The Tiger's Egg

by Jon Berkeley

  He turned and disappeared into a tunnel that led from the cave. The intense light was beginning to fade, and Miles quickly helped the dazed Tau-Tau to his feet before the pink glow could be swallowed up again by the darkness. They hurried along the narrow tunnel until once again it broadened out and they found themselves climbing a steep rocky slope. The Fir Bolg’s light fizzled out, but they were not plunged into darkness as Miles had expected. From up ahead came a faint glow that he immediately recognized as daylight. The light was blue and fresh after the dull smoky orange that had lit their time underground, and he felt as though he were breathing for the first time in days.

  At the top of the slope their hairy little guide disappeared into the light, and Miles and Doctor Tau-Tau clambered out after him, pushing through the bushes that hid the entrance to the subterranean world and emerging into the early evening of a cloudless day. They stood blinking in the bottom of the grassy bowl where they had first been captured, and Miles was rooted to the spot by the luminous beauty of the sky above them, which faded from a rich blue through salmon pink to the palest of yellows, where the sun neared the western horizon. He sucked in a deep breath of cold, outdoor air.

  “Come on, Miles,” called the hairy figure from halfway up the grassy slope, “we’ve only got until nightfall to get a head start.”

  Miles blinked in disbelief. He could hardly believe his ears. “Little?” he said. “Is that you in there?”

  “Of course it’s me,” said the Fir Bolg. “Who did you think it was?”

  Miles turned to Doctor Tau-Tau, who was staring blankly from one to the other. “Come on,” he said. “We’d better get moving.” He started up the slope, trying to catch up with the tiny bearded figure of his four-hundred-year-old friend. He was weak with hunger, but a burning curiosity drove him and he soon left the panting fortune-teller behind.

  “Wait,” he called to Little, “wait for me!”

  She stopped in the shadow of one of the tall rocky teeth. Behind the thick beard he could tell she was smiling.

  “What . . . ?” gasped Miles as he caught up with her. “I mean, how . . . ?”

  The hairy Little put her finger to her lips. “Shh,” she said, “I’ll explain later. First we have to get rid of Doctor Tau-Tau.”

  “How?” asked Miles. He could not take his eyes off Little now that he could see her better. Thick hair of a dirty grayish color grew from low on her forehead, sweeping back over her head like a disheveled waterfall that reached almost to her knees. She wore a magnificent beard that had been rather hastily plaited in a few places, and the rest of her body seemed to be covered in a matted tangle of filthy hair and animal furs, bound here and there with thongs of hide. Only her sky-blue eyes were recognizable, smiling from under an old man’s bushy eyebrows.

  “Leave it to me,” she whispered, as Doctor Tau-Tau approached.

  “What’s going on?” huffed the fortune-teller, his bulging eyes almost popping from his head with the exertion. “Who is this filthy little fellow, and what’s he up to, eh?”

  “It’s me, Doctor Tau-Tau,” said Little. “It’s Little.”

  Tau-Tau gaped at the hairy figure looking up at him. “By the twelve pillars of reason!” he said. “Where on earth did you get the outfit?”

  “It’s not an outfit,” said Little. “It’s an Untried Marvel. At least it was until I tried it.”

  “I’m not with you,” said Doctor Tau-Tau.

  It suddenly dawned on Miles what Little was talking about. “Your Bearded Lady lotion!” he said.

  Doctor Tau-Tau stared at Little in disbelief. “Is this true?” he demanded. Little nodded. “You mean to tell me you entered my wagon and stole one of my valuable mixtures?”

  “She did it to help us escape!” said Miles indignantly. His sympathy for Doctor Tau-Tau’s underground trauma was rapidly wearing thin. “Would you prefer to be in a cooking pot right now?”

  Doctor Tau-Tau cleared his throat and turned to Little. “Well, under the circumstances, I suppose we can overlook the trespass,” he said.

  “Thank you,” said Little. “I just hope this will wear off soon.”

  “Wear off?” said Tau-Tau. “Yes, yes, of course. It will wear off in no time. In no time at all,” he repeated, “you’ll be bald in all the right places.”

  “Your lotion really is a work of genius,” said Little, “and that’s why you should get away as fast as you possibly can, while me and Miles create a diversion for the Fir Bolg.”

  “Really?” said Doctor Tau-Tau doubtfully. “But that would be very dangerous. I can’t let you take such a risk.”

  “It’s all right,” said Little, “we won’t get caught. And it’s far more important that you get to safety. Imagine if one of the world’s greatest clairvoyants and healers ended up as supper for a pack of hungry cavemen.”

  “I see what you mean,” said Tau-Tau with a look of ill-disguised relief. “Well, I’ll be off then. Be careful, won’t you?” He tightened the belt of his embroidered dressing gown and hurried away in the direction of the distant circus. “And if it does come to a tussle,” he called over his shoulder, “see if you can get my hat back, would you?”

  As soon as he was lost to sight, Little took Miles by the hand, her hairy fingers tickling his, and led him around to the other side of the rock that loomed over them. Somehow he knew what he would see before they even turned the corner. There in the grass, as large as life and twice as magnificent, sat the Bengal tiger, his deep amber eyes regarding Miles with faint amusement.

  “Well, tub boy,” said the tiger. “Here we are again, it seems.”

  Miles nodded, lost for words in his surprise and delight.

  “I’m disappointed in your choice of traveling companion,” said the tiger. “The fellow does not strike me as much of a guide. If he were of any value at all on a long trip, it would have to be as an item on the menu.”

  “That’s exactly what he was,” said Miles, a surge of happiness welling up inside him at the sound of the tiger’s voice, “until a short while ago.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A BAG OF WIND

  Miles Wednesday, spear-poked and light-rescued, sat down suddenly on a smooth rock that jutted from the grass. He felt dizzy after his run through the darkness, and he could not remember the last time he had eaten. “How did you know where to find us?” he asked.

  “I didn’t find you,” said the tiger, “because I wasn’t looking for you. I was taking a well-earned nap in a quiet spot when your little friend almost stepped on my tail. Not that I would have noticed, given that she weighs no more than a paper bag. If you want to know how you were saved from this particular scrape you will have to ask Little. Now climb aboard if you’re coming. The tiger is leaving.”

  Miles climbed up behind Little onto the tiger’s muscular back. It seemed an age since he had sat astride the tiger, but it was only a moment before he felt like he was right where he belonged, and every stripe of the mighty animal’s pelt looked like a familiar friend. A chill wind was rising, and in Doctor Tau-Tau’s silky dressing gown Miles found it harder than usual to grip the tiger’s flanks. For a while he concentrated on keeping his balance, but he had too many questions to remain silent for long. “How did you find us?” he asked Little.

  “I went to look for you the morning after Dulac’s accident.” Her words were whipped over her shoulder by the wind, and Miles had to strain his ears to catch them as they flew by. “No one knew where you were, and by the evening I was getting worried. I asked around the animals, but only Eunice the lioness had seen you leave. She could still catch your scent on the breeze for a long time, so she was able to tell me which way you had gone. I guessed you wanted your trip to be a secret, because you hadn’t told me you were leaving, so I followed you on my own.”

  Miles felt a pang of guilt, though he could not tell from her windblown words whether she was hurt at being excluded. “I’m sorry,” he shouted through chattering teeth. “I should have brought you
with us. Doctor Tau-Tau said it would be a bad idea.”

  “Maybe it would,” said Little. “If I’d been captured too, who would have come to get us? Anyway, I met a fox who had followed you most of the way. He said he could smell a chicken drumstick in the man’s pocket, and he was hoping to catch him napping. Suddenly the fox disappeared, and a few moments later I almost ran into five of the Fir Bolg. They had been out hunting for rabbits, and luckily they were arguing over their catch and I managed to hide myself before they saw me. They disappeared into the hollow and they didn’t come out, so after waiting awhile I moved to a closer hiding place to see where they had gone. That’s when I bumped into the tiger.

  “I was going to follow them down the hole, but the tiger said that they didn’t look very friendly, and I wouldn’t last five minutes. He offered to catch one of them for me and . . . well . . .” She sounded as though she was struggling to be diplomatic. “I didn’t really like what he suggested,” she finished.

  “It was a perfectly logical suggestion,” said the tiger. “And if it hadn’t been for your squeamishness you would have had an authentic Fir Bolg skin and I would have had a light snack.”

  “Anyway,” continued Little, “that’s when I thought of Doctor Tau-Tau’s lotion, and the tiger very kindly offered to take me back to the circus to get it.”

  “I don’t recall offering, as it happens,” interrupted the tiger. “In fact, whenever you appear on the scene you seem to end up clinging to my back, and I’m chewed if I can remember how it comes about.”

  “I was very grateful for your swiftness,” said Little. “Without you I would never have got to the circus and back to Hell’s Teeth before sunrise, and I wouldn’t like to have been caught on the road with hair coming from everywhere so fast you could watch it grow.”

  Darkness was falling swiftly now, and the tiger hissed them to silence as they passed a lone figure trudging along the twilit road. It was Doctor Tau-Tau, his shoulders hunched and his eyes fixed on the ground, and as the tiger passed stealthily by through the woods Miles thought he could hear the fortune-teller muttering loudly to himself, his white cotton-candy hair flipped this way and that by the chilly breeze. The tiger picked up speed again, and the figure of Doctor Tau-Tau was swallowed by the gloom.

  “I hope he makes it back all right,” said Miles.

  “Are you sure he deserves to?” asked the tiger.

  “No one deserves to be eaten,” said Miles.

  “I think we shall have to differ on that point,” said the tiger.

  Miles was silent for a moment. He was hungrier than he could ever remember being, and his stomach felt as empty as a cave. He thought longingly of the campfire that burned in the center of the circus village each night, and wondered what delicious food Umor would have crackling on the spit when they arrived. He found himself thinking then of the strange, tiny men who lived their lives in darkness underground, and how they had fought over a cold greasy chicken leg garnished with pocket fluff.

  “What did you say to the guards to get us out of the cave?” he asked Little.

  “I told them that the soul of the Shriveled Fella had sent me, and that we had to bring you to the entrance to breathe sky air, or you would die.”

  “How did you know about the Shriveled Fella?” asked Miles in surprise.

  “I spent that whole day among the Fir Bolg, finding out about them and where they were keeping you. I was there when he died.”

  “How did you make the light?” asked Miles.

  “It was one of the flares that Big Dan uses in his act. You know when they fire him from the cannon? I brought it from the circus when I went back for the lotion. I had seen that the Fir Bolg came out on a moonless night to hunt, so I had a feeling that the light must be painful to their eyes.”

  The tiger slowed to a walk. The breeze had fallen to a whisper, and up ahead Miles could see the strings of colored bulbs swaying gently between the trailers, and the warm glow of the fire around which the circus performers would now be gathering to share their supper and swap stories of the day. The faint sound of an accordion reached his frozen ears. For a moment he wished that the tiger could just stroll into the circus with him and stay there as his friend, but as soon as it appeared the thought seemed absurd. It was impossible to imagine this lord of the distant jungle boxed in a wagon and trundling from town to town.

  “This is as far as I go, tub boy,” said the tiger. Miles slid to the ground and rested his hand on the tiger’s flank.

  “I have a question,” he said.

  The tiger turned to look at him. “I would be surprised if you didn’t,” he said, “although you should not take that as the promise of an answer.”

  Miles took a deep breath. “Do you know anything about a Tiger’s Egg?” he ventured.

  “About as much as I know about a goat’s wings,” replied the tiger. “Or an elephant’s gills. I see we are back to the riddles.”

  “It’s just . . . ,” said Miles, looking over the tiger’s shoulder at the circus lights, “Doctor Tau-Tau says a Tiger’s Egg is a sort of stone that contains the soul of a tiger. Or . . . something.” He was sorry he had brought up the subject. The tiger stepped closer to him, his amber eyes drawing his gaze and making him feel like a small frightened herbivore.

  “The only thing that could contain the soul of a tiger,” said the magnificent beast, “is a tiger.”

  “I’m sorry if I offended you,” said Miles. “I just wanted to know if you’d heard of such a thing.”

  “Ignorance does not offend the wise,” said the tiger, “but I would expect more from you than to be taken in by the patter of a sideshow huckster. Be wary of that man. He looks to me like a bag of wind, and my impressions are seldom wrong. At least if they are,” he said as he turned to leave, “I have yet to meet anyone who will tell me so.”

  “You will be back, won’t you?” said Miles.

  The tiger paused and looked over his shoulder. “More than likely,” he said. “I’m beginning to enjoy the experience of talking to small animals without having to pick them from my teeth afterward.” As he disappeared into the night Miles thought he heard the tiger mutter, “Though I can’t imagine why.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE BEARDED BABY

  Gila Bolsillo, full-fed and brandy-warmed, turned the corner of his brightly painted wagon and came face to face with Miles and his hairy companion. The little man froze on the spot. He had left the campfire to collect his knitted Himalayan hat from the wagon before his frozen ears dropped off the sides of his head, and the last thing he expected to see was the missing boy and a figure about his own size covered from head to toe in matted hair. His black eyes narrowed and he squinted nervously at Little. “Who’s your friend?” he hissed to Miles, from the corner of his mouth.

  Miles laughed. “Have a guess,” he said.

  “I’d rather not,” said Gila. He looked so rattled by the appearance of the hairy stranger that Miles felt sorry for him.

  “It’s Little,” said Miles. “She used one of Doctor Tau-Tau’s Untried Marvels. He says it will wear off soon.”

  Gila’s eyes widened, and he peered closely at Little’s bearded face. “Well, coat me in custard!” he said. “It’s you, all right. What are you doing in there, Sky Beetle?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Little, “and Miles is very hungry.”

  “Of course,” said Gila. “Feed first, talk later.”

  The sound of laughter and the parp-parrump of a tuba drifted over from the campfire, carried on the smell of roasting meat and chestnuts and making Miles feel faint with hunger. Gila put his arms around their shoulders and steered them toward the fire, but Little pulled back. “I’m not hungry,” she said. “I’ll be in my wagon.”

  “’Course you’re hungry!” said Gila, taking her elbow with a firm grip. “And don’t worry about the hair. Even a walking hearth rug doesn’t stand out among this lot. No one will even notice.”

  As they drew close
to the campfire, Gila snapped into ringmaster mode. He threw his head back, stuck out his chest and boomed, “Ladies and Gentlemen, you’ve heard of the Bearded Lady, but tonight we present, all the way from your darkest hour, the one and only Beeearded . . . Baaaabyyy!”

  Little cringed. The tuba ceased its parrumping, and twenty faces turned toward them in the firelight. Fabio rose slowly to his feet, staring at Little as though he had seen his long-dead grandmother wobbling past on a unicycle. Umor also stood transfixed, until the sausage he was toasting caught fire and he had to blow it out.

  “It’s all right,” said Gila, “It’s just Sky Beetle.”

  “Little?” said Fabio.

  “She’s been reupholstered,” said Gila.

  “I don’t understand it,” said Fabio.

  “But I like it,” said Umor.

  “She can’t go on the wire like that.”

  “She’d break her neck.”

  “She can go on after the countess,” said Fabio, “and before Stranski.”

  “The Human Gorilla,” suggested Umor.

  “The Wolf-child of Cádiz.”

  “The Pocket Yeti,” said Gila.

  “I’m not going on as anything,” interrupted Little. “Doctor Tau-Tau says it will all fall out in a couple of days. I used his Bearded Lady lotion.”

  “Oh,” said Gila, sounding disappointed.

  “Are you sure?” said Fabio.

  “We could apply some more,” said Umor.

  “I used the whole bottle,” said Little, “and I don’t like being hairy. When it falls out I’ll go back on the wire, as myself.”

  “Well, you’re turning your back on a long and hirsute career,” said Fabio.

  “On your own head be it,” said Umor.

  “And all over the rest of you,” said Gila.