Eragon

Do not pamper me, human. Elves train both their men and women to fight. I am not one of your helpless females to run away whenever there is danger. I was given the task of protecting Saphira’s egg . . . which I failed. My breoal is dishonored and would be further shamed if I did not guard you and Saphira on this field. You forget that I am stronger with magic than any here, including you. If the Shade comes, who can defeat him but me? And who else has the right?”

You find her form pleasing, do you not?

Yes, he admitted, blushing.

Her face does have more character than that of most humans, she sniffed. But it’s long, like a horse’s, and overall she’s rather shapeless.

Eragon looked at Saphira with amazement. You’re jealous, aren’t you!

Impossible. I never get jealous, she said, offended.

She approached on silent footsteps and said in soft, menacing tones, “Shame! Shame to ask of him what only a master can do. Shame that you should use such methods. Shame that you told Ajihad you didn’t know Eragon’s abilities. He is competent. Now leave!”

“You are an enigma, Eragon, a quandary that no one knows how to solve. Everyone knows what the Varden want—or the Urgals, or even Galbatorix—but no one knows what you want. And that makes you dangerous, especial y to Galbatorix. He fears you because he doesn’t know what you wil do next.”

His words were entrancing, like a snake whispering gilded lies into my ears. A more convincing and frightening man I’ve never heard. He wove a vision: a fantasy of the Empire as he imagined it. There would be beautiful cities built across the country, fil ed with the greatest warriors, artisans, musicians, and philosophers.

Keep in mind that many people have died for their beliefs; it’s actual y quite common. The real courage is in living and suffering for what you believe.

“You’l enjoy it. There is much you can learn from books and scrol s,” said Jeod. He gestured at the wal s. “These books are my friends, my

companions. They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life.”

“It sounds intriguing,” admitted Eragon.

“Always the scholar, aren’t you?” asked Brom.

Jeod shrugged. “Not anymore. I’m afraid I’ve degenerated into a bibliophile.”

“A what?” asked Eragon.

“One who loves books,” explained Jeod, and resumed conversing with Brom.

Eragon returned to his chair, holding the book gently. It’s amazing that a man who is dead can talk to people through these pages. As long as this book survives, his ideas live.

“Of the affairs of love . . . my only advice is to be honest. That’s your most powerful tool to unlock a heart or gain forgiveness. That is al I have to say.”

“Do not think that I have forgotten you, Eragon. I have words for both of you. It’s time I said them, as you are entering the world. Heed them and they wil serve you wel .” He bent his gaze sternly on them. “First, let no one rule your mind or body. Take special care that your thoughts remain unfettered. One may be a free man and yet be bound tighter than a slave. Give men your ear, but not your heart. Show respect for those in power, but don’t fol ow them blindly.

Judge with logic and reason, but comment not.

“Consider none your superior, whatever their rank or station in life. Treat al fairly or they wil seek revenge. Be careful with your money. Hold fast to your beliefs and others wil listen.”