The Hero's Tomb (2 page)

Chapter Two

Tabitha Mandeville already hated Azurmouth, and she hadn’t even seen it yet.

She squirmed, trying to get comfortable, but it wasn’t easy with her knees squashed up against her chin, sitting inside a barrel with several kilograms of salted herring for company.

The cart rattled over cobblestones, jostling Tabitha and the herring along with it. Surely they should have arrived by now? The sea voyage had been bad enough. She’d spent half of it leaning over the side, emptying her guts into the waves.
Everything will be fine once we’re on dry land
, she’d told herself, as the ship had weighed anchor in a hidden cove just west of Azurmouth.

No such luck. If anything, the darkness inside the barrel, combined with the powerful stench of fish and the feel of their slippery, slimy scales against her skin, were making things worse.

Just don’t be sick again,
she told herself.
Not in here.

The cart bounced up and down once more, and finally jolted to a halt. Footsteps sounded outside, then
thunks
of metal on wood. Tabitha had a sudden rush of panic. What if they’d been stopped by whitecoats? What if the driver had betrayed them? What if he’d tipped off the butchers that the cart contained more than just salted fish … ?

Something hit the top of Tabitha’s barrel, and a crescent of dark blue sky appeared as the lid came loose, then was tugged away entirely. She tensed, her hands closing on the hilts of her knives. But the face that appeared above was no human’s. It was big, ugly and grinning.

‘All right, Tabs?’ said Frank. ‘You look almost as green as me and Paddy here.’

Paddy’s identical face appeared next to Frank’s, and the troll twins chuckled.

Tabitha scowled as she rose, sending the herring cascading from her like a waterfall.

They’d stopped in a small cobbled courtyard,
surrounded on all sides by high white walls topped with battlements. Dusk was falling. The driver, a sullen youth with big ears and hair like straw, clambered over the cart with a crowbar, levering open the barrels and freeing the rest of the watchmen.

Tabitha took a big gulp of fresh air. They’d made it. She just hoped their host would be as friendly as Hal had promised.

Captain Newton rose from one of the larger barrels, his blue watchman’s coat glistening with fish scales. Tabitha felt instantly calmer at the sight of his shaven head and the shark tattoo on his cheek – the mark of the Demon’s Watch. Above, Ty flitted in the darkening sky, giggling at the state of them all. Newton’s fairy hadn’t needed to hide in a barrel, of course – he’d ridden all the way in the driver’s pocket.

‘Thank Thalin that’s over,’ said Frank, brushing herring from his tricorne hat.

Hal emerged from the final barrel, looking even paler than usual as he unwrapped his spectacles from his handkerchief. The magician had been unusually silent ever since they left Illon, as though he were worried about something.

For once Tabitha couldn’t blame him.
Thalin knows, we’re all worried.

Someone cleared their throat on the far side of the
courtyard, and Tabitha spun round to see a human, tall, thin and gangly, watching them from the shadow of an archway. A thick black gown hung from his shoulders, and long, lank white hair fell onto it. His chin sprouted a wispy, uneven white beard, and his bulging eyes peered from behind thick eyeglasses. He looked even more anxious than Hal.

Tabitha couldn’t blame him either. The two hulking green trolls, the glowing fairy who had settled on Newton’s shoulder, the blue shark tattoos they all bore, and most of all the weapons: her knives, the cutlasses dangling from Frank and Paddy’s belts and Newton’s wooden staff – the Banshee – folded into three sections and poking out of his pocket; none of it looked very reassuring.

‘Welcome,’ said the man in the gown, ‘to the Azurmouth Academy.’

‘Master Gurney,’ said Hal, stepping down from the cart.

‘Ah, Hal! Splendid to see you again. One of my brighter students, yes.’

Hal blushed. ‘Well, I don’t know about—’

‘Now,’ said Master Gurney, already turning away. ‘If you’d all be so good as to follow me …’

As they set out across the cobblestones Tabitha reached under her coat, just to check her trusty
bandolier of throwing knives was still in place. It never hurt to be prepared.

The magician led them through a narrow wooden door and up a well-worn spiral staircase. ‘I trust you’ll forgive the herring cart,’ he said, as they climbed. ‘Most uncomfortable, I should imagine, but sadly necessary. If the Demon’s Watch were to be seen in Azurmouth – and moreover, if a magician from the Academy were seen to be
helping
the Demon’s Watch … Well, the Duke of Garran would hardly be delighted.’

‘We understand,’ said Newton. ‘Thank you for taking us in.’

The Captain of the Watch seemed a little uncomfortable, but Tabitha knew that they couldn’t very well stay in a boarding house.
The Academy is the safest place in Azurmouth. Master Gurney will shelter us for as long as we need, just so long as we don’t get him in trouble with the League.
That’s what Hal had told them. He’d been a little reluctant to ask the favour, but they’d persuaded him in the end. After all, what choice did they have?

Through a window Tabitha caught sight of a twilit courtyard enclosed by the white stone walls, a gravel pathway cutting through the middle between two rectangles of immaculately kept grass. In the centre of each lawn stood a white statue; on one side a demon,
horned and snarling, and on the other a seraph, its face smiling and serene, wings curving round its body. Her father had been the governor of Port Fayt, and she’d still never seen anything so fancy in all her life.

They came to another narrow wooden door at the top of the staircase. The air was cool and still, as though undisturbed since the Dark Age. Master Gurney unlocked the door and pushed it open in a swirl of dust. ‘Home, sweet home,’ he murmured.

The watchmen followed the shuffling magician, crowding into the room. It was tiny, made even more cramped by the landscape of books heaped on the floor and stuffed into the bookcases that covered every inch of wall. Several lanterns flickered, giving the place a cosy orange glow, and illuminating an egg that floated in the air above Master Gurney’s desk, gently rotating.

‘An experiment,’ the magician explained. ‘I’m trying to change it into a chicken, you see? Transformation is one of the most profoundly complex fields of magic, as I’m sure Hal will have explained to you.’

‘I’m sure he’s told us,’ said Paddy.

‘Not so sure we listened,’ muttered Frank.

‘Why?’ asked Tabitha.

Master Gurney blinked at her. ‘Why what?’

‘Why turn the egg into a chicken?’ She’d never
really understood magic, and the more she saw of it, the less she liked it.

Master Gurney considered for a moment, before wagging his finger at her. ‘Well, young lady, perhaps a better question might be …
why not?
’ He beamed and flicked his wrist, sending the egg drifting to rest on a small cushion. ‘Now, to business. Have a seat, all of you.’ He gestured vaguely around the room.

Tabitha perched awkwardly on a heap of books with some of the most peculiar titles she had ever seen:
The Cockatrice: Magical Minion or Foolish Fowl?; Fifty Most Useful Applications of Dragon’s Breath in the Medical Magics; Demons and Doorknobs: a Surprising Correlation
…

‘You know why we’re here?’ said Newton.

‘Indeed, young Hal explained it all in his letter,’ said Master Gurney. ‘Your poor young friend … Of course you must find him, and quickly.’

‘That’s right,’ said Hal. ‘The sooner we can track down Joseph, the better.’

‘Then we’ll be out of your hair, and back to Port Fayt,’ added Frank.

‘So what are we waiting for?’ said Tabitha. ‘We can start on the docks, see if the
Dread Unicorn
has put in and—’

‘Good gracious, no!’ interrupted Master Gurney.
‘That is to say … I only wish it were so simple. But you can hardly walk the streets of Azurmouth dressed in those uniforms. You’ll need disguises at the very least. And I fear no amount of disguise will conceal the fact that these good gentlemen are trolls.’ He smiled at the blue-coated twins.

‘No offence taken,’ muttered Paddy.

‘Besides, night is falling.’ The magician gestured to a small window set in the wall above his desk. Through it, the gleaming white towers of the House of Light could just be seen rising above the ramshackle rooftops of Azurmouth.

‘We’re not afraid of the dark,’ said Newton.

‘You should be,’ said Master Gurney sharply. He frowned for a moment, before spreading his hands and smiling again. ‘You are strangers in this city. But I can assure you, it is no place for Fayters to go wandering after the sun has set. Much less trolls. The Duke’s men will be out on the streets.’

‘Butchers, you mean?’ said Frank.

‘Indeed. The Duke is extremely committed to the Way of the Light. In theory, of course, the League is a partnership, and its decisions are made jointly. But in Azurmouth, the Duke holds sway. When the sun goes down, his whitecoats do as they please.’

The magician hesitated, and Tabitha saw that he
was frowning again. When he spoke, it was in a small voice. ‘If the Duke had his way, of course, he would declare war on Port Fayt at once, and rid the Old World of demonspawn. Starting with Azurmouth. He would send out his butchers and …’ He shook his head and smiled again. ‘Well, it doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?’

‘Yes, but what are we supposed to do about Joseph?’ said Tabitha briskly. She could still picture the tavern boy the way she’d last seen him, sitting cross-legged on a sandy beach, his face glowing from the firelight, his jaw set with determination. She should have seen it then. Should have guessed what he was planning.

I could have stopped him.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought. If things got ugly, Joseph wouldn’t even be able to protect himself. Tabitha had seen how handy he was with a cutlass. About as handy as a walrus with a knitting needle.

‘What about using magic?’ suggested Frank. ‘Can’t we do a spot of hocus pocus and track him down that way?’

‘Sadly not,’ murmured Hal. ‘I’m afraid such a spell simply doesn’t exist.’

‘What about that wooden spoon of yours?’ said Paddy. ‘Surely we can use that to—’

‘No, that wouldn’t work at all,’ interrupted Hal. For some reason he had gone red in the face.

Why’s he so touchy about the spoon?
Tabitha wondered.
It’s like he doesn’t want to talk about it.

‘Wooden spoon?’ said Master Gurney, confused.

‘Forgive them, Master. It’s not— They don’t really understand what—’

‘So what
do
we do?’ Tabitha demanded, before the conversation could stray off topic.

‘Well, my dear,’ said Master Gurney. ‘If I were you, I should stay here tonight. There’s plenty of space in the attic. Then tomorrow morning I can find you some suitable disguises and show you the safest routes through the city.’

‘What do you think, Newt?’ asked Frank.

‘The harbourmasters will have gone home by now,’ said Paddy.

‘I reckon so.’ Newton nodded thoughtfully. ‘We’ll go into the city at the crack of dawn tomorrow, and we’ll find him. Meantime, we should get as much rest as we can.’

‘But Joseph is—’ began Tabitha.

‘Not now, Tabs,’ said Newton sternly.

‘But he’s on his own, and—’

‘And he can look after himself,’ said Newton.

‘Newt’s right, Tabs,’ said Frank gently. ‘He’s a bright
lad. He’ll be smart enough to keep his head down till we get there.’

‘I certainly hope so,’ muttered Hal. The blood had drained from his face, and he was looking anxious again.

Tabitha opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. She could tell from Newton’s knitted brow that his mind was made up.
He never listens.
And she just had to put up with it. Newton was all she’d had, ever since she was little. Ever since her parents had died.

As the others climbed the ladder to Master Gurney’s attic, Tabitha hung back, peering out of the window at the ghostly spires of the House of Light. The thought of Joseph wandering the streets of Azurmouth, where the Duke’s butchers prowled … It made her blood run cold.

If only he had told her where he was going. She could have come too. Looked after him. Helped him. If only she hadn’t been so horrible.

I told him I’d be better off without him.

She winced at the memory. And what she’d said about his father … Well, she should have known better. She was an orphan too, after all.

Maybe it was her fault he’d snuck away.

Her fault he’d told no one.

She thought about what Frank had said, trying to make herself believe it.
He’ll be smart enough to keep his head down.
It
had
to be true, didn’t it? After all, he was a mongrel boy, and he was all on his own. He wouldn’t just go charging straight into danger.

Would he?

Chapter Three

Joseph leaped into the cabin, brandishing his cutlass.

Inside it was dark and cramped, with only a small window and candles for light. A hobgoblin lay strapped to a table in the centre of the cabin, at the mercy of a surgeon – a human whose apron was smeared with a disturbing variety of colours. One leg of the hobgoblin’s breeches had been peeled back and his shoe removed to reveal a nasty wound in his grey foot.

‘A mongrel boy,’ said the surgeon, lowering his hacksaw. ‘How extraordinary.’

At the sound of the door banging open, the patient
had propped himself up on his elbows, and was now glaring at Joseph as though a bad day had just got even worse.

‘What in all the stinkin’ blue sea are
you
doin’ here?’ snarled Captain Lortt.

Joseph slammed the cabin door shut and turned the key. His cutlass hilt slipped in his sweating palm, and he gripped it tighter, setting his jaw and trying to look as menacing as he could.
Not easy when your coat is twice as big as you are.

‘Where is he?’

‘Where’s— What are you talking about?’ spluttered Lortt. ‘Can’t you see we’re a bit bleedin’ busy?’

‘Indeed, young man,’ said the surgeon. ‘I am about to remove this gentleman’s foot, and the least you could do is—’

‘For the last time,’ roared Lortt, so loudly the surgeon flinched. ‘You ain’t cutting off my foot! Just make the pain go away. An’ do it quick.’

‘You know who I mean,’ said Joseph. ‘I’m looking for Jeb the Snitch. You brought him here to Azurmouth, didn’t you? After the battle.’

‘What d’yer want with that lousy weevil?’

‘Never you mind. Just tell me where he is, and no one’ll get hurt.’

‘I’m already hurt, mongrel, can’t yer see?’ snarled Lortt, pointing at his foot. ‘That filthy blue-haired friend o’ yours done this.’

Tabitha. Joseph’s stomach twisted at the thought of his friend. He hadn’t told her where he was going. Hadn’t even said goodbye. Would she have come after him, when she found him gone? Would she have brought Newton and the Demon’s Watch?

He hoped not.

The surgeon rattled a bag hopefully. ‘Yes, now, about that foot … Perhaps my fine range of whalebone replacements might change your mind?’

A sudden battering on the cabin door made Joseph’s ears twitch. ‘Want us to kill ’im, Captain?’ came a shout from outside.

Joseph darted around the table, putting the injured hobgoblin between him and the door.

‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ said Lortt.

‘Perhaps,’ said the surgeon, ‘if you would just allow me to—’

‘PUT. THAT. SAW. DOWN!’

The surgeon looked pale as he tucked it away in his bag. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed.’

Joseph puffed out his chest, trying to imagine he was big and tough like Captain Newton. ‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to, er …’

What would he do? The thought of actually
using
the cutlass was too horrifying. Still, he had to pretend at least. What would Tabitha say?

‘I’ll … I’ll cut your foot off!’

‘That would certainly save me the trouble,’ muttered the surgeon.

‘And the other one too!’

Lortt smirked. ‘Hope you ain’t plannin’ to charge as much as this quack.’

Joseph felt his face getting hot. The hobgoblin didn’t think he had it in him.
Just tell me. Tell me now.
All of a sudden he found that he’d taken a step forward, his cutlass raised. He could just imagine it – bringing the blade down with all his strength …

It scared him.

Lortt’s eyes grew wide, as though he could sense what was going on in Joseph’s head. Obviously it scared him too.

‘All right, keep yer breeches on. Me and Jeb, we ain’t friends. Matter o’ fact, the bilge crawler cheated me out o’ half my pay for bringing him across the ocean. So I’ll help you out, and in return you can get off my ship. That clear?’

Joseph nodded, lowering the cutlass with shaking hands. ‘Tell me where he is.’

‘He said he had business here with the Grey
Brotherhood. They got a place called the Whale, on Seagull Alley off Butcher’s Cross.’ He hesitated. ‘Just don’t tell ’im I sent yer, understand? The Snitch don’t like being crossed.’

‘Thank you,’ said Joseph. ‘And, er … I’m sorry about your foot. I hope you—’

‘Just get
off my ship.
’

Two minutes later, Joseph was dripping and shivering as he hurried over the cobblestones. Lortt had promised not to hurt him, but he didn’t exactly trust the hobgoblin, and he trusted his sailors even less – which meant he’d had no choice but to wriggle out of the cabin window and go plunging into the sea. It had been freezing cold and brimming with slimy seaweed, but that didn’t matter.

He had a lead. A real, solid lead.

Joseph had heard tales of the Grey Brothers, back in the Legless Mermaid. They were goblins – underground fighters who hit back at the League, ripping down their banners, rescuing prisoners from their gaols and robbing rich League merchants to buy bread for families who hadn’t any of their own. They were heroes.

It was hard to imagine good folk like that doing business with Jeb the Snitch. But then, Jeb had a
knack for making people trust him, only to betray them later. Joseph knew that all too well.

The most vicious, treacherous crook in all the Old World. And he’s the one person who can help me find the truth.

But first he had to find Butcher’s Cross, and that turned out to be trickier than he’d thought. He asked directions from a dockhand who sent him one way, then a revenue man who sent him the other. A gang of kids threw stones at him, and one managed to grab hold of Clagg’s waterlogged coat, forcing him to shrug it off and dart down a side street.

After that people wouldn’t stop giving him funny looks. Some shouted
mongrel
, and worse. He began hurrying through the shadows, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

It wasn’t long before his feet were sore and his belly was rumbling. He used some of Clagg’s coins to buy a greasy fish pie, then ducked into a dark alleyway to wolf it down, keeping a lookout for butchers as he ate.

Whatever happened, he wasn’t going to give up. He was going to find Jeb the Snitch. The goblin’s face had haunted Joseph’s dreams every night since the Battle of Illon. Those cold, pale eyes. That smirking mouth and sharp goblin teeth. The ludicrous outfits, so brightly coloured it almost hurt to look at them.
The last time Joseph had seen Jeb, the goblin had been levelling a pistol at him, howling threats of death – and worse.

He brushed the last of the pastry from his face, trying not to imagine what Tabitha would say if she were here.
You’re crazy. That goblin would slit your throat for half a ducat. He cheats and lies for a living.
It was all true. But still, Joseph had to find him.

He set out again, striding faster this time and tipping his hat down low, now that he had no outsized coat to disguise what he was.

At last, as the sun had set and his clothes had dried stiff with salt, Joseph found Butcher’s Cross. It was a narrow avenue running into the heart of Azurmouth, lined with stalls and shop fronts that stank of meat on the verge of going bad.

Joseph hurried along it, dodging the occasional passing carriage, weaving in and out of the crowds. A group of whitecoats were playing dice on upturned crates by the side of the road, and Joseph hurried past, head down. He couldn’t bear the thought of being picked up by the League’s soldiers when he was so close.

At least it’s dark now. So long as I stick to the shadows, I—

He froze, sensing that someone was watching
him. But when he looked up he saw that it was only a horse, loitering under a shop’s awning in the glow of a lantern, as though waiting for its owner to come out. A dappled beast, with a silvery mane that flopped over its eyes and gave it a faintly comical look. It blinked at him.

Definitely not a whitecoat. For the first time that day, Joseph allowed himself a smile.

He turned into a smaller, darker street where the buildings overhung most of the cobblestones.
Seagull Alley
proclaimed a rotten board propped on the street corner. Halfway down was a building with a black studded door, in the shadow of a whale.

Joseph hesitated. It really was a whale – a small one, but big enough to cause some serious discomfort to anyone who might be underneath if it fell. It was suspended like a tavern sign by a pair of chains wrapped around each end, and the carcass was half rotten and turned some indeterminate colour by weather and age and Thalin knew what else. A gull perched on the whale’s head, glaring at Joseph.

His pockets were still full – the pocket watch in one, and the wooden spoon in the other. If Jeb the Snitch was in there, he’d have to use the spoon.

If I can even make it work. Hal said you don’t have to be a magician, but he didn’t say it would be easy.

He ran through the magician’s explanation one last time, his stomach twisting with nerves. Then he took a deep breath, strode up to the door and knocked.

It swung open at once, and a pair of dark goblin eyes blinked out at him. ‘Come for the fight?’

‘Er …’

‘Well, don’t just stand there.’

Bony fingers clamped down on his shoulders and pulled him inside.