The Goblin's Gift

by Conrad Mason

  Joseph raced into the alleyway behind them, gasping for breath. ‘Where now?’

  And then she saw it – a gap between the houses, just wide enough for a wheelbarrow to squeeze through. ‘There.’ They raced in and stood in the darkness, panting. Footsteps sounded on the cobbles behind them and Jeb flung himself round the corner.

  ‘Told yer,’ he said, with a wink. ‘No one knows these streets better than the Snitch.’

  Tabitha ignored him.

  They waited, uncomfortably close to each other, listening to the shouts of the bully boys on the main street. They were ankle deep in rotten vegetables and bits of old rubbish, and judging by the smell, Tabitha reckoned that more than one person had used their hiding place as a privy. Flies buzzed around them, but Tabitha didn’t dare swat them away.

  A minute passed. Finally the voices and the footsteps receded into the distance.

  Tabitha let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

  They were safe.

  That was, if you ignored the fact that the biggest gang in Port Fayt was out to get them. And that their only allies were a backstabbing goblin and a stuck-up mermaid. And that Joseph seemed more worried about his dead parents than about all the real, live people who wanted to kill them.

  Safe. Well, that was one way of looking at it.

  ‘COME IN.’

  The cabin door opens and Major Turnbull enters. He sits back in his chair and examines her by the lantern light. It throws half her face into shadow, turning its beauty into something more sinister. Those cold blue eyes, and the cruel curve of her lips …

  He has heard it said that a gang of elves attacked her mother during the Miners’ Rising, when Turnbull was just a little girl. That she hid in a cupboard and saw it all. He wonders if the story is true. It might explain the fiery rage with which she hates all demonspawn.

  Hatred is one thing. But anger – too much anger can be dangerous. It is essential to remain calm. That way, no mistakes are made.

  He drums his fingers on his green marble paperweight, takes a sip of blackwine and swills it around his mouth. The White Valley ’73. A fine vintage.

  ‘So,’ he says quietly. ‘It is done.’

  Major Turnbull nods once. The Duke of Garran reaches across his desk, taking the crystal decanter and pouring a goblet for his guest.

  ‘You have excelled yourself, Major. The finest magicians in the Academy could do no better work.’

  She shrugs.

  ‘I dare say there’ll be a colonel’s commission when we return to Azurmouth. Provided, of course, that nothing goes wrong.’

  She stays silent. He takes another sip of blackwine, savouring its complexity.

  ‘Tell me. How did you conceal the spell? They don’t teach arts like that at the Academy. A room full of people watching, and no one sees a hint of – what do you call it? – ah yes: a tremor.’

  He drains his goblet and sets it down, watching the lantern light glitter through the facets of the cut glass and enjoying the silence.

  ‘On second thought, don’t tell me.’ As if she would. ‘A magician should never reveal her secrets.’

  He smiles, but of course Turnbull does not.

  ‘That will be all. It was a delight to speak to you, as ever.’

  Major Turnbull nods, polite but silent, and leaves, closing the cabin door behind her with a creak and a soft click.

  He sets down his empty goblet and takes Turnbull’s untouched blackwine for himself. As he sips, his gaze wanders over the sketches pinned to his cabin wall. Every single variety of demonspawn, catalogued for his benefit by Dr William Silverbell’s best draughtsman. His eyes alight finally on the merperson. Daemonium Piscarium.

  The charcoal illustration shows a frowning mermaid, one hand grasping a bonestaff, her long tail curving away below. He recalls the relevant entry in The Authoritative Compendium of Demonspawn. A lesser form, to be sure, but far from irrelevant. If they were to side with the Fayters, the consequences could be … unfortunate.

  He will not let it happen.

  The Duke of Garran rises and pads across the cabin floor. He puts on his reading spectacles and peers in close, tracing the curve of the tail with one finger and examining where the girl’s upper body joins the grotesque fish tail. Where the natural turns unnatural. He feels his lip curl in disgust, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Disgusting. And yet fascinating.

  He dips one finger in the blackwine and smears it across the creature’s tail, blotting it out and watching the paper crinkle and distort, until nothing remains except the upper body of a girl.

  As though it were a human, and not demonspawn at all.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘IS THIS IT?’ asked joseph. ‘It’s a bit … er …’

  ‘It stinks,’ Tabitha finished for him.

  Their shadows stretched out in front of them on the stone floor as they stood in the doorway, surveying the warehouse. If he craned his neck, Joseph could just make out rotting rafters disappearing into the gloom, several storeys up. Two tiny windows provided a little light, enough to see gigantic stacks of barrels towering on either side. The whole place reeked of griffin bile – a musty, sickly stench that sat somewhere between fresh vomit and rotten fish. Joseph peered into an open barrel and saw sludgy black dregs still clinging to the sides. A deep waft of the smell hit him, and he jerked backwards, trying not to gag.

  It wasn’t the ideal place to hide out. First they’d tried to go back to Bootles’, but bully boys had been loitering at the end of the street. Next they’d ducked into an abandoned grogshop for a while, until Tabs spotted more of the Boy King’s men in the tavern across the road. They’d moved to a grotty stables, then to a velvethouse on the edge of the Crosstree Quarter. Nowhere felt safe. At last Jeb had suggested his griffin-bile warehouse. And with nowhere else to go, here they were.

  ‘It’s only till tomorrow morning, when the ship sets sail,’ said Jeb. ‘I thought it was the fish girl who was supposed to be the princess?’

  Pallione scowled at him. ‘Look who’s talking. Oh, my beautiful yellow jacket, we can’t possibly leave it behind! If you ask me, we did you a favour.’

  ‘All right,’ said Tabitha. ‘It’ll do for now. What time does the ship leave? We’ll need to go to an island near Illon.’

  ‘An hour after dawn,’ said Jeb.

  Pallione’s scowl grew darker. ‘So we’ll have to spend a night here, with this filthy griffin snot? Did I mention how much I hate this town?’

  Tabitha rounded on her, cheeks flushed.

  ‘Just shut up about Port Fayt, all right? You nearly got us killed on the docks, so maybe you could stop moaning for half a minute.’

  ‘I nearly got us killed? I did? Who was it who insisted we go down Mer Way? You heard the elf. His fairy spotted us.’

  ‘Now hold on,’ said Joseph. ‘Let’s all just—’

  ‘Joseph told you,’ interrupted the mermaid. She was still glaring at Tabitha. ‘He told you not to take the biggest street in town. I told you too. We both did. But did you listen?’

  Tabitha’s face was red now, and her fists were clenched.

  ‘We would have been fine if you hadn’t thrown a fit at Harry.’

  ‘That made no difference.’

  ‘Tabs,’ said Joseph. ‘I … Maybe we should—’

  ‘And you …’ Tabitha turned on him, eyes blazing.

  ‘You’re always taking her side. We’re supposed to be working together, aren’t we?’ She pulled up her sleeve, showed him her shark tattoo. ‘Watchmen, see?’

  ‘I’m just trying to—’

  ‘You’re just trying to be difficult!’

  She stood fuming at him, looking so unfriendly he thought she might be about to punch him.

  Jeb chuckled. ‘Trouble in paradise, eh?’

  ‘Shut up,’ snapped Tabitha. ‘We’ve got guns, remember? So maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself.’

  ‘Tabs—’ Joseph began.

  �
�And you too. Just … wait here. All of you. I’m going to get some food.’ She sounded as though she was struggling not to yell at them. Or cry. Or both.

  ‘But—’

  ‘I said I’m going out. You’re in charge.’ She grabbed hold of Joseph’s hand and pressed the pistol into it, without meeting his eyes.

  ‘Are you—?’

  ‘I told you, I’m fine.’

  Joseph searched for something to say, but came up with nothing. He watched, helpless, as she strode out through the double doors.

  Jeb gave him a wink and swaggered off towards a row of barrels, counting along until he found the one he was looking for, and began to remove the lid.

  ‘The blue-haired girl is cross with herself,’ said Pallione. Her arms were folded, and her tail tapped against the side of the wheelbarrow like a man drumming his fingers. ‘She just needs time alone.’

  ‘Maybe.’ But Joseph wasn’t sure he believed it. He’d never seen Tabitha so upset, and it didn’t feel good.

  ‘If my father was here, he would get us out of this mess,’ said Pallione. ‘If we were in the ocean, I mean.’ She sighed, and her eyes glazed over. ‘I cannot wait to feel the water’s embrace again. I came so close today …’

  Joseph took hold of the wheelbarrow and pushed it further into the warehouse, towards a corner where some dirty old sackcloth littered the ground.

  ‘So was it Harry who caught you?’ he asked. Hopefully the mermaid could distract him from thinking about Tabitha.

  Pallione shook her head.

  ‘That pointy-eared fop does no dirty work himself. But it was one of his dinghies. They use nets like fishermen, but metal, so you can’t escape. If I’d had my bonestaff with me …’ She tailed off, lost in thought. ‘When I get back, I’ll never leave the King’s Rock again.’

  She turned to him as he wheeled her to a halt.

  ‘Where’s your father, Joseph?’

  ‘He’s not around any more.’ But where is he?

  Pallione frowned at him. ‘I don’t understand. He abandoned you? Like my father?’

  Out of nowhere, Joseph felt a warm surge of anger. Anger at Tabitha, anger at himself, and anger at the mermaid. How dare she talk about his father like that?

  ‘No, that’s not it at all,’ he said. ‘And the King didn’t abandon you. You swam too close to Fayt, remember? He told you not to. And you know he can’t come here to rescue you himself. For Thalin’s sake, he’s pledged all his people to fight a war on your behalf, so you can’t say he doesn’t care about you.’

  Joseph had never seen the mermaid look so surprised. Then again, he was pretty surprised himself. He was just opening his mouth to apologize when Jeb ambled over with an armful of blankets and a couple of lanterns dangling from his fingers.

  ‘Keep this lot for emergencies,’ he said. ‘Now look lively, mongrel, and help me make the beds for later.’

  For once, Joseph was glad the Snitch had made an appearance. He took the blankets, spread some over the floor and passed a couple to Pallione, who wrapped herself up inside the wheelbarrow.

  He tried not to meet her eyes, but all the same he noticed she was watching him.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  Joseph shook his head hurriedly.

  Pallione looked uncertain. ‘Well then,’ she said finally. ‘I’m going to take a nap. Maybe I can forget where I am for a few hours. You?’

  ‘I think I’ll just wait. Keep watch. Until Tabs comes back.’

  ‘Very well.’

  She frowned at him, then shrugged and rolled over, her tail flopping against the side of the wheelbarrow. Within a few moments she was snoring.

  Joseph envied her. There was no way he would get to sleep so easily tonight.

  ‘Fish-tail’s off to dreamland, eh?’ said Jeb. Joseph looked up to see him standing a little way off, smiling. ‘Which means you and I can have a little chat. What do you say?’ He dragged two empty barrels out of the shadows and sat down on one, motioning for Joseph to take the other. Then he hunted around in his pockets, pulled out a pipe and tobacco and began to smoke.

  Waiting.

  Joseph cast a glance at the door. No sign of Tabitha. He closed his eyes and counted to ten in his head, breathing slow and even. Then he moved quietly away from Pallione and sat on the spare barrel, resting the goblin’s multi-barrelled pistol on his knee. Just in case something went wrong. His palms were slick with sweat.

  Jeb puffed out a smoke ring and fixed him with his pale eyes.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘Your pa’s alive.’

  Joseph’s fingers closed around the handle of the pistol. Breathe. Slow and even.

  ‘According to you,’ he said.

  ‘Aye. I ain’t surprised if you don’t believe me. So how about a little proof?’

  He reached into his pocket and drew out a small metal object, holding it out in his palm for Joseph to see.

  It was a pocket watch – old, battered and tarnished. It had been silver once. The hands ticked around the metal face, echoing Joseph’s heartbeat.

  ‘What does this mean?’ But he already knew.

  ‘Take it. Turn it over.’

  Joseph did so. The back had a design etched around the edge – swirling flowers, poorly executed. It was clear the watch was cheap. But it was the engraving in the middle that stole his breath away.

  TO MY DEAREST ELIJAH,

  WITH ALL MY LOVE,

  ELEANOR

  Breathe. Slow and even. But the whole warehouse seemed to be spinning. Elijah. Eleanor.

  His parents.

  For years, all he’d had to remember them by was the silly song his mother used to sing. And now this.

  As he ran his fingers over the engraving, he began to remember. It had been a birthday present. Must have cost his mother a month’s wages. And his father had snatched her up in his arms and grinned and hugged her till Joseph was frightened he’d squash her.

  His heartbeat outpaced the ticking of the clock.

  He’d helped wind it up sometimes, and his father had taught him to tell the time. Once he’d dropped it. And when his father picked it up and found that it wasn’t broken, he’d been so relieved he’d burst into tears.

  Breathe.

  ‘Lucky I had that on me,’ said Jeb. ‘Your father gave it to me. Had to. Times are hard nowadays, and a goblin’s got to do what he can to make ends meet.’ His pipe glowed as he inhaled.

  Joseph looked at him. Wait. Think straight.

  ‘This isn’t proof,’ he said. His voice came out hoarse. ‘You could have stolen it.’

  Jeb shrugged. ‘Suit yerself. I know it ain’t easy to trust me.’

  Joseph licked his dry lips. He wanted to believe the goblin so badly. Even if it wasn’t true, the Snitch knew something. He’d recognized his mother’s song. The song she only sang to Joseph and his father. And now this …

  ‘Why doesn’t he come for me? If he was alive, he’d come and find me.’

  Jeb leaned in through the coiling trails of smoke from his pipe.

  ‘Now listen, mate. There’s a good reason for that, and I’ll explain. I’ll tell you all about your pa. I’ll even take you to him. But I want something in return. See, the ship ain’t leaving Port Fayt tomorrow, like I told the girl. It’s leaving tonight. We’ll be on it, out of this place and away from the Boy King. Just you, me and that mermaid. We head off when it’s your watch, nice and quiet, and we leave your friend behind. We take the fish girl to that island. Then I get my reward. Understand?’

  The warehouse was spinning again. Maybe it was the smoke from the Snitch’s pipe. Maybe not.

  ‘What do I get?’

  ‘The ship’ll sail on to the Old World, and when we get there I’ll take yer to your pa. That’s where he’s holed up.’

  Pipe smoke hung above them. Silence. The goblin waited.

  Joseph turned the si
lver watch over and over in his hand. To my dearest Elijah, with all my love, Eleanor.

  ‘I’ve had it a while,’ said Jeb. ‘Worth a fair few ducats, that. You keep it, though. Little gift. Sign of my …what do you call it? … good will. I’ll take you to him, if you help me. He’s living across the ocean, doesn’t know if you’re dead or alive. And you can change that.’

  Joseph felt a lump form in his throat. He took a deep, ragged breath, tucked the watch away in his pocket, still holding onto it. I will not cry. Whatever happens, I will not cry.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘I can’t leave Tabs on her own.’

  Jeb let out a long sigh. ‘She can’t come, mate. She’s a troublemaker, and she’ll try and stop me getting my fair reward. You know that.’

  Silence again. The metal of the watch was cold under Joseph’s fingers.

  ‘One thing about your father,’ said the goblin at last. ‘He always does what’s best for other folk. Anyone’s got a problem, they know Elijah will help them out. Seems you’re like him, and that’s all well and good. Trouble is, he never does a thing for himself. And that’s you all over, ain’t it, mongrel? Running around with the Demon’s Watch trying to help them save a town that ain’t been good to you. Look at that skin. All pink and grey and blotchy. You can’t tell me life’s been easy here. Not in Fayt. And that girl – when’s she ever given you a kind word? You should stand up for yerself for a change.’

  Joseph thought of all the times his uncle had hit him. All the customers who’d yelled at him, called him a mongrel. It was true that Fayt hadn’t always been good to him. And maybe, sometimes, Tabs wasn’t either. But that didn’t mean he could turn his back on her.

  He looked into the goblin’s face, as if it might give some clue, some hint that this was all lies. But there was nothing. Just those pale eyes watching him, waiting for an answer. And somehow, he knew. It was true. The goblin was telling the truth.

  ‘Tell me, please,’ he said. It sounded pathetic, but he didn’t care. ‘Just tell me how to find him.’

  Jeb shook his head.

  ‘You have to tell me,’ he said again. ‘It’s my father. Tell me or …’ He raised the pistol with both his trembling hands. ‘Tell me or I’ll shoot. I will.’