“Roran,” said Horst, overriding the commotion. “You of all people should know that the Spine is too dangerous—it’s where Eragon found the stone that brought the Ra’zac! The mountains are cold, and filled with wolves, bears, and other monsters. Why even mention them?”

To keep Katrina safe!Roran wanted to scream. Instead, he said, “Because no matter how many soldiers the Ra’zac summon, they will never dare enter the Spine. Not after Galbatorix lost half his army in it.”

“That was a long time ago,” said Morn doubtfully.

Roran jumped on his statement. “And the stories have grown all the more frightening in the telling! A trail already exists to the top of Igualda Falls. All we have to do is send the children and others up there. They’ll only be on the fringe of the mountains, but they’ll still be safe. If Carvahall is taken, they can wait until the soldiers leave, then find refuge in Therinsford.”

“It is too dangerous,” growled Sloan. The butcher gripped the edge of the table so hard that the tips of his fingers turned white. “The cold, the beasts. No sane man would send his family among those.”

“But . . .” Roran faltered, put off-balance by Sloan’s response. Though he knew the butcher hated the Spine more than most—because his wife had plummeted to her death from the cliffs beside Igualda Falls—he had hoped that Sloan’s rabid desire to protect Katrina would be strong enough to overcome his aversion. Roran now understood he would have to win over Sloan just like everyone else. Adopting a placating tone, Roran said, “It’s not that bad. The snow is already melting off the peaks. It’s no colder in the Spine than it was down here a few months ago. And I doubt that wolves or bears would bother such a large group.”

Sloan grimaced, twisting his lips up over his teeth, and shook his head. “You will find nothing but death in the Spine.”

The others seemed to agree, which only strengthened Roran’s determination, for he was convinced that Katrina would die unless he could sway them. He scanned the long oval of faces, searching for a sympathetic expression. “Delwin, I know it’s cruel of me to say it, but if Elmund hadn’t been in Carvahall, he would still be alive. Surely you must agree that this is the right thing to do! You have an opportunity to save other parents from your suffering.”

No one responded. “And Birgit!” Roran dragged himself toward her, clutching the backs of chairs to keep himself from falling. “Do you want Nolfavrell to share his father’s fate? He has to leave. Can’t you see, that is the only way he’ll be safe. . . .” Though Roran did his best to fight it, he could feel tears flood his eyes. “It’s for the children!” he shouted angrily.

The room was silent as Roran stared at the wood beneath his hands, struggling to control himself. Delwin was the first to stir. “I will never leave Carvahall so long as my son’s killers remain here. However,” he paused, then continued with painful slowness, “I cannot deny the truth of your words; the children must be protected.”

“As I said from the beginning,” declared Tara.

Then Baldor spoke: “Roran is right. We can’t allow ourselves to be blinded by fear. Most of us have climbed to the top of the falls at one time or another. It’s safe enough.”

“I too,” Birgit finally added, “must agree.”

Horst nodded. “I would rather not do it, but considering the circumstances. . . . I don’t think we have any other choice.” After a minute, the various men and women began to reluctantly acquiesce to the proposal.

“Nonsense!” exploded Sloan. He stood and stabbed an accusing finger at Roran. “How will they get enough food to wait for weeks on end? They can’t carry it. How will they stay warm? If they light fires, they’ll be seen! How, how, how? If they don’t starve, they’ll freeze. If they don’t freeze, they’ll be eaten. If they’re not eaten . . . Who knows? They may fall!”

Roran spread his hands. “If we all help, they will have plenty of food. Fire won’t be a problem if they move farther back into the forest, which they must anyway, since there isn’t room to camp right by the falls.”

“Excuses! Justifications!”

“What would you have us do, Sloan?” asked Morn, eyeing him with curiosity.

Sloan laughed bitterly. “Not this.”

“Then what?”

“It doesn’t matter. Only this is the wrong choice.”

“You don’t have to participate,” pointed out Horst.

“Nor will I,” said the butcher. “Proceed if you want, but neither I nor my blood shall enter the Spine while I still have marrow in my bones.” He grabbed his cap and left with a venomous glare at Roran, who returned the scowl in kind.

As Roran saw it, Sloan was endangering Katrina through his own pigheaded stubbornness.If he can’t bring himself to accept the Spine as a place of refuge, decided Roran,then he’s become my enemy and I have to take matters into my own hands.

Horst leaned forward on his elbows and interlaced his thick fingers. “So . . . If we are going to use Roran’s plan, what preparations will be needed?” The group exchanged wary glances, then gradually began to discuss the topic.

Roran waited until he was convinced that he had achieved his goal before slipping out of the dining room. Loping through the dusky village, he searched for Sloan along the inner perimeter of the tree wall. Eventually, he spotted the butcher hunched underneath a torch, his shield clasped around his knees. Roran spun around on one foot and ran to Sloan’s shop, where he hurried to the kitchen in the back.