oye como va, mi ritmo
bueno pa gozar, mulata
Mallos found Thoth lounging around outside the housekeeper’s quarters with the distinct air of a child in trouble. The housekeeper was usually where the various members of staff sent Thoth when he had committed some offence or another, and she would then report to Nimueh or Arthur as the situation dictated. His upper back was pressed against the wall but his lower half was jutting out into the corridor, his legs were spread firmly apart and his hands had been shoved moodily into his pockets. His lip was bleeding and there was a nice dark bruise beginning to form over his left eye. Mallos made a concerted effort not to smile as he imagined what Aura would have said if she’d seen her teenage son looking as though he’d just been in a wrestling ring.
“Who did that?” He asked, stopping next to the thirteen year-old and leaning back against the wall also. Thoth, who evidently hadn’t noticed his approach, glanced up with the usual mix of suspicion and surprise. They hadn’t spoken since the teenager had told the Spaniard that he never wanted to see him again, some two or three years ago when his mother had died.
“That kid Joshua,” he replied evenly. “Humphrey’s son.”
Mallos looked mildly impressed. “He’s three years older than you. What was he hitting you for?”
“I hit him first.”
“Why?”
Thoth didn’t answer for a minute. He turned his face back to the wall opposite and frowned slightly. “He said that the king should have tried harder to find Gawain because Tristan will run the kingdom into the ground,” he grunted after a moment. “So I punched him in the face.”
Mallos shook his head. “Probably just parroting his father. You shouldn’t really punch people in the face when they upset you, you know.”
“I know,” Thoth muttered, turning his eyes to the floor.
“Kick them in the crotch instead,” the Spaniard advised. “I guarantee that will stop them from hitting you back. Or at least give you a chance to run.”
Thoth gave him an odd look, and then smiled in spite of himself. Mallos grinned too, picturing the scolding he would have gotten off of Aura if she’d heard him say such a thing to her precious son, and gestured to the boy to follow him down the corridor. He half-expected resistance of some kind, but apparently Thoth preferred the idea of a conversation with him to a telling-off from the housekeeper, because he obliged immediately. The Spaniard got little more out of the teenager, regarding how he was doing, which came as no real surprise. Thoth had apparently stopped blaming him for his mother’s death, but he hadn’t gained an ounce of trust. Rather than wasting time trying to get the boy to expand on his grunts and monosyllabic answers, Mallos cut to the chase and explained that he had taken the magical barrier surrounding the castle down. It seemed fairly redundant now that the Aurans couldn’t get to Shaman but, he warned, that didn’t mean that there weren’t already Aurans in Shaman before the purple shield went up, so he still had to be careful. Thoth evidently stopped listening after the part about taking the barrier down, because his face lit up and he sped up his pace. They parted ways at the castle entrance; before he vanished around the side of the building which led to the stables, Thoth yelled a heartfelt thanks over his shoulder.
Mallos smiled and paused for a moment, watching the demigod disappear around the corner and making a mental note to alert Arthur. The decision to remove the barrier around the castle had only been a whim, but it seemed like the logical move. Even if there were Aurans stuck on Shaman, it seemed unlikely that any of them would make too bold a move with almost the whole council present.
The smile faded swiftly away, to be replaced by the usual neutral expression. Sperantia, who had been in conversation with Zed while he was seeing Thoth, was trotting across the lawn with her tail pointing towards the sky. Her hard expression told him everything he needed to know: Zed had either not yet decided where to put him, or was being coy with his answer. Since Aura’s enchantment had trapped the deities on Shaman, they were being split up and sent to live in various different places so as not to get on one another’s nerves too much. Those with the capacity to tolerate one another were being grouped up, which left a rather gaping problem with Mallos. He shrugged at his familiar, knowing the answer to their solution was one that she didn’t want to hear. Mallos was quite alright with returning to the woodlands he had lived in when he had resided on Shaman previously, but Sperantia had desperately been trying to get them into a proper home. The wild did not agree with the well-groomed domestic cat, it seemed.
Ignoring Sperantia’s disgruntled mood, Mallos dropped his hands into his pockets and started down the steps outside of the castle, his mind already moving on to the next problem.
