Eragon smiled uneasily and shook his hand. The man was friendly. Under other circumstances Eragon would have liked him, but right then, he sourly wished that the miller had never come to Carvahall. Dempton huffed. “Good, very good.” He returned his attention to Roran and started to explain how a mill worked.
“They’re ready to go,” interrupted Horst, gesturing at the table where several bundles rested. “You can take them whenever you want to.” They shook hands, then Horst left the smithy, beckoning to Eragon on the way out.
Interested, Eragon followed. He found the smith standing in the street with his arms crossed. Eragon thrust his thumb back toward the miller and asked, “What do you think of him?”
Horst rumbled, “A good man. He’ll do fine with Roran.” He absently brushed metal filings off his apron, then put a massive hand on Eragon’s shoulder. “Lad, do you remember the fight you had with Sloan?”
“If you’re asking about payment for the meat, I haven’t forgotten.”
“No, I trust you, lad. What I wanted to know is if you still have that blue stone.”
Eragon’s heart fluttered.Why does he want to know? Maybe someone saw Saphira! Struggling not to panic, he said, “I do, but why do you ask?”
“As soon as you return home, get rid of it.” Horst overrode Eragon’s exclamation. “Two men arrived here yesterday. Strange fellows dressed in black and carrying swords. It made my skin crawl just to look at them. Last evening they started asking people if a stone like yours had been found. They’re at it again today.” Eragon blanched. “No one with any sense said anything. They know trouble when they see it, but I could name a few people who will talk.”
Dread filled Eragon’s heart. Whoever had sent the stone into the Spine had finally tracked it down. Or perhaps the Empire had learned of Saphira. He did not know which would be worse.Think! Think! The egg is gone. It’s impossible for them to find it now. But if they know what it was, it’ll be obvious what happened. . Saphira might be in danger! It took all of his self-control to retain a casual air. “Thanks for telling me. Do you know where they are?” He was proud that his voice barely trembled.
“I didn’t warn you because I thought you needed to meet those men! Leave Carvahall. Go home.”
“All right,” said Eragon to placate the smith, “if you think I should.”
“I do.” Horst’s face softened. “I may be overreacting, but these strangers give me a bad feeling. It would be better if you stay home until they leave. I’ll try to keep them away from your farm, though it may not do any good.”
Eragon looked at him gratefully. He wished he could tell him about Saphira. “I’ll leave now,” he said, and hurried back to Roran. Eragon clasped his cousin’s arm and bade him farewell.
“Aren’t you going to stay awhile?” Roran asked with surprise.
Eragon almost laughed. For some reason, the question struck him as fu
“Well,” said Roran doubtfully, “I guess this is the last time we’ll see each other for a few months.”
“I’m sure it won’t seem that long,” said Eragon hastily. “Take care and come back soon.” He hugged Roran, then left. Horst was still in the street. Aware that the smith was watching, Eragon headed to the outskirts of Carvahall. Once the smithy was out of sight, he ducked behind a house and sneaked back through the village.
Eragon kept to the shadows as he searched each street, listening for the slightest noise. His thoughts flashed to his room, where his bow hung; he wished that it was in his hand. He prowled across Carvahall, avoiding everyone until he heard a sibilant voice from around a house. Although his ears were keen, he had to strain to hear what was being said.