XXVI
Though only a few of Karvalo’s thanes had witnessed the killing of Osbago, a few was more than none, and certainly more than enough for the news to work its way to every hearing ear at Pearmol. A terrible tension fell upon the town in the days after the shrieval assembly, and one that threatened to linger long thereafter. Seyglena was not best pleased.
‘Karvalo,’ she said, ‘I am quite unhappy with this foul mood festering in our hall. Remedy it.’
‘If you find it so displeasing,’ said Karvalo, ‘remedy it yourself. I will not imperil my authority by doling out petty pleasantries. If the cost of that is an unhappy mood in my hall, so be it. That is preferable to disrespect.’
‘Useless man,’ said Seyglena, and then she went away to do Karvalo’s work and restore the harmony of the household.
For this purpose, Seyglena summoned to her side Ernala. Since arriving at Pearmol, she and Seyglena had taken quite a liking to one another, such that it was not uncommon to see them walking about arm in arm or sat side by side as they did their lordly labour. Just so did they sit down together, and Seyglena said she wished to draw these dreadful days to a close.
‘Yorlayvo is avenged,’ said Seyglena, ‘though vengeance soothes only a violent heart, and only briefly. We must make fast our bonds of fellowship before the eyes of judicial fate, that it will never dare sunder them. Only then, I fear, can we move past this.’
Seyglena recited a lengthy list of names, and she asked Ernala to see that they all swore oaths of undying faith to their allotted partners. Ernala said it would be done, and they parted.
Ernala came early one morning to Thalo as he lay bruised on his bench.
‘You,’ said Ernala, ‘Thalo man. Seyglena bids you meet her in the house shrine. She awaits you now and eagerly.’
That was unusual. Thalo’s place at Pearmol was by then well established, and it happened—be it by chance, or by the will of the woman herself—that he and Seyglena spoke only very rarely, and never alone. With his thoughts resting upon the stick-scars yet sore upon his skin, he became quite concerned that further punishment awaited him.
‘What is this about?’ he asked.
Ernala shook her head, and said again, ‘Seyglena bids you meet her in the house shrine. She awaits you now and eagerly.’
Then she took her leave.
Thalo knew then that he could not wriggle his way out of this. He took a moment to breathe his fear away, to gather what composure he could so early in the morning, and went to meet with Seyglena.
When he came there, Seyglena said, ‘Is that Thalo at last?’
‘It is,’ said Thalo.
‘Sit down.’
Thalo did as she asked, but she did not say anything more, only tapping her stick on the floor.
‘Why have you brought me here?’ asked Thalo.
‘I did not bring you here. You came to this town, this hall, this room. You brought yourself here.’
‘But to this room at your request. What do you mean to say to me?’
‘I have a task for you.’
‘What task is it?’
Seyglena paused again, that same uncomfortable pause, and then she said, ‘Much has happened of late, and it has brought a sour atmosphere into my hall. That may pass in time, but I am loath to trust in idle hopes. It must be remedied, and thus my attention falls upon you, Thalo, the man in the middle of things.’
Upon hearing these words, Thalo felt the pain in his welts rising once more, though he did not cry out as he had when first they were struck.
Seyglena went on. ‘The lawmoot is nigh, and I hear my husband means to arrive with Thennelo at his side. You, Thalo, will stand among the foremost of his friends, and must therefore be as firm a link in the chain of the lordship as you can be. Thus, I ask that you bind yourself by oath to my sons, as you are bound to Karvalo, and thereby to myself. You each are fine young men, in your own ways, but though you seem to get on well enough now, it may not last. I have a lord for a husband, after all. I will not permit such haughty men to come crashing together in my household, sowing discord and dispute, with no means by which to resolve it.’
‘You think I mean to sow discord and dispute?’
‘Do you?’
‘No.’
‘Then I do not. But fate is inexplicable. Such strifes may arise nonetheless, and should they, I would rather you three do not stand on opposing sides, lest your tolerance of one another be forever sundered, and my days of peace thence long lost. Now you should agree, and we will be done with this.’
‘Very well,’ said Thalo, and he rose from his seat and left the room.
That afternoon, Thalo went with Essero and Awldano to a nearby hill called Portovl. Atop the hill lay a large pond called Ayrpor amid a dense cluster of trees. They each took off their clothes, strode into the pond, and ducked their heads beneath the water. When they came back up, they clasped each other’s hands and swore to be the surest of allies and firmest of friends, and that if one were slain, the others would seek to avenge him as if they were three of one womb. They ducked beneath the water again, resurfaced with an almighty roar, and then they left the pond.
‘And there we have it,’ said Essero. ‘We are bound to each other by oath, sworn before the eyes of fate, and witnessed by the trees. Awldano, my brother twice over, will you walk home with me?’
‘Not yet,’ said Awldano. ‘There is yet more to be gained from the water and the woods.’
‘Do not sit too long, Awldano, and let your bottom grow sore.’
Then Essero went away, leaving Thalo and Awldano sat together beside the pond. They said nothing for a while, each quietly admiring the dappling of the dying sun through the trees, the twinkling light it cast upon the water.
Soon, however, Awldano said, ‘Tell me, how did you come to bear those wheals upon your skin?’
‘Sticks,’ said Thalo, ‘swung on behalf of your father.’
‘Whatever for?’
The men who performed his beating had stated its purpose quite plainly, a punishment dealt for bringing tumult to Karvalo’s most peaceful abode, yet that could not be the full extent of it. He had not brought Gaymono’s vengeance to Pearmol—that was Gaymono’s doing alone. No, there could be only one true motive held within Karvalo’s hardest of hearts.
‘Spite,’ said Thalo, and with plenty of his own.
This did nothing to quell Awldano’s curiosity. He could not see his father doling out such cruelty for spite’s sake alone, but neither could he imagine Thalo being at all comfortable with further questioning, his tone at once both dour and hesitant.
Awldano shook his head, and he said, ‘What a sorry thing to hear. With any luck, your pain need not linger. They say this pond is enchanted, that the water is imbued with some ethereal magic. Perhaps, having put yourself within it, it will serve to soothe you.’
Then they each fell silent again, and so they remained until Awldano stood up, wished Thalo well, and took himself home.
Even so, Thalo was not yet alone, for he heard something skulking in the bushes on the other side of the pond. At first, he thought it was merely some little beast passing by, but then he glimpsed its shape shifting in the shadows, and it seemed rather more fearsome than anything he would willingly ignore.
‘What are you?’ he said.
The creature stopped in its tracks, turned to face him, and a pair of gleaming golden eyes opened in the gloomy twilight, shining forth from a face of black fur, before they vanished once more. He knew then what sort of fiend had come to meet him.
Thalo stood up and said, ‘Why are you here?’
Yet hidden among the trees, Knale said, ‘You do not understand what you have done, what great trouble you have caused me. You killed them, and yet I have suffered for it. It was your deed, your doing, not mine. I have suffered for your wrongs, and that must be righted.’
Then Knale leapt out of the shadows, grappled Thalo from behind, and shoved him into the pond with all the might he could muster. As Thalo looked up at him from the water, snarling on the bank and dressed all over in scars, there was none of his former lustre to be seen. He wore that same faultless face, but all the beauty, all the ancient grace, was now replaced only with such sheer fury, such unfettered rage, that Thalo was unable to move, to speak, even to think—to do anything at all but stare transfixed at the vengeful figure before him. There stood Knale, cloaked in the purest malice. There stood the wrath of a god!
So Knale came forth, wading into the pond with his gaze fastened tight upon Thalo. He splashed him once and uttered these verses:
‘How quick will be deaf ears to hear of Thalo’s sword, his shield and spear? How long will sing the witless bard, of daring deeds and trials hard? How widely will his name be known? His battles won? His valour shown?
‘When will the world all realise
the honour glinting in his eyes?
The splendour of his noble strut?
The finest stock from which he’s cut?
That words and deeds are all as one
as courage clouds the witch’s son?
‘I grant thee that, a worthy fate,
but though thy glory will be great,
I likewise grant such awful woe
that all thy kin will come to know—
alas that they should bleed and burn
for wrathful wracks they did not earn!
‘I curse thy loves and all thy friends,
that all will come to wretched ends.
I curse thy kin and clan in kind,
that all will fall to vengeance blind.
I curse the Thalnor, curse thy fame!
I curse thy blood! I curse thy name!’
Then Knale splashed Thalo again, donned his foxen fur, and disappeared once more into the trees.
Thalo sat stunned in the water, all his stoicism having crumbled as never it had before. Though it took some time and some trying, he managed to drag himself up and out of the water, and after drying himself off again, he went home in quite the sorry state.
Yet when he came back to Pearmol as the night was setting in, he found not the solace of his bed. Instead, he came into his house and saw that the twin heads of twin trolls, two trophies that had long sat stashed beneath his bench, were gone. At once, a panic arose. He knelt down to get a better look, desperate not to be parted from his most cherished prizes, but there was no chance of finding what was not there. Instead, where once the heads had lain, he found a golden acorn, a gilded gift left to mark their leaving.
‘What is this?’ said Thalo. ‘Do my eyes deceive me?’
But they did not. He clenched the acorn in his hand, his despair giving way to anger as swiftly as it had emerged. One man alone was with him in the house, a stout fellow called Ambalo the Short, because he was short, though he still stood a thumb or two above Thalo.
‘You,’ said Thalo. ‘There was a bag beneath my bench. What became of it? Where is it?’
‘Did you look,’ said Ambalo, snickering, ‘with your eyes open?’
‘Yes? How else is one to look?’
‘And was it there?’
‘Of course not. Hence my asking.’
‘Then I would suppose it might be somewhere else. Hah!’
‘And I want to know where that somewhere else might be.’
‘And how should I know that? I came in after you.’
Thalo had no patience for Ambalo at the best of times, but after all that had transpired recently, he would not suffer him a moment longer. He strode up to him, grabbed him by his shirt, and said, ‘Man, did you see it stolen or not? Say yes or no, and nothing else.’
Ambalo said, ‘Man, get your hands off me before I put mine on you, and I will not swear to keep my fists unclenched.’
Thalo released him with a scoff and went outside to search elsewhere, and though he hunted high and low, he met no success. The trolls’ heads were lost, and just so did Thalo lose his. As he walked weary through the yard, sore of mind and body alike, he fell to his knees, and for the first time since Asfoa’s dying day, he let his tears escape him.
But merciful fate saw fit to affirm his pond-wrought vow, for it happened that Awldano caught sight of him hunched upon the floor with his head in his hands. He came to his side and knelt beside him.
‘Thalo,’ he said, ‘what sort of misfortune has brought you to your knees?’
‘They are gone,’ said Thalo. ‘I cannot find them.’
‘And who might they be?’
Thalo pried his face from his hands, looked Awldano in the eye, and said, ‘Tell me, do you know what happened when first I came here?’
‘I do. Ask anyone you like, and if they know anything about you, they know about the matter of the trolls. What of it?’
‘They are gone.’
‘The trolls?’
‘Their heads. They are gone. Stolen from my house, my bench, and to where I do not know.’
Awldano thought it terribly odd that Thalo had kept them in the first place—a pair of rotten things, he thought they must have been—though he had more sense than to say as much.
‘They were my worth,’ said Thalo. ‘My pride, my glory. My only glory gone, and with it my cause for being, my right to fame. All gone.’
Awldano shook his head, and said, ‘Time alone can lighten such burdens, but I would reckon this burden is easily borne. Those heads have done their work and then some, all things considered.’
‘What would you know of it?’
‘Let me say it again: if they know anything about you, they know about the matter of the trolls. You have proven much already, Thalo Thennelo.’
That was sufficient to allay Thalo’s grief, at least in part, and at least for the time being. His breathing steadied, his hard face softened, and he said, ‘You spared me a knife in my back. At Fnarslad, you put yourself between me and Broyndea’s fury. I recall falling over, and I saw her knife fall beside me, and then I looked up. Only then, when I saw her on the end of your spear, did I see what had happened. I never thanked you for that.’
‘Pay it no mind. I am your sworn brother, after all.’
‘Not then.’
‘But I am now.’ Awldano smiled softly, and he said, ‘Now and always.’
Then they parted, and they each went to bed.
But though Thalo went to sleep with a steadier than he might have done otherwise, the night was nonetheless fitful, for Knale’s foreboding words yet weighed on his mind. He turned them over this way and that, eager to put them away and forget them altogether, or else to reason that words alone, so easily spoken, were utterly powerless. Yet all his efforts came to nought, and that anxiety, that looming dread, sept even into his dreams.
He saw himself at a table in the woods, fitted for a most extravagant meal. About the table sat a host of silver-sheened foxes, each feasting upon flesh and blood and bone, each giddy for the grisly meal, or so stuffed with satisfaction that they could only roll about on their backs and spew nonsense or vomit, or both at once. And in the middle of the table was laid poor Yorlayvo, dead on a glittering platter, steamed, buttered, and garnished to perfection as the whole throng slavered over his glistening flesh.
‘How for!’ said the old fox, for an old fox had now appeared, a big old beast clad in black and silver, with red drizzled upon his chin, although sometimes his beard was bigger or smaller, and sometimes it was more or less bloody.
‘How for!’ he said again, and then all the foxes in the hall—the table was now inside—set upon Yorlayvo. Someone danced, Thalo had a sip to drink, and that was that.
Thalo awoke a bit before dawn, a bit confounded, and holding the golden acorn to his breast. Nothing was to be said of another new day.
* * *
The trolls’ heads were, of course, taken by Knale. He stole into Thalo’s house and swiped them from beneath his bench while no one was looking, then made his way back to Lewvanvek. There he stood above the cavern—he would take no chances inside—and called out to Nela.
‘This,’ he said, ‘is the undoing of all your kin,’ and he cast the heads down into the water below.
Nela appeared in the river at once, and the moment she saw their heads land splashing before her, she said, ‘My dear boys.’
She reached out for them, but she could not cling to both at once. She first grabbed Klovo, but as she took him in her hands, as she held him for the first time at last, Fowdho floated away. With a heart-hurt wail, she reached out for him likewise, desperate not to be deprived of all her kin, but he had already escaped her. And as she grasped for him, as she grasped for what she could not reach, Klovo floated away just the same.
‘Fate,’ said Knale, ‘is wholly inexorable. This, sister, is yours, tortures dealt to the undeserving and dealt back twice over.’
Then Knale went away as Nela sobbed below him.
‘What is lost is lost for good,’ she said, ‘but it can be avenged. I have seen that it will be avenged. He will come. Fate is wholly inexorable.’