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confusion.
    More goblins crowded around, peering at Joseph.
    ‘Who’s that?’
    ‘Look at his funny skin.’
    ‘Ugly little cockroach.’
    Joseph swallowed. Things weren’t going the way he’d hoped, but it was too late to back out now. ‘I’m looking for someone. I think he’s a friend of yours. Do you know a goblin called Jeb the Snitch?’
    He felt the atmosphere shift instantly. The Grey Brotherhood weren’t suspicious any more. Now they were downright hostile. Shoulders hunched; eyes narrowed.
    Wooden-nose smiled and ran a pale tongue across his teeth. ‘Almotht had me fooled with that fake tattoo, mongrel,’ he snarled. ‘Got your number now. You’re no wathman. You’re working for the League of the Light, ain’t you? You’re a thpy .’
    Several hands seized hold of Joseph, jostling him towards a door at the rear of the Whale. A grimy, half-rotten door hanging off its hinges. Not a reassuring door.
    ‘No, please,’ said Joseph. ‘You’ve got it wrong, I’m—’
    But no one was listening.
    His heart hammering, Joseph scrabbled in his pocket for the wooden spoon. The thought of using it flooded his body with fear. He’d never tried it for real, and if it went wrong – well, who knew what would happen? Would he black out? Lose his mind?
    Another shove sent him crashing through the door. He tripped on a cobblestone and went sprawling, one hand splashing into a puddle of murky brown water, the other holding on tight to the wooden spoon. He rolled over, scrambled to his feet.
    He was in a narrow, darkened alleyway, a sliver of night sky overhead. At one end was an unforgiving bare-brick wall where a couple of tired-looking horses were tied up. The other end led out to the street, but immediately several goblins crowded in, blocking his one possible escape route.
    Wooden-nose cracked his knuckles, an ugly grin painted on his face.
    A bully. He’s just a bully.
    ‘Don’t touch me!’ yelled Joseph.
    He didn’t know where the anger had come from. All he knew was that he’d come all the way across the Ebony Ocean, and this wasn’t fair. I’m not going to be beaten up by Jeb’s horrible friends.
    ‘Look at you! The Grey Brotherhood are supposedto be heroes. That’s what all the stories say. You’re supposed to be freedom fighters! But instead you sit around watching chickens fight to the death and … and threatening children!’
    The smile had frozen on Wooden-nose’s face.
    ‘Hit him,’ said a reedy-voiced goblin. ‘Why ain’t you hit him yet?’
    ‘Heroeth?’ said Wooden-nose. ‘The League run thith thity, mongrel. Athurmouth ain’t no plathe for heroeth.’ He drew back his fist.
    Almost without thinking, Joseph tugged the wooden spoon from his pocket. He held it out at arm’s length, quivering inches from Wooden-nose’s face. The goblin jerked away.
    A cold wave of fear swept through Joseph’s body, but he did his best to ignore it. It’s a question of mental focus, Hal had told him. So he screwed his eyes shut, concentrating harder than he’d ever done before, trying to think the right thoughts.
    The spoon trembled in his hand.
    It felt ridiculous, but he pushed on. Please let it work. Please … He tried to feel something. Anything. Was that a tingle of magic running up his arm? Or was he just gripping too tightly?
    ‘Oi,’ said Wooden-nose. ‘That’th a thtinking thpoon . What are you gonna do, thpoon me to death?’
    The other goblins began to cackle, a raucous, horrible sound that reminded Joseph of seagulls fighting over a fish carcass. His confidence drained away in an instant. Idiot! What in all the Ebony Ocean had made him think he could make it work? He wasn’t special. He was just a stupid tavern boy.
    Wooden-nose slapped the spoon aside and grabbed him by the collar. Joseph tensed his jaw, trying to prepare for the inevitable pain. He’d been hit before, back in the Legless Mermaid, by his uncle Mr Lightly. This goblin was half the size. How bad could it be?