Thoth isn’t good at a lot of things. His physical prowess is in the negative, his social skills leave a lot to be desired and he can’t take the smallest of falls without snapping a bone. One thing he has always been able to do, however, is think with clarity and reach the answers which so often elude others. When Arthur starts to speak again, all reason and logic fly out of his head. Diplomatic words and phrases jump out at him: they lost their figurehead implies they’re looking for a new one… how far they could get using official methods and channels; succeed in getting you to Earth against your will… abduction. Thoth feels his lungs constrict, and suddenly it’s difficult to take a full breath. So, essentially, Arthur is here to discuss how they can prevent a group of people from bagging him up and carting him off to Earth to become – what? A pawn? A god?
How is he supposed to stand up to a group of kidnappers? He can’t even stand up to Tarquin’s gang. Thoth has learned, a thousand times over, that all the magical talent in the world doesn’t help an inch against a determined bully. Sometimes magic kicks in to get him out of a sticky situation, but the number of times he’s broken a bone, or been locked in a closet, or had his things stolen – it just testifies to magic being unreliable as a form of a defence. Apart from his magic and his intellect, Thoth doesn’t have much else.
He feels the papers pressed into his hand and stares numbly at them, not reading the fine calligraphic print. From the little Thoth knows of the Aurans, they constitute the largest number of fairies on Earth and, by association with that fact, the Church must be immensely powerful. What good are a couple of bits of paper going to be against that? Besides which, he’s twelve. It feels horribly like he’s being asked to sign possession of his life away. The papers are weighed down heavily in his hands, his face is burning, he can feel a lump in his throat and it’s difficult to breathe properly. On the other side of the room, Morveren clambers out of her tin bathtub and slinks over to him, keeping her huge, green eyes fixed curiously on Arthur. Her concerned mind brushes against his, but Thoth can’t bring himself to respond or block her. She sits on the floor next to his foot and presses against his leg, creating a damp stain on his trousers.
“But my – my mum made Joel my guardian, and he said – he promised to look after me,” it’s an effort to keep his voice steady. Thoth forces himself to look up from the papers, which are still resting lightly on his upward-turned palms, but still can’t quite look Arthur in the eye. “So where is he? And, for that matter, where’s my dad? It’s not like I’m an orphan.”
The volume in his voice had been building, and it cracks over the final two words, which come out in a shout. A couple of birds on his bookshelf flutter out of the window, alarmed, and the two rabbits hop off the mattress and run to hide in the den. Thoth jerks his hands backwards, causing the papers to fall to the floor.
“You know what? You don’t have to do this,” he yells at Arthur. “You don’t have to, because he can be there to protect me. Just like he was there when my mum died, and when I was in the marsh, and every damn day of my life since he found out that I’m not the son he wanted. It’s not like I sat in someone else’s house, waiting for him to come and get me. It’s not like he told me he couldn’t stand to be around me because of my disease, and then held true to that three years later when my mum died by not even showing up to see me.” He thrusts his arms out to the side, unable to stop the tears brimming over now. “You don’t need to do this. I’ve already got all the love and care and protection I’ll ever need from everyone who promised to give it.”
He kicks the wardrobe-desk, which does nothing except send a sharp pain through his foot, and covers his face with his arms. Morveren senses that the shouting is over, crawls onto his foot and wraps her tail around his ankle, which is long enough to go round twice. Thoth barely notices. After a few moments he wipes his arm across his face and makes eye contact with Arthur, all trace of anger gone.
“Why do a group of strangers want me more than my dad does?” He asks tearfully.
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