Dawnbreaker [Inheritance Cycle]

12. Questions

Upon reaching the outskirts of Carvahall, Roran and Serafyna parted ways. Roran inquired about her business and she simply told him the truth; that she was going to visit Brom and ask him a couple of questions.

He shrugged, thinking nothing of it. To him, it made sense, as she often visited the old man and badgered him with ceaseless questions. He headed down to Horst's while Serafyna made her way over to the storyteller's house, mulling over what had happened with the dragon.

It said my name, directly in my head. Of all the stories she'd heard from Brom, none of them mentioned that dragons could communicate—talk—through thoughts.

She halted before the door, about to knock before pausing as a shadow fell over her. Whirling around, she found herself face-to-face with Brom. She blinked.

"What do you want, girl?" He grunted, leaning on a twisted staff embellished with strange carvings.

"I had some questions I wanted to ask you," Serafyna responded.

Brom grunted again, waving Serafyna out of his way as he reached for the door. As he did so, Serafyna noticed a gold ring on his right hand. Embedded in it was a sapphire with a strange symbol carved on its surface.

"Is that so?" He muttered as he fished out a key from a pocket and unlocked the door. He walked inside and beckoned her. "Might as well come inside; your questions never seem to end."

It was dark inside, the light from the open door insufficient in providing enough illumination to see by.

"Now, for a light." Brom walked in farther. A moment passed, then something crashed to the floor, followed by him cursing. A white spark flashed in the darkness and then a flame flickered into existence.

"There, that does it." Brom stood before a stone fireplace with a lit candle in his hand. He bent down and lit the fireplace, bathing the entire interior in orange light.

Serafyna looked around the place.

Stacks of books surrounded a high-backed, deeply carved wooden chair that faced the mantel; the four legs were shaped like eagle claws, and the seat and back were padded with leather embossed with a swirling rose pattern. A cluster of lesser chairs held piles of scrolls. Ink pots and pens were scattered across a writing desk.

"Make room for yourself, but by the lost kings, be careful. This stuff is valuable."

The entire place was a chaotic mess but it looked well lived in, even cozy. The books in particular intrigued her, despite the fact she probably wasn't literate enough to be able to read them.

Serafyna stepped over pages of parchment that haphazardly littered the floor, covered with angular runes. She carefully lifted a pile of old, musty scrolls off a chair and placed them on the floor to the side. A cloud of dust flew into the air as she sat down. She sneezed, several times.

"Good! Nothing like sitting by a fire for conversation." He threw back his hood to reveal hair that was not white, but silver, then hung a kettle over the flames and settled into the high-backed chair.

Illuminated by the fireplace, she could see Brom wore a brown hooded robe, like a friar. A pouch hung from the worn leather belt clasped around his waist. Above his white beard, a proud eagle nose hooked over his mouth and dominated his face. He peered at Serafyna with deep-set eyes shadowed by a gnarled brow.

"Now, what do you want?" He addressed Serafyna roughly, but not unkindly. "I'm surprised to see you here without your brother. Usually, it's both of you hounding me."

"Well, Eragon is busy with his chores at home. Roran had business in the village and I tagged along," said Serafyna. Mentally, she went over her plan and method to ask her specific questions, without hopefully drawing too much suspicion from the storyteller.