Inheritance

“Does Galbatorix know where you are?” she finally asked.

“He might, but I doubt it. He’s busy playing with his favorite concubines. That, or he’s asleep. It’s the middle of the night right now.

The wind is not your friend, Saphira. It can help you, but it can also destroy you.

If he had to die, he decided that he would want an apple tree planted over him, so that his friends and family could eat the fruit born of his body.

The concept had amused him tremendously, albeit in a rather morbid manner.

“This is good for him,” said Arya. “You are good for him. Without something to give him purpose, his grief would have killed him. That he has survived at all is … impressive. I admire him for it. Few beings

—human, elf, or dragon—could continue to function rationally after such a loss.”

“Brom did.”

“He was equally remarkable.”

ragon rolled his shoulders as he walked through the Varden’s camp, trying to work out the kink in his neck that he had acquired while sparring with Arya and Blödhgarm earlier that afternoon.

ragon rolled his shoulders as he walked through the Varden’s camp, trying to work out the kink in his neck that he had acquired while sparring with Arya and Blödhgarm earlier that afternoon.

“As painful as it is, you cannot allow your grief to dictate your decisions.… It isn’t easy, I know—well I know it!—but you must be stronger than yourself, for the good of your people.”

A strange title, that: He Who Walks Alone, Eragon observed to Saphira.

“His Most Exalted Royal Highness, Grimrr Halfpaw, King of the Werecats, Lord of the Lonely Places, Ruler of the Night Reaches, and He Who Walks Alone.”

“His Most Exalted Royal Highness, Grimrr Halfpaw, King of the Werecats, Lord of the Lonely Places, Ruler of the Night Reaches, and He Who Walks Alone.”