INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

HER NAME IS NASUADA

Nasuada laughed as if  she was reading his mind.

"Because it goes on without end." She said with chilling finality.

"In a prison, you know your confines. Four walls and a window, if you're lucky. You know every part, every corner, every crack in the stone- But the desert . . . it goes on forever, here. Tell me, if we did not have our guides, would you not quickly become lost? How long until our food and water runs out? The desert is the worst prison because you are free.

Free to hope that over the next dune, there is a remote village rich with water. Free to think that the raiders riding up on you are actually merchants, willing to bring you home."

Nasuada's dark skin seemed to glow in the light of the stars. Her mouth contorted in a silent but contemptuous laugh.

"Baseless freedom is the prison of thought. What is a horror worse than that?"

Murtagh had no answer for her. He looked at her, wanting her yet knowing he couldn't, wanting to run, but being unable to. Nasuada cocked her head.

"Have I offended you?" She asked, her slight accent rich with music.

"No. I didn't think that there was someone who hated the so called freedom of life as much I as did."

Nasuada turned away from Murtagh, speaking to the dunes that joined them on this quiet night.

"When you are raised among the wandering tribes, you grow up hating your home."

"I hated my home." Murtagh said involuntarily, and he winced when Nasuada asked him about where he was raised. He had always evaded the question, unwilling to lie to her, or worse, be caught within one. But now, it seemed as if he had been backed into a corner.

But Murtagh was smart, and knew the best lies had ample truths hidden within them.

"I was born in the capital. Uru'baen. But not in wealth. My family was part of a quickly marginalizing middle-class, abused by the tax system."

"From Galbatorix." Nasuada said too quickly.

"No. From the corruption born from the greed of the regional Governors; they are the ones who oppress the people. Galbatorix was always kind."

"So you've met him?" She asked.

Murtagh had to summon the meager magical training he had learned from Galbatorix to keep himself from reddening.

Time for another lie.

"Somewhat . . . sometimes, he would ride through the city, talk to the young children. He would give us each a gold coin, and we would go running to buy food or toys or  pairs of shoes."

Murtagh smiled then. That was the truth. Galbatorix had often taken Murtagh along with him when the King went to be with the people. Murtagh cherished those moments- seeing how Galbatorix made even the children happy reinforced the love he felt for the man.

"A good King treats his people's children." Murtagh spoke with a smile, parroting an axiom that Galbatorix had often used.

"I often wonder what the truth is. We are fighting to take back the throne from a usurper.. we support the rightful King. Yet here I am, listening to stories of the horrid King Galbatorix giving his wealth away to children." Nasuada spoke while gazing at Murtagh from the corner of her upturned eyes.

He almost told her then- almost felt that she understood. Galbatorix wasn't evil- he was thrust into a war he never wanted to fight. He was forced by honor..

Murtagh knew better than to say anything more. He deftly began to change the subject.

"of course, my father took the gold . . . but one day, it wasn't enough. Circus men came to our part of the city, telling parents that they could take children and teach them great feats and wonders. In truth, it was masked slave trade, and those who gave up their children were given 40 gold pieces. I was quickly sold. And here I am today."

Nasuada looked away from him. "I'm sorry . . ."

Murtagh brushed hair away from his eyes, smiling.

"Don't be. I could have easily been felled by sword or arrow. I am thankful for the life I have been given, despite my loathing of it." Murtagh answered.

It was then she fell upon him. Hard and strong, she pushed him down to the bristled furs of their combined cloaks, and he could feel the sand churning underneath. She kissed him heavily, her tongue slipping in and out of his mouth with savage grace. She pulled away then, undoing her hair pin, long locks falling down to the bottom of her chest.

"What are you doing? The others-"

"They will not wake. You said it true, Murtagh. This is life. Tomorrow, we could all wake to slavers at our throats. We could find ourselves waking to see the Dwarves abandoned us and took our supplies. The sky could come burning around us- But as you said," She leaned down on him, her lips brushing his ear.

"That is life. And so is this. Do you desire me?" she asked. Murtagh knew he did. He had wanted this, but he knew if he did what she wanted, there would be no turning back. He would be bound to her cause.

No.

"Yes," He rasped, and Nasuada grinned.

"Then let us experience life."