INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

THE MHAMPIR'S CHRISTENING

MHAMPIR PIKE'S narrowed as they regarded Eragon, who knelt before him. Across Mampir's thin legs, a sword rested, unsheathed, pale blade absorbing what little light there was in the throne room.

Mhampir himself looked young, with long ebony hair and dark green eyes that reminded Eragon of the congealed swamps that he and Brom had passed in their first days journeying together.

To Eragon's left and right, powerful looking statutes appraised him, chins held high as the men stood vigil, frozen in stone. A fire crackled- but was not privy to Eragon's eyes. Beside him, Brom and Arya also knelt, but before them all was Saphira.

She was still caged, but she shined brilliantly in the dusky room. She unfurled her wings, pushing them against the iron bars of her prison. Mhampir's eyes widened every time she moved, but other than that, he was was silent.

Newlyn Pike stood by Brom, his hands curled around Brom's dirty collar. Two men with skull-faces flanked Mhampir, holding twisted-looking greatswords. A wizard circled Saphira's cage like a predatory animal, his staff clicking against the stone flooring.

His face was painted so heavily that not an inch of his skin was shown. White, black, and red tattoos swirled and jabbed and bisected the man's countenance, while gray hair fell from his head and down to his waist.

"Interesting . . . very interesting." Mhampir said at last, leaning forward. He lifted his sword from his lap, allowing it to beam as it hung in the air, and then twisted it over, resting on the hilt while the point jabbed ineffectively at the stone ground.

"What should be done with them, My Lord?" Newlyn asked. The wizard left Saphira's cage, and found himself behind the throne of Mhampir. He whispered into the young Lord's ear, and Mhampir nodded, smiling.

"You said you found them in Gil'ead?" He asked, speaking louder. Newlyn nodded.

"Yes. We had thought them Galbatorix's .. . but the boy said his home had been destroyed by the Empire, and that he was a Rider. This one though . . ." Newlyn lifted Brom and threw him to the ground.

Brom landed heavily, and as he picked himself up, Newlyn pressed his boot against Brom's back. Eragon had to suppress the urge to twist around and punch the man, his eyes downcast as he ignored the sound of Brom's fingers scratching at the stone cobbled floor.

"He killed two of mine." Newlyn said. Mhampir looked past Eragon and at Brom, then refocused his eyes on the younger lad.

"You said this one was a Rider as well." Mhampir said easily. Eragon nodded.

Mhampir looked up with an annoyed expression.

"Newlyn, enough. If what this boy says is true, then that man and this whelp are more valuable than you, or any of your household." Mhampir looked at Eragon with those swampy green eyes, and bowed his head.

"Continue."

"He's a Rider. He fought in the war, and . . . . He was teaching me. Teaching me how to fight and use magic."

"Is that so?" Mhampir said.

"Show me what you can do." The Lord smiled, settling in his chair.

Eragon looked around himself anxiously, patting himself down. Finally, he ended up removing his moldy boot, producing a small pebble as Mhampir looked on, holding his nose polity.

Eragon braced himself, the pebble on the flat of his palm. He closed his eyes, focused his energy, and emptied his mind.

"Stenr Risa"

The pebble floated above Eragon's hand, rising higher and higher. Eragon then directed the pebble around the room, Mhampir following it critically with his cold gaze.