No Titty (Eragon, Inheritance Cycle SI Chapter 5) (Patreon)

Cedric and Brom sat across from each other, a small, round table between them. Few words were exchanged since the storyteller ‘persuaded’ Cedric to move in with him.

He went along, all but kicking and screaming. However, it was only possible to make so much of a fuss before looking suspicious. Especially with the pressure from other villagers.

Cedric didn’t understand what their deal was. Why was it so problematic for him to live alone? Couldn’t the lot just mind their own business? It was frustrating to the point of pulling his hair out!

“Why don’t you sit tight while I make us something? Boys your age are always hungry, if I remember right.”

After a period of uncomfortable silence, Brom pushed back the chair, making his way toward the kitchen. He didn’t wait for Cedric to answer.

It was awkward, just sitting there with his hands in his lap, but Cedric didn’t have a clue what to say. More than anything, he wanted to know if this was a coincidence, or if Brom really had caught onto him using magic. However, there was no way to investigate without giving himself away.

Not much time passed before Brom returned with two wooden plates, stacked with bread, cheese and meat. It was hardly five-star cooking, but Cedric’s stomach rumbled nonetheless. No-one in the village went hungry, but food security was always on everyone’s minds—hence their careful rationing.

Brom set one plate in front of Cedric before reclaiming his seat, digging in immediately. There was no praying or anything like that. Not that Brom was particularly atheistic – at least Cedric didn’t know one way or the other – people here just weren’t… very religious. It was decidedly odd.

Cedric didn’t hold back either, vacuuming up the coarse brown-bread, hard cheese and dry meat like it was chocolate pudding. When he’d first gotten here, he payed careful attention to his diet. However, it quickly became clear that getting enough calories was enough of a challenge in and of itself. He couldn’t really afford to be picky about their source.

Brom finished before he did, wiping crumbs from his beard while leaning back against his chair.

“Not too unpalatable, I hope? Though I suppose there isn’t much sense in me asking—your eating seems eager enough.”

Cedric nodded, holding one hand over his mouth.

“Yes, thanks very much.”

He continued eating, but toward the end when he’d nearly finished, his gaze flicked toward Brom. He noticed the old man was smiling, his grey eyes vigorous and roiling, like storm clouds.

Cedric could immediately tell it had nothing to do with his cooking being complemented. An uneasy feeling sprouted in his chest, and he immediately cast his thoughts backward, combing over everything that’d happened since entering the cottage.

When he came to the question from a moment ago, he felt blood draining from his face. Brom hadn’t actually spoken out loud, but projected the thought into his mind directly! It was done so subtly, Cedric didn’t even notice until it was too late!

Seeing the boy’s changing expressions, Brom’s smile widened.

“Is anything the matter?”

Cedric coughed, almost choking on his food. He was too tense, and it was too much of a surprise, so he hadn’t managed his reaction. How had Brom figured him out? Was it possible to detect someone using magic? He didn’t remember anything like that from the books, and he was always extremely careful, in any case.

The more he thought about it, the more unsettled he became. Everything hinged on him being able to develop his abilities quietly, without the interference of other magic-users, primarily those under Galbatorix’s control. However, if any random passing mage could detect him, then he was in real trouble!

Brom didn’t step forward to clarify, nor did he admit anything. Instead, he casually regarded Cedric before posing a question.

“Are you fond of animals?”

“…”

The sudden change in topic was sharp enough to give Cedric whiplash. Eyebrows furrowing, he shook his head.

“Not particularly, no.”

Brom showed surprise at that. His gaze, still locked with Cedric’s, seemed to turn a tad colder.

“You know, lad, if I hadn’t watched you grow up before my eyes, we wouldn’t be sitting here, chatting so casually.”

The youth’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t act rashly. If Brom wanted to do something to him, he wouldn’t have waited until now, nor forced a confrontation like this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Brom didn’t answer, continuing to stare steadily. His eyes bored into Cedric’s, like he wanted to see into the depths of his soul.

“…not much. I was just observing that, no matter how different they may seem, children always carry a trace of their parents inside them.”

His voice turned somewhat wistful, and his gaze lost some of its intensity.

Cedric’s lips twitched. Apparently, Brom knew his father, and wasn’t too happy about whatever similarities he found between them. However, he didn’t take it to heart—any two people, even entirely unrelated ones, would share some parallels.

“Well, even if you’re a bit of a brat, it doesn’t change much. Tell me, do you remember the dragon riders’ stories?”

At this point, Cedric didn’t even try keeping up with Brom’s train of thought.

“How couldn’t I? You regale the village with them every chance you get.”

The old man nodded, either missing or ignoring the boy’s jibe.

“In that case, you’ll recall riders and their dragons shared a special bond. It wasn’t mere friendship or love, but something deeper, more… mysterious.”

He tugged absentmindedly on his moustache, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Cedric didn’t say anything, just waiting for him to continue. He could already see where this was going, and had a hunch about how he’d been found out.

“What the stories don’t mention is that the ‘melding of the mind’, the intricate, exchanging of thoughts between rider and dragon, wasn’t exclusive to them. Every human wizard also possessed the same ability, though not to the same extent. Touching the minds of others, as well as those of animals, was as natural to them as breathing.”

At this stage, his eyes returned to the stoic Cedric, glaring pointedly at him.

“Your silence accomplishes little, aside from insulting my intelligence, as well as your own.”

There was no ambiguity in his words. If not perhaps his magical abilities, Brom was at least sure of Cedric’s capacity for telepathy.

Thinking of this, it clicked for him. The old man hadn’t caught onto him doing magic. Instead, it’d happened while projecting his consciousness into animals. It indeed made sense. At no point did Brom invade his consciousness, but he didn’t need to. There was a thousand subtle ways for him to detect Cedric without being noticed in return.

Most likely, he hadn’t even been looking for him specifically. Instead, as a fugitive, Brom used his mind to ‘keep an eye out’ for anything suspicious around the village.

He let out a slow breath before nodding once.

“Alright, fine, I admit it. You’re saying I’m some kind of wizard? And since you’re capable of the same…”

Brom chuckled.

“I never considered myself a wizard, no. I’m just an old man. And when you get to my age, well… you learn a few tricks.”

He narrowed his eyes, projecting his thoughts toward Cedric, this time with far less subtlety. The lad could’ve blocked them if he wished, but he didn’t.

‘Tricks I could teach you, if you agree to learn. And I suggest you do. Fumbling around in the dark will do you more harm than good—believe you me.’

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Cedric woke up early the next morning.

Despite everything that’d happened yesterday, he still got a good night’s sleep. In this life, his troubles never kept him awake, not after he’d developed his magic. Acutely noticing the effects of a bad night’s sleep - not only physically, but also on his concentration, and by extent, magic – he’d sought a mystical solution to the problem.

At this point, smothering his overactive thoughts was easy as breathing, and he was usually out like a candle before his head hit the pillow. Regardless, today Eragon would return, at least that was the case if his memories didn’t fail him. He doubted they would—since learning wordless magic, his faculties were much sharpened, and dredging up things from his past life was far easier than at first.

Getting up, he grabbed some clothes, planning to wash before starting the day. Last night, not much’d happened after Brom dragged his secrets out of him. Despite the old man’s promise, he didn’t seem in a rush to teach Cedric anything—probably an attempt to test his patience. He’d never get the chance, of course. Something the boy didn’t exactly mind, for previously stated reasons.

He preferred teaching himself. The only use of a teacher, at least the only one he could think of, was to serve as an adversary. Like in a test, knowing concepts and applying them were two entirely different things. Cedric wasn’t so arrogant as to believe he didn’t need experience.

After washing, he stuck his hands in his pockets, heading into town. The merchants had arrived, and he might as well take a look at what they were peddling while sorting out his thoughts.

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