The Goblin's Gift (18 page)

‘You stupid fish girl,' snarled Jeb. ‘Now he's going to raise the alarm, ain't he?'

Tabitha sprang forward, piling into Jeb and knocking him flying. His lantern skittered away across the cavern floor, along with the pistol. She scrambled to hold the goblin down but he lashed out, catching her a stinging blow on the mouth and knocking her sideways.

‘Stop,' said someone. Tabitha looked up to see Joseph holding the pistol with both hands, aiming it at Jeb. The weapon shook. But at this range even he couldn't miss.

‘You bilge-brains,' groaned Jeb, climbing to his feet and dusting off his hat. ‘Can't you see I'm trying to help you escape?'

Tabitha would have thought she was dreaming if her jaw wasn't hurting so badly. There had to be some mistake. Jeb the Snitch was helping them? What next – talking fish? Modest magicians? ‘What's going on?' she demanded.

Jeb gave an elaborate sigh. ‘Do you want me to explain,' he said, as though he was talking to a child throwing a tantrum, ‘or do you want to get out of here in one piece?'

Somewhere in the distance there were shouts, and running footsteps.

‘They're coming,' said Jeb. ‘And I know the way out.'

Tabitha looked at Joseph, but he was just gawping.
No help at all.
She tried to think it through. Should they trust Jeb the Snitch? She'd rather stick her head in a shark's mouth. But then again, she wasn't too keen on the sound of Zargath's favourite execution method either.

A door opened and closed, and the footsteps grew louder.

‘Come on!' snapped Pallione. ‘We don't have a choice. Or do you want to be roasted to death?'

‘Fine,' Tabitha snapped back. ‘But only until we get out of here. And he's pushing the wheelbarrow.' She picked up the lantern, which was somehow still lit, and marched out of the door.

Jeb replaced his tricorne hat and winked at her. ‘You won't regret this, darling.' He took the wheelbarrow handles and trundled Pallione into the corridor. The mermaid clung onto her cutlass, leaning out of the wheelbarrow to check that no one was coming. Joseph followed, the pistol still trained on Jeb.

There was no time to lose the dress. Tabitha lifted her skirts and led the way down the tunnel at a trot. The floor was sandy, the walls rough and rocky, lit by flaming torches set in old-fashioned brackets. Even here it was obvious that the Boy King had a taste for the dramatic. The wheelbarrow rumbled behind her, Jeb panting and puffing as he heaved it along.

‘Been scoffing a lot of seaweed lately, have we?' he muttered.

‘Mind your own business, you despicable goblin,' retorted Pallione. ‘Or you'll get a faceful of tail.'

‘Quiet, both of you,' Tabitha told them.

They twisted and turned, following directions from Jeb – who seemed to have the layout of the caverns inside his head. Tabitha hated to admit it, but they would have been lost without him. Once or twice they heard footsteps and shouts in the distance, but only for a moment.

A cold breeze began to whistle down the passageways, and the flickering torches were replaced by natural moonlight. Tabitha shivered. Finally she was glad of the extra layer the dress provided.

They turned a corner and were met by a blast of freezing air. Ahead was a short flight of steps leading up to a barred door, the starry sky twinkling beyond it.

‘Ain't been used in dragons' years,' said Jeb, setting down the wheelbarrow. ‘Good job we can unlock it, eh?' He reached into his pocket and drew out the ring of keys, jangling them and grinning. He picked out the right one and passed it to Tabitha. ‘Now, who's going to help carry this fat fish girl?' He ducked just in time to avoid a vicious swipe from Pallione's tail.

Tabitha unlocked the door and heaved it open. It was practically rusted shut, and it took all her strength to budge it. Then she lifted the front of the wheelbarrow and helped Jeb heave it up the steps. Joseph brought up the rear, his eyes wide, coxcomb
sagging from side to side as he cast anxious glances behind them.

They came out onto a steep hillside street, still in the Flagstaff Quarter, judging by the fancy houses. Tabitha could see most of Port Fayt spread out below, the harbour front glimmering, staining the black sky with a haze of lantern light. High up to her left was Wyrmwood Manor, where the governor had held his council of war. She closed her eyes and sucked the cold night air into her lungs. She hadn't realized until now how musty it had been in the caverns.

‘Where now?' asked Joseph.

‘To the docks of course,' said Pallione, pointing her cutlass downhill. ‘And quickly. You came to rescue me, didn't you? Just take me to the water and I can swim back to the King's Rock.'

‘All very well for you,' said Jeb. ‘But we need to get out of this town too. That's if we don't want to be burned alive. Better wait till dawn, when we can find a ship.'

Tabitha felt herself getting angry again. ‘Shut your trap, Jeb. You can't tell us what to do. Why in all the Ebony Ocean are you here, anyway? You were working for the Boy King ten minutes ago.'

In the darkness she saw his teeth flash in a smile. ‘That gold-coated turd? Not on your life. Thought you
knew by now – Jeb the Snitch only ever works for himself.'

Pallione slapped her tail against the side of the wheelbarrow. ‘What difference does it make? Why don't you let me go?'

‘She's right,' said Joseph. ‘We need to get her out of Port Fayt. It's the least we can do.'

Tabitha ground her teeth in frustration. For a tavern boy, Joseph had a lot of opinions. He'd been in the Watch for barely a fortnight, and now he seemed to think he knew everything. Well, he didn't. He didn't know what he was talking about.

‘We can't go down to the docks,' she explained. ‘We need a ship, and there won't be one at this time of night. Besides, we can't just let the mermaid go. We need her father to know it was us who rescued her. Otherwise he might not release Frank and Paddy and Hal, and he definitely won't help us fight the League.'

‘You didn't rescue me,' said Pallione. ‘I rescued myself. With help from this horrible greyskin.'

‘That's not—'

‘Are we going to stand around jawing all night,' Jeb interrupted, ‘or are we going to get out of here? The Boy King's bully boys'll be after us soon enough, and I don't fancy sticking around for them.'

Tabitha turned on him. ‘We're getting out of here all right, but you're not coming with us.'

Something in Jeb's smile changed. It was suddenly sinister, not cheerful. ‘Oh, I'm coming, my dear. Unless you want me to send the Boy King straight to Bootles' Pie Shop … See, unlike that little brat, I know you're a watchman. So I know just where to find you. And those nice old trolls.'

Tabitha's heartbeat quickened, and she snatched the pistol out of Joseph's hand.
Still three barrels left unfired.
That meant she could kill Jeb. Three times over. But she couldn't do it – not in cold blood. Another tide of helpless anger surged up, threatening to engulf her.
What would Newt do?
If only he were here, he'd—

No.
He wasn't here. And anyway, it didn't matter because they didn't have a choice. Jeb was the slimiest, least trustworthy scumbag in all of Port Fayt. But right now, they had to take him with them. She held up the lantern so she could see his pale eyes, but they gave nothing away.

‘I don't understand,' said Joseph. ‘Why do you want to come?'

‘Got my reasons.'

‘Yes, but what are th—?'

Shouts from the caverns below. Joseph flinched
and Tabitha tightened her grip on the pistol until her knuckles were white. The Boy King's men were getting closer. And Jeb the Snitch kept smiling.

‘We'd better get to Bootles',' she said. ‘And quickly.'

The mermaid scowled at her, but Tabitha ignored it.

‘Right you are,' said Jeb, picking up the handles again. ‘Knew yer'd see sense.' They set off, the wheelbarrow rumbling on the cobblestones as they hurried down the street.

Tabitha tried to calm her beating heart. Tomorrow they'd be out of Port Fayt. They'd take Pallione back to her father, free the Demon's Watch and bring the merfolk over to their side. They'd be rid of the mermaid and, better still, rid of Jeb. She couldn't wait. They'd already had their fingers burned with that two-faced fairy Slik, and she wasn't about to let this slimy goblin make fools of them too.

What in Thalin's name was he doing helping them?

It niggled at her, like a cut finger dipped in seawater.

THE TAVERN IS
almost empty. After all, this is a town at war.

He pushes back the hood of his cloak and takes a seat in the gloom amid the clatter of tankards and the soft glow of the lantern light. The Legless Mermaid smells of firewater, of fish and sweat. The stool he sits on is roughly made and encrusted with filth, and the table is no better. It is probably for the best that it is so dark inside.

An impish child in an apron scurries up to him, small and pink-skinned, with a big nose and slightly pointed ears.
Daemonium Minus
. A textbook specimen. There is a hunted look in the child's eyes, but it is not scared of him. It should be.

‘What can I get you? We've got eels for dinner. And for grog, how about Lightly's Finest Bowelbuster? Mr Lightly's the landlord, you see.' He nods towards a big aproned man behind the bar, swathed in fat, his face ruddy, his eyes small and cruel.

He smiles. Now he understands that hunted look.

‘Grog,' he says, and the word feels foul in his mouth.

As the imp leaves, he takes in the other customers, few as they are. Mostly old, broken things, not fit to go into battle with the Fayter fleet. A dwarf so fat he can scarcely imagine it is able to walk.
Daemonium Crassum
. An old goblin woman, uglier than a demon's backside.
Daemonium Cinereum
. A pair of elves, drunk and bleary-eyed, arguing over a game of dice.
Daemonium Pulchrum
.

He licks his lips, savouring the squalor of it all. He has seen many demonspawn before. But still their proximity sends a little thrill through his body. These twisted creatures, so like humans – and yet, so unlike them. Major Turnbull told him not to come tonight. Told him to stay aboard the
Justice
, where he'd be safe. But he couldn't resist a little excursion in secret.

The imp hurries to his table and sets down a dull, battered old tankard. He raises it to his nose and sniffs. A strange, spicy odour, mingled with the sharp scent of
strong firewater. Disgusting. He lowers it again, untouched.

The child is still waiting – for payment, he supposes. He draws out his pouch and hands it a half-ducat. As the imp takes the money, he studies its face. Its overgrown eyes, misshapen nose, too-pink skin.

‘Are you happy, imp?' he asks.

‘Beg pardon?'

‘Are you happy here in Port Fayt?'

A faraway look comes into the child's eyes.

‘I used to work for a carpenter. Mr Boggs. But then he was … Then he died. Now I work here, for Mr Lightly.'

‘You didn't answer my question.'

‘No. Sorry, sir.' The imp thinks for a moment, trying to decide what to say. When it speaks, it's in a lowered voice, so no one else can hear. ‘It's a hard life, sir. But better here than the Old World. I'll bring your change.' And it hurries away with the half-ducat.

Better here indeed. But not for long.

‘Oi, mate.'

He turns and sees that one of the elves is staring at him – or at least trying to, through a haze of grog.

‘Wanna play dice?'

This place is turning his stomach. He rises, eyes fixed on the door.

‘Hey! I said, wanna play dice? You deaf?'

He pauses a moment. Inside his cloak, his fingers curl around the hilt of his sabre.

‘I said, ARE YOU DEAF? Stuck-up walrus.'

Its friends snigger.

He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath before opening them again.

‘I heard you the first time,' he says quietly. ‘Wretched creature.'

‘What?'

Five years he spent, studying fencing at Taggart's School of Blades. The best academy in the Old World. With his left hand, he brushes aside his cloak. With his right, he draws the sabre. It flashes in the lantern light. Four steps, he estimates. On the first he locks eyes with the elf. On the second, he draws back his sword arm. On the third, he kicks aside the stool standing between them. And on the fourth, he lunges, throwing his whole body into it. Then pulls back, fast and clean.

The elf slumps to the floor. So drunk it didn't even have time to look surprised.

The clatter of tankards has ceased. All conversations cut short. Every degenerate human and demonspawn in the tavern stares at him.