Chapter XII: Jeod
The houses of Teirm were grim and foreboding. Sparse rays of light were let into the houses through small, deep windows. Narrow doors were entrances into buildings, the tops of the roofs were flat – except for the metal railings – and all were covered in slate shingles. The closer you got to the centre of the city, the higher the buildings got. Those next to the citadel were the tallest, but paled in comparison when compared to the fortress.
"This place looks ready for war," Eragon murmured softly.
Brom nodded. "Teirm has a history of being attacked by pirates, Urgals, and other enemies. It has long been a centre of commerce. There will always be conflict where riches gather in such abundance. The people here have been forced to take extraordinary measures to keep themselves from being overrun. It also helps that Galbatorix gives them soldiers to defend their city."
"Why are some houses higher than others?" I asked.
"Look at the citadel," said Brom, pointing. "It has an unobstructed view of Teirm. If the outer wall were breached, archers would be posted on all the roofs. Because the houses in the front, by the outer wall, are lower, the men farther back can shoot over them without fear of hitting their comrades. Also, if the enemy were to capture those houses and put their own archers there, it would be an easy matter to shoot them down."
"I've never seen a city planned like this," Eragon said in wonder.
"That isn't surprising, this was only done after Teirm was nearly burned down by a pirate raid," Brom said in reply. As we continued up the street, people gave us searching looks but didn't seem overly curious, as they shortly returned their gazes to whatever they were doing.
Istal nickered and dropped his head towards the ground, the clacking of the horses' hooves on the cobblestones rang our around us. I squeezed Istal into a quicker walk. The silence was unnatural in a city of this size. As I looked around, I realised that there were no children playing in the streets, weeds grew from cracks in stone-covered yards with deserted houses. People wore hard expressions and many had weapons visible on them.
"It looks like they've had trouble," Eragon commented, noting what I had.
"The same as everywhere else," Brom replied grimly, "We have to find Jeod." We reached a tavern and dismounted. I tied Istal to a hitching post and with a mental word told him to wait. "The Green Chestnut... wonderful," Brom muttered, looking up at the battered sign that hung above the door.
The tavern was empty, and the atmosphere felt tense and unsafe to say the least. The remainders of a fire smouldered in the fireplace, creating smoke but no flames. A few lonely people sat near the fire but none bothered to throw any more wood on it. Other people were spread around the room in various corners, drinking with sullen expressions.
Brom leaned against the bar and asked in a soft tone, "Do you know where we can find a man called Jeod?" Eragon stood beside Brom, fiddling with the tip of his bow by his waist, which was currently slung across his back.
I looked at the bartender who had a cynical twist to his lips and was polishing a broken glass in his hand. I touched the sheath of my sword lightly, for no other reason but to remind me that I had a weapon to protect myself with. I had taken to keeping my quiver connected to Istal's saddle with my bow hanging beside it. There hadn't been a need to keep it on me, while I had figured it might one day prove useful to get used to having my sword ready at all times – even when riding.
"Now, why would I know something like that? Do you think I keep track of all mangy louts in this forsaken place?" The bartender replied in an overly loud voice drawing the attention to us.
Brom didn't even roll his eyes but kept talking smoothly. "Could you be enticed to remember?" A few coins slid onto the bar.
The man set his glass and polishing rag down, "Could be," he replied lowering his voice. The man brightened, "but my memory takes a great deal of prodding." Brom's face immediately soured, but he slid more coins onto the bar anyway. The bartender sucked on one side of his cheek, seemingly undecided. "All right," he finally said and reached for the coins.
"Gareth, what in th' places do ya think yer doing?" A man from across the room called out loudly, I looked out to see a man missing two fingers at a far table speaking. "Anyone on the street could tell 'em where Jeod lives. What are ya chargin' 'em for?"
Brom swept the coins away just before the bartender touched them. Gareth shot a venomous glare at the man with three fingers on one hand. He turned his back and picked up the glass again. Brom headed towards the stranger and said, "Thanks. The name's Neal. This is Evan and the other one's Curt."
The man raised his mug to us in greeting. "Martin, and o' course you've already met Gareth." His voice was deep and rough, Martin gestured at some empty chairs. "Go 'head and sit down. I don't mind." Eragon immediately took a chair and arranged it so he was with his back to the wall and faced the door. I rolled my eyes at his suspicious behaviour and took a seat without another thought. Martin raised an eyebrow at Eragon but made no comment.
"You just saved me a few crowns," said Brom.
"My pleasure. Can't blame Gareth for trying though – business ain't been doing so well lately." Martin said with a scratch on his chin. "Jeod lives on the west side o' town, right next to Angela, the herbalist. Do ya have business with 'im?"
"Of a kind," Brom replied.
"Well, he won't be interested in buyin' anything; 'e just lost another ship a few days ago."
Brom's eyebrows furrowed as he latched onto the news. "What happened? It wasn't Urgals, was it?"
"No," Martin said, quick to reply. "They've left the area. No one's seen 'em in almost a year. It seems like they've all gone south and east. But they ain't the problem. See, most of our business is through sea trade, which I'm sure you know." Martin took a quick sip from his mug, "Well, startin' several months ago, someone's been attackin' our ships. It's not the usual piracy because only ships that carry the goods o' certain merchants are attacked. Yer friend Jeod, is one o' 'em. It's gotten so bad that no captain will accept those merchants' goods, which makes life difficult around 'ere. Especially because some o' 'em run the largest shipping companies in the Empire. They're bein' forced to send goods by land and that's driven costs painfully high. Their caravans don't always make it either."
"Do you have any idea who's responsible? There must be witnesses."
Martin shook his head in reply to Brom's question. "No one survives the attacks. Ships go out, disappear, and are never seen again." Martin leaned forward and said in a confidential tone. "The sailors are sayin' its magic." He nodded and winked before leaning back.
Brom seemed worried by Martin's words. "What do you think?"
Martin shrugged carelessly. "I don't know. And I don't think I will unless I'm unfortunate enough to be on one o' those captured ships."
"Are you a sailor?" Eragon quizzed.
"No," snorted Martin, "Do I look like one? The captains hire me to defend their ships against pirates. And those thievin' scum haven't been very active lately. Still, it's a good job."
"But a dangerous one," said Brom. Martin shrugged and downed the last of his beer. At this, we took our leave and headed towards the west side of the city. The closer we got, the cleaner the city got. The houses were clean, ornate, and large. The people who lined the streets wore expensive finery and walked with authority. I felt out of place leading Istal who was looking dirty and sweaty.
The herbalist's shop had a cheery sign and was easy to find. A short, curly-haired woman sat by the door. She was holding a frog in one hand and writing with the other. I assumed that the woman was the herbalist. On either side of the store was a house, "Which one do you think is his?" Eragon questioned.
Brom paused and looked at both houses. I walked towards the herbalist's shop. "Let's find out," I called over my shoulder.
Brom quickly caught up to me and asked politely, "Could you tell us which house Jeod lives in?"
"I could." She said and continued writing.
"Will you tell us?" Brom asked after a few moments of silence.
"Yes." She fell silent once more, but her pen scribbled faster than ever. The frog on her hand croaked and looked at me with baleful eyes. Eragon looked like he was about to speak when I suddenly realised something.
"Which house is Jeod's?" I asked.
"Well, at least one of you finally figured it out! I was about to tell you. Your first question was whether or not I could tell you, and the second was if I would tell you but until just then you never actually put the question to me." The woman, Angela, said as she looked up.
"Let me ask properly once more then," Brom said with a smile. "Which house is Jeod's? And why are you holding a frog?"
"That's how you start to get somewhere," she bantered. "Jeod is on the right. And as for the frog, he's actually a toad. I'm trying to prove that toads don't exist – that there are only frogs."
"How can toads not exist if you have one on your hand right now?" Eragon interrupted. "Besides, what good will it do, proving that there are only frogs?"
The woman shook her head, dark curls bouncing. "No, no, you don't understand. If I prove toads don't exist, then this is a frog and never was a toad. Therefore, the toad you see now doesn't exist. And," she raised a finger, "if I can prove there are only frogs, and then toads won't be able to do anything bad – like make teeth fall out, cause warts, and poison or kill people. Also, witches won't be able to use any of their evil spells because, of course, there won't be any toads around."
"I see," Brom said delicately. "It sounds intriguing and I would love to hear more, but we must meet Jeod."
"Of course," Angela said, waving her hand and returning to her writing.
"Good luck," I said before turning and leaving, finding the herbalist funny.
"She's crazy!" Eragon said as soon as we were out of the herbalist's hearing.
"It's possible," Brom said in reply, "but you never know. She might discover something useful, so don't criticise. Who knows, toads might really be frogs!"
"I think she'd have a lot of interesting stories and is probably quite an interesting person," I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
"And my shoes are made of gold," Eragon retorted in reply to Brom. "Umaroth, you've got to be kidding! Either way, we'll probably never see her again, thankfully."
We came to a stop before a door with a wrought-iron knocked and marble doorstep. Brom banged three times, no one answered. Eragon shifted uncomfortably next to me and I chewed on my cheek, starting to feel slightly foolish. "Maybe this is the wrong house. Let's try the other one," Eragon said. Brom ignored him and knocked again, pounding louder this time.
Eragon turned around when no answered. I stood straighter as I heard someone run to the door. A young woman opened the door, her eyes were puffy, and it looked like she'd been crying. "Yes, what do you want?" She asked her voice perfectly steady.
"Does Jeod live here?" Brom asked in a kind tone.
The woman, who had a pale complexion and light blond hair, dipped her head a little. "Yes, he is my husband. Is he expecting you?"
"No, but we need to talk with him," Brom said.
"He is very busy." The woman said, without opening the door any more.
Brom bristled, but his voice stayed pleasant. "Since he is unavailable, would you please give him a message?" Her mouth twitched, but she consented. "Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside."
The woman seemed suspicious but didn't say anything, instead, she closed the door, and I heard her footsteps recede. "That wasn't very polite," Eragon commented.
"Keep your opinions to yourself," snapped Brom. "And don't say anything. Let me do the talking, same goes for you Umaroth." He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers. Eragon looked away, while I simply rolled my eyes but wasn't surprised.
The door suddenly flew open with a large band. A tall man burst out of the house, his expensive clothes were rumpled, his grey hair wispy, and he had a mournful face with short eyebrows. A long scar stretched across his scalp to his temple. At the sight of us, his eyes grew wide, and he sagged against the doorframe, speechless. His mouth opened and closed several times giving him the comical look of a gasping fish. He asked softly, in an incredulous voice, "Brom...?"
Brom put a finger on his lips and reached forward, clasping the man's arm. "It's good to see you, Jeod! I'm glad that memory has not failed you, but don't use that name. It would be unfortunate if anyone knew I was here."
Jeod looked around wildly, shock plain on his face. "I thought you were dead," he whispered. "What happened? Why haven't you contacted me before?"
"All things will be explained. Do you have a place we can talk safely?" Brom questioned.
Jeod hesitated, swinging his gaze between the Eragon, Brom and me, his face unreadable. Finally, he said, "We can't talk here, but if you wait a moment, I'll take you somewhere we can."
"Fine," said Brom. Jeod nodded and vanished behind the door. Eragon and I exchanged a look, I'm sure we were both hoping to learn something about our mysterious travel companion.
When Jeod reappeared, he had a rapier at his side. An embroidered jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, matched with a plumed hat. Brom cast a critical eye at the finery, and Jeod shrugged self-consciously.
Angela along with Solembum in the picture