THOTH & MORVEREN
“I'm always in trouble,” Thoth cast Danny an odd look, as though he was surprised that that was something the latter might be worried about. The young water-bender was so used to being in trouble that it was more of a surprise when he wasn't, and he rarely heard praise from anyone other than his teacher at the academy. “It'll be fine. C'mon.”
He limped out of the ward, leaning heavily on his walking stick but moving with the ease and confidence of someone who was used to such a predicament. The royal guards at the door didn't bother them, since they were only there to keep Mallos in, but they did cast the two young boys a couple of doubtful looks. Thoth came and went from hospital so much now that nobody tried to stop him, however much they might disapprove. Most of the castle staff had learnt that you had to pick your battles; it just wasn't worth engaging a teenager's temper over something small and insignificant. Thoth got up to enough big and significant things to make a fuss over.
He didn't speak as he led Danny through the winding corridors, the anger still visibly pulsating from him. He had the same sharp, focused look he had when he was thinking about science or medicine, but now he had something new to fixate on: Tarquin. Tarquin had hurt his friend. Whatever Danny might think, Thoth wasn't so blinded by rage that he was about to hunt down his old tormentor and punch him in the face; he knew, even now, that he was no match the older, bigger boy. That was progress. Previously when Thoth got angry, it went beyond well beyond his control and he said and did things in the heat of the moment. This fury was strong, but more deliberate and thought-through. He was getting better at controlling his temper, even if he wasn't necessarily getting it to behave in a way that his mother would have approved of.
Morveren had been right about the probability of Tristan's location. He was right where he should be at this time on this day: in lessons. He and a bunch of other young courtiers were gazing boredly at the blackboard while a skinny, bespectacled old man tapped it and talked them through the equations there. He looked up with a scowl when Thoth rapped on the door and poked his head around it.
“Hi, err... sir,” He supplied, in lieu of the man's name. “Can I borrow Tristan?”
The man's scowl deepened. “Young man, I don't know who you are, but I am not releasing anyone from my class until all of these problems have been solved.”
Thoth wrinkled his nose and pushed the door open a little wider, revealing Danny behind him. Morveren poked her head through his legs and grinned at the class, who watched with interest while Thoth scrutinised the board with a calculating expression.
“42, 61, 89, 1098, 12,” he stated after no more than a second, then pointed at the top question – the example that the teacher had already worked through. “And your answer to question one A is incorrect. The correct answer is 89. You forgot to carry the one.”
“I - ” the man spluttered, reaching for his cheat sheets and flicking through them with a gradually whitening complexion. As he muttered “correct... correct... correct...” the rest of the class gleefully scribbled down Thoth's answers.
“Can Tristan come out now?” He demanded to know, meeting that boy's eyes and lifting his eyebrows as if to say, it's important.
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