MALLOS
“Just a minute, Mallos.”
Busted. Mallos paused and turned back to his superior with an innocent expression of polite enquiry, already knowing what this was going to be about. Tsi was standing in the doorway – or, more accurately, leaning against the doorframe. The dark circles under his eyes and the drawn look on his face indicated that he hadn’t slept for at least a day or two, but the vacant frown warned Mallos that he shouldn’t be dismissive of him because of that. He held a piece of paper clutched in one hand, on which the Spaniard could just make out the stamp of the Auran Church.
“Have you been stealing from the Aurans?” Tsi asked suspiciously.
“Recently?”
“Yes. These have gone missing.” Tsi took a couple of steps forward and handed Mallos a photograph which was behind the piece of paper. It was a poor photo, its contents washed out by flash, but they were at least clearly visible: four largely identical blue robes, each bearing a familiar star symbol. Pre-Alliance Auran guardian robes. “They’re priceless,” Tsi added in a tone which implied he suspected Mallos already knew that.
“How terrible,” Mallos handed the photograph back without a change of expression. Tsi raised his eyebrows.
“So, have you seen them?”
“Yes, of course.”
“When?”
“Just now. You showed me a photograph.” He turned away, but not before he caught a glimpse of Tsi’s jaw muscles working. “Perhaps you should get some sleep,” he added in a kindly tone, “you seem to be suffering from short-term memory loss.”
Sensing it was time to make a rapid escape, Mallos teleported out of the pantheon and reappeared in the castle grounds. He’d been on his way out anyway.
He connected his mind briefly with Sperantia’s to let her know where he was, before heading around to the entrance of the castle. He could rescue Tristan from whatever boring task Arthur would have set him for a few hours while Tsi cooled off, and then he could return to the pantheon when it was safe again. The front steps of the castle were flanked, as usual, by a pair of guards – both of whom were new, and made the first mistake of not recognising him and the second of trying to stop him. Where did Arthur find these people? Mallos hadn’t believed it was possible for anyone in Shaman not to recognise him, especially after Gwythr used his face to commit so many crimes. Suspecting that the hiring of new guards had something to do with the recent threats from Earth made towards the castle, Mallos informed them that he had just come from the Commune, where a group of Auran missionaries were banging on doors. The guards tore off straight away, leaving him free to walk through the doors.
The first corridor he turned down, however, was not deserted. Sat on the windowsill was a little girl of extremely distinctive appearance: crimson hair with red hands, wrists and red skin around the hairline. She was turned away from him, but Mallos recognised her instantly as the girl who had rescued him from certain death during Lorraine’s ice when, as a cat, he had unwittingly fallen into the hands of the local butcher. Sperantia had eventually helped him to escape when the little girl – Evey? – had decided to take him home and make him her pet. She’d never seen him in fairy form, so there was no reason she should recognise him. Mallos paused, his eyes flicking to the arctic fox lying next to her (a familiar, presumably) before making a snap decision. It only took a second or so to focus his magic and will it into conjuring the thing he wanted.
“Excuse me, señorita,” as she turned towards him, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a living, squirming cat. A sorrel Abyssinian male, an exact duplicate of the cat he had been. “Are you missing a cat?”
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