“Why would you, the werecats, have been entrusted with this information?
Because, I would guess, we have always been friends of the Riders and friends of the dragons…We are the watchers. The listeners. The wanderers. We walk alone in the dark places of the world, and we remember what is and what has been.
Solembum’s gaze shifted away. Understand this, Eragon. None of us have been happy with the situation. We long debated whether it would cause more harm than good to pass on this information should the moment arise. In the end, the decision was mine, and I decided to tell you, for it seemed you needed all the help you could get. Make of it what you will.
“But what am I supposed to do?” said Eragon. “How am I supposed to find the Rock of Kuthian?”
That I cannot say.
“Then what use is the information? I might as well have never heard it.”
Solembum blinked, once. There is one other thing I can tell you. It may mean nothing, but perhaps it can show you the way.
“What? What is it?”
If you but wait, I will tell you. When I first met you in Teirm, I had a strange feeling that you ought to have the book Domia abr Wyrda. It took me time to arrange it, but it was I who was responsible for Jeod giving the book to you. Then the werecat lifted his other paw and, after a cursory examination, began to lick it.
“Have you gotten any other strange feelings in the past few months?” asked Eragon.
Only the urge to eat a small red mushroom, but it passed quickly enough.”