The Goblin's Gift (15 page)

PALLIONE KEPT SINGING
, her voice delicate and brittle. Joseph glanced at Tabitha, hoping she might have some idea what to do, but she looked as uncertain as he felt. They couldn't get to the mermaid now. Not with every crook in Port Fayt in the way.

On stage the figures were assembling into two groups. Those on the left wore black armour, their shields painted with skulls and bones. Their helmets hid their faces, but from their size and shape Joseph guessed they were all trolls and goblins. Opposite them were men in silver armour, each of their shields painted white and emblazoned with a golden sword.

Joseph was starting to feel sick.

‘Corin's army was only small,' declared the Boy King. He was still swaggering back and forth along the table, his enormous plume bouncing with each stride. ‘But he was the boldest, bravest, strongest hero in all the Old World.'

One of the men in silver stepped forward, taking off his helmet and brandishing a sword that had been daubed with gold paint.

‘I am Corin,' he said unconvincingly.

‘Zargath had a great horde of evil creatures, but he was the evillest of them all,' announced the Boy King. He was all but rubbing his hands together with glee. ‘Where are you, Zargath?'

A man stepped out of the group of trolls and goblins, wearing a long black robe and a false beard.

‘I am Zargath,' he declared. He didn't sound like a wicked wizard. In fact, he was trembling. Joseph looked back at the figure of Corin and saw that he was trembling too. He began to examine the warriors – the humans in silver and the trolls and goblins in black. All of them were trembling.
What's going on here?

‘Behold,' squealed the Boy King, more excited than ever. ‘The two armies face each other.'

There was a hand on Joseph's arm – Tabitha. She caught his eye and nodded towards something at the side of the cavern. Joseph followed her gaze and saw
men in the Boy King's livery – blue velvet adorned with golden crowns. They all held muskets and crossbows, raised and levelled at the stage. At the performers.

‘And now!' The Boy King was practically screeching. ‘Here! Today! In this very hall! They will fight … for our entertainment!'

Thunderous applause from the diners. Pallione's song came to an abrupt end and she turned to glare at the Boy King, the hatred clear in her eyes. Joseph saw that there was a musket levelled at her too.

‘What … ?' said Tabitha. ‘What's happening?'

‘LET BATTLE COMMENCE!'

Silence. The armies watched each other, but neither made a move. Pallione's tail flicked and she turned her face away from the stage.

‘Please,' said a lone voice. It was one of the humans in silver armour. ‘Please don't make us—'

‘FIGHT!' shrieked the Boy King. ‘FIIIIIGHT!'

There was a whirr and a hiss, and something thunked into the stage behind the trolls. Joseph looked up to see one of the crossbowmen reloading.

A weedy yell came from amongst the black-armoured group, and a goblin rushed forward, wielding a hand-axe. Others joined him, and then both armies were charging, and there was a clatter of
metal as they met. The battle had begun.

‘Something's wrong,' said Tabitha. Her face was contorted with horror. ‘I don't think … I mean, is this … ?'

‘It's not a show,' said Joseph. His voice came out strained and high. ‘It's real.'

At the front of the stage, a goblin had got himself trapped between two humans. A sword swung at him, chopped heavily into his shield.
If that had been his arm …
thought Joseph, and shuddered. In shock, the goblin dropped the shield and his mace. He looked around for an escape route but there was only one. He leaped off the stage, racing towards the nearest guests.

Three separate musket shots rang out, and the goblin danced and fell, his helmet rolling away under the table. One of the guests picked it up, admiring it and showing it to his neighbour. The goblin lay silent and still. Blood pooled around the table leg.

Gradually, Joseph became aware of Tabitha speaking to him again.

‘We have to do something,' she was hissing. ‘We have to stop this.'

There were several bodies now, half hidden among the melee. Some were propped up by the press of battle, others trampled underfoot. A human howled.
It was a strange, gurgling sound that seemed scarcely human at all. Blood spattered the nearest diners, and they let out yelps of delighted surprise.

Think, Joseph!
They had no weapons. Nothing. ‘I don't know what to …'

He faltered to a halt. Because suddenly he
did
know. He knew exactly what to do. He took a deep breath and walked towards the Boy King. The one person who could stop the bloodshed.

‘Where are you going?' Tabitha asked, but he knew that if he stopped to explain, she'd talk him out of it, or he'd lose his nerve.

The terror of the Marlinspike Quarter was perched on the edge of his seat, eyes as big as cannonballs, a stupid smile painted all over his face as he drank in the fighting and the killing. His golden costume glittered in the candlelight.

He always wears those stupid clothes
, Slik had said.
And he throws a fit if anyone touches them
…

‘You,' the boy yelled at a human, cornered by trolls swinging battle-axes. ‘You're not trying. You're supposed to be a hero, not a coward! You trolls, kill him! Teach him a lesson!'

The axes came down. The Boy King laughed, snatched a bunch of grapes and stuffed them into his mouth.

‘Your majesty,' said Joseph, lifting up his decanter. ‘More blackwine?'

The boy turned, scowling at him. Then he grinned and offered up his crystal goblet.

Joseph began to pour the drink, and the Boy King watched greedily as his goblet was filled with wine. Joseph's right hand shifted to the back of the decanter, raising it higher.

Now or never.

He let go. The decanter slipped forward through his grasp, hit the edge of the table and smashed. Glass scattered over plates, food and cutlery. Blackwine gushed everywhere.

The Boy King leaped to his feet as if he'd been stung by a hornet. Black liquid oozed through his golden jacket and breeches.

‘Stop!' he screamed. ‘Stop the battle!'

SILENCE FELL.

Only the guests nearest the Boy King had seen Joseph drop the decanter. But it must have been obvious what had happened, because suddenly a nearby chair scraped, and someone had grabbed Joseph by the neck and was forcing him to the ground. He choked, flailing at his attacker, but someone else got hold of his arm and pinned it down. A pistol jabbed into his stomach, making him gasp. Someone sat on his legs. The man holding his throat had a knife out now, the edge pushing into Joseph's cheek, the point blurring as it hovered close to his eyes.

‘Sorry,' he burbled. ‘Sorry.' As if that would make any difference. His heart was beating wildly. What in all the Ebony Ocean had he been thinking? He'd wanted to stop the fight, yes. But get himself killed in the process? He'd been a complete bilge-brain. He screwed his eyes shut, wondering which bit of him would be first to feel the terrible pain that was surely coming. Would it be a blow from a fist? A boot? A blade?

But instead the Boy King's voice rang out, loud and clear: ‘Don't touch him! Let me through.'

Some of the pressure eased up on Joseph's arm and legs. The blade moved away from his cheek. Cautiously he opened one eye.

The Boy King crouched over him, a peculiar expression on his face. The stain of blackwine had spread now, covering most of his jacket, as though he was bleeding.

‘I'm so sorry,' said Joseph. ‘I didn't mean to—'

‘Shut your trap,' said the boy, ‘you filthy, wretched, snivelling
mongrel
.'

There was a chorus of sniggers from the men who'd been holding Joseph down. It was curiosity on the boy's face, Joseph realized. Mixed with a healthy dose of fury and disgust.

‘I've never seen a mongrel before. Take off your hood.'

Joseph did so.

‘You look funny,' said the boy. ‘What's wrong with your skin? It's blotchy.' He poked Joseph's cheek, then flicked his pointed ear.

‘My, er, father was a goblin,' said Joseph. ‘And my mother was a human.'

The Boy King frowned, thinking. At last his tiny eyes lit up, and a cruel smile spread across his lips.

‘What can you do?' he asked.

‘I … um …'

‘Come on,' said the boy, and he flicked Joseph's other ear, harder this time. ‘Even a mongrel must be able to do
something
.' He pinched the point of the ear and dragged Joseph to his feet, pulling him around the tables. Joseph stumbled along, trying not to trip and fall. Jeers and laughter followed him.

‘Clear the stage,' bellowed the Boy King, and the armies clattered away, trooping off into the tunnel they had come from. Joseph was tugged up the wooden steps, wincing at the pain in his ear – and then the boy let go and put one arm around him instead. They were in the centre of the stage, looking out over the diners.

Joseph peered into the shadows, searching for Tabitha. There she was, hovering at the back of the cavern and glaring at him, her blackwine abandoned,
her hands curled into fists. She was obviously angry, but Joseph thought he saw a little anxiety in her face too. It was clear she had no idea what to do. Probably for the best. Tabitha could fight, but there was no way she could take on everyone in this cavern.

Just stay there, Tabs …

‘This mongrel,' announced the Boy King, ‘will provide our next entertainment.' More howls of laughter and catcalls. Joseph felt his cheeks burn and his legs go weak. ‘And he
will
entertain us. Because if he doesn't' – the Boy King dropped his voice to a whisper – ‘we'll see if his insides match his horrible blotchy skin. Do you understand, mongrel?'

Joseph couldn't speak, so he nodded instead.

The guests burst into applause as the Boy King hopped down from the stage and swaggered back to his place at the head of the table. Gradually, silence fell. All eyes were on Joseph. He stood there in the jester's outfit, his cheeks burning, his mind as empty as a cloudless sky.

‘Boring!' shouted a very drunk man.

‘Do something!' roared an elf, who was just as drunk.

‘Get on with it!' yelled a goblin, even drunker than the other two.

‘Better hurry, boy,' said a voice from behind, with a soft, lilting accent to it. Joseph turned. Pallione was leaning out of her cart on the raised part of stage, frowning at him. ‘Entertain them. Unless you want to get turned inside out. Can you dance?'

Joseph shook his head. He'd spent most of his life in his uncle's tavern, and all he'd ever done there was serve grog, mop floors and wash dishes.

Pallione flicked her tail impatiently. ‘Do you know any songs?'

Joseph racked his brain. ‘Just one. But it's—'

‘Then sing.'

‘It's not really—'

‘Now.'

Joseph turned back to the audience.

Could he do this?

Yes
.

He
had
to.

He opened his mouth and drew in a deep breath.

‘
Scrub the dishes, scrub them clean
,

Cleaner than you've ever seen.
'

It was his mother's song, but Joseph's voice was nothing compared to hers. In fact he was so scared that it came out even flatter and quieter than normal.
He tried to smile and sang it through again, this time miming scrubbing dishes. He felt ridiculous. Why had he let the mermaid talk him into singing, for Thalin's sake? His eyes met Tabitha's, and her ashen face told him everything he needed to know about how the performance was going. She began to move, creeping closer to the table.

No
, thought Joseph, staring straight at her.
Stay there
. Tabitha caught his eye and paused, tense, waiting to see what happened next. She didn't look happy about it though.