Tiger Thief

by Michaela Clarke

  Aya pressed her lips together, unable to reply.

  Sharat was looking at Mohini in a daze. The more he thought about her story, the more he wanted to believe it, but there was still something bothering him.

  “How am I going to free Emira, if I don’t have any magical powers?” he asked.

  Mohini shook her head. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “I’ll take you to Emira. Then, once you’ve been reunited, I’ll wake your jinni side and we can all escape to Aruanda together.”

  Aruanda! Sharat’s heart leapt as he remembered the magical forest of his dream. “Will we be freeing the Queen of the Forest as well?” he asked.

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then a brilliant smile lit Mohini’s face. “Of course we’re going to free the Queen of the Forest,” she said. “We’ll free all the jinnis and you’ll be their prince.” She squeezed his hand. “Won’t that be wonderful?” she whispered as she drew him close.

  This time Sharat felt a thrill as he inhaled her perfume. Gazing up at her in wonder, he nodded. Everything was starting to make sense. Of course Mohini was his mother. How else would she know so much about him?

  “What do we have to do?” he asked.

  “Emira is Rookh’s prisoner,” Mohini told him. “To get her back you’re going to have to come with me to his workshop.”

  Despite his foggy head Sharat felt alarmed. “Can’t you bring her to us with magic?” he asked.

  Mohini shook her head. “You don’t seem to understand,” she said. “I’m Rookh’s slave. I can’t use my magic unless he gives me permission. All I can do is trick him.” Eyes shining, she leaned forward. “We can trick him together,” she whispered, “but you’re going to have to be very brave.”

  Suddenly, all Sharat wanted to do was to prove himself to her, but before he could reply Aya interrupted again.

  “Don’t trust her, Sharat!” she said.

  For some reason Sharat found himself getting annoyed. “Why not?” he asked.

  “This is Mohini,” Aya reminded him. “What if she’s working for Doctor Rookh?”

  Mohini looked down at her in scorn. “Why would I ally myself with Rookh?” she said. “I’m a jinni. I hate him as much as you do.”

  Aya shivered. She didn’t know what to think. All she knew was that something didn’t fit.

  Sharat was hardly listening. All he cared about now was finding Emira. Still, he was nagged by a sense of guilt. He glanced back up at Mohini. “Can’t we let Aya go?” he asked. “After all, this has nothing to do with her.”

  Mohini shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but the only way back to the surface is through the mines.” She indicated the canoe with a graceful hand. “I’m afraid you’re both going to have to come with me.”

  The reptile at the prow watched them through half-closed eyes. With a lazy movement it stretched out a scaly forearm for them to climb on board.

  Sharat and Aya’s eyes met. Sharat saw resistance.

  “Come on,” he said. “It will be all right, you’ll see.” He tried to smile. “It’s what we both wanted,” he reminded her. “We’ll get Emira back and we’ll free the jinnis.”

  For a moment Aya held his gaze, then she glanced up at Mohini. “I hope you’re right,” she said tightly.

  Refusing his outstretched hand, she stepped on to the boat while Sharat followed her in silence.

  Mohini stood waiting at the prow. Once they were both seated she lifted her hand and the canoe moved smoothly away from the shore.

  As they crossed the lake, Sharat’s heart felt like it would burst with impatience. At last he was going to rescue Emira! He couldn’t wait to see her again. And then there was the prospect of being a jinni. For a moment he felt butterflies in his stomach as he wondered what it would feel like to have magical powers. He was just imagining how he would take revenge on Pias and Ram when his thoughts were interrupted by a gentle bump. They had reached the island, and now that they were up close he could see that a steep staircase had been carved in a dizzying spiral around its towering sides.

  With graceful movements, Mohini led them ashore as the canoe slowly sank below the surface of the water, leaving only a trail of bubbles in its wake.

  “Follow me,” she said, climbing the black steps, her blood-red cloak trailing behind her.

  The climb seemed endless. Echoing nearby, they heard a chip, chip, chipping noise, like pickaxes hitting rock, while silent figures swarmed in and out of crevices in the cavern walls. As they reached the top, they saw that the surface of the island was as flat and smooth as glass. At the centre burned a roaring fire manned by demons with pitchforks.

  Just then, a procession of white-robed figures crossed one of the spindly bridges that joined the island to the walls of the cavern.

  Sharat took a sharp breath. “Ghuls!” he said.

  “Don’t worry about them,” said Mohini. “They won’t hurt you if you’re with me.”

  Sure enough, the ghuls didn’t even glance up as they shuffled past. All they did was open their skeletal hands to drop the jewels they had gathered on to an ever-growing pile of treasure.

  “That’s what will happen to you if you’re not careful,” Mohini warned them in a low voice.

  “What do you mean?” asked Sharat.

  “The ghuls were all jinnis once,” she said. “Before they were enslaved by Doctor Rookh.”

  Sharat looked at her in surprise. “Ghuls are jinnis?”

  “That’s right,” said Mohini.

  “Why aren’t you a ghul, then?” demanded Aya.

  “I’m not a ghul because I’m not trapped in the mines,” said Mohini. “Jinnis only turn into ghuls if they’re kept out of the sun. I live in the Zenana.”

  Just then one of the ghuls staggered and fell to the ground. As it did so, a pair of cackling demons hurried over with their pitchforks and tossed its still-moving body into the fire. As it was engulfed by the flames, its mouth opened in a silent scream.

  Aya took a sharp breath, but before she could protest, Mohini was already striding ahead.

  “Come on!” she told them. “We’re almost there.”

  They hurried around the edge of the ebony island on to one of the bridges, and crossed over into a corridor in the cavern wall. A house-marshal with a wide, toad-like mouth glared out from the centre of a heavy wooden door. As they approached, it bared its fangs threateningly.

  “Whaddya want?” it snarled.

  “Let us in!” snapped Mohini. “I’m on the master’s business.”

  The house-marshal clamped its flabby jaws shut and the door swung open to reveal a dark, womb-like room lined in red.

  “Quickly!” said Mohini, putting her hand on Sharat’s back. “Your tiger is through here.”

  Heart pounding, Sharat hurried in, closely followed by Aya.

  For a moment they looked around in confusion. There was another door at the back of the room, but apart from that it seemed to be empty. Just then, Sharat got a prickling feeling in the back of his neck as if something wasn’t quite right.

  “Where’s Emira?” he asked, turning to Mohini with a frown.

  “All will be revealed,” she replied, but there was a strange look on her face.

  “Sharat, let’s get out of here!” said Aya sharply.

  But it was too late. As the door swung shut behind them, Mohini’s hand swept through the air.

  In an instant Sharat and Aya realised that the room wasn’t empty at all. Horrified, they watched as Doctor Rookh materialised in front of them, flanked by two of his demons.

  They started back, desperate to escape, but before they could turn, Mohini’s hands landed on their shoulders like claws.

  Her eyes were shining with triumph as she looked up at Doctor Rookh.

  “Here he is, master,” she said. “The Prince of Jinnis, just as I promised.”

  Sharat spun around to stare at her in confusion. “How could you?” he gasped in disbelief. “You’re my mother.”

&nb
sp; Then his heart sank as he saw the look on her face. All at once he realised how she had played him for a fool. He caught Aya’s eye.

  “I’m so sorry,” he breathed.

  Aya barely nodded. Her face was set in a mask of fear.

  As Rookh stepped forward his eyes flicked contemptuously across Aya and landed on Sharat.

  “Surely you know better than to believe a jinni,” he said. “How could Mohini be your mother? You’re the Prince of Jinnis. Your mother is the Queen of the Forest.”

  Sharat stared at him. “The Queen of the Forest?” he asked.

  “But of course,” said Rookh. His lips twisted in disdain. “She thought that by hiding you she could escape me, but now she’ll never get away, and neither will you.” With a gesture he pointed, and they saw the Queen’s urn standing right behind them.

  Sharat didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The Queen of the Forest was his mother! With a feeling of regret he remembered her warmth and her kindness. How was it he’d never guessed? He looked back at Rookh.

  “What are you going to do to us?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

  “That depends entirely on you,” Rookh replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  Gesturing for them to follow, Rookh turned to face the doors at the back of the room.

  “Come this way!” he ordered as the second door swung open.

  With long strides, he led them into a domed chamber with the proportions of some grand temple or mosque.

  At the centre of the dome there was a hole that allowed a beam of light to shine down from the outside world, but this time the light was thin and cold, like that at dawn or dusk. Sounds of despair came from cages that were stacked along the walls, and the miserable faces of a thousand wretched creatures peered out from behind the bars. Worse still, the room stank of fear and excrement.

  Sharat felt sick. Was Emira down here? Before he could look around, a thousand ruby eyes lit up and turned to catch him in their glare. Too late, he saw that the dome above them was crawling with life.

  With a cry, he shrank back. Similickers!

  A cold smile crossed Rookh’s face. “I see you are already acquainted with my little friends,” he said as he lifted his arm. Moments later there was a clicking sound and he brought down his hand. On one of his fingers was perched a tiny golden sparrow, encrusted with jewels.

  The bird let out a burst of mechanical song.

  “Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you while you’re with me,” Rookh told them.

  A lanky man came hurrying forward. He wore a pair of green spectacles on his large nose, and his chinless face was spotty and unhealthily pale.

  “Ah, Neek,” said Doctor Rookh.

  “Have you brought me more subjects, master?” asked Neek, his eyes flat and emotionless behind the thick lenses.

  “Perhaps,” said Rookh. “But first I wish to demonstrate the power of our toys.” He held up the sparrow. “Can you choose a suitable victim for this little fellow?”

  “Of course, sir,” said Neek. He leaned over to unlock one of the cages.

  There was the sound of hissing. An eagle emerged angrily from the cage, lifting its wings to fly towards the sun. Neek hurried out of the way as Doctor Rookh released the golden sparrow. It flew straight for the eagle, and the two birds clashed in mid-air.

  In nature there would have been no contest. Eagles were predators, sparrows were prey, but now there was a flurry of feathers and the eagle dropped heavily to the floor. The little bird perched on the fallen body, its needle-sharp beak stained with blood. It let out a triumphant burst of song.

  “The similickers do whatever I want,” Rookh remarked. “They are far superior to natural animals.”

  He glanced over at Sharat. “At first I could only use the technique on insects, and small birds,” he said, “but then we found a way to convert reptiles, and recently Neek has been experimenting on larger mammals.”

  Neek bowed his head modestly.

  Sharat felt a moment of panic. “Where’s Emira?” he said, scanning the cages around the room.

  “Show him, Neek,” snapped Rookh.

  Neek stepped towards an iron box at the edge of the room. Just then, something clanked urgently behind the door and there was a desperate roar.

  “Emira!” cried Sharat. He started forward, but Mohini put a cold hand on his shoulder.

  “Wait!” she hissed.

  Neek pulled out a jangling set of keys and unlocked the door to expose a golden cage. Behind the bars, Emira stared blindly out at them. It was the first time she’d seen light since being stolen. She looked gaunt and ill. As she caught sight of Rookh she bared her teeth in a violent snarl.

  Sharat thought his heart would break. “Emira!” he called. “What have they done to you?”

  Emira turned her head, and her snarl changed to a cry of longing. She pressed her head to the bars and roared more gently.

  “Silence!” spat Doctor Rookh. “We’re not here for some kind of emotional reunion.”

  Sharat couldn’t hide his anger. “Why are we here, then?” he demanded.

  Rookh’s eyes burned into him. “You are the Prince of Jinnis,” he said. “By rights I should just enslave you, like I enslaved your mother. However, I admire your spirit, so instead I would like to make you an extremely generous offer.”

  Sharat glared at him. “What sort of offer?”

  “For years I’ve been looking for a suitable heir,” Rookh told him. “Everything you see around you could be yours. All I require is a small gesture of loyalty.”

  A feeling of sick anticipation rose up through Sharat’s guts. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Rookh stepped towards the workbench and opened a thin wooden box. Lying inside it was a silver sword.

  “Simple,” he said. “Just pick up this sword, and kill the tiger.”

  Chapter Thirty

  DUNGEONS

  Sharat stared down at the sword. He’d recognised it at once. It was the sword from Fonke’s shop. The sword that killed jinnis.

  He glanced around the room. Rookh’s face was icy calm, but Mohini’s fists were clenched, and her fingernails were so deeply embedded in the palms of her hands that they were drawing blood. Suddenly he caught a whiff of her perfume as it mingled with the scent of decay that wafted up from the animal’s cages. A wave of nausea swept through him. To think he’d believed she was his mother!

  Feeling dizzy, he looked back at Emira. He had to get her out of here, but how?

  Once more his eyes rested on the sword in front of him. As he looked at it the silver seemed to glow slightly. It was almost as if it was calling to him. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and seized the handle. Immediately he felt its power running like electricity up his arm.

  Aya gasped. “Sharat! No!” she cried, but Sharat had no intention of killing Emira. Instead he spun around, blade flashing, and lunged at Doctor Rookh.

  “Aya, run!” he shouted.

  The demons were ready for him. With a thump, they knocked him to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aya struggling in Mohini’s cruel grasp. Then they were both hauled to their feet. Rookh’s mouth twitched as he looked down at Sharat.

  “You’ll regret this,” he said.

  Sharat stared up at him, wordlessly.

  Rookh glanced at the demons. “Take them to the dungeons!” he ordered.

  One of the demons cackled. “With pleasure, sir!” it said.

  A terrible roar split the air as the tiger hurled herself against the bars of her cage.

  “Emira!” said Sharat, twisting his head in desperation. For a moment the tiger’s eyes blazed out at him in pain and fury. Then one of the demons jabbed him viciously in the solar plexus. Choking, all he could do was stumble forward.

  Sniggering, the demons dragged them out of Rookh’s workshop into a tunnel lit by flickering torches. As they descended, the air became stale, and the chip, chip, chipping sound of the mines grew louder. Soon
they reached a metal door. This time there was no house-marshal there to greet them. Instead the demons used an iron key that grated in the lock.

  As the door swung open, a mouldy stench hit their nostrils. The room was barely lit, and the walls were hung with whips, goads and other cruel devices. To their horror they saw that two ghuls were hanging cruelly by their wrists from chains in the wall, but most terrible of all was the iron maiden – an open coffin in the shape of a woman standing in the corner, her insides lined with cruel metal spikes. As the demons dragged them past, her bloodshot eyes revolved to follow them.

  “Fresh meat, fresh meat,” she muttered, grinding her rusty teeth.

  The demons shoved them on to a bench hacked out of stone and shackled them by their ankles.

  “Enjoy your stay,” one of them sneered before the door slammed behind him.

  Sharat caught Aya’s eye. Her face looked ashen in the flickering light. Once more he felt overwhelmed by guilt and shame. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Mohini … I can’t believe I thought she was my mother.”

  Aya shook her head. “She enchanted you,” she said, her voice bitter. “That’s what she does, only her magic doesn’t work on me.”

  “Now I know how she got my father to break his promise and come to the city,” said Sharat miserably.

  “And you know who your mother is,” said Aya.

  Sharat tugged at his shackles. “I just wish she’d told me my name,” he said in frustration.

  Aya’s eyes scanned his face. “Are you sure she didn’t?” she said.

  Sharat hesitated. “She did try and tell me something right at the end,” he said. “But she couldn’t finish.” He grimaced. “Rookh was trying to kill her.”

  Aya shook her head. “If only we still had the amulet!” she said. “I bet Alcherisma could help us.”

  Sharat glanced around the dungeon. “Even if we did, I doubt he’d come down here,” he said.