The Tiger's Egg

by Jon Berkeley

  “However,” he said, hitching up his trousers, “if you’re satisfied that he won’t pose any danger . . .”

  “I’m sure Doctor Tau-Tau can be persuaded to behave himself,” said Lady Partridge. “If he can give us information that might lead to the arrest of the Great Cortado I may be able to put in a good word with Justice Ffrench when I meet him for bridge on Tuesday.”

  “Very well,” said Sergeant Bramley. “If you’ll excuse us, Lady P., we have important police work to do.” He tipped the peak of his cap, and he and his crestfallen constable showed themselves out.

  Lady Partridge swept the cats from her lap and hoisted herself out of her armchair. “I’m sure you could all do with a cup of tea after your various ordeals,” she said. “I’ll go and put the kettle on and Miles can ask you about his family heirloom.” She gave Doctor Tau-Tau a hard stare. “And I strongly recommend that you leave nothing out,” she said. “Justice Ffrench is a great believer in the benefits of long prison sentences.”

  Doctor Tau-Tau shuddered as Lady Partridge swept from the room. “Well,” he said, attempting a friendly smile. “All’s well that ends well, eh? At least Cortado didn’t manage to . . .” His words faltered.

  “To saw me in half?” finished Miles. Doctor Tau-Tau nodded.

  “What I’d like to know,” said Miles, “is where he got the idea that the Tiger’s Egg was inside me in the first place.”

  “Ah . . . ,” said Tau-Tau. “That’s what I told him, when he ambushed me in the woods outside Iota. It was for your own protection, of course.”

  “How would getting me sawn in half be for my own protection?” asked Miles.

  Doctor Tau-Tau sighed. “I have always had your interests at heart, boy, though I admit it may not always appear that way. I had persuaded the Great Cortado that the Tiger’s Egg was probably somewhere in Larde, and he had spent the summer searching for it. He began with those Punchbiscuit people, who had owned the orphanage where he believed Barty’s infant son had died. He soon realized that they knew nothing about the Egg, but he found them greedy and unscrupulous, and took an instant liking to them. It was Cortado who devised the clock-and-rat scheme to sift through the valuables of Larde in search of the Egg, and he kept them supplied with exotic clocks from an importer in Fuera.”

  “So that’s how they got into the clock business,” said Miles. “I thought that plan was a bit clever for Fowler Pinchbucket. But if Cortado was searching in Larde, why did he turn up at the circus in Cnoc?”

  Doctor Tau-Tau’s eyes bulged in surprise. “How did you know about that?” he said.

  “I saw him in the audience,” said Miles.

  “It’s true,” said Tau-Tau. “He found out—by putting rumor and report together—that Barty Fumble’s son had not died of a fever at all, and what’s more that he was one and the same boy who had brought down the Palace of Laughter. He traveled to the circus intending to kill you then and there, but I told him I had befriended you and was within a whisker of finding the Tiger’s Egg. When I urged him to give me a few more days a nasty little smile came over his face, and he told me that he would head straight back to Larde and release The Null from its unguarded prison. He said that the beast had shown a perverse instinct to destroy you, its own flesh and blood, last time it had escaped, and that it was up to me to find the Tiger’s Egg before the beast found the boy. The whole idea seemed to amuse him greatly.”

  “So that’s why you tried to escape from the circus,” said Miles.

  Tau-Tau nodded. “I made one last attempt to see if you really knew where the Tiger’s Egg was all along, but when that failed I took to the woods to hide. I was not keen to come face to face with The Null again after all these years. I had no idea if it would recognize me, and I didn’t want to find out.”

  “But you found out anyway,” said Little. “It must have been very frightening.”

  “You have no idea,” said Doctor Tau-Tau, shuddering at the memory. “If it hadn’t been for my quick thinking . . .”

  “Actually I don’t think it was interested in you,” said Miles.

  “What do you mean? The monster had me hung in a tree like a ham. It might have devoured me whole at any moment!”

  “It’s not a monster,” said Miles, “and it was looking for a cure, not a ham. Once it had swallowed the sleepwater it dropped you like a sack of potatoes.”

  “No amount of sleepwater will ever cure that thing,” snorted Doctor Tau-Tau.

  “But maybe a Tiger’s Egg could,” said Miles.

  “If I ever find it, perhaps,” said Tau-Tau, but there he stopped. His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped, and he stared at Miles’s chest. “By the smoke of ages—what a remarkable creature! Let me see it closer.”

  Miles’s hand instinctively went to his pocket, and he found to his dismay that Tangerine had climbed half out of his portable home. “It’s just a toy,” he said quickly, shoving the small bear back down into his pocket next to his thumping heart. “It’s clockwork,” he added.

  “Clockwork? Are you sure?” Doctor Tau-Tau stared at Miles’s pocket with a puzzled frown, but at that moment the door opened and Lady Partridge swept in, wheeling a hostess trolley before her. The trolley was piled with cakes and biscuits. A pot of tea steamed on the top tray, and cups rattled in their saucers. Tau-Tau helped himself to a cake without a word and sat back on the sofa, chewing slowly and staring through Miles as if he were transparent.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” said Miles, hoping to distract Doctor Tau-Tau from thinking about Tangerine.

  Doctor Tau-Tau shook his head and focused on Miles. “What question was that?”

  “Why did you tell the Great Cortado that the Egg was in my stomach?” He glanced at Lady Partridge, but she was busying herself with cups and saucers.

  “I had to tell him something,” said Tau-Tau. “He had been tracking The Null on a stolen motorbike, and he was watching from the trees when I put it to sleep with a superb shot from my blowpipe. He was not pleased. He ambushed us as we came back through the woods and knocked the constable out cold. He planned to dress up in my clothes so that he could get close enough to kill you himself.”

  “But we know the Egg isn’t inside me,” said Miles. “The Fir Bolg said so.”

  “I know that, but I had to think fast. I hoped this might stall him long enough to give me a chance to escape and alert the authorities. I told him he should disguise himself as Stranski, who was more his size, and who would have you locked in a box the following night with a saw in his hand.”

  “Where is Stranski?” asked Miles, sitting up suddenly on the sofa.

  “Sleeping like a baby in his wagon,” said Doctor Tau-Tau. “I gave Cortado my last bottle of sleepwater so he could knock him out and steal his outfit. There was enough in there to put a man out for two whole days. Without the sleepwater he would think nothing of killing Stranski to get him out of the way. He drove us to a spot near the circus and hid the motorbike in a bush, with me still handcuffed into the sidecar. He watched me the whole night long, and it wasn’t until he left for Stranski’s wagon that I had a chance to escape. He forced me to drink a little sleepwater before he left, but I managed to hide it in my cheek and spit it out afterward. Only my tongue was affected. A small dose of sleepwater will numb your tongue better than any dentist’s needle.”

  Miles nodded. His own tongue still tingled.

  “Then it’s no wonder Sergeant Bramley couldn’t understand you,” said Lady Partridge. “It seems clear, however, that in this case you tried to do the right thing. You almost certainly saved Mr. Stranski’s life, and you did your best to save Miles’s too, although frankly it sounds as though you contributed to the danger in the first place.” She handed out the teacups. “If you can just help us to pinpoint the Great Cortado I feel sure there’s a good chance we can keep you out of prison.”

  “Lady Partridge,” said Doctor Tau-Tau, straightening himself up and placing his fingertips to his temples, “you are
speaking to the greatest clairvoyant in the Northern Hemisphere. Pinpointing is child’s play to a man such as me. To me,” he added, “pinpointing is mere child’s play.”

  Miles Wednesday, circus-scarred and just twelve, sat against the smooth trunk of the twin beech tree on a cool October morning, a newspaper and The Null’s breakfast sitting on a root beside him. He rested his gaze on the long sun-striped grass of Lady Partridge’s garden, letting his eyes unfocus. The wind sighed in the branches like the breath of a mighty animal, carrying the sour smell of tamarind pods from a nearby tree. He thought he heard a distant rumble, but he didn’t strain his ears. He watched the grass, and he waited for the movement he knew would come. The tamarind smell had turned to tiger now, and he smiled to himself.

  “I don’t know what you have to smirk about,” said the tiger.

  Miles focused his eyes. The tiger sat a short leap away, his magnificent stripes blending with the grass, regarding Miles with a hint of amusement.

  “I’m not smirking, I’m smiling,” said Miles. “I’m still alive, for a start. I wasn’t able to thank you properly the other night.”

  “I didn’t hang around,” said the tiger. “I had the distinct impression some of those kiddies wanted to paw me with their sticky fingers, and they might have ended up without them.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “I’m a tiger, not a dodo. I am a master of stealth, camouflaged in stripes, and a circus tent is nothing if not stripy.”

  “Well, you saved me in the nick of time anyway,” said Miles, scuffing his toe in the soil. “Thank you.”

  “Think nothing of it,” said the tiger. “I’m only sorry I didn’t get to finish the job on that little reptile, although I suppose eating a man in a magician suit might not be considered family entertainment.”

  A screeching cackle drifted across from the gazebo and the tiger was on his feet in an instant, his mighty teeth bared and his tail lashing to and fro in the long grass.

  “It’s all right,” said Miles. “It’s just The Null. I bring it breakfast every morning when I’m here, and today I’m a bit late.”

  “Keeping that creature here is not a good idea,” said the tiger. “I have advised you before you should have nothing to do with it. There is nothing to be gained from foolish bravado.”

  “I can look after myself,” said Miles indignantly, “and if it wasn’t for my foolish bravado I might never have become friends with you.”

  The tiger growled, making the hair stand up on Miles’s neck. “It’s a foolhardy mouse who calls the cat his friend,” he rumbled. “And being plucked from the jaws of death by myself or your strange little sister can hardly be called looking after yourself.”

  Miles said nothing. The tiger stood, his tail switching in the autumn grass. His amber eyes were fixed on Miles, but his ears were turned toward the gazebo. It was Little’s voice that broke the silence. “Miles saved me from the Circus Oscuro,” she said, flopping down in the grass beside Miles and smiling at the tiger. “And I help him out when he needs me. We look after each other.”

  Miles looked away. He could feel his eyes stinging with tears. The tiger gave a low rumble. “Perhaps I was a little harsh,” he said. “It’s no bad thing to face danger with courage, if there is a good reason for it, and courage is something you don’t seem to be short of. Keeping that hairy nightmare as a pet is another matter altogether.”

  “The Null is not a pet!” said Miles. “The Null is all I have left of my father.”

  The tiger stared at him, but Miles could not read the expression in his gaze. “Your taste for riddles is as strong as ever,” said the tiger, “and my patience with them is no greater than before. Just remember that I may not always be around to help you stand your ground.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Miles.

  “Nowhere out of the ordinary,” said the tiger, turning away toward the sunrise.

  “Then we’ll see you again,” said Miles.

  “No doubt,” said the tiger.

  “Good-bye then, Varippuli,” said Miles.

  The tiger paused for a moment and looked back over his shoulder. “Good-bye, Miles,” he said, “and remember to keep your eyes clear and your claws sharp.”

  The tiger disappeared among the bushes, and Miles stared after him with an uneasy feeling. “What do you think he meant by that, about not always being around?” he asked Little.

  “The tiger lives alone and relies only on himself,” said Little. “It’s hard for him to understand that our friendships make us stronger. And that reminds me.” She gave Miles a sudden hug. “Happy birthday!” she said.

  “Is today my birthday?” said Miles in surprise. In Pinchbucket House there had been no birthdays. He had only learned of his from the Bolsillo brothers the year before, and he had not got used to keeping track of the date.

  “Of course!” said Little. She sprang to her feet. “And I have to get back to help Lady Partridge with your birthday surprise. She’s made a big cake, and the Bolsillo brothers are coming over with Tembo and Mamba, and . . .”

  “Don’t tell me!” said Miles, laughing. “I’m not supposed to know if it’s a surprise.”

  “Then how can you look forward to it?” said Little.

  “You can’t, I suppose,” said Miles. “A surprise is supposed to be more fun.”

  “People are funny!” laughed Little. “In that case I won’t tell Lady Partridge that I told you. Then it will be more fun when she finds out.”

  Miles picked up the newspaper and The Null’s breakfast and stood up. “Just don’t tell her at all,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “Whatever you say, Miles,” said Little. She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear, and the day seemed to grow warmer. “Say hello to The Null for me,” she called as she turned and ran back toward the house.

  The Null was crouching like an inky blot in the corner of the gazebo, away from the sunlight that slanted in through the barred window. Its red-rimmed eyes stared at Miles as he entered. He pushed the metal dish between the bars that separated the creature from its visitors, but The Null did not move. “Hello,” said Miles. “Remember me?” He sat down in the worn armchair and shook open his copy of the Larde Weekly Herald. The headline filled most of the front page. “ESCAPED NUTCASE MAULED BY SAVAGE TIGER,” read Miles. “Police are today searching for a dangerous tiger that disappeared after maiming an escaped lunatic. The Great Cortado, forty-five, was attacked by the beast while attempting to saw a local boy in half, and is also being sought by police after making his getaway on a stolen horse.” Miles stopped and turned the page. “Let’s try this instead,” he said. “YOU WON’T SEE ME FOR DUST, SAYS FEZ-TOPPED SNITCH. Itinerant fortune-teller Doctor Tau-Tau, forty, faces deportation after telling police the likely whereabouts of fugitive lunatic the Great Cortado. In a deal reached between police and local magistrate Justice Emmanuel Ffrench, charges of Assault with a Blowpipe and Making Incoherent Statements were dropped on condition that the sideshow psychic agree to leave the country at once. ‘I no longer feel safe here anyway,’ Doctor Tau-Tau was quoted as saying. ‘I will be going where my talents are better appreciated.’”

  Miles stopped reading and sat for a while in silence with the beast that had once been his father. He knew that talking to The Null might be no more useful than shouting into an empty barrel, but having lived in one of those he also knew there could be more to an empty barrel than meets the eye. He was supposed to practice reading from the newspaper each day, but the things he wanted to say could not be found between the covers of the Larde Weekly Herald, and so he put the newspaper down and began to talk.

  He talked about his travels with the circus and his adventures with the Fir Bolg, in search of the father he had lost to a fathomless darkness. He spoke of his mother, the beautiful Celeste, and how he wished that he could see her face, even in a picture. He spoke about her twin, whom he hoped one day to meet, and about Little, the girl who had given up her wings to be his lit
tle sister. He laughed as he told The Null how odd she had looked when she came, bearded and covered with hair, to rescue him. He spoke about the tiger who was always there when he needed him, and how, though he still didn’t fully understand it, he somehow carried that magnificent animal’s soul hidden in a small stuffed bear in the pocket of his jacket. And finally, as the patch of sunlight crept across the straw-carpeted floor, he told the brooding shadow in the corner about the small stone that contained the power of that tiger’s soul, and how he would study his mother’s diary until he learned how to master that power, so that someday he could use it to bring his lost father back from the darkness and into the light of day.

  EXTRAS

  Featuring:

  Sergeant Bramley’s Station Log

  An excerpt from THE LIGHTNING KEY

  Sergeant Bramley’s Station Log

  * * *

  Larde Area Police District

  Date Sun 24th Duty officer Sgt. Bramley

  Incident Palace of Laughter rescue mission. At 6:45pm, local eccentric Lady Partridge entered the station to report kidnap of two children. Assembled a search party from surrounding stations and drove to Smelt City, where the youngsters were located safe and sound by virtue of outstanding police work. In the process, Larde Area Police District smashed a ring of desperate circus-based criminals that had been operating freely under the very nose of Smelt Area Police Section.

  Notes List of arrested criminals:

  1. The Great Cortado: Mustachioed ringleader of sinister mind-control racket

  2. Genghis: Principal henchman of the above

  3. Bobogeek: Dangerously malodorous children’s entertainer

  4. Baumella: Tatooed giantess and door-security person