“That depends. Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. North, maybe … somewhere away from other people.”
“You could stay.”
Murtagh uttered a bark of mirthless laughter. “You know better than that. It would only cause Nasuada problems. Besides, the dwarves would never stand for it. Not after I killed Hrothgar.” He glanced over his shoulder at Eragon. “Galbatorix used to call me Kingkiller. You’re Kingkiller as well now.”
“It seems to run in the family.”
“You’d better keep an eye on Roran, then.… And Arya is a dragonkiller. That can’t be easy for her—an elf killing a dragon. You should talk to her and make sure she’s all right.”
Murtagh’s insight surprised Eragon. “I will.”
“There,” said Murtagh, giving the strap a final tug. Then he turned to face Eragon, and Eragon saw that he had been holding Zar’roc close against his body, drawn and ready to use. “So, again: have you come to stop us?”
“No.”
Murtagh gave a thin smile and sheathed Zar’roc. “Good. I would hate to have to fight you again.”
“How were you able to break free of Galbatorix? It was your true name, wasn’t it?”
Murtagh nodded. “As I said, I’m not … we’re not”—he touched Thorn’s side—“what we once were. It just took a while to realize it.”
“And Nasuada.”
Murtagh frowned. Then he turned away and stared out over the sea of nettles. As Eragon joined him, Murtagh said in a low voice, “Do you remember the last time we were at this river?”
“It would be hard to forget. I can still hear the screams of the horses.”
“You, Saphira, Arya, and me, all together and sure that nothing could stop us.…”
In the back of his mind, Eragon could feel Saphira and Thorn talking to each other. Saphira, he knew, would tell him later what had passed between them.
“What will you do?” he asked Murtagh.
“Sit and think. Maybe I’ll build a castle. I have the time.”
“You don’t have to leave. I know it would be … difficult, but you have family here: me and also Roran. He’s your cousin as well as mine, and you’ve never even met him.… You belong as much to Carvahall and Palancar Valley as you do to Urû’baen, maybe more.”
Murtagh shook his head and continued to stare over the nettles. “It wouldn’t work. Thorn and I need time alone; we need time to heal. If we stay, we’d be too busy to figure things out for ourselves.”
“Good company and staying busy are often the best cure for a sickness of the soul.”
“Not for what Galbatorix did to us.… Besides, it would be painful to be around Nasuada right now, for both her and me. No, we have to leave.”
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“Until the world no longer seems quite so hateful and we no longer feel like tearing down mountains and filling the sea with blood.”
To that, Eragon had no response. They stood looking at the river, where it lay behind a line of low willow trees. The rustling of the nettles grew louder, stirred by the westward wind.
Then Eragon said, “When you no longer wish to be alone, come find us. You’ll always be welcome at our hearth, wherever that may be.”
“We will. I promise.” To Eragon’s surprise, he saw a gleam appear in Murtagh’s eyes. It vanished a second later. “You know,” Murtagh said, “I never thought you could do it … but I’m glad you did.”
“I was lucky. And it wouldn’t have been possible without your help.”
“Even so.… You found the Eldunarí in the saddlebags?”