft turf and heather that their feet sank into. Moss clung to every stone and branch and lined the streams that laced the ground. Pools of mud pocked the road where horses had trampled the dirt. Before long both Brom and Eragon were splattered with grime.

“Why is everything green?” asked Eragon. “Don’t they have winter here?”

“Yes, but the season is mild. Mist and fog roll in from the sea and keep everything alive. Some find it to their liking, but to me it’s dreary and depressing.”

When evening fell, they set up camp in the driest spot they could find. As they ate, Brom commented, “You should continue to ride Cadoc until we reach Teirm. It’s likely that we’ll meet other travelers now that we are out of the Spine, and it will be better if you are with me. An old man traveling alone will raise suspicion. With you at my side, no one will ask questions. Besides, I don’t want to show up at the city and have someone who saw me on the trail wondering where you suddenly came from.”

“Will we use our own names?” asked Eragon.

Brom thought about it. “We won’t be able to deceive Jeod. He already knows my name, and I think I trust him with yours. But to everyone else, I will be Neal and you will be my nephew Evan. If our tongues slip and give us away, it probably won’t make a difference, but I don’t want our names in anyone’s heads. People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn’t.”

AT ASTE OFTEIRM

After two days of traveling north toward the ocean, Saphira sighted Teirm. A heavy fog clung to the ground, obscuring Brom’s and Eragon’s sight until a breeze from the west blew the mist away. Eragon gaped as Teirm was suddenly revealed before them, nestled by the edge of the shimmering sea, where proud ships were docked with furled sails. The surf’s dull thunder could be heard in the distance.

The city was contained behind a white wall—a hundred feet tall and thirty feet thick—with rows of rectangular arrow slits lining it and a walkway on top for soldiers and watchmen. The wall’s smooth surface was broken by two iron portcullises, one facing the western sea, the other opening south to the road. Above the wall—and set against its northeast section—rose a huge citadel built of giant stones and turrets. In the highest tower, a lighthouse lantern gleamed brilliantly. The castle was the only thing visible over the fortifications.

Soldiers guarded the southern gate but held their pikes carelessly. “This is our first test,” said Brom. “Let’s hope they haven’t received reports of us from the Empire and won’t detain us. Whatever happens, don’t panic or act suspiciously.”

Eragon told Saphira,You should land somewhere now and hide. We’re going in.

Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Again,she said sourly.

I know. But Brom and I do have some advantages most people don’t.We’ll be all right.

If anything happens, I’m going to pin you to my back and never let you off.

I love you too.

Then I will bind you all the tighter.

Eragon and Brom rode toward the gate, trying to appear casual. A yellow pennant bearing the outline of a roaring lion and an arm holding a lily blossom waved over the entrance. As they neared the wall, Eragon asked in amazement, “How big is this place?”

“Larger than any city you have ever seen,” said Brom.

At the entrance to Teirm, the guards stood straighter and blocked the gate with their pikes. “Wha’s yer name?” asked one of them in a bored tone.

“I’m called Neal,” said Brom in a wheezy voice, slouching to one side, an expression of happy idiocy on his face.

“And who’s th’ other one?” asked the guard.

“Well, I wus gettin’ to that. This’ed be m’nephew Evan. He’s m’sister’s boy, not a . . .”

The guard nodded impatiently. “Yeah, yeah. And yer business here?”

“He’s visitin’ an old friend,” supplied Eragon, dropping his voice into a thick accent. “I’m along t’ make sure he don’t get lost, if y’ get m’meaning. He ain’t as young as he used to be—had a bit too much sun when he was young’r. Touch o’ the brain fever, y’ know.” Brom bobbed his head pleasantly.

“Right. Go on through,” said the guard, waving his hand and dropping the pike. “Just make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble.”

“Oh, he won’t,” promised Eragon. He urged Cadoc forward, and they rode into Teirm. The cobblestone street clacked under the horses’ hooves.

Once they were away from the guards, Brom sat up and growled, “Touch of brain fever, eh?”