The Tiger's Egg (26 page)

“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 little 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.

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