XXVII
Now a month or so passed, and the lawmoot was fast approaching. This would be Karvalo’s first as the Lord of Pearmol, and he would not let himself be lost in the shuffle. There was little risk of this to begin with—the murder of Osbago would prove scandalous enough to garner plenty of attention on its own—but he nonetheless meant to make an entrance, to keep himself perfectly postured and ever dressed in his best, to control every conversation, and to welcome and never be welcomed. He also expected just as much from his retinue, and among his troop was to be the man they call Thennelo, a slayer of twofold trolls, a worthy thane who must surely be bound to an even worthier lord. But of course, Thalo was not of remotely lordly bearing. He would need to be preened, and thoroughly.
Thus did noble Awldano bid Thalo visit him in his bedroom one evening early in the summer. They had, in the weeks after swearing their mutual oath, become better acquainted with one another. Awldano became quite fond of Thalo’s company, and particularly his brevity, for he had been reared in the lordliest of lordly halls, where words were cheaper than even the pigfeed.
‘But when one speaks only few,’ said Awldano, ‘each word matters all the more. I am glad, then, that you spend so many on me.’
‘They are easy to spend,’ said Thalo.
Very easy, he thought. There was ever a certain cheer in Awldano’s voice, and a quiet wisdom far beyond his years. Indeed, whenever he was struck by some moon-made mare, some dreadful dream sent to start him from his sleep, he needed only to sit beside his friend and retell it, and all the terror would be dispelled. So it was that they each came to trust the other, to hold him dear, and so it was that Awldano took it upon himself to make Thalo presentable.
‘Why?’ asked Thalo.
‘You, Thalo,’ said Awldano, ‘have been charged with an important task, one you are greatly privileged to have been given, and one, I hope, you will find agreeable, considering your aspirations. Karvalo, your lord and mine, bids you accompany him to the lawmoot to meet the king, and that you understand what an honour it is to have been so bidden.’
‘I have heard about this.’
‘Good. If you are to stand before the king, you must look the part. To that end, I have arranged for some more appropriate attire to be wrought. The fabric is chosen—an exquisite red, which should make you look rather lifelier—but we will still need to ensure a handsome fit. In the meantime, I have something else for you.’
Awldano brought forth a box and handed it to Thalo. Within, he found a splendid hat, poofy and voluminous. Awldano insisted he put it on, and though Thalo was reluctant, he donned the hat, and it flopped around his ears, as if he were wearing an old pillow, but a fancy one. Clad in his typical drear, it did not particularly suit him.
‘You seem unimpressed,’ said Awldano.
‘For I am,’ said Thalo.
‘You need not be. It is most fetching. Once we have some proper clothes fitted, I think they will pair very nicely.’
‘I have no interest in being made up and shown off like some sow for sale.’
‘I understand, but we must all do our part, and that includes you. If you are to attend the lawmoot, you are to attend it properly, and it would be quite the disgrace for a man to stand unhatted in such honourable company. But we have no such cause for concern now.’
‘And what if I were not to attend? After all, I was never asked.’
‘There was never a need to ask, alas, for you have no say in the matter. My father wants Thennelo at his side, and so Thennelo will be at his side. But so will I, and I have done it all before. I will be beside you, Thalo. I will look after you.’ He took the hat from Thalo’s head and returned it to its box. ‘And I will look after this.’
Then Awldano invited Thalo to accompany him to dinner. Thalo agreed to that. They made their way to the hall together, and the evening was a pleasant one.