 Blah blah blah maths blah blah blah Tristan flipped his homework over and creased in another fold as Old Bartholomew’s chalk sped across the board. He leaned a little closer to his desk as he put in another fold, finer and more delicate than the first. Having finished, Tristan began to tease out some of the left over flaps of paper. He stopped and looked up when one of his neighbours pushed a sheet of parchment onto the tabletop by his left hand. With a quick glance in Bartholomew’s direction Tristan pulled it closer and studied the sketch with an amused smile. It was unmistakeably a likeness of their tutor, he would have recognised him by the hair alone, but his classmates had made some additions to the original. Certain select parts of the male body had been scribbled in anatomically unlikely places; Tristan tried not to laugh out loud when he noticed the scarf. Tilting his head slightly to one side the prince reached for his quill and sketched in his addition under sketch-Bartholomew’s raised arm. Passing the drawing on to the boy on the next desk along Tristan returned to his homework.
“Your Highness!” Old Bartholomew barked, “perhaps you can give us the answer to number three?” Tristan struggled to keep his face straight as he turned back around to face the front with his origami bird clutched in his hands. The boys on either side of him were chortling into their hands as they tried desperately to hide their grins behind their hands. The bird in question was quite ingenious as the prince demonstrated under Bartholomew’s glare; if he pulled the tail then the head moved.
“I do,” Tristan replied as he set the bird down on his desk, “but um...” he glanced down at it, “you’ll have to give me a minute.” The prince began to unfold the bird as Bartholomew’s foot tapped impatiently against the wooden floorboards. When he was finished he made a show of ironing the paper flat with the heel of his hand and then finally began to search for his answer to number three.
“Thirty two” grinned Tristan with a decisive nod.
“Correct,” Bartholomew said with a scowl before holding out the piece of chalk, “come here and show us all your workings.” Urgh.
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Thoth’s head appeared suddenly around the door which surprised Tristan so much that he stopped leaning back in his chair and leant forwards so that all four of its legs were firmly on the floor. What on earth was Thoth doing at one of his lessons? More to the point, why would anyone turn up to one of Bartholomew’s maths lessons unless they were forced to? The prince tried to work out what was going on by studying his friend’s face for any clues but everything about Thoth’s expression was disappointingly normal. Tristan was the first of the boys to write down Thoth’s answers to the problems on the board; he didn’t need to wait for Bartholomew to confirm it, Thoth was never wrong. Grinning from ear to ear Tristan stood up and tucked his chair back under his desk.
“I won’t be long, Sir,” he announced, taking advantage of the flustered Bartholomew, “I’ll be as quick as I can.” The prince didn’t leave time for his tutor to protest as he disappeared through the door and out into the corridor. There wasn’t really anything the old man could do to stop him. He would almost certainly report the insubordination to the king, but that was a problem for another time.
“Have I told you often enough that you’re a genius Thoth?” Tristan asked his friend with a widening grin. His green eyes looked between Thoth, the younger boy at his heels and the strangely coloured tiger sitting nearby.
The prince raised an eyebrow, “who’s your friend?” he asked. Tristan was usually the one turning up with new friends in tow. He couldn’t remember a time when it had been the other way round. As the significance of it sunk in Tristan stared across at Danny again, studying him more closely than before.
“What’s up?”
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