MALLOS
The change which came over the king after his son left was subtle but immediate, and Mallos was perceptive enough to pick up on it even while his eyes were on the paper. When he glanced up, he noticed Arthur’s stance – the typical image of a weary ruler – but thought he detected a vibe other than tiredness. Arthur was a difficult man to read even at the best of times, but on this occasion Mallos thought he understood what might be troubling him, because he’d not only read it in him before, but had felt it himself. To men like them, there was little worse than the feeling of being helpless. Mallos had felt it most acutely after Lorraine’s winter, when Shaman had been trying to rebuild and he had realised, for the first time, quite how useless he was without divinity. In Sperantia had been more help than he had, chasing rats from farms. He had been able to help in the end, on a much smaller scale, by uplifting Arthur and Tristan’s moods. At the time he had sensed a mutual feeling of being unable to provide assistance to others as he would like in the king, and he recognised the mood now. Psychic battles, after all, were not likely to be an ex-human’s forte.
Mallos, on the other hand, relished them. Psychic battles had none of the obvious benefits of physical ones – he had no opportunity to spin or flourish swords for effect (and female attention), and there was little glory to be had. Psychic battles were not for attention-seekers or glory-hounds (and, if we’re honest, Mallos was both); they were too quiet. Nevertheless, there was something about taking control of another person’s mind which was immensely more satisfying than hitting people with sticks.
“Hypnosis is only one tool at their disposal, and not one they’re likely to turn to first,” he put forward carefully. “I can protect Thoth against that, to some extent, but not so well against the diplomatic and legal attacks the Church will be relying on.” Now that Tristan was gone, Mallos pulled a cigarette out of nowhere and lit it, although he was careful to employ divinity to minimise the smoke and make it odourless. This wasn’t his house, after all. “In my experience religious zealots have not changed much over the ages. Practice with Christians is practice with Aurans.”
In other words, you are still better placed than me to fight the brunt of this one. Probably not entirely true, since Mallos had been engaging religious zealots (including Aurans) in diplomatic and legal battles for centuries as part of his job, but if it persuaded Arthur that this was not a battle beyond his capabilities then it was worth a little white lie.
He refrained from commenting further on the situation with Thoth, not entirely agreeing with the king’s statement but not about to argue with it. The sentiment was noble, but impractical. Mallos had always done as he’d pleased and dealt with the consequences later, and he’d found that most people eventually forgave him, even if it took them a few centuries. This philosophy had had to undergo some rapidly forced adjustments since coming to Shaman where he had, for the first time, met mortals he cared about whom he could not simply force immortality upon. Their lives were too short for him to fool around with. In this instance, though, safety surely had to win out over morality. Thoth wasn’t the only one who would be affected if he ended up in London: the knock-on effect would at best be global, and at worst intergalactic.
After a moment, Mallos revised his decision not to comment, feeling it prudent to note, “You should probably be aware, if you are not already, that he doesn’t trust me.”
That should come as no surprise. Few people did.
The cigarette was not nearly so satisfying without the smell, so after a few drags he waved it away. No matter what Sperantia said, they helped him to think. Arthur’s reaction to his final statement was not unexpected, but not exactly the one Mallos had hoped for either. The corners of his mouth quirked into a somewhat sly smile.
“The situation on Earth, and particularly with the Aurans, is a little… delicate,” he tapped the arm of the chair thoughtfully with one hand, choosing his words with care. “The Aurans are not going to take kindly to what they perceive as an unwarranted intervention of myself or any other original into their affairs… any move on my part against them is scandalous. If I’m provoked, however,” his dark eyes gleamed wickedly. “Then they’re going to lose a lot more than a new toy, and they know it. They won’t dare come anywhere near your family.” His expression altered slightly to restore some level of seriousness. “If they choose to launch a psychic attack, logically they will only target two people: Thoth, and the one person who has the power to send Thoth away.”
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