They waited for the King to be completely gone to take off their masks. Already, some of the dancers had started stretching, some of them ripping off the masks for a much-needed breath of fresh air. Most had converged in the sitting area, exchanging gold, masks, or time.
There were only three who had bet in favor of the girl, but they were all the richer for their gamble. Most in the Masquerade had no money to bet, and so gambled time spent serving the King in the crystal ballroom or their masks. Those who arrived from the Labyrinth to watch the challengers usually brought gold to gamble with, and most of the Labyrinthians had bet against the girl.
All, in fact, save the Goblin from the Castle and two Masqueraders had bet against the girl.
The Goblin collected his pay and disappeared with a bow, reappearing in the hall behind the Throne Room. The bag he carried held carried twenty seven masks, forty-nine hours, and a hundred and fifty or so gold coins. The King waited in the hall, leaning against the wall, mask in hand.
"They all bet against her?" The King asked, curiously. Usually, the betting was about fifty-fifty; the Masqueraders must have underestimated her.
"All 'cept two, sire." The Goblin watched his King carefully. "They thought I was mad, bettin' for her, but you was right, sire."
The King nodded silently, before dismissing the Goblin with a wave of his hand and stalking down the hall.
"You don't want the winnings, sire?" The Goblin called out behind him; Jareth shook his head and kept walking until he reached the Escher room. He continued swiftly through the room to reach the balcony on the other side of the room.
Looking down into the Labyrinth while fingering his mask, the Goblin King muttered, "Why is it we all seem to underestimate you, Sarah?"
Oro: Don't have the foggiest about what to tag this as-- it started out as humor, but... it... warped. Anyway, I'm working on chapter eleven of TBO now (but writing it is like pulling teeth, for some reason). Don't own anything here that isn't mine.