The Goblin's Gift (24 page)

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 silver 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.'

‘Don't be ridiculous.'

Joseph's ears burned with shame and anger. He was the one with the gun and yet, somehow, he was powerless. The goblin still sat there, smirking, saying nothing.

‘Look, mongrel,' said Jeb. And suddenly his tone
was different – hard and cold. ‘I can't sneak that mermaid out without your help. So yer'd better get smart. You've got until tonight to think about it. If you breathe a word to the girl, the deal's off. And if yer don't help, just have a little think about what might happen to your pa. What I might do to him.'

Something snapped. Before Joseph knew what he was doing, his left fist thudded into Jeb's face, knocking the pipe out so that it skittered away across the warehouse floor. His right foot slammed into the goblin's barrel as hard as he could kick. It was just enough to tip it backwards, and Jeb was already off balance, leaning away from the punch. He went toppling head over heels.

Joseph was upon him in an instant, trying to get the pistol up into Jeb's throat. But the goblin grabbed hold of his wrists. Joseph struggled on top, pinning Jeb down. And the next thing he knew there were hands on his shoulders and he was dragged away, flailing uselessly. There were tears in his eyes, but he could see a blurred image of the goblin scrambling to his feet. He was filled with a fresh urge to lash out. But the hands that held him were stronger than he was.

‘What in Thalin's name are you doing?' hissed Tabitha.

‘It's— He's—'

She grappled his arms behind his back and forced him down until he was sitting on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pallione, sitting up from her wheelbarrow, blinking and trying to make sense of the scene in front of her.

‘Called him a mongrel one too many times, I reckon,' said Jeb, straightening his coat. ‘He flew off the handle.'

‘That's not— I …'

‘It's your father again, isn't it?' said Tabitha. She was still angry, Joseph realized. Maybe even angrier. ‘Look, Joseph, you can't believe a word he says, understand? Your pa's dead, just like mine. Forget it!'

She let go and stepped back. He turned to look up at her and saw that her eyes were just as red and swollen and full of hurt as he knew his own were. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, brittle with emotion.

‘We're not going on that boat. I'll find another way. I don't care how.'

‘Tabs, I— We need to get out soon, or the Boy King will—'

‘I don't know what's got into you. First you pull that stupid trick with the blackwine. Then you believe the Snitch's lies about your father—'

‘Now see here,' said Jeb. ‘There's nothing to—'

‘
Shut up!
' Tabitha ran her hands through her hair, paced up and down. ‘We'll have to keep this bilge rat here for now. He's too dangerous if we let him go. I just wish … I mean, for Thalin's sake, Joseph, I'd be better off on my own.'

The words stung him, and fresh tears threatened to well up.

Silence. Even Pallione said nothing; just watched, wearing a slight frown.

Joseph's fingers found their way into his pocket and closed around his father's watch.

Better off on my own
. Maybe she was right.

Maybe they would both be better off on their own.

HAL WOKE WITH
a jolt. It was night, and the fire had died down to a few glowing embers. Everyone was asleep except for a single smuggler keeping watch.

He shivered and rolled over, tried to rearrange the seaweed he was sleeping on and get comfortable among the rocks. It was no good. He lay back, listening to the snores of the Bootle brothers, staring at the stars and clamping his teeth together to stop them from chattering.

He'd dreamed of the King. Of his strange throne of rocks. Of those liquid green eyes, ever changing, like the sea itself. And of his words.

My powers are at their strongest, magician … and now I am returned.

It should have reassured him, but instead it made him anxious. Joseph and Tabitha had been gone for three nights now. They'd had no word of Newton or the Fayter fleet.

And there was nothing they could do about it.

Distant thunder sounded.

Except, no – that wasn't thunder …

Hal staggered to his feet, picked up a spyglass and looked out across the sea to where the sound had come from. But it was too dark.

He fumbled on his shoes and picked his way through the sleeping bodies to the shore. The rolling booms sounded again, and again he scanned the horizon. This time a distant orange glow lit up the sky.

‘Do you hear, magician?' said a voice close by. It was the mermaid who'd first brought them to the island. She was sitting on a rock a little way out to sea, her spiky fair hair just visible, her eyes gleaming in the night.

‘Cannons,' said Hal. His mouth was dry, and he swallowed.

The mermaid laughed her strange, barking laugh.

‘My people call this island The Claw. You know why? Because it rises above the waves like the hand of
a beast. But tonight there are greater dangers than imaginary monsters.' She gestured to the distant orange light. ‘The men in white like to practise.'

Another volley of booms carried across the water.

‘Do you think we can defeat them?' asked Hal.

‘You Fayters, on your own? You might as easily ask the sea and the sky to switch places.'

Hal swallowed again. ‘What about you? If you fought with us?'

The mermaid was silent for a while. At last she shrugged.

‘Perhaps.'

Perhaps
. It wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for.

‘Go, four-eyed man. Sleep. You might need it.'

‘What do you mean?'

The mermaid's teeth flashed in a smile. ‘The Fayters are approaching the big island now. The one you call Illon. Tomorrow they will reach it. Then the battle will begin.'

Newton leaned over the gunwale, watching the prow of the
Dread Unicorn
cut through the dark water. Derringer had dismissed him from the
Wyvern
the moment they'd caught up with the fleet, and that suited him fine. Now there were just a few crewmen still on deck, and the sounds of the ship filled his ears.
The rattle of rigging. The creaks and groans of the deck. The slapping of the waves against the hull.

He looked up and took in the rest of the fleet, sailing through the night, bound for Illon and the enemy armada. Not long now. He shivered and turned up the collar of his coat.

Newton was glad of those ships keeping them company. The sails, deep blue against a black sky dotted with stars. The yellow glimmer of candlelight from the stern cabins, and the odd lantern strung up on deck. He'd never liked the dark. Wasn't scared of it – not much seemed to scare him any more. But it reminded him of the mines.

The thought jolted him, as it always did. A wound that smarted when he touched it and never seemed to heal. Still, he kept going back to it. Especially since seeing Alice.

The mines. Every morning, kicked awake, and opening his eyes to the half-light. Breakfast – a thin soup and hard bread. The leftovers would reappear at lunch and at dinner time, if you were lucky. Then onto your hands and knees, scrabbling at the rocks, hunting for the precious gleam of zephyrum. The magical metal.

When Newton was a boy, before all that, his grandfather had told him stories of heroes who fought
with zephyrum swords, and damsels wearing magical zephyrum brooches. There was no magic to the work though.

At noon they were driven up above for a few minutes to eat, the sunlight making their eyes throb. Then back into the dark again, working the rock face until they almost collapsed. Some did. And when that happened the pale forms of the whitecoats would appear out of the darkness, pick up the fallen miner and take him away. They would never see that person again.

No. Newton didn't like the dark.

He focused on the horizon ahead. Not long now. Not long before Illon appeared, a bump above the line of the sea, and then the League's armada with its fluttering white banners. He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to picture it all. Tried to stem the hot rage that threatened to surge up again and engulf him.

The memory of the zephyrum mines still hurt. The memory of his family, and seeing each of them, one by one, for the last time in the gloom beneath the earth. But it had been a long time since it had made him angry. The League had taken everything from him. And, worse, they'd taken that little girl, Alice Turnbull, and made her one of them.

Suddenly Newton realized that he didn't
want
to
control his anger any more. He wanted to unleash it on his enemies. He wanted to take revenge. For his grandfather. For his family. For every single one of the miners.