The sitting was eighty names long, which was the largest the Great Hall had yet tried, and Gaunt objected to every one of them before it was read.
He did it from the awake seats, with his arms folded over his chest and his bad arm propped on his knee where it did not hurt quite so much. He objected to the Roll’s binding, which was Lowgate calfskin and had been stitched by a saddler who could not spell. He objected to the Ink’s grey, which had gone thin in the jar and made the names look like something left out in the rain. He objected to the weather, which was hot, and to the shutters, which had been opened too far, so that a draught came in across the table and lifted the Roll’s leaves when they were meant to lie still. He objected to Tallow’s throat, which was hoarse from three days of readings, and told him so, and was told in return that the Chamber did not need to be lectured by a man who could not make a bench stand straight.
“It stands straight,” said Gaunt.
“It stands on a crooked flag,” said Tallow, and wrote objection, flag in the margin, and went on reading.
