Free The Hero's Tomb by Conrad Mason

was a soft, hissing voice, no more than a whisper. ‘Look a little closer.’
    Movement blurred at the edge of Joseph’s vision. Yes – there was something there. Something dangling from the rafters, on a glistening thread of silk.
    ‘I’ve been watching you,’ said the spider, and it made a strange little clicking sound that could only be laughter.
    At any other time, in any other place, Joseph would have thought he was going mad. But he knew at once what this was.
    A shapeshifter. Another one.
    He felt a sudden rush of anger. ‘Spying on me, you mean.’
    ‘If you like.’
    ‘How long have you been there?’ The spider’s limbs curled. A shrug, Joseph realized. ‘Who are you?’
    ‘They call us the Quiet Three. The cat, the horse and the spider.’ The spider revolved slowly on its thread. ‘Now it’s my turn. You are an enigma, little boy. You have come across the ocean, bringing that wooden spoon with you. You know what it is, don’t you? What it can do?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Which only deepens the mystery. Think of the danger you have brought upon yourself. In this city even a pure goblin is in danger. A mongrel … it is an abomination. A foul union of seraph-born and demonspawn. So why are you here?’
    ‘You tell me,’ snapped Joseph. ‘You’re the ones who kidnapped me.’ It wasn’t so hard, standing up to a spider. ‘The cat and the horse – who were they talking to just now?’
    The spider laughed. ‘If you hold your silence, I’m afraid I must hold mine.’ And without another word it began to ascend the thread of silk, disappearing into the shadows of the rafters.
    For a moment Joseph thought of lunging forward, trying to catch the shapeshifter in his cupped hands. Too late, he remembered the footsteps on the staircase. Idiot! If I hadn’t let the spider distract me …
    He reached forward again with the candle, but thetrap door opened and wigs scattered in all directions. Yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, watching him, rooting him to the spot.
    ‘Come along now, mongrel,’ said the cat. ‘It’s time.’

Chapter Nine
    It’s time , thought Newton. Time to find out if I’m right.
    Corin’s Street was a little less filthy than the surrounding city, but no less packed with citizens. Salesmen had set up in the shadow of the trees that lined the road, flogging toy swords and colourful flags with the names of contestants emblazoned on them. Grifters moved among the throng, taking bets on the fighting. Newton heard the name ‘Lucky Leo’ mentioned more than once.
    He was beginning to regret the hooded cloak he’d borrowed from Master Gurney. It was supposed to make him inconspicuous, but from the awed lookspeople were giving him he reckoned he was wearing some kind of official magician’s gown. He kept his head down and pushed on uphill, craning his neck to get a glimpse of the building they were all heading towards.
    It wasn’t hard to spot. The House of Light shone gleaming white at the end of the road, reflecting the noon sunshine so brightly that he had to shield his eyes.
    Newton felt a flicker of doubt. Am I doing the right thing? The other watchmen didn’t know where he was going. But if he’d told them, they would have tried to stop him. They wouldn’t have understood – this isn’t a choice. He’d made a mistake, and it was up to him to put it right.
    No matter what it cost.
    If you believed the stories, Corin the Bold had built the House of Light after the Battle of the Three Forests, and laid some of the foundation stones himself. Since then the dukes of Garran had passed it down, one to another, maintaining it at the heart of Azurmouth. ‘Let the sky have its sun,’ went the saying. ‘Azurmouth has the House of Light.’
    As he got closer, Newton could make out black shapes on the outer battlements – figures fixed on long metal spikes, high above those white, pristinewalls. They were goblins, most of them, with the odd imp and a dwarf or two. A troll or