oye como va, mi ritmo
bueno pa gozar, mulata
Tristan is as much a stranger to Mallos as the latter is to him. The Spaniard knows the names of his royal grandchildren from his meeting with Lilith but little more than that. Lilith had said that Gawain looked a little like him, so seeing as he cannot see a trace of himself in this boy, he already suspects his identity before Tristan confirms it. Tristan may look like Arthur, but he hasn’t yet developed the King’s facial control or ability to analyse situations and respond to them swiftly and decisively. His bemusement is plain.
“Hola, Tristan,” he replies politely after the boy reveals his name.
It’s an odd thing to see the living embodiment of the blend of two different people, which is effectively what a child is. Mallos has met both of Tristan’s parents and can see a little of either of them in him (although more of Arthur, admittedly); it’s quite something to see each of their personalities come alive in the form of a single person. In addition to this, children are an excellent breed in their own right. They have such a unique perspective and outlook on life which, when combined with their naivety and the simplicity of their analytical skills, makes them wonderful people to talk to. Having spent a large proportion of his life in boring courts talking to boring upper class people, Mallos has always found conversation with children to be delightfully refreshing.
Something of Arthur creeps through in Tristan’s voice as he begins to fire out question after question, although Mallos suspects that Arthur would probably be more diplomatic in this situation. Most people are warily diplomatic around the Spaniard because of his status as a deity and his unpredictable nature, so Tristan’s directness is a change, at least. Mallos is not used to being direct. He proceeds to live up to his reputation by ignoring Tristan’s questions and comment on his pronunciation instead.
“Padre,” he corrects, a glimmer of amusement in his voice. “Emphasise the vowels more, and don’t forget to roll your R’s. The tongue should skim the roof of the mouth. Watch your articles, also.” He pauses for a moment, considering the questions. “Subí por la ventana. No, yo no soy un amigo de su padre.” ‘I climbed in through the window. No, I am not a friend of your father’s.’ There’s another brief pause in which he smiles mischievously. “¿No ha su madre le dijo que nunca los hombres de mayor?” ‘Hasn’t your mother told you that men never grow up?’
The tone of his voice is easy and calm, indicating that he has no problem answering Tristan’s questions, but the delay in the reply demonstrates that he’s only answering to him because he’s willing to. For the moment they can cooperate because they both want the same thing, but Mallos’ body language states quite plainly that if Tristan changed his mind and asked him to live, he would be fighting a losing battle. Mallos has no intention of going anywhere.
It is, admittedly, slightly disappointing that Tristan doesn’t know who he is. What’s the point of teaching your son a language and not telling him who the people you can use it on are? There is a grand total of two Spaniards in Shaman (and one of those is currently lost), so it would take all of about five seconds. Most people who haven’t met Mallos can still recognise him if they have basic knowledge about the original fairies, too. Why does he go through the trouble of keeping his appearance the same for thousands of years if parents can’t be bothered to teach their children properly?
“Su español es la adecuada,” he says dismissively, “pero su historia es muy deficiente.”
‘Your Spanish is adequate, but your history is sadly lacking.’
