kippurbird | eragon redux pt.3

Sloan kept Carvahall's general store in almost obsessively neat order. The large man knew that ever piece of supply had its own place, from the bags of flour to the knives to the buttons for women's dresses. He prided himself on keeping such a well-stocked store- it provided everything that the townsfolk couldn't make or grow for themselves, and kept him and his only daughter, Katharine, fed.

It was Katharine that he was thinking about as he prepared to close up the store for the night when someone walked in, setting the little bell above the door ringing. "We're just about closed," he called, turning to see who it was as he put a smile on his face to greet them.

It was the Garrow's nephew, Eragon. He had an unkempt look about him, his blond hair tangled and his skin smudged with so much dirt it was several shades darker. It looked like he'd just been out in the woods for a week- which wouldn't have surprised Sloan. The boy was lazy, always skulking off into the woods and avoiding his duities. He wasn't like his cousin Roran, a good, hard-working young man. He watched Eragon approach the counter, his dark eyes intent on something, though it was hard to tell what in the gloom of the store.

"Good evening, Eragon, how can I help you?" Sloan asked politely, watching him closely. He always got the impression that the boy was nervous about something from the way he moved, always just about to jump, but tonight it was worse than usual. Frowning a little, he thought he saw something shift on Eragon's shoulder, near his pack. All that was pushed away when Eragon dumped broken shards of something on the countertop. They appeared to be the remains of a blue vase.

"I need supplies for the farm," the boy replied, handing over a grubby list.

Sloan gathered the items on the list, placing them on the counter. Eragon looked them over closely, and Sloan could have sworn he saw something squirm on the boy's shoulders as he said, "That will be seventeen crowns."

"I haven't got any money."

He stared at the boy. Did he expect him to give away the supplies for free? "Then I can't give you the supplies."

Eragon pointed at the pottery shards. "Wait, what about these?"

Sloan dubiously picked one up and examined it- it wasn't, to his surprise, pottery, but instead some sort of stone, polished smooth. They were pretty and unusual, but unless they had a jeweler come through Carvahall who could use them, he wouldn't be able to sell them to anyone. "No, I'm sorry, but I can't possibly do anything with these."

"But I need the supplies! My uncle sent me out for them!" Eragon said, a hint of an edge to his voice. He couldn't tell if it was desperation or something else.

"Eragon," Sloan said soothingly, "If you need supplies, then you'll have to give me money, or something in trade."

Eragon gestured to the shards. "I did offer you something in trade!" he protested. "They're magic! Surely that makes them valuable."

"But I can't sell them."

For a moment, Sloan thought that Eragon was going to scream at him, but the door to the shop opened again. Relieved at the interruption, the shopkeeper looked up to see the blacksmith, Hurst, walk in, followed by Katharine.

"Good evening, Sloan, Eragon."

Eragon turned and nodded towards the soot-covered man. "Evening, Hurst."

"What's going on?" The smith asked, coming up to the counter. Katharine smiled at her father and the boy and stepped into the back of the store.

"I'm trying to buy supplies, but Sloan won't let me," Eragon said, controlling a grumble.

Hurst raised an eyebrow at Sloan, who gave a shrug. "You have no money, Eragon. I won't take these shards in trade."

He picked up one of the shards and looked it over thoughtfully. "How about I buy some of these, off of you so you can use the money for supplies, Eragon?"

Eragon ducked his head a little, obviously thinking about this solution. He finally nodded and Hurst pulled out his money pouch to count out a few coins. He tucked a few of the larger shards of stone into another pouch on his belt and nodded as Eragon handed the money to Sloan.

Thoughtfully, Sloan put the money away. He'd have to talk to Garrow about this- the farmer wasn't well off, but he could certainly afford those supplies. Why hadn't he given Eragon any money? It was a question for another time, he supposed. He packaged the goods and was about to help Eragon put them in his pack when a... creature, a blue, winged lizard stuck its head out.

Sloan and Hurst both took a quick step back. The blacksmith reached for his beltknife, staring at the lizard in alarm. "What in the- what IS that?"

Eragon glared at them defiantly, stroking the head of the animal. "I don't know, but its mine. Don't you dare hurt it."

"Where did you find it?" Sloan asked, eyes still fixed on the lizard.

"In the Spine. I was hunting."

"Things found in the Spine are better left in the Spine," Sloan growled. "You're asking for trouble, taking an animal out of there. What if its mother follows you home? Something like that could be dangerous."

"Well, I didn't see a mother," muttered Eragon, backing up. "I just found the egg and it hatched."

Sloan started to respond angrily, but Hurst intervened. "Eragon, even if it has no mother, you don't know what it is or how to take care of it. It'd survive better if you left it alone. Wild things aren't meant to be kept by humans."

"I don't care! It's mine and I'm going to keep it." Eragon shoved the supplies into his pack carelessly and stormed out, leaving the two men staring at each other.

"He'll just bring trouble, Hurst. That boy's too reckless," Sloan sighed. "The Spine's a dangerous place, and taking something strange out of it is just going to bring the danger home."

"Sloan, I know that since-" Hurst cut himself off. "Eragon's been going into the Spine for years. He knows its dangers as well as we do. He's a bit wild, but it'll sort itself out in time- and if he found that creature like he says, it shouldn't be a threat to him or the town. Let it go."

Sloan growled something under his breath and shook his head. "Store's closed. Whatever you're here for'll have to wait until morning. Good night, Hurst."

Hurst nodded and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Good night, Sloan. I'll be back tomorrow."

The big man left, closing the door behind him, and Sloan pushed the bolt home, trying not to dwell on the painful memories that a mention of the Spine always brought up. He shook his head to get them out and headed to the back, where Katharine was preparing dinner for the two of them. At least the mountains had left him his daughter.