Chapter 6: Chapter 6
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 looked on impassively 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 arrows 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 and 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. But, 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. So even if we have to fight our way out, we will be fine.'
Eragon and Brom rode towards 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 turned to Brom to ask, "Is this one of the larger cities in the Empire?
"Yes, it is. While its size can't be compared to the capital, it is one of the biggest cities you can find within the Empire.
At the entrance to Teirm, the guards stood straighter and blocking 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?"
Eragon shrugged his shoulders, "They asked less questions that way."
Brom harrumphed and looked away. The houses were grim and foreboding; Small, deep windows let in only sparse rays of light. Narrow doors were recessed into buildings.
The tops of the roofs were flat except for metal railings and all were covered with slate shingles. Eragon noticed that the houses closest to Teirm's outer wall were no more than one
story, but the buildings got progressively higher as they went in. Those next to the citadel were tallest of all, though insignificant compared to the fortress.
"This entire city was planned for war." said Eragon.
Brom nodded." Teirm has a history of being attacked by pirates, urgals, and other enemies. It has long been a center of commerce. There will always be conflict where riches gather in such abundance. The people here have been forced to take extraordinary measures to keep themselves from being overrun. It also helps that Galbatorix gives them soldiers to defend their city."
"But the way it's built right now was only done after Teirm was nearly burned down by a pirate raid," commented Brom. As they continued up the street, people gave them searching looks, but there was not an undue amount of interest.
'It seems that hard times aren't just in the plains,' Eragon thought as he saw a large man shoulder past them, a sword hanging from his waist. There were other, subtler signs of adverse times: no children played in the streets, people bore hard expressions, and many houses were deserted, with weeds growing from cracks in their stone-covered yards.
"Trouble seems to be finding its way into every corner of the empire as of late." Eragon stated.
Brom nodded grimly. "We have to find Jeod." They led their horses across the street to a tavern and tied them to the hitching post.
"The Green Chestnut... wonder-full," muttered Brom, looking at the battered sign above them as he and Eragon entered the building.
The dingy room felt unsafe. A fire smoldered in the fireplace, with no one bothered to throw more wood on it. A few lonely people in the corners nursed their drinks with sullen expressions. A man missing two fingers sat at a far table, eyeing his twitching stumps.
The bartender had a cynical twist to his lips and held a glass in his hand that he kept polishing, even though it was broken. Brom leaned against the bar and asked, "Do you know where we
can find a man called Jeod?" Eragon stood at his side, examine the man behind the bar.
The bartender said in an overly loud voice, "Now, why would I know something like that? Do you think I keep track of the mangy louts in this forsaken place?" Eragon watched as all eyes turned toward them. He didn't like the feeling he picked up from the bartender and decided to use his haki to see what the feeling he got came from. A split second later he figured out what it was
Brom kept talking smoothly. "Could you be enticed to remember?" He slid some coins onto the bar.The man brightened and put his glass down.
"Could be," he said.
"Well if it only could be were fine. Just get us a couple mugs of what that gents having over there." Eragon said cutting in. He was bobbed his head towards the man missing two fingers.
Brom looked strangely at Eragon, wondering what he was doing, but saw him on shake his head and decided to see how it played out.
The bartender looked offended for a moment before he took the necessary coins and gave them three mugs. Giving one to Brom, Eragon took the other two and walked over to the man he pointed at earlier.
"Mind If we sit with you?"
The stranger responded in a deep and rough voice. "I don't mind." Pulling up some chairs they sat, with Eragon sliding over one of the mugs to the stranger.
"The name's Evan and this is my uncle Neal. I was wondering if you know of a man named Jeod."
"Ah that's simple. Jeod lives on the west side of town, right next to Angela, the herbalist. Do you have any business with him?"
"Of a sort."
"Well he won't be interested on buying anything; he just lost another ship just a few days ago."
This is where Brom cut in looking with interest. "What happened? It wasn't urgals, was it?"
"No," said Martin. "They've left the area. No one's seen 'em in almost a year. It seems they've all gone south and east. But they aren't the problem. See, most of our business is through sea trade, as I'm sure you know. Well," he stopped to drink from his mug," starting several months ago, someone's been attacking our ships. It's not the usual piracy, because only ships that carry the goods of certain merchants are attacked. Jeod's one of 'em. It's gotten so bad that no captain will accept those merchants' goods, which makes life difficult around here. Especially because some of 'em run the largest shipping businesses in the Empire. They're being forced to send goods by land. It's driven costs painfully high, and their caravans don't always make it."
"Do you have any idea who's responsible? There must be witnesses," said Brom.
Martin shook his head. "No one survives the attacks. Ships go out, then disappear; they're never seen again." He leaned toward them and said in a confidential tone, "The sailors are saying that it's magic." He nodded and winked, then leaned back.
Brom seemed worried by his words. "What do you think?"
Martin shrugged carelessly. "I don't know And I don't think I will unless I'm unfortunate enough to be on one of those captured ships."
"Are you a sailor?" asked Eragon.
"No," snorted Martin. "Do I look like one? The captains hire me to defend their ships against pirates. And those thieving scum haven't been very active lately. Still, it's a good job."
"
But a dangerous one," said Brom. Martin shrugged again and downed the last of his beer. Brom and Eragon took their leave and headed to the west side of the city, a nicer section of Teirm. The houses were clean, ornate, and large. The people in the streets wore expensive finery and walked with authority. Eragon felt they stood out of place in such a rich neighborhood.
"Evan, why did you do that?" Brom asked.
"Ah, because once he said something about charging you I saw Martin roll his eyes. That and I just didn't like the feeling he gave off when he said that."
"Good, you saved a few crowns for us later down the road."
-x-x-x-x-x-
The herbalist's shop had a cheery sign and was easy to find. A short, curly haired woman sat by the door. She was holding a toad in one hand and writing with the other. Eragon assumed that she was Angela, the herbalist. On either side of the store was a house.
"Which one do you think is his? he asked, not feeling like peeking into the future as he felt it really wasn't worth the effort.
Brom deliberated, then said, "Let's find out." He approached the woman and asked politely, "Could you tell us which house Jeod lives in?"
"I could." She continued writing.
"Will you tell us?"
"
Yes." She fell silent, but her pen scribbled faster than ever.
'Oh my god, she's one of those eccentric types. And not only that, she's not even human from the smell of it.' Eragon thought as he observed the woman.
"Which house is Jeod's mam? Eragon interjected. He would come back later on if he got the chance to talk to the strange herbalist. Right now though he wanted to find Jeod. "And why do you have that toad in your hand?" Brom said.
'Goddammit Brom.'
"Now we're getting somewhere," she bantered. "Jeod is on the right. And as for the frog, he's actually a toad. I'm trying to prove that toads don't exist--that there are only frogs."
"So what's in your hand is a frog, not a toad? And why are you trying to prove that only frogs exist in the first place."
Because if I prove that there are only frogs, then toads won't be able to do anything bad—like make teeth fall out, cause warts, and poison or kill people. Also, witches won't be able to use any for their evil spells because, of course there wont any toads around."
Eragon rolled his eyes. "Then wouldn't witches just switch to frogs since toads no longer exist." He said while walking away dragging Brom along with him. He knew that there was no winning with eccentric people like Angela.
They stopped before a door with a wrought-iron knocker and marble doorstep. Brom banged three times. No one answered. Eragon could see a woman in the living space near the entrance. He knew she heard the knocking but seemed to be purposely ignoring, but then he realized that she was silently crying.
Brom waited for a moment before knocking again. Again no one answered. Eragon finally saw the woman run to the door and open it. A young woman with a pale complexion and light blond hair cracked it open. Her eyes were puffy; evidence that she had indeed been crying, but her voice was perfectly steady.
"Yes, what do you want?"
"Does Jeod live here?" asked Brom kindly.
The woman dipped her head a little. "Yes, he is my husband. Is he expecting you?" She opened the door no farther.
"No, but we need to talk with him," said Brom.
"He is very busy."
"We have traveled far. It's very important that we see him."
Her face hardened. "He is busy."
Brom bristled, but his voice stayed pleasant. "Since he is unavailable; would you please give him a message?" Her mouth twitched, but she consented. "Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside."
The woman seemed suspicious, but said, "Very well" She closed the door abruptly. Eragon saw her recede to where a man was, whom he assumed was Jeod and tell him Brom's message.
As soon as the words left her mouth. Jeod jumped up from his seat and did a mad dash towards the front door.
The door flew open, and a Jeod burst out of the house. His expensive clothes were rumpled, his gray hair wispy, and he had a mournful face with short eyebrows. A long scar stretched across his scalp to his temple.
At the sight of them, his eyes grew wide, and he sagged against the doorframe, speechless. His mouth opened and closed several times like a gasping fish. He asked softly, in an incredulous voice, "Brom...?"
Brom put a finger to his lips and reached forward, clasping the man's arm. "It's good to see you, Jeod! I'm glad that memory has not failed you, but don't use that name. It would be unfortunate if anyone knew I was here."
Jeod looked around wildly, shock plain on his face. "I thought you were dead," he whispered. "What happened? Why haven't you contacted me before?"
"All things will be explained. Do you have a place where we can talk safely?"
Jeod hesitated, swinging his gaze between Eragon and Brom, face unreadable. Finally he said, "We can't talk here, but if you wait a moment, I'll take you somewhere we can."
"Fine," said Brom. Jeod nodded and vanished behind the door. Eragon looked at the situation with interest. He could us this to learn more about Brom's past.
There was a rapier at Jeod's side when he reappeared, An embroidered jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, matched by a plumed hat. Brom cast a critical eye at the finery, and Jeod shrugged self-consciously.
He took them through Teirm toward the citadel. Eragon led the horses behind the two men. Jeod gestured at their destination." Risthart, the lord of Teirm, has decreed that all the business owners must have their headquarters in his castle. Even though most of us conduct our business elsewhere, we still have to rent rooms there. It's nonsense, but we abide by it anyway to keep him calm. We'll be free of eavesdroppers in there; the walls are thick."
They went through the fortress's main gate and into the keep. Jeod strode to a side door and pointed to an iron ring. "You can tie the horses there. No one will bother them." When Snowfire and Cadoc were safely tethered, he opened the door with an iron key and let them inside.
Within was a long, empty hallway lit by torches set into the walls. Eragon was surprised by how cold and damp it was. When he touched the wall, his fingers slid over a layer of slime. He shivered. Jeod snatched a torch from its bracket and led them down the hall. They stopped before a heavy, wooden door. He unlocked it and ushered them into a room dominated by a bearskin rug laden with stuffed chairs. Bookshelves stocked with leather-bound tomes covered the walls.
Jeod piled wood in the fireplace, then thrust the torch under it. The fire quickly roared. "You, old man, have some explaining to do."
Brom's face crinkled with a smile. "Who are you calling an old man? The last time I saw you there was no gray in your hair. Now it looks like it's in the final stages of decomposition."
"And you look the same as you did nearly twenty years ago. Time seems to have preserved you a the crotchety old man just to inflict wisdom upon each new generation. Enough of this! Get on with the story. That's always what you were good at," said Jeod impatiently.
Brom relaxed into a chair and pulled out his pipe. He slowly blew a smoke ring that turned green, darted into the fireplace, then flew up the chimney. "Do you remember what we were doing in Gil'ead?"
"Yes, of course," said Jeod. "That sort of thing is hard to forget."
"An understatement, but true nevertheless," said Brom dryly." When we were ... separated, I couldn't find you. In the midst of the turmoil, I stumbled into a small room. There wasn't anything extraordinary in it- just crates and boxes--but out of curiosity, I rummaged around anyway. Fortune smiled on me that hour, for I found what we had been searching for." An expression of shock ran over Jeod's face. "Once it was in my hands, I couldn't wait for you. At any second I might have been discovered, and all lost. Disguising myself as best I could, I fled the city and ran to the…"
Brom hesitated and glanced at Eragon, then said, "ran to our friends. They stored it in a vault for safekeeping, and made me promise to care for whomever received it. Until the day when my skills would be needed, I had to disappear. No one could know that I was alive- not even you--though it grieved me to pain you unnecessarily. So I went north and hid in Carvahall."
Eragon raised his eyebrow, seeing that Brom was deliberately keeping him in the dark.
Jeod frowned and asked, "Then our ... friends knew that you were alive all along?"
"Yes."
He sighed. "I suppose the ruse was unavoidable, though I wish they had told me. Isn't Carvahall farther north, on the other side of the Spine?" Brom inclined his head. For the first time, Jeod inspected Eragon. His gray eyes took in every detail. He raised his eyebrows and said, "I assume, then, that you are fulfilling your duty."
Brom shook his head. "No, it's not that simple. It was stolen a while ago—at least that's what I presume, for I haven't received word from our friends, and I suspect their messages were waylaid—so decided to find out what could. Eragon happened to be traveling in the same direction. We have stayed together for a time now."
Jeod looked puzzled. "But if they haven't sent any message, how could you know that it was—"
Brom overrode him quickly, saying, "Eragon's uncle was brutally killed by the Ra'zac. They burned his home and nearly caught him in the process. He deserves revenge, but they have left us without a trail to follow, and we need help finding them."
Jeod's face cleared. "I see... But why have you come here?| don't know where the Ra'zac might be hiding, and anyone who does won't tell you."
Standing, Brom reached into his robe and pulled out the Ra'zac's flask. He tossed it to Jeod. "There's Seithr oil in there—the dangerous kind. The Ra'zac were carrying it. They lost it by the trail, and we happened to find it. We need to see Term's shipping records so we can trace the Empire's purchases of the oil. That should tell us where the Ra'zac's lair is."
Lines appeared on Jeod's face as he thought. He pointed at the books on the shelves. "Do you see those? They are all records from my business. One business. You have gotten yourself into a project that could take months. There is another, greater problem. The records you seek are held in this castle, but only Brand, Risthart's administrator of trade, sees them on a regular basis. Traders such as myself aren't allowed to handle them. They fear that we will falsify
the results, thus cheating the Empire of its precious taxes."
"I can deal with that when the time comes," said Brom. "But we need a few days of rest before we can think about proceeding."
Jeod smiled. "It seems that it is my turn to help you. My house is yours, of course. Do you have another name while you are here?"
"Yes," said Brom, "I'm Neal, and the boy is Evan."
"Eragon," said Jeod thoughtfully, "You have a unique name. Few have ever been named after the first Rider. In my life I've read about only three people who were called such." Eragon was surprised that Jeod knew the origin of his name, as many privy to such information, as the king had destroyed most written documents of the riders. Leaving only word of mouth as the only reliable way to pass on such stories.
Brom looked at Eragon, "Could you go check on the horses and make sure they're all right? I don't think I tied Snowfire to the ring rightly enough."
Eragon rolled his eyes. Brom was obviously spouting bullshit and trying to hide something from Eragon. He calmly got up though and left the room.
Going outside he could see Snowfire had not moved; the knot that held him was fine. Scratching the horses' necks, Eragon leaned leisurely against the castle wall.
'It's not like it changes much,' he mused to himself. He could still see them with his haki. While he couldn't hear what they were saying he was an excellent lip reader.
"After we couldn't find you I didn't really didn't stay with them. I came back here and went into the shipping business. I've been doing this for almost eight years now."
"I never expected you to become a merchant," said Brom. "After all the time you spent in books. And finding the passageway in that manner! What made you take up trading instead of remaining a scholar?"
"After Gil'ead, I didn't have much taste for sitting in musty rooms and reading scrolls. I decided to help Ajihad as best I could, but I'm no warrior. My father was a merchant as well—you may remember that. He hoped me get started. However, the bulk of my businesses no more than a from t to get goods into Surda."
"But I take things have been going bad lately." Brom said.
"Yes, none of the shipments have gotten through lately, and Tronjheim is running low on supplies. Somehow the Empire—at least I think its them—has discovered this of us who have been helping support the Tronjheim. But I'm still not concerned that its the Empire. No one sees any soldiers. I don't understand it. Perhaps Galbatorix hired mercenaries to harass us."
"I heard you lost a ship recently."
"The last one I owned," Jeod said, shaking his head bitterly. "Every man on it was loyal and brave. I doubt I'll ever see them again…. The only option I have left is to send caravans to Surda or Gil'ead— which I know won't get there no matter how many guards I hire or charter someone else's ship to carry the goods. But no one will take them now."
"How many merchants do you have helping you?"
"Oh, a good number up and down the seaboard. All of them have been plagued by the same troubles. I know what you are thinking. I've pondered it many a night myself, but I cannot bear the thought of a traitor with that much knowledge and power. If there is one, we're all in jeopardy. You should return to Tronjheim."
"'And take Eragon there?" interrupted Brom. "Maybe soon, as Eragon is absorbing everything as fast as I can teach him. He's also maturing very fast. But I still have some hesitations. Yet can you imagine how the dwarves will react? Everyone will be trying to influence him, especially Islanzadí. He and Saphira won't be safe in Tronjheim until I at least get them through tuatha du orothrim. But with how the situation is progressing, It might be for the best. Especially if we're successful in killing the Ra'zac."
"Still, I have a feeling that they are in need of your power and wisdom."
"Wisdom," snorted Brom. "I'm just what you said earlier—a crotchety old man."
"Many would disagree."
"Let them. I've no need to explain myself. No, Ajihad will have to get along without me. What I'm doing now is much more important. Until is goal is done we won't be heading toward the Varden yet. That and the prospect of a traitor raises troubling questions. I wonder if that's how the Empire knew where to be…." His voice trading off, letting his words sink in.
"And I wonder why I haven't been contacted about this," said Jeod.
Maybe they tried. But if there's a traitor…." Brom paused. "I have to send word to Ajihad. Do you have a messenger you can trust?"
"I think so, it depends on where he would have to go." said Jeod. "
"I don't know," said Brom. "I've been isolated so long, my contacts have probably died or forgotten me. Could you send him to whoever receives your shipments?"
"Yes, but it'll be risky."
"What isn't these days? How soon can he leave?"
"He can go in the morning. I'll send him to Gil'ead. It will be faster," said Jeod. "What can he take to convince Ajihad the message comes from you?"
"Here, give your man my ring. And tell him that if he loses it, I'll personally tear his liver out. It was given to me by the queen."
"Aren't you cheery," commented Jeod. Brom grunted. After a long silence he said, "We'd better go out and join Eragon. I get worried when he's alone. That boy has an unnatural propensity for being wherever there's trouble."
"Are you surprised?"
"Not really."
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