"Would you really kill one of Orrin's men?" "I don't make idle threats," said Roran. "No, I didn't think so...Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that." Jormundur started down the path between the tents, and Roran followed. As they walked, men moved out of their way and respectfully dipped their heads. Gesturing with his unlit pipe, Jormundur said, "I admit, I've wanted to give Orrin a good tongue-lashing on more than one occasion." His lips stretched in a thin smile. "Unfortunately, discretion has always gotten the better of me." "Has he always been so...intractable?" "Hmm? No, no. In Surda, he was far more reasonable." "What happened, then?" "Fear, I think. It does strange things to men." "Aye." "It may offend you to hear this, but you acted rather stupidly yourself." "I know. My temper got the better of me." "And you've earned yourself a king as a foe." "You mean king." Jormundur uttered a low laugh. "Yes, well, I suppose when you have Galbatorix as a personal enemy, all others seem rather harmless." --