right word.
‘Welcome, sir.’ Einar, mindful of his mother’s teachings, placed his right hand over his left heart and gave a very slight bow. ‘Of course, you have done nothing to contravene our code of hospitality. I also hope that our humble abode will be able to meet your needs.’
‘Oh, after last night, I’m sure it will... hmmm... satisfy me all too well.’ The beast-man laughed. He sized Einar up with his sharp eyes and smiled. The man rose from his seat and walked round the table, heading towards the young Toinen. When he stood before Einar, the boy had to look up to meet the knight’s gaze. Up close, the Imperial seemed even taller than when he’d been seated at the table, so the boy involuntarily tensed up a little. ‘I don’t like… Hmmm… Formalities. I am Ru’tseh Tahon’veth of Vai’ceeth, of the Panther Clan. To my friends, I’m simply Tahon, and I’d like you to call me that.’ He held out his hand towards Einar.
The boy was momentarily speechless. He remembered that amongst the Ceets, being allowed to use the diminutive form of a warrior’s full name meant one of two things: either the person was family, or they were close to that individual. For the Ceet, being close included one’s closest friends, sworn brothers, and comrades-in-arms who had shed blood together. It was difficult to fit into any of these three categories, so Einar was very surprised, but before he had time to make sense of it all, his instinct took over.
The lad instantly offered his hand to Tahon, gripping his forearm firmly. It turned out that the soft-to-the-touch fur concealed unyielding steel, and Ceet’s grip had the strength of a vice.
‘I am Einar Anson of Stairon,’ he replied, without taking his sight off the amber eyes. ‘It is an honour to count a knight amongst my friends.’
Ceet pulled Einar towards himself with a fluid movement and gave him a hearty pat on the back. It seemed as though Tahon was smiling even more radiantly than he had been just a moment
