He should have known better. It’s his own fault, really. He should have known better than to take his books out into the open, and so temptingly close to the lake.
The first indication that anything is wrong is the flecks of light, brown material which start to rain down on the open page of the book. Thoth picks one up curiously, feeling it between his finger and thumb. Oh no. Breadcrumbs.
He’s quick, but not quick enough. Thoth just has time to grab his book, pencil and papers, clutch them to his chest and jump to his feet, before he feels the heavy hand fall ominously on his shoulder. Why, why, why didn’t he hear them coming? Too engrossed in his reading. He wriggles out from under the hand and spins around to see the five of them standing there: Tarquin, flanked by his muscle-man Albert and the weasel-faced Lawrence, and the two girls they’re impressing today. Tarquin, who is a year older than Thoth has clearly gone through a growth spurt this summer since he’s definitely towering a few inches more over him than usual. Before he can do anything, Tarquin gestures to Albert, who promptly rips the book out of his hands.
“What’s this, beakface?” Tarquin asks casually as he takes the book off Albert, and reads the title on the cover. “Advanced-Level Chemical Formulae. Oh, beakface,” he shakes his head pityingly. “We’ve talked about this before. How can you ever expect to make any friends if you insist on being such a dork?”
One of the girls – Thoth recognises her by face as being Jennifer, but she’s never spoken to him before – giggles rather shrilly. Tarquin flicks through the book and gives it a disgusted look before pitching it – and Thoth’s papers containing his equations – into the lake. Thoth can only stare with dismay while the precious formulae are hurled into the green-blue waters. The papers float on the surface, but the pencil and the book sink like stones. Science books are difficult to come by in a medieval king’s library, and this is the only copy of this one which Thoth has been able to find. Even if he’s able to use magic to get it out from the bottom of the lake, it will be irreversibly damaged. He bites his lower lip, trying and failing to not let the upset show on his face. It’s best to say nothing, that’s what Poppy says. Don’t engage them, don’t say anything, just ignore them. He keeps his eyes fixed on the lake and stays quiet which, inevitably, does him about as much good as trying to punch Tarquin would do.
“Hey,” he hears the latter say behind him, “are you wearing a necklace, beakface?”
Thoth’s hands fly to his neck, but not before Tarquin’s eyes spark with glee as the second glance confirms it: the pale blue star-pendant on the thin black cord he always wears around his neck is showing over the front of his shirt instead of being tucked inside it, like usual. Thoth turns, preparing to leg it, but Albert’s hands grab him over his shoulders and hoist him back as if he weighs nothing more than a feather. He holds him in place while Tarquin reaches out and snatches the pendant from his neck, snapping the cord in the process. He holds it up to the light and stares at it with the triumphant expression of one who has just found enough ammunition to last a lifetime.
“Give that back!” Thoth yells at him, forgetting all about the no engaging rule. He struggles and twists, but Albert holds him firm. “That’s my – ”
“Hey,” Lawrence peers over Tarquin’s shoulder at the pendant. “Isn’t that Aura’s symbol?”
“Where’d you get this, beakface?”
Thoth can feel his mouth turning dry. The pendant is the last thing his mother had given him before she’d left Shaman for the final time, and it’s the only thing he has left of her since Lorraine’s winter destroyed most of his other possessions. Tarquin and his gang don’t know who his mother is – few people do. Aura had initially kept it quiet during the war in order to protect him, and Thoth has upheld the secret since then in order to try and be able to lead a normal life.
Normal life. Ha.
Not caring that he’s a second away from having his shoulders dislocated by Albert’s mammoth-hands, Thoth fights against his grip and shouts at Tarquin in a variety of languages. It’s possibly the worst thing he could do. Tarquin stands there, smiling and tossing the pendant up and down in one hand, waiting for his breath to run out.
“Looks like you need to cool off, beakface,” he responds coolly, and nods to the others. Albert lifts Thoth up off the floor by his shoulders with a death-grip, Lawrence grabs his legs and the pair of them toss him into the lake. A split second before he hits the water, Thoth can hear the sound of their raucous laughter burning his ears.
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