“Two weeks.”
“Good. That will give us time to prepare. It’ll be different to have the house to ourselves. But if nothing goes amiss, it shouldn’t be for too long.” He looked over the table and asked, “Eragon, did you know of this?”
He shrugged ruefully. “Not until today. . It’s madness.”
Garrow ran a hand over his face. “It’s life’s natural course.” He pushed himself up from the chair. “All will be fine; time will settle everything. For now, though, let’s clean the dishes.” Eragon and Roran helped him in silence.
The next few days were trying. Eragon’s temper was frayed. Except for curtly answering direct questions, he spoke with no one. There were small reminders everywhere that Roran was leaving: Garrow making him a pack, things missing from the walls, and a strange emptiness that filled the house. It was almost a week before he realized that distance had grown between Roran and him. When they spoke, the words did not come easily and their conversations were uncomfortable.
Saphira was a balm for Eragon’s frustration. He could talk freely with her; his emotions were completely open to her mind, and she understood him better than anyone else. During the weeks before Roran’s departure, she went through another growth spurt. She gained twelve inches at the shoulder, which was now higher than Eragon’s. He found that the small hollow where her neck joined her shoulders was a perfect place to sit. He often rested there in the evenings and scratched her neck while he explained the meanings of different words. Soon she understood everything he said and frequently commented on it.
For Eragon, this part of his life was delightful. Saphira was as real and complex as any person. Her personality was eclectic and at times completely alien, yet they understood each other on a profound level. Her actions and thoughts constantly revealed new aspects of her character. Once she caught an eagle and, instead of eating it, released it, saying,No hunter of the sky should end his days as prey. Better to die on the wing than pi Eragon’s plan to let his family see Saphira was dispelled by Roran’s a The night before Roran was to leave, Eragon went to talk with him. He stalked down the hallway to Roran’s open door. An oil lamp rested on a nightstand, painting the walls with warm flickering light. The bedposts cast elongated shadows on empty shelves that rose to the ceiling. Roran — his eyes shaded and the back of his neck tense — was rolling blankets around his clothes and belongings. He paused, then picked up something from the pillow and bounced it in his hand. It was a polished rock Eragon had given him years ago. Roran started to tuck it into the bundle, then stopped and set it on a shelf. A hard lump formed in Eragon’s throat, and he left. S TRANGERS INCARVAHALL Breakfast was cold, but the tea was hot. Ice inside the windows had melted with the morning fire and soaked into the wood floor, staining it with dark puddles. Eragon looked at Garrow and Roran by the kitchen stove and reflected that this would be the last time he saw them together for many months. Roran sat in a chair, lacing his boots. His full pack rested on the floor next to him. Garrow stood between them with his hands stuck deep into his pockets. His shirt hung loosely; his skin looked drawn. Despite the young men’s cajoling, he refused to go with them. When pressed for a reason, he only said that it was for the best. “Do you have everything?” Garrow asked Roran. “Yes.” He nodded and took a small pouch from his pocket. Coins clinked as he handed it to Roran. “I’ve been saving this for you. It isn’t much, but if you wish to buy some bauble or trinket, it will suffice.” “Thank you, but I won’t be spending my money on trifles,” said Roran.