The Goblin's Gift (10 page)

He led them back through the barred door, locking it behind them. Together they wound their way through the wooden corridors of the Brig, until at last they reached the living room. The cake still sat on the table, untouched except for the two slices the troll had eaten earlier.

‘We'll be off now,' said Tabitha stiffly.

‘Thanks for all your help,' said Joseph. ‘Enjoy your cake.'

There was a sudden squirming in his pocket, and he instantly regretted saying that. Slik struggled upright and popped his head above the edge of the pocket, tiny nose quivering as he sniffed. Joseph moved his hand to conceal the fairy.

‘I
will
enjoy it,' said the troll. ‘It is good cake.'

The earthy-sweet smell of it was wafting into their nostrils now. Slik leaned past Joseph's hand and Joseph tried to push him back down into his pocket.

‘Seed cake,' the troll carried on. ‘Very good. Lots of honey in it.'

‘Go on,' said Tabitha, her eyes shining with hunger.
Not helpful, Tabs
.

‘Butter too. Eggs. Seeds. And, most important … lots and lots of sugar.'

Slik wriggled free and darted for the cake.

The troll was lightning quick. His cudgel was out in a trice and slamming down towards the fairy. The first blow struck the table, making it shudder. The second smashed the mug, scattering bits of broken pottery and splattering cold tea everywhere. Slik was on top of the cake now, and the troll raised his cudgel a third time.

‘No, wait,' called Joseph. ‘Not the—'

The cudgel whistled down, and the thud of its impact was muffled by sponge. The cake exploded, golden crumbs flying in every direction.

‘GAAAAAAAGH!' yelled the troll, as if it was his own heart he'd just beaten to a pulp. Slik was airborne, licking his lips, his tiny arms wrapped around a large chunk of cake.

The troll's gaze shifted from the fairy to Joseph and Tabitha. The ones who'd let this thief out of his cell …

‘Run,' croaked Tabitha.

Joseph bolted out of the room, his cutlass banging against his legs as he raced towards the door that led back to the beach. Slik buzzed overhead with his cake and Tabitha pushed past, reaching up with one hand and somehow managing to snag the fairy's legs and tug him down. She crammed him into her coat pocket and fumbled to do up the buttons, ignoring Slik's muffled complaints.

Joseph heard the heavy footsteps of the troll coming after them. He ran faster. There was a swish of air at his back as the cudgel swung dangerously close.

Tabitha threw open the door and leaped down the steps.

The troll was taking aim again. Joseph ducked as the cudgel sailed overhead, thwacking into the
wooden wall of the corridor. He sprang forward, out of the door.

The tide had come in, and the bottom of the steps was awash with seawater. Joseph skipped down into it, feeling the waves soak through his shoes instantly. He kept moving, panting, not looking back, dreading the next blow. The blow that would smash his brains out. But no blow came. He stumbled out of the surf onto the hard wet sand. Tabitha was just ahead, running up the beach, each footstep sinking deep.

Joseph chanced a look back. The troll was gone. What the … ? And then he saw the jailer standing on the steps of the Brig just above the water, holding his skirts up and frowning at the waves.

‘The dress …' said Tabitha. She had collapsed onto the sand ahead, gasping for air. ‘He doesn't … want to … get it wet.'

The troll ventured down a step, then thought better of it. He scowled at them. At last he swept back inside and slammed the door behind him.

Joseph could have almost cried with relief. He sank down next to Tabitha, his shoes waterlogged and full of sand, his muscles aching from running.

‘You all right?' she asked.

‘Just about.'

They lay there in silence except for their panting
and the sounds of Slik gorging himself on his bit of cake inside Tabitha's pocket.

‘So where now?' asked Joseph finally.

‘Bootles',' agreed Tabitha. ‘I don't know about you, but I'm starving.'

RAINDROPS SPATTERED ON
the leaf shelter the troll twins had built. The island was tiny, but there were a couple of trees, clinging on for dear life among the barren rocks. A good thing too, because otherwise they would all have been soaked by now.

Again.

Hal sneezed, wrapped his coat tighter around himself and shivered. As if it wasn't bad enough being stuck with Phineus Clagg and his few remaining crewmen, now they had to huddle up together to keep warm and fit under the leafy canopy. Jammed between a pair of sweating, stinking smugglers, Hal
could think of places he'd rather be. Quite a lot of them, in fact.

They all watched in silence as the mermaid swam towards them through the rain-pocked sea.

Lunch, on its way.

‘Bet you anything in the Ebony Ocean it's fish again,' said Frank.

His twin brother chuckled, but everyone else was too dispirited to reply.

The mermaid reached the shallow water and rose up out of it. Some silver objects flashed in her hands, and she tossed a few to land on the beach.

‘There's a surprise,' muttered Clagg, and took a swig from his bottle. He seemed determined to drink away the memory of his lost ship. At the rate he was going, it was incredible that he was still conscious.

‘I'll go,' said Hal, before anyone else could offer. He squeezed out from between his smelly neighbours and headed out of the shelter, into the rain. It might be wet out there, but he needed to escape the smugglers' company for a few moments and get some time alone.

He clambered across the wet rocks, down onto the beach. As he passed Pallione's bonestaff, still standing upright in the damp sand, his fingers brushed the wooden spoon in his pocket. Yes, there it was. The
most powerful wand he'd ever possessed; but what good was it here? It could only be used to control a single mind. Even if it worked on one mermaid, the others would soon put a stop to it.

He'd been watching out for the merfolk all day, spotting them every now and then, their heads poking up above the water to check that their captives were still in place. As if there was anywhere for them to go. They were well and truly trapped on the island.

He bent down to pick up the silver fish, keeping his spectacles in place with one hand and trying not to think about the cleaning and gutting that would be involved before they could eat it. He was just turning to go when a voice called out to him.

‘Human.' It was the mermaid who'd delivered their lunch, bobbing in the waves a few feet out to sea. ‘We bring you food, water. What else do you need?'

‘A boat would be useful, if you're offering.'

The mermaid looked puzzled. ‘I don't understand. You cannot have boat.'

Hal sighed. From what he'd seen so far, merfolk didn't have much of a sense of humour. ‘Never mind,' he said.

He was turning for a second time when the mermaid spoke again.

‘The men in white have taken the big island.'

Hal's heart sank. ‘Do you mean Illon?'

‘Yes. The men in white have many ships and guns. Their king is very cruel. The small, fat man with cold eyes. You know him?'

Hal nodded. Everyone in Port Fayt had heard of the Duke of Garran. He tried not to think about what might have happened to the islanders.

‘Your fleet has not yet arrived, four-eyed man. But our king will be here soon.'

Hal was confused for a moment. ‘Do you mean—?'

‘The King of the Merfolk. He is coming with his hosts. Within a day, he will arrive. Let us hope your little grey boy and the angry blue-headed girl bring Pallione quickly.'

‘Don't worry. Joseph and Tabs will keep her safe.'

The mermaid threw back her head and howled. Hal guessed it was supposed to be a laugh.

‘Pallione does not need protecting, four-eyed man.'

She dived back into the waves with a flick of her silver tail, and Hal was left alone on the beach, raindrops drilling into the sand all around him.

The King of the Merfolk
. Hal had read about him at the Azurmouth Academy. Legend said he was older than the tides and had fought off more challengers to
his throne than could be counted. No landlubber had ever seen him and lived to tell the tale. So what would he do to the watchmen and the smugglers if Joseph and Tabitha didn't return?

Probably nothing good.

Hal tugged the wooden spoon out of his pocket. He could still scarcely believe how ordinary it looked, warped and chipped from use before it was enchanted. Before it was turned into a wand capable of controlling any mind in the Ebony Ocean.
If the King arrives, maybe it will come in handy after all.
The thought made him shiver.

He thrust the spoon back into his pocket and carried the fish over the beach and the slippery rocks to the green shelter beyond. If only he knew what was happening back in Fayt … Surely Joseph and Tabitha would have spoken to Newt by now? And if they'd spoken to Newt, he'd be on his way to rescue them.

Wouldn't he?

He looked at the fish and wrinkled his nose.

They'd better come soon, is all.

Tabitha sat back, licking her lips. She felt a hundred times better with a belly full of pie. She'd never been so hungry in her life.

At once she thought of Hal, Frank and Paddy, stuck
on their little island with no food and no shelter. Outside the pie-shop window it had begun to rain. Whatever they were doing, Tabitha couldn't imagine they were having much fun.

She forced the thought from her mind as Mrs Bootle hurried into the serving room with a big bowl of sugar. The old troll woman set the bowl down on the table and Slik's eyes lit up with greed. He fluttered to the rim and fell in head first, his arms outstretched to embrace the shiny white crystals.

Tabitha caught Joseph's eye. He looked almost as disgusted as she was. It wasn't right, Slik getting rewarded after he'd nearly got them beaten to death by a mad cross-dressing troll. But unfortunately they needed him.

Mr Bootle had found a strong, slender length of cord, one end of which was now tied firmly round Slik's leg. The other end was looped around Tabitha's wrist. She wound it a couple more times, picking up the slack – just to be sure. There was no one in all of Port Fayt she trusted less than Slik. But she had to ignore that. Or at least that's what Newt would have told her, if he was here. Probably. She could make her own decisions, anyway. She was a fully-fledged watchman, wasn't she? With the shark tattoo to prove it.

Mrs Bootle had disappeared into the kitchen, but now she came bustling back with a tray: two mugs of velvetbean and a plate of thick, dark shokel cakes.

‘Sugar?' she asked, passing a mug to Joseph.

The tavern boy glanced at Slik, who was now doing the breaststroke through the sugar bowl, slobbering as he went. He shook his head.

‘Tabitha?'

‘I'll pass, thanks, Mrs Bootle.'

‘Oh, will you look at that? I forgot napkins. How could I forget napkins?'

‘Don't worry, Mrs Bootle,' said Joseph. ‘We don't …'

But the twins' mother had already rushed off to the kitchen.

It seemed as if poor Mrs Bootle wasn't entirely with them at the moment. She hadn't even told them off for sneaking away from the
Wyvern
without Newt's permission. Tabitha supposed that was only natural though, if your sons were stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere. If you didn't know whether they were dead or alive.

She wondered if Newton was feeling the same way about her. But then, he was the one in danger, sailing into battle with the League. He wasn't her real father, and he spent half the time ordering her around and
stinking of tobacco. Still, she couldn't bear the thought of something bad happening to him.

Mrs Bootle returned with some large red cotton napkins.

‘Are you worried about your sons, Mrs Bootle?' Tabitha asked.

Across the table she noticed Joseph stiffen a little. It annoyed her. She thought hard, trying to decide what would be the nicest thing to say. ‘I'm sure they'll be all right. I'd be more worried about Hal, actually. He's not as strong as the others and I bet it gets cold at night. There might not be much to eat either. And if there's a storm the twins will be much more—'

‘The merfolk will be looking after them,' Joseph cut in. ‘And anyway, it's just for a few days. We'll get them back, Mrs Bootle.'

The old troll lady smiled sadly at him.

Tabitha frowned. How come Joseph was the one who took the credit here? She'd been helping to cheer up Mrs Bootle as well. Sometimes it seemed like Joseph was the only one anyone took notice of any more. He didn't have a mother or a father to look after him, but then, neither did she.

An image of her parents – her real ones – flashed into her head. Him: broad-shouldered, dark-haired, handsome. Her: young, beautiful, her long blonde hair
shining in the sun. She wasn't even sure if it was really them any more, or if she'd just imagined them like that. Their murderer was dead now, like Tabitha had wanted, but it hadn't made things any better. She still dreamed of them. And these days the watchmen seemed more bothered about Joseph's dead parents than they ever had about hers.