THOTH & MORVEREN
“Why are you not coming, mummy?” Eselda asked doubtfully.
“Oh, you know,” Poppy tried to keep her voice casual. “I have to do mum things, like… cleaning the kitchen.” She shot her half-brother a pointed look while he fought to keep a straight face. Thoth was old and intelligent enough to understand why Poppy might not be quite so welcome in the castle, despite the fact that the invitation had included her. Generally Poppy didn’t have a problem going where she wasn’t welcome, and Thoth suspected that he was a large part of the reason behind her tact this evening; she didn’t want to ruin his best friend’s party. Thoth wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful, relieved or disappointed. “Besides, Mallos said he’d keep an eye on you for me.”
“Is Mallos the one with the big pink top?”
“No,” Eselda’s mother grinned widely, and her uncle couldn’t keep his snort of amusement in. “You’re thinking of your father. Mallos always wears black, remember?” When Eselda still looked blank, she added, “and he talks in a funny way.”
“Oh,” the six year-old brightened visibly, which did little to reflect her relationship with Mallos. Eselda liked everyone; Poppy could have described anyone on Shaman and she would have been happy with the answer.
The day had largely been put aside for fussing over the children. Eselda had helped to modify her baby pink dress by coating a white ribbon in glitter and fixing it around the waist before donning the garment. Her brown sandals didn’t match, since pink shoes were hard to get hold of and Poppy felt white ones were a bad idea, but the dress was long enough to hide them anyway. Her nails had been painted a bright, glittering pink; her coppery hair had been done up in a high bun with just a few ringlets falling down to frame her face; and her cheeks were flushed prettily with excitement. The hem of the dress was already a little dirty, since in spite of her attempts to hold it up she kept bobbing up and down enthusiastically. She clutched the prince’s boxed present (there was no wrapping paper, so Eselda had covered it in glitter and ribbons) and envelope (similarly decorated) containing the card tightly and kept jumping up to try and look over the heads of the people in front so as to see how long the queue was.
While there had been little doubt that Eselda would look her best for the occasion, the same could not be said of her uncle. Thoth possessed none of the natural skill or inclination towards understanding fashion, and he didn’t have a parent figure to help him in that regard. Nimueh may have tried, but his receptiveness to her help was unpredictable, and usually somewhat lacking whenever he perceived her to be trying to behave like his mum. He would probably have thrown an old-fashioned, colour-clashing and badly-fitted outfit together at the last minute if his sister hadn’t insisted that he came over to the cottage earlier that afternoon to get ready. She had presented him with a suit which was at least properly tailored and presentable, although it did have the effect of making him look more serious than ever.
Morveren broke the sobriety by rushing around at top speed, knocking nearby people over, yelping with excitement and generally being a nuisance. Now the size of a large cat, she had more difficulty darting between people’s legs and kept being kicked by shrieking ladies who clearly thought that the animal under their skirts was a giant rat. Nothing could deter her and no amount of shushing from Thoth would quieten her, so he was eventually forced to pick her up and carry her under one arm.
Possibly thanks to Morveren, the queue cleared sharpish and they reached the guards with the checklist of names quicker than expected. Poppy left them there and waved them goodbye as they were ushered inside the main hall. The minute she was out of sight, one of the young men in front of them turned around and Thoth recognised one of his least favourite people in the world.
“No animals at this party, Beakface,” sneered Lawrence, Tarquin’s weasel-faced right-hand man. “Hope you can find someone to talk to.”
Before he had a chance to think of a witty retort, Eselda piped up. “His name is Thoth,” she informed Lawrence sincerely in her helpful voice. “And there are lots of people to talk to, look!” She pointed happily at the great crowds of people milling around. Lawrence glanced at her curiously for a moment before snickering.
“You’ve got a little girl as a bodyguard? Or do you pay her to be your friend?” He smirked. “See you later, Beakface. Try not to trip over your feet.”
Thoth clenched his fists as Lawrence vanished amongst a throng of people, all too aware that Eselda’s bright blue eyes were fixed inquisitively on him. He gritted his teeth and forced away the blow to his self-confidence that interaction with Tarquin’s friends invariably brought about.
“I don’t think your friend is very clever,” his niece whispered to him sympathetically. “He got your name wrong again.”
Instantly, unexpectedly, Thoth’s distress melted away. Eselda looked a little guilty, like she knew that calling someone unintelligent wasn’t a nice thing to say, and the innocent pity for the perceived idiot was genuine; she hadn’t processed the insults at all. Thoth took her hand, squeezed it gently, and delighted her by asking if he could have the first dance.
They had to pause when the king and prince were announced, and the dance thereafter was a little distracted, since Thoth wasn’t keen for Tristan to see him dancing. If he hoped that his young niece would wear herself out quickly, he was mistaken – Eselda’s energy was boundless, and she had attracted quite a few fond smiles from some of the adults with her enthusiasm and general prettiness. Thoth only persuaded her to stop dancing by suggesting wearily that it might be time to present the prince with his gift, whereupon she snatched up the little box which she had formerly laid by her feet and bounced into the crowd to search for him. The thirteen year-old demigod grabbed his familiar from the dessert tray (Morveren had already consumed every single one of the cookies and was eyeing up the birthday cake) and trudged after her. Tristan had descended from his throne and was dancing with Megan – the presence of whom would have been enough to deter Thoth for a while – but Eselda ran right up to them.
“Excuse me,” she said politely to the older girl, before holding out the box and envelope to the prince. “Happy birthday!”
Thoth coughed behind her and threw Tristan a meaningful look. “Zel decorated it herself,” he informed him somewhat pointedly, while the little girl beamed.
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