“You eavesdropped on us.”

“Only once,” said Eragon.

“I see that you have yet to learn proper manners,” said Brom grimly, tugging on his beard. “What makes you think that this concerns you?”

“Nothing, really,” said Eragon shrugging. “Just it’s an odd coincidence that you happened to be hiding in Carvahall when I found Saphira’s eggand that you also know so much dragonlore. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems. There were other clues that I mostly ignored, but they’re obvious now that I look back. Like how you knew of the Ra’zac in the first place and why they ran away when you approached. And I can’t help but wonder if you had something to do with the appearance of Saphira’s egg. There’s a lot you haven’t told us, and Saphira and I can’t afford to ignore anything that might be dangerous.”

Dark lines appeared on Brom’s forehead as he reined Snowfire to a halt. “You won’t wait?” he asked. Eragon shook his head mulishly. Brom sighed. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so suspicious, but I suppose that you wouldn’t be worth my time if you were otherwise.” Eragon was unsure if he should take that as a compliment. Brom lit his pipe and slowly blew a plume of smoke into the air. “I’ll tell you,” he said, “but you have to understand that I cannot reveal everything.” Eragon started to protest, but Brom cut him off. “It’s not out of a desire to withhold information, but because I won’t give away secrets that aren’t mine. There are other stories woven in with this narrative. You’ll have to talk with the others involved to find out the rest.”

“Very well. Explain what you can,” said Eragon.

“Are you sure?” asked Brom. “There are reasons for my secretiveness. I’ve tried to protect you by shielding you from forces that would tear you apart. Once you know of them and their purposes, you’ll never have the chance to live quietly. You will have to choose sides and make a stand. Do you really want to know?”

“I cannot live my life in ignorance,” said Eragon quietly.

“A worthy goal. . . . Very well: there is a war raging in Alagaësia between the Varden and the Empire. Their conflict, however, reaches far beyond any incidental armed clashes. They are locked in a titanic power struggle . . . centered around you.”

“Me?” said Eragon, disbelieving. “That’s impossible. I don’t have anything to do with either of them.”

“Not yet,” said Brom, “but your very existence is the focus of their battles. The Varden and the Empire aren’t fighting to control this land or its people. Their goal is to control the next generation of Riders, of whom you are the first. Whoever controls these Riders will become the undisputed master of Alagaësia.”

Eragon tried to absorb Brom’s statements. It seemed incomprehensible that so many people would be interested in him and Saphira. No one besides Brom had thought he was that important. The whole concept of the Empire and Varden fighting over him was too abstract for him to grasp fully. Objections quickly formed in his mind. “But all the Riders were killed except for the Forsworn, who joined Galbatorix. As far as I know, even those are now dead. And you told me in Carvahall that no one knows if there are still dragons in Alagaësia.”

“I lied about the dragons,” said Brom flatly. “Even though the Riders are gone, there are still three dragon eggs left—all of them in Galbatorix’s possession. Actually there are only two now, since Saphira hatched. The king salvaged the three during his last great battle with the Riders.”

“So there may soon be two new Riders, both of them loyal to the king?” asked Eragon with a sinking feeling.

“Exactly,” said Brom. “There is a deadly race in progress. Galbatorix is desperately trying to find the people for whom his eggs will hatch, while the Varden are employing every means to kill his candidates or steal the eggs.”

“But where did Saphira’s egg come from? How could anyone have gotten it away from the king? And why do you know all of this?” asked Eragon, bewildered.

“So many questions,” laughed Brom bitterly. “There is another chapter to all this, one that took place long before you were born. Back then I was a bit younger, though perhaps not as wise. I hated the Empire—for reasons I’ll keep to myself—and wanted to damage it in any way I could. My fervor led me to a scholar, Jeod, who claimed to have discovered a book that showed a secret passageway into Galbatorix’s castle. I eagerly brought Jeod to the Varden—who are my ‘friends’—and they arranged to have the eggs stolen.”

The Varden!

“However, something went amiss, and our thief got only one egg. For some reason he fled with it and didn’t return to the Varden. When he wasn’t found, Jeod and I were sent to bring him and the egg back.” Brom’s eyes grew distant, and he spoke in a curious voice. “That was the start of one of the greatest searches in history. We raced against the Ra’zac and Morzan, last of the Forsworn and the king’s finest servant.”

“Morzan!” interrupted Eragon. “But he was the one who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix!”And that happened so long ago! Morzan must have been ancient. It disturbed him to be reminded of how long Riders lived.

“So?” asked Brom, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, he was old, but strong and cruel. He was one of the king’s first followers and by far his most loyal. As there had been blood between us before, the hunt for the egg turned into a personal battle. When it was located in Gil’ead, I rushed there and fought Morzan for possession. It was a terrible contest, but in the end I slew him. During the conflict I was separated from Jeod. There was no time to search for him, so I took the egg and bore it to the Varden, who asked me to train whomever became the new Rider. I agreed and decided to hide in Carvahall—which I had been to several times before—until the Varden contacted me. I was never summoned.”