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.’
‘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.
The drunken elf tottered to her feet. ‘This is bilge,’ she announced.
‘Yeah,’ said someone else. ‘Shut it, mongrel.’
A metal plate came spinning out of nowhere, clattering onto the stage. Then a fork flew, bouncing off the wooden screen beyond. Murmurs swelled up from the audience, growing louder and angrier. Above it all rose the shrill giggle of the Boy King.
‘Encore,’ he called. ‘Encore!’
The song was only two lines long – barely a song at all – and he’d already sung it twice.
‘Keep going,’ called Pallione.
Joseph couldn’t think what else to do, so he took a breath to sing it a third time.
And this time, the song sounded better. Much, much better. Louder and more confident, and … There was another voice singing with him, he realized. Pallione’s voice. It danced around the melody, making the song sound alive and rich and beautiful.
The noise from the audience died down. Joseph stopped pretending to do the dishes and just stood, singing. He went through the song a fourth time, the mermaid’s voice soaring above his. The guests said nothing any more; just sat in silence and listened. Joseph felt like he might burst into tears with relief.
The fifth round came to an end with a long, reedy note from Joseph and a deep, powerful one from Pallione. Joseph stopped. Waited.
Silence.
And then, at last, applause, filling the cavern. The diners began to cheer.
‘Pallione! Pallione! PALLIONE!’
Two liveried footmen hurried onto the raised area and trundled Pallione’s cart down a ramp onto the main part of the stage. The applause grew louder.
‘PALLIONE!’ roared the crowd. ‘PALLIONE! PALLIONE! PALLIONE!’
The cart came to a halt next to Joseph, and the two footmen scurried back behind the screen. Pallione scowled at the audience in spite of their applause. When she turned to Joseph she was still frowning, but her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. A waft of perfume hit his nostrils.
‘I know you,’ she said. ‘You fell into the pit, didn’t you? At Harry’s. This is the second time I’ve saved your life.’
Joseph tried to reply, but no words came out. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and he felt his ears twitch and his cheeks burn.
Pallione’s lips curved upwards. ‘No good at fighting sharks. No good at singing. And no good at talking either.’
‘Thank you,’ Joseph managed to get out.
The mermaid smiled at last. ‘It’s nothing. I’m joking.’
‘Oh, I know. I mean— Well. Thank you anyway.’
She nodded and went back to glowering at the audience.
At the head of the table, the Boy King got to his feet, and the applause came to an end. All eyes turned to the child in gold. His cheeks had gone red, and his plume shook, throwing a huge flickering shadow onto the cavern wall behind him. Suddenly all the relief that Joseph had felt ebbed away. He was scared again. Very scared.
‘How dare you!’ said the Boy King. ‘How DARE you!’
He leaped up onto the table, kicking aside plates and cutlery and toppling a glass goblet which smashed on the ground. Joseph’s stomach went cold.
‘I commanded the mongrel to entertain us. Not you, you slimy fish-tailed sea cow!’
Murmurs of agreement from the audience. Pallione was staring grimly at the Boy King, as though he was a shark in need of a trident.
‘He cheated! And you helped him. After all I did for you, rescuing you from that stinking shark pit!’ His face was the colour of a lobster now. ‘I am the Boy King,’ he shrieked, ‘and I will not be made a fool of!’ He stamped his foot and pointed at them, his piggy eyes narrowing. ‘You will suffer. Both of you. I will devise your punishment myself. I’ll rip your ears off! I’ll pull your toenails out! I’ll—’
A blur of green, purple and blue streaked out of the shadows and onto the table, and the Boy King let out a gurgling cry. More cutlery and glasses fell, clattering and smashing on the ground. Tabitha had one arm locked around the boy’s chest. The other held a carving knife pressed against his throat. She forced him down so that he was kneeling on the table. His golden tricorne toppled off, landing on the ground amid the broken glass. The Boy King’s hair clung to his head, dark and greasy.
‘Nobody touch them,’ yelled Tabitha.
‘Guurgh,’ said the boy. Tabitha pushed the knife closer, squeezing a terrified whimper out of him.
Lord Wren was on his feet with a pistol in his hand. Tabitha sprang forward off the table, taking the boy with her, dragging him through the mess and into the centre of the cavern. All eyes were on her. Joseph felt his chest tighten with fear.
‘You let them go,’ said Tabitha, much more quietly this time. ‘You let them go, and me too. Or I’ll cut this little dunghead’s throat.’
Joseph started forward but a hand gripped his arm, holding him back. He looked up to see Pallione’s green eyes blazing at him.
‘Stay here,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t make this worse than it is already.’
Lord Wren was levelling the pistol at Tabitha, fury twisting his face so that he looked like a different person entirely. Then, almost at once, the rage disappeared and he began to smile. Then he chuckled.
‘You won’t do it,’ he said.
‘Shut up!’ yelled Tabitha. ‘I will do it.’
‘No. You’ve never cut a throat before. You’re a child. You don’t know what you’re doing.’
‘Stay back,’ said Tabitha. But her voice wavered. ‘Stay back, or I’ll— Aaaargh!’
A flash of light darted out of her sleeve, and she dropped the knife.
Slik.
The fairy flew round her back, tugging at his leash and pulling her hand away. The Boy King squirmed out of her grip, stumbling forward.
Clatters and bangs erupted from every table as the boy’s guests launched themselves at the girl in the green and purple dress.
‘No!’ shouted Joseph. He twisted out of the mermaid’s grip and leaped from the stage, lunging towards Tabitha. Immediately a troll slammed into him, knocking him flying. As he got to his feet, someone else collided with him, and the air was squeezed out of his lungs. He was on his knees again, and someone was shoving at his back. His hands found the ground and a boot stomped on his fingers, making him yelp with pain.
‘Stop!’ someone yelled. ‘STOP!’
Incredibly, everyone did. Joseph took the chance to clamber to his feet, holding his crushed fingers tightly. At once someone grabbed him and pushed him up towards the boy’s table. Tabitha was on the ground in front of it, her blue hair covering her face, arms held behind her back by one of the guests. The leash that had held Slik in place was snapped, and the fairy was nowhere to be seen.
The Boy King had climbed onto the table again. He was pale and wide-eyed, rubbing at his neck where Tabitha’s knife had been.
‘Enough,’ he croaked. ‘I’ve had enough. The revels are finished. All of you go home.’
Lord Wren cleared his throat and glared at Joseph and Tabitha.
‘What about these little maggots, your majesty?’
‘Feed them to the sharks,’ yelled someone.
‘Cut them in bits,’ called another voice.
‘Poison them!’
‘Drown them!’
‘Stab them and gut them and … and … eat them!’
The Boy King raised a hand, and silence fell.
‘Shut up, all of you,’ he said. His voice was quiet, smouldering with rage. ‘Lock them away with that ungrateful fish girl. I need to think of something special for them. Something that really, really hurts.’