"Ah, snort snort, now you look human!" beamed Falstaff, appraising the burly Thunderan in his new clothes. He was lying of course. It had been surprisingly easy to find clothing that fit him, since Tabbot waists tended to be very full. Sadly they were as short as they were round, so the loose fitting lavendar pants that Lion-O wore cut off shortly above his knees. The white, frilly shirt he wore couldn't quite encompass his chest, so it was relegated to the role of a vest.
"Thank you for the clothes, Falstaff," said Lion-O in hos most polite imitation of humility.
"Hah, don't thank me, it was an honest trade. That was my best suit, but those ten chords of wood you chopped for my funace were adequate compensation. Barely." They both knew that the clothes were old, and not all that grand. Falstaff gave the youth a sly look, daring him to complain.
Lion-O caught the look, and decided to try to play this new game. He had overheard many Tabbots playing while he had been at the strenuous chore of chopping wood. During that time he had come to two conclusions. One, he was being had, the work he was doing was worth far more than what Falstaff had led him to believe. Two, Falstaff was the best player of the word game in the village. Lion-O contemplated for a moment and chose his attack. "These were your finest? They are so old and worn. I would think a gentlepig would be ashamed to call such garments his best."
Falstaff congratulated his new charge with an ear to ear grin. "Oh, I shall admit, they are quite poor by most standards. But the age that you are making fun of is exactly why they are worth so much. Those pants and that shirt have been in my family for generations, and were knit by the great matriarch herself. I should have demanded twice the work from you just for the honor of wearing them." The pig's clear voice rang with a quiet laughter.
Lion-O knew his adopted mentor was merely playing with him. He had seen Falstaff in arguments where he was not playing. "If this is so, then I will gladly trade them back to you, in exchange for a less valuable, newer set of clothes, with the difference made up in monetary compensation, of course."
Falstaff snarted and laughed, clapping his meaty hands together a few times. But hten he bent forward to give Lion-O a wicked grin. "Sir, you insult me! I have given you this great heirloom, and you would seek to exchange it for a mere pittance? It wounds my honor to think I have given so great a gift to so unworthy a receiver."
"These were a gift then? Perhaps I should take back the gift of ten chords of chopped wood I gave you, then."
"Ah, what a wretch you are! It is an ignoble man indeed that gives gifts, only to rescind them as soon as it is convenient to him. By the way, young Lion-O, how is it that we came to be discussing your lack of manners and breeding rather than that poor deal you made of chopping ten chords of wood for a moth eaten pair of old breeches?"
"I don't know," admitted Lion-O.
Falstaff chortled and led Lion-O inside. "Ah, I like you lad. Though I still can't imagine you ever being a king. Statesmen are taught word play as children. The right words can be sharper than blades."
Lion-O looked slightly taken aback. "I was never taught such things. The subterfuge of words was not our way on Thundera. A king was supposed to be strong and virtuous, not subtle."
"Heh, then it sounds like someone who was subtle didn't want the kings to be very effective," joked the pig, but his words hit Lion-O like a blow. "Now now, don't take it personally. You under Falstaff's care now, and I'll never lead you astray. Well, I will, but I'll be thieving you fair and square. And unless I miss my guess that's a better deal than you've ever been offered in the past."
"It is," said Lion-O softly. He had been stacking wood up around the back of Falstaff's house all day, but he was now becoming aware of how it was different from the other merry little Tabbot homes. Like most it was a two story construction, with an exposed wooden framework and white plaster walls. Like some, the second level was larger, with an overhang that created a covered workspace below. Lion-O was just now noticing the bellows and anvil. "You are a blacksmith?"
"Only when stealing doesn't pay enough to live on," jibed the jovial hog. Noting Lion-O's expression he changed his tack. "Yes, I am the town's smith, not that there is too much call for one. I'm also the leader of the town guard, a mostly official post I might add, and one of the patron fathers of the Spring Orchard dance. Now do you want to be my assistant or not?"
Of course Lion-O did, but he had learned enough in the last day to keep from blurting that damning statement out. And he knew this crafty old rogue could teach him more. "Perhaps. What exactly are you offering me?"
The wily Tabbot snorted and grinned. "Oh, so you want to talk about terms before you pledge to anything? Good! You're a quick study lad. I offer you this. You will assist me in all my previously mentioned froms of business endeavor. For that I will feed you, pay your way at the tavern, allow you to sleep in the smithing alcove at night, and pay you a ridiculously small pittance. In addition, I will tell you, as soon as it is too late, when you have made any horribly naive errors. Deal?"
"Deal." They shook hands on it.
"Good, snort snort, that was a huge error on your part. I can tell you that now that you are bound by your word to honor your deal with me."
"Why was it an error?"
"Look at you, you're big, strong, you could demand your own price from just about any Tabbot here for physical labor. If you were of a violent bent you could demand your own price from just about any Tabbot here to just leave them alone. You could be king of this place if you wanted to, but instead you are a lowly blacksmith's assistant."
"I've been a king. I may like being a blacksmith's assistant better."
Falstaff regarded Lion-O with an inquisitive look. "Hmm, maybe you're not as much of a rube as I had thought. Anyhow, let's head to the tavern for a drink. As head of the guard the city pays my bartab. We'd better hurry if we're going to get there before night falls."
*Lion-O remembered. "We'd better hurry if we're going to get back before nightfall, Wilykit!" young Lion-O called out to the girl. She was still a little taller than he was, but he was gaining on her as the months went by, and he knew that soon he would be her equal in stature. They were playing in the Palatial Lair's gardens. Normally she and her brother were inseparable, but this evening marked one of the few times that she had gone out with Lion-O alone.*
*She let him catch up to her, and he slipped his hand into hers. His cheeks began to glow as red as his hair when she didn't pull away. She quickly crashed to the ground, and he tumbled down after her. They were both laying in the tall grass looking up at the reddened sky as the sun began drifting below the horizon. "Lion-O," the older girl started, still staring stright up, "why do you suppose Jaga hates me and my brother?"*
*Lion-O also kept staring up into the sky, concentrating mostly on the hand he clasped in his own. "I don't know. I think it's because you are unexpected. He doesn't like surprises. He always talks like everything is fated, like I have some destiny that can't be changed." Now he did turn to look at her profile. "I like surprises though."*
*She turned to grin at him. "I think you have a destiny. I think you're going to be like one of the warrior kings from the old legends. And I can be your warrior queen!"*
*"I'd like that," said young Lion-O, and leaned his head in awkwardly towards Wilykit's. His heart was beating so fast, but she was smiling invitingly. He craned his neck closer, closer, reaching out with his lips until--*
*--Wilykit yelped and darted away. Young Lion-O looked around, stunned. Was it something he had done? Had something changed? Then the shadow fell over him. He turned up to face the man that had scared her off. "Jaga."*
*"Girls will come and go, Lion-O," said the aged sorcerer. "They will try to use you, to gain money, or power, or fame, like that little wretch is trying to do. But I am different, Lion-O. Unlike her, I will always be with you. I will always be with you, Lion-O. I will always be with you."*
It repeated over and over again inside his memory. Sounding more and more threatening every time the words rang in his ears. "Yes Falstaff, I think I could use a drink."
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