by Conrad Mason
Joseph looked deep into Tabitha’s grey eyes, which were full of questions he couldn’t bear to answer: Surely you didn’t take the spoon? Surely you didn’t bring it here, to Azurmouth? Surely you didn’t give it to Jeb the Snitch?
He lowered his head.
Tabitha couldn’t believe it.
The tavern boy who had taken on a witch to save her life – who had stolen the wooden spoon and crossed the Ebony Ocean in search of his father – he had given up.
It filled her with sadness, and with anger.
Where was the boy who’d tried to cheer her up with fried octopus when she’d been sad about her parents? The boy whose tongue stuck out in concentration when he practised cutlass strokes on the old wooden figurehead outside Bootles’ – even though he was the worst swordsman she’d ever met? The boy who drove her mad with his stupid song about scrubbing dishes, but whose voice she’d missed the moment it was gone?
What had happened to him?
‘Joseph,’ she pleaded. ‘Do something.’
Do something.
How many times had he asked himself the same question, since he’d joined the Watch?
What would Thalin do?
What would Newton do?
What would his father do?
That last one sent a jolt through his body. Every time he’d asked it, he’d been thinking of Elijah.
An image came to him – something he’d seen inside Jeb’s mind. Elijah as a boy, running down the alley to scare off the trolls who were threatening his little brother. Standing up to the bullies, even though they were bigger than him. Now Jeb had become the bully himself.
For you, Uncle.
He twisted his body hard to one side. Jeb’s foot lost its purchase, and the goblin stumbled as Joseph rolled and sprang up. He grabbed two fistfuls of Jeb’s leather suit and shoved him back against the wall. His father must have seen the fury in his eyes because he crumpled at once, cringing, as though expecting to be hit at any moment. The wooden spoon went clattering onto the walkway.
Coward. My father is a coward.
And the rage burned out in an instant. Joseph didn’t hit him. What good would that do? Instead he stepped back, let go of the suit.
‘Go,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper. ‘Just go away. Please.’
‘Joseph!’ yelled Tabitha.
Tabitha started forward, but the cat caught her by the wrists, twisting them up behind her back. Her knife fell, thudding into the wood point first. And now it was her turn to be forced down on the walkway, until she felt its rough surface against her cheek.
‘What are you doing?’ she yelped. ‘I thought we were helping each other!’
‘We were, my dear,’ purred the cat. ‘And you’ve been most useful. But now that you’ve led us to the Snitch, I’m growing a little tired of you.’
A door banged open below, and out of the corner of her eye, Tabitha saw a goblin lead a griffin into the hall. A familiar griffin, half-starved, with thinning feathers and a blunted beak. Could it really be her?
‘We’ve wasted enough time already,’ hissed the voice of the spider. ‘Let’s take our revenge on the goblin.’
‘What about the children?’ asked the horse.
‘An excellent question.’ The cat stroked Tabitha’s cheek with one finger. ‘I believe a quick death will suffice.’
Tabitha squirmed in the shapeshifter’s grip. ‘Nell!’ she shrieked. Her throat was raw, but she drew in breath and bellowed it again. ‘Neeeell!’
On the floor below, Nell blinked and looked around, confused.
‘Neeeeeeell!’
‘Enough,’ the cat murmured in her ear. ‘Your game is lost.’
Tabitha barely heard him. The griffin had turned to look at her. Its beak twitched, and something shifted in those small black eyes.
‘Fly for me!’ Tabitha burst out. ‘Like last time. Neeeeeeeell!’
‘Oi!’ said the goblin, tugging at the halter. ‘Stay still, you useless—’
Nell took a step forward. Then another. The griffin’s wings spread like sails, and began to flap. The hapless goblin swung from the halter, then sprawled back onto the flagstones.
Across the floor, workers panicked and scurried to escape.
‘Griffin loose!’
‘Everybody out!’
There was a rush of air as the creature swooped up to the walkway, landed and began stalking towards them.
Tabitha felt a sudden thrill of fear, but there was no going back now. ‘Help me!’ she yelled.
‘What in Corin’s name—?’ began the cat.
And then Nell let out a screech so loud it turned Tabitha’s insides to water. The cat let go and Tabitha rolled aside, escaping the storm of flapping wings, raking talons and snapping beak. The cat was on one knee, the spider scuttling out through the iron door. The horse whinnied and reared up, but was beaten backwards by a flurry of attacks. All the while, Nell kept screeching over and over again. Hideous, unearthly noises that made Tabitha want to curl up into a ball and stuff her ears with seaweed.
Footsteps pounded on the walkway, and Tabitha saw that the cat had broken free and was charging full tilt towards Jeb the Snitch.
Joseph’s father shoved him aside, sending him staggering to the edge of the walkway. He regained his balance just in time to see Jeb lunge for the wooden spoon again. I don’t think so. Joseph leaped forward, bringing his foot down hard on the spoon.
The goblin turned on him. ‘Let go, you stinking little rat!’ he howled. ‘Call yerself my son? Let go or I’ll—’
‘Joseph!’ yelled Tabitha’s voice. ‘Look out!’
The cat was bearing down on them, his face twisted with feral fury. He fell on Jeb, kicking, punching and scratching, spittle flying from his lips.
Joseph ducked aside and snatched up the wooden spoon. Looking round, he saw that the griffin was prowling along the walkway, talons clicking on wood, wings arched like a prize-fighter’s fists at the start of the big fight. It spread them wide.
‘No!’ yelled Joseph.
Too late. The griffin took off, thundering down the walkway and lifting into space with one great flap of its wings.
Jeb looked up from his struggle with the cat, and his pale eyes widened. He fought to escape, but the cat held him tight, oblivious to the danger.
‘No,’ said Joseph again.
The beast crashed into them in a blur of feathers, scrabbling with its talons, heaving them against the railings, up and over.
Jeb and the cat seemed to hang in the air, clutching each other in a tight embrace, and for an instant Joseph saw the terror on his father’s face. Then they dropped like an anchor. The griffin blood surged up around them, sloshing out of the vat, splattering red droplets all around.
There was a fizzing and a hissing.
Then nothing.
Not even a scream.
Chapter Twenty-five
The griffin landed gracefully at the end of the walkway, tucked in its wings and cocked its head to look at them. A spray of blood had caught its feathers, glistening red on gold.
In the vat the blood had settled, and nothing came to the surface.
A few seconds ago, Joseph’s father had been here, next to him.
Now he was gone.
‘Well, that’s that,’ said Tabitha. Joseph could tell she was trying to sound cheerful, but her voice trembled, giving her away. It was griffin blood that killed her father, he remembered suddenly. And now it’s griffin blood that’s killed mine.
Tabitha swallowed. ‘I mean … I reckon they deserved it, didn’t they?’ She quailed, as though immediately regretting what she’d said.
Joseph realized that his fingers were still tightly curled round the handle of the wooden spoon. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he just nodded.
They descended a set of steps to the ground floor. The goblins had all disappeared – run for their lives, Joseph guessed. The horse and the spider too. Tabitha found a set of keys hanging up on the w
all, and they went from room to room, opening cages. Griffins emerged slowly, blinking in the light, stretching out their wings as though for the first time.
The griffin that had killed Joseph’s father stood guard outside the round metal door – Tabitha seemed to know her, and called her Nell. The creature’s homely name somehow made her seem even stranger and more frightening.
Joseph couldn’t blame Nell for what she’d done. Those creatures all cooped up in their tiny cages, the bile milking equipment, the crates of griffin talons – all of it made him feel sick. All of it his father’s work.
When they had set all the griffins free, and the building was full of them, pecking, scratching and preening, they threw open the great wooden gates and set out down the road, leaving the animals to fend for themselves. Joseph looked back just once, to see the first and bravest of them taking a step onto the cobblestones, as though onto ice that might break at any moment. Hardly daring to believe in its freedom.
It was Nell.
‘So you took the wooden spoon,’ Tabitha was saying. ‘I should have guessed. Hal never told us. I s’pose he must have been embarrassed he lost it. It makes sense though, because he’s been acting even more anxious than usual and—’ She stopped in her tracks. ‘All right,’ she said, and this time her voice trembled. ‘What have I done? Why aren’t you speaking to me?’
Joseph looked at her – really looked at her – for the first time. Her hair seemed uneven, as though someone had cut a lock from it. Her grey eyes were moist, full of pain, and Joseph felt a lump form in his throat.
‘He was my father,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Jeb the Snitch. Elijah was my uncle, and Jeb was my father. All along. It was him …’
Tabitha opened her mouth and shut it again.
After all, there isn’t anything to say. Only the truth. His father was the lowest creature in all the Ebony Ocean. And Joseph – Joseph was nothing. His ears drooped with misery.
‘Come with me,’ said Tabitha.
She led him down an alleyway, to a set of rickety steps that ran up the side of an old boarding house. When they reached the top, she gave him a leg-up to the roof, then told him to wait for her. Joseph did as he was told without questioning it. Why not? It was all over. He’d come to Azurmouth looking for his father. It was to be a new beginning. Instead it was the end.
He sat on the roof, dangling his legs over the side and kicking aimlessly into space. His hands were thrust in his pockets, holding onto the silver pocket watch and the wooden spoon, just like he had on board the Dread Unicorn. Back then they were his whole world – his hope for the future. Now they were just objects. A lump of metal and a lump of wood.
After a few minutes Tabitha returned with a greasy bag. She hauled herself up beside him, took his hand and led him up the slope of the roof, until they were perched right on the top of the building. She made him steady himself on a dragon-shaped weathervane as they sat.
Azurmouth sprawled out all around them. Joseph could barely remember the way he used to picture it. The white marble colonnades, the fountains and the palm trees. Perfect. But nothing in all the Ebony Ocean was perfect. Azurmouth was crowded, filthy and cruel. Even the seagulls were scrawny and savage, picking fights with one another and screeching like banshees. The sun had gone behind a cloud, casting the jagged rooftops into shade, robbing the city of colour. Only the House of Light seemed to shine, pure white, the foul heart of a foul city.
‘Octopus,’ said Tabitha.
‘What?’
‘Have some octopus.’ She offered him the bag. ‘It’s fried.’
Joseph shook his head.
‘Don’t you remember?’ she pressed on. ‘Your father used to bring it to you once a week, as a treat.’
‘You mean my uncle,’ snapped Joseph. Immediately he felt guilty. It wasn’t her fault.
Tabitha shrugged and took some herself. She munched as they sat in silence.
‘Why are we here?’ said Joseph at last.
‘Don’t you remember? Back in Port Fayt, at the Festival of the Sea – we sat up on a roof looking over the town. I was feeling sad about my parents. And you tried to cheer me up.’
‘I remember.’
Tabitha’s parents had been good people – they’d tried to rid Port Fayt of the League of the Light.
Joseph’s father had been a thief, a swindler and a murderer.
‘But don’t you see?’ said Tabitha, and there was a note of anger in her voice. ‘That’s the point. You’re still the same person you were before. You’re not like Jeb – you never were. When that witch Arabella Wyrmwood captured me, you tried to rescue me. You threw yourself into the ocean and you faced a sea demon just because it was the right thing to do. Would Jeb the Snitch have done that? Of course he wouldn’t.’
‘What about Pallione? She was our friend and I betrayed her. She almost died because of me. Because I was selfish, like Jeb.’
‘You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. But you tried to fix it. You fought for Port Fayt, and for the merfolk. You almost died for them. And then you came here, all the way to Azurmouth, risking everything for your father.’
‘For the Snitch.’
‘I didn’t mean him. I meant Elijah Grubb. He was the one who raised you. The one who loved you. And you loved him back.’
‘I—’
‘What was it he used to say, about seraphs and demons?’
Joseph swallowed hard. ‘There’s a little bit of demon and a little bit of seraph in everyone.’
‘I reckon that’s true. But there’s something else too. There’s love. That’s what it is, to be a father, to be a mother, to be a son or a daughter. It’s love. It doesn’t matter who they are, really. So long as they love you, and you love them.’
Joseph looked at her, and saw her eyes filmed with tears. And he knew then that she wasn’t talking about him – not just him. Newton had raised her since she was a baby. He was never her father – never her real father – but he loved her all the same.
Just like that, his heart didn’t feel so heavy any more. He reached across, placing his mottled grey hand over her soft pink hand, as he thought of his father and his mother. Of how Elijah used to take Eleanor in his arms and hug her as she laughed and squirmed, and hugged him back. Of how he used to sit and listen as his father told him stories, his mother leaning in at the doorway, beaming at them both.
Of how they used to tell him every day: We love you.
‘You remember what Pallione told us?’ he said softly. ‘Always do the right thing. Maybe that’s all we can do. Make the best of it.’
Tabitha smiled at him, and he smiled back.
It felt good.
She sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. ‘Aye,’ she said. ‘And we’ve still got a family, remember? Well, sort of.’
Joseph nodded. ‘We do.’
Not a normal family. Not a perfect family. But a real family, all the same.
‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘Back to the Demon’s Watch.’
Chapter Twenty-six
There was no light in the cell, and no sound except for the occasional stifled whimper from Cyrus Derringer as he nursed his injured hand.
Newton had tried to sleep, but it was no good. Every time he’d been drifting off, disappointed faces had come whirling into his head. Frank, Paddy and Hal. Tabitha. Joseph, lost somewhere in the city. And most of all Jon, his oldest friend, frowning gently. All the people he’d let down.
He was almost glad that Jon wasn’t here to see him now. To see the terrible mistakes he’d made that had landed him and Cyrus here, in the dungeons of the House of Light.
At least things can’t get any worse. But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. The Duke of Garran wouldn’t just leave them to rot. He would be devising some far more terrible punishment.
He closed his eyes and flexed his cramped limps, pulling himself to a sitting position and resting
his head against the dank stones of the cell wall. There was nothing to do but wait.
‘Captain Newton.’
‘Aye?’
A rustle of clothing, as the elf shifted position. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. But I … I wanted to thank you.’
Newton’s eyes flicked open. ‘For what?’
‘You tried to save me.’ A pause. ‘You shouldn’t have bothered. I’m not worth it.’ The elf’s voice was a hoarse croak, as though every word was an effort.
Newton could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He thought for a moment before he replied. ‘That story you told about Governor Skelmerdale … It’s not true, is it? He didn’t send you to fetch us back.’
Another pause.
‘At the Battle of Illon,’ said the elf at last. ‘When the merfolk came and saved us all, I told the governor it was because of me. That I persuaded them to fight. He thought – he thought I was a hero. That is … until he found out the truth.’
‘Aye,’ said Newton. There wasn’t much else to say. Derringer had been in charge of the fleet all right, but when the battle started he’d hesitated, then left Newton to lead the attack. He certainly hadn’t had anything to do with the merfolk. That had been Tabitha and Joseph.
‘It was stupid,’ said Derringer. ‘I should have known it wouldn’t last. And of course, some impish captains went to him. Told him the truth.’ He was talking faster now, as though desperate to get it all out. ‘The governor was furious, so I fled. Came here in disguise. I thought if I brought you back to Fayt, maybe he’d forgive me.’
‘Maybe he will.’
‘Then you wanted me to fight in the contest, and I thought even that could be a chance to prove something. But I was beaten. That League woman with the blonde hair. She was better than me.’
‘It wasn’t a fair fight,’ said Newton. He bit his lip. He was no good at this kind of thing, but he had to say something. ‘You’re not so bad, Cyrus. Least you admitted what you’ve done. Fact is, you’ve always tried to do the right thing. You just … made a few mistakes.’