The Goblin's Gift (25 page)

He reached down for the bundle that leaned against the gunwale, laid it flat and unwrapped the blanket. The Sword of Corin glinted in the moonlight. Newton's staff, the Banshee, remained in his cabin, and there it would stay until after the fighting was done.

He traced one finger along the groove of the fuller that ran the length of the blade. The Sword of Corin was ancient, practically a relic. But what better weapon to carry against the League than that of their own hero, Corin?

He'd let himself into the library before they set sail, while the governor was busy meeting Colonel Derringer. Taken the sword and whisked it away. It wasn't like him. But he'd felt, somehow, as though he'd needed to do it. And now he was going to hunt down the Duke of Garran and kill him.

A sword is just a sword.
And tomorrow he was going to prove it.

Footsteps on the deck behind him. He flipped the blanket back to conceal the blade and turned. Old Jon was hobbling towards him, every wrinkle of
his face thrown into shadow by the lantern he held.

‘Evening,' said Newt.

Old Jon came up next to him, gazing out over the ocean. They stood like that for a while, in silence – but a comforting kind of silence. That was Old Jon all over.

‘Newt,' said the elf at last. His voice was deep, soft and calming. ‘You ain't yourself.'

‘Aye.' There was no getting anything past Jon. ‘I'm angry. What do you expect?'

The elf nodded slowly. ‘Little bit of anger's fair enough.' He turned for the first time to look Newton in the eye. ‘But don't be too hard on yourself. Don't lose your head.'

‘Hmm.'

They stood a while longer, listening to the chop and slap of the waves against the ship's hull. Then Old Jon turned and limped away across the deck, lantern creaking as it swung in the breeze.

As the light went, Newton's rage returned, burning through him.

He drew aside the blanket again, lifted the sword out and stepped back. The stitches in his arm nagged at him, but it was no more than a flesh wound and it was healing fast. He swung the sword, once, twice, enjoying the soft hum of the blade as it cut the night
air. His swordplay was rusty, but a little practice would soon bring it back. And he had strength on his side.
Yes
. He was almost looking forward to it.

Not long now.

Tabitha dreamed. She was out at sea, in a mist, treading water. The mermaid floated opposite her, holding something behind her back. Something that belonged to Tabitha. She wanted it more than anything, but when she reached for it the fish girl twisted away, smirking.

‘It's mine!' she cried.

There was a sound behind her – oars, dipping in and out of the water. She turned to see the shape of a dinghy, and she floundered towards it.

‘Joseph,' she gasped. He was rowing the boat closer and closer. But his eyes were fixed on the mermaid, his face blank, as though he hadn't heard her. ‘Joseph!' She screamed it this time. Still nothing. ‘Help me. Please. Help me get it back.' But he kept rowing. When he reached Pallione he lifted her out of the sea as though she was as light as a feather, set her down in the boat and kept rowing.

There was a strange scent in the air, rich and musty and sickening.

‘Wait!' howled Tabitha. ‘Wait for me!'

Sea and sky had turned dark now. She rose and fell with the waves, higher and higher, lower and lower. Thunder rolled overhead and rain began to fall.

‘I'll drown!'

But the boat just kept moving away, into the mist. As it went, Pallione watched, still smiling. She held out her hand, but when she opened her fingers there was nothing there.

‘You're better off on your own, remember?' said the mermaid.

And now the sea was surging as something rose up in the space between Tabitha and the dinghy. A vast, terrible form, water cascading off it. Its body was the colour of seaweed, its back curved, covered in spines. Its limbs were like spiders' legs – long, slender and pointed. A demon of the ocean.
The Maw.
And it was too late for Tabitha.
Alone
. She would die here, all on her own.

The Maw threw back its head and screamed.

Tabitha's eyes flicked open and she sat up, the stink of griffin bile hitting her nostrils instantly. Sweat drenched her brow, and her breathing came fast and heavy.

She pushed the thin blanket away from her as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the warehouse.

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

She yawned and stretched. Shouldn't Joseph have woken her already? Surely it was her turn at watch by now? She turned to check on Pallione.

The mermaid wasn't there.

Tabitha rubbed her eyes, looked again.

Still not there. And no wheelbarrow either.

She looked round at the barrel where she had left Joseph sitting, keeping first watch. There was another barrel next to it, the two of them like empty chairs. But no sign of Joseph. No sign of Jeb. No sign of Pallione.

They were gone.

PALLIONE WAS A
deep sleeper, and it was only once they'd trundled her up the gangplank and onto the deck that she woke up. Her tail flicked round and caught Joseph a stinging blow, sending him staggering away. She writhed, knocking over the wheelbarrow and falling out. Immediately four big sailors dived onto her, two holding down her tail while the others pinned her arms to her sides.

‘Fiery little fish girl, ain't she?' remarked Jeb.

Joseph couldn't let this go on any longer. He stepped forward, rubbing his arm where the mermaid had struck him.

‘Pallione.'

‘Joseph,' yelled the mermaid. ‘What's going on? Where are we going?'

‘It's all right,' he said. He crouched down beside her. Her eyes were wide with fear and fury, and his heart ached to see it. ‘No one's going to hurt you. We're taking you to the King.'

Pallione stopped thrashing, her face full of uncertainty. She glanced around, taking in the hobgoblin junk – the polished black lacquer of the deck, the low gunwales and furled battened sails. Above, the sky was still dark. Morning was a good few hours off yet. ‘Then why didn't you wake me sooner? And where is your friend Tabitha?'

‘She … well … It's complicated.'

It hadn't felt good, leaving her there in the warehouse. Tabitha frowned even in her sleep, as if she knew what they were doing and disapproved of it.

Pallione narrowed her eyes. ‘You left her behind?'

The words twisted his gut. Yes. He had left her behind. That was what she'd wanted, wasn't it?
I'd be better off on my own.
He'd go back for her, just as soon as they'd taken Pallione to her father. And in the meantime Tabs would be fine. Wasn't she always saying she could look after herself?

‘Take that mermaid down below,' said Jeb.

The four sailors picked up Pallione and began to
carry her away. She struggled again as they took her across the deck to the square hatch that led below.

‘Wait!' she cried. ‘I don't understand, I don't—'

‘It'll be all right,' said Joseph, but the words sounded hollow. Unconvincing.

Don't worry
, he told himself. He was doing the right thing. Tabitha didn't need looking after. Pallione was going to see her father again. And the merfolk would fight for the Fayters.

This isn't just about me.

At the stern, the gleaming black cabin door opened and a hobgoblin strode up onto the deck. He was tall, grey-skinned and thin, dressed in sailor's clothes, with eyes and ears larger than those of a normal goblin.

‘Captain Lortt,' called Jeb. ‘We're ready to make sail.' The hobgoblin nodded and began to shout out orders.

Jeb leaned down to squeeze Joseph's shoulder, grinning in a way that made Joseph want to punch him in the face. ‘You've made a smart move here, lad,' said Jeb. ‘We'll get this fish girl to her father. Then I'll get my reward, and you'll be off to see your pa again.' He leaned down to squeeze Joseph's shoulder, grinning in a way that made Joseph want to punch him in the face.

This isn't just about me.

Tabitha raced out of the warehouse, her boots pounding the cobblestones.
Faster. Come on, faster!
She pushed hard, her lungs burning with the chill of the night air.

Was it possible that the Boy King had taken them? No. He would have taken her too. So they must have gone themselves. Jeb the Snitch, Joseph and the mermaid. If this had anything to do with that bilge about Joseph's father … Somehow, she had a feeling it did.

The streets were empty save for a snoozing drunk sprawled in a doorway and a few beggars sleeping out under awnings. Not even a Dockside Militia patrol. Tabitha sucked more air into her lungs and ran on through the darkness. The Boy King's men might spot her, but she didn't care about that any more. There was no time to worry. Whatever Jeb the Snitch was up to, it wasn't going to be good. She had to stop them.

That was the funny thing. She'd
known
they were ganging up on her. But now that she had proof of it, she actually felt better. At least she'd been right. And at least she knew what to do next.

She veered into a shipyard, stopping to root through its rubbish dump until she found what she was looking for. A hand saw, half rusted, with several
teeth missing. But it would get the job done.

She ran on, out of the town, climbing the path up to the eastern cliffs, beyond the lighthouse, then down to the beach. The sand soaked up the last of her energy, each step exhausting. The night was almost over and she could see things clearly now – the deep blue shape of the Brig, crouched on the shoreline against the azure sky, waves lapping at its hull.

Dawn was coming. But she couldn't rest yet. If Jeb, Joseph and Pallione had taken the Snitch's ship out of Fayt, there was only one way she could go after them. It was a risk, of course. But it wasn't as though she had a choice. If that princess didn't get back to her father, the merfolk wouldn't fight. And if the merfolk didn't fight, Port Fayt was doomed, along with all the watchmen. Hal, the Bootle twins, Newt …

The surface of the Brig was covered in cemented seagull droppings, old seaweed and barnacles, so encrusted that there were plenty of foot- and handholds. And Tabitha had always been a good climber. She clambered along the length of the vessel, out above the sea, peering in at the tiny barred windows. It seemed to take for ever, but she knew she was getting closer all the time.

At last she found the right window. She tapped at the wood beside it, pushed her face up against the
bars. Beyond, the dawn light picked out gentle ripples on the surface of the water in the merfolk tank.

‘Wake up,' she hissed. ‘Come on, wake up!'

A face appeared at the window, so suddenly that Tabitha almost lost her grip and fell. A merman, glaring at her from between long damp strands of black hair plastered to his face.
It's all right
, she told herself.
He can't hurt you. Not until he's out, anyway.

‘You,' growled the merman. ‘I remember you. You came to the Brig. Two days ago. What do you want?'

So they can speak. Or at least, this one can. Good.

Tabitha reached for her belt and pulled out the hand saw.

‘Shh,' she murmured. ‘You'll wake the troll. I'm getting you out of here.'

The merman's eyes narrowed. ‘Why?'

Don't lose your temper.

‘Do you want me to explain,' asked Tabitha, ‘or do you want me to saw?'

‘
OUT OF THE
WAY, mongrel!'

Joseph's eyes flicked open, and he rolled aside just in time to avoid the heavy boots. The sailor stomped by, coiling up a length of rope.

Already the blankets the crew had slept on were rolled up and stowed away, and the junk bustled with activity. Joseph sat up, clutching his own blanket to him and blinking. It was a glorious golden morning, gulls crying, sunshine slanting across the water, making the tips of the waves sparkle. Still, it wasn't exactly welcome. He'd barely slept. Couldn't stop thinking about Tabs, all alone in Port Fayt …