Spirit Tiger (10 page)

Azmi's mood rose on the eve of his wedding, as it seemed his whole life spread before him in a pattern of love and contentment. He could hardly wait for children. But first, the ordeal of the wedding itself loomed, and Rosnah was placed under the care of a
Mak Andam
, a wedding expert, who guided the bride and groom through the intricacies of the Malay traditional wedding. The
Mak Andam
took over everything, including the bride, and Azmi prayed it was temporary and the Rosnah he decided to marry would return to him after the wedding.

He consulted his father on the issue. Mamat rolled his eyes and sighed, remembering his own trial by fire, and assured him even Maryam had become slightly mad for a few weeks before the big day, only to return to earth as soon as it was over and she was no longer encased in
songket
. It would happen to Rosnah as well, Mamat assured him.

‘No one's died of a wedding yet,' Mamat intoned gravely.

After the wedding, when the whole family returned to the world normal people inhabit, Maryam noticed all Kelantan buzzed with news of the were-tiger. How she had not tracked on this was hard to fathom, but she had the best excuse imaginable: it was hard to see anything outside the ceremony.

Though Osman tried to keep it quiet, everyone who'd seen the corpse, police and civilian alike, found it impossible not to tell whoever they knew about the attack. Speculation was rampant, and people were frightened. Osman could not at first seriously credit a
hala
as the cause of Ruslan's death, but as he got further away from the initial shock, he found himself thinking more about the creature as something real. After all, he had been unable to construct an alternate theory of death, save for a real tiger, which was not much less frightening than what people believed: it did no good at all to say it wasn't a
hala
, it was a real tiger, a man-eating tiger, now roaming the Tumpat district ready to cause more mayhem. He believed he would cause less panic, though not much less, with the were-tiger theory.

He struggled to explain this to Maryam and Mamat after dinner at their house. (Though Mamat was not completely attentive: the big competition was only two days away, and he feared the unfamiliar company might upset the birds. He was overruled: the birds had to sing in front of plenty of unfamiliar people at the contest, so in fact, this was excellent training, and Mamat should have been grateful that she took it upon herself to acclimate the doves to a strange audience. Mamat knew when he had lost).

Maryam wanted to know more about this story, which seemed so very improbable on the face of it, and what better way than to interrogate Osman in her own living room? When she began her questioning, Azrina moved in closer to make sure she missed nothing.

He told her what he had seen, and both she and Azrina shivered.

‘His throat really torn out?' she asked him.

He nodded. ‘A huge hole in his neck down to his shoulder. It looked as though it had been ripped out, like with teeth. It wasn't done with a knife.' He shook his head.

‘The man who found him told me he thought it was a
hala
, that there was a village of them in the jungle nearby.' Before he'd seen this corpse, he might have laughed afterward at the absurdity of it, but now, having seen what he'd seen, there was no levity.

‘I didn't believe him, of course. I mean, villages of were-tigers? With houses made of bone? No, I can't believe anything like that. Can you?' he asked, curious.

Maryam shook her head, but not emphatically. ‘Villages? I don't really believe that. And I'm not sure about were-tigers either, but people say …' She trailed off.

‘What? What do they say?'Azrina prompted her.

‘You hear stories about were-tigers, that certain families run were-tigers, and they're perfectly normal during the day, then go out hunting at night. But before we take on
hala
spirits, isn't it a coincidence that someone who's mixed up in this murder turns up dead? If he owed a lot of money, which he did,' she tapped her cigarette against the stamped tin ashtray, ‘then it seems an amazing coincidence that a were-tiger would kill him to collect a debt.' She looked innocently at Osman, as if expecting elucidation.

‘It does seem …'

‘So, we'll need to speak to
Cik
Noriah again.' She turned to Azrina, who was listening so hard she nearly vibrated. ‘If she's already spoken to someone about collecting debts owed to Yusuf …'

‘You don't think she …'

‘Is a
hala
?' Maryam finished for him. ‘Very unlikely. I've never heard any talk about it, and there surely would be if she were hunting in Kampong Penambang.'

‘No!' Osman blushed at being so toyed with. ‘I mean, do you think she's already talked to someone about collecting her debts? It's so soon after Yusuf's death.'

‘She isn't that sentimental,' Maryam told him drily. ‘I don't doubt she's getting to work right away. She can't afford to have her debtors relax and spend their money somewhere else.' She thought of Zainuddin, already counting on his debt disappearing. Bad for business; even she knew that.

‘Can I come with you?' Azrina asked suddenly, shy at the thought of her own temerity, but so very anxious to come along. ‘I could help you.'

‘Oh, I don't know,' Maryam began, her eyes trained on Osman.

‘
Sayang
, do you really think it's a good idea?' he asked.

She nodded. ‘Let's talk about it later,' he advised her, reluctant to have this discussion in front of Maryam, who looked happily amused. She took pity on him, and led the conversation around to other topics.

The day of the competition finally dawned, though Mamat had already been awake for hours, sitting on the porch murmuring to Borek. Maryam woke and began preparing coffee and breakfast, though she knew Mamat wouldn't be able to eat anything. The birds, however, showed no signs of performance anxiety and ate everything put in front of them.

‘See how calm they are?' Mamat told her. ‘That's good, that's excellent. It means they'll do well today.'

‘Of course, they will,' she agreed heartily. ‘I think they'll do beautifully. What does Ah Pak say? Does he think they could be winners?'

He nodded, suddenly remembering his last conversation with his friend. What was it he had wanted Mamat to tell Maryam? In his pre-competition excitement, he couldn't recall. Maybe afterward it would come to him. He turned back to his mashed banana and ginger, feeding his birds from his hand. Maryam sat with him on the porch and helped, calming the birds, though in truth they didn't seem to need it as much as Mamat, and making sure they had enough to eat. They packed the birds in their cages, hanging two from the handles of the motorbike, with Maryam sitting side-saddle with Borek's cage on her lap. Mamat drove very slowly and carefully through a just waking Kota Baru, towards the field in Kubang Kerian with its circle of tall poles.

Ah Pak was waiting for them, like a boxing coach with his prize contender. He hurried over to Mamat, gently helped Maryam off the motorbike and took the cage from her. Maryam was amused that he seemed to actually be helping Borek off the seat rather than her, but this was, after all, a gathering of people mad for
merbok
. She followed them dutifully, though neither man was aware of her existence, or actually, any existence outside of the birds.

They crouched together, their heads touching, under the pole Ah Pak had already chosen as the most auspicious, due to the direction the cage would face and the exact mix of sun and shade it offered. Maryam had little understanding of the minutiae of positioning the birds, and less interest. She personally believed it made no difference at all, but that men made their hobby as complicated as possible in order to look thoughtful and knowledgeable when they discussed it in front of other people. She herself would have chosen whichever pole was closer and offered the most shade for her, not the bird.

After the birds had been introduced to the area, and their spirits revived with
air halia
, or ginger water, Ah Pak wandered away from Mamat and found Maryam. With a large smile pasted onto his round and friendly face, he tried to tamp down his anxiety, though Maryam sensed it anyway and was puzzled. He squatted down next to her in the shade and examined the dirt at his feet.

‘I think Borek has a good chance of winning,' he began. Maryam nodded pleasantly. ‘Has Mamat spoken to you? About me, I mean?' Maryam shook her head and tried to look encouraging. Ah Pak sighed regretfully; it meant he now had to bring up the topic by himself, which embarrassed him. He shot Mamat a reproving look, but Mamat wasn't even looking at him, so it had no effect whatsoever.

‘It's about Yusuf.' He took a deep breath and spoke the rest as quickly as he could while still remaining intelligible.

‘Do you know my oldest son, Kit Siang? A good boy, but as boys do, he fooled around for a little while. You remember how Azmi was before he joined the army. And now look at him!'

Ah Pak and his family had been to Azmi's wedding, and had seen what a respectable young man he'd grown into. Maryam nodded, as she remembered Azmi's wild days all too well, and the endless worry they had given her. Of course, it wasn't serious trouble, she assured herself, just the usual adolescent card playing and occasional beer drinking, which was now completely over. But still …

‘So you see, Kit Siang was doing some gambling. It would have been nothing, an unimportant indulgence, but Yusuf let it get out of hand, and he ran up a lot of losses. Yusuf should have cut him off early, after all, he knew he was just a kid, but he also knew I'd pay up, so he just let him continue. After the first time, I spoke to him and told him not to do it again, but you know how boys can be. Kit Siang went back and Yusuf let it go a second time. I was really angry then.'

Maryam couldn't really imagine Ah Pak angry, as he always looked so amiable. But then, of course, fathers got angry when protecting their children. Even the mild-mannered Mamat was moved to rage when dealing with Azmi. She prayed Yi would be different.

‘I thought, I know … I mean, I still …' He began again.

‘Yusuf was just draining me. He knew I'd never let Kit Siang get hurt for not paying his debts. You know,
Kakak
, Yusuf had ways of collecting that I could never let happen to my son. His mother would kill me,' he added thoughtfully, and Maryam wondered which he feared more: Yusuf hurting his son or his wife hurting him.

‘So,' he said, summing up his confession, ‘I just wanted to make sure you knew. I mean, knew I had dealings with Yusuf, and Kit Siang and the whole story from me, not because you discovered it somewhere and wondered why I hadn't told you.' He looked up at her and Maryam felt for him.

‘I'm very glad you told me. Thank you,
Abang
. And Kit Siang, where is he now?'

‘He's staying with my sister in Gua Musang. I have three of them there, and they're looking for a good wife for him. They've been sending candidates to my wife,' he smiled, jolly again. ‘They'll find one, believe me.' Maryam did. ‘He'll settle down, come back to Kota Bharu and work with me. He already told me his wild days are over,' Ah Pak said with some satisfaction. ‘He finally realized his own mistake.' He smiled at Maryam again. ‘Finally.'

‘I know what you mean,' she agreed with him. ‘When did he go down?'

Here Ah Pak was slightly more vague. ‘A little while ago, when his mother lost all patience with him.' He nodded and rose, looking far happier than he had when he first came over to her, and returned back to Mamat, who had barely noticed he'd been gone.

The murmuring of the coaches became louder as the field became more crowded, and some birds even burst into short snatches of song. The sun was nowhere near full strength, but it was now truly morning and no longer dawn, and the judge made his appearance.

He was a local notable who had been a contestant for years, and a famed breeder of
merbok
. Now, however, he had retired from competition and become more religious in his old age. As a judge, he had now assumed a loftier position, removed from the actual gambling. He made a slow, deliberate circuit of the ring, looking over all the contestants as their owners showed them off to best advantage. Final sips of water given, the last bite of a special meal, home-brewed vitamins, or just the fluffing of feathers, and then the contest began.

The birds in their cages were hoisted like flags to the tops of the poles and entreated to sing, with the soft calling of their names, or encouraging words, or even silent prayer. Mamat made a whirring sound usually betokening their meals and grooming while Maryam took over the prayers. For a moment or two, the birds were silent, as though they had decided as a group to boycott the activity, but then they began full-throated singing, each apparently inspiring the others. The judge stood for a few minutes under each pole, concentrating on listening only to the bird above him. Mamat looked serious and completely enraptured by the barrage of song around him. Maryam watched him anxiously as he stood below Borek, their prize bird and best chance for winning. She could tell nothing from the impassive face of the judge, who acknowledged none of the people at all, lest he be accused of favouritism.

Mamat was sweating slightly, and his hands trembled just a little. He was so nervous, Maryam longed to take him in her arms and try to calm him, or at least provide some comfort. But it was unthinkable for a couple to do anything like that in public, so she contented herself with a warm and, she hoped, encouraging smile. In his anxiety, he seemed to look right through her, and did not acknowledge her smile, or even her presence. While she hated to see him so overwrought, she did secretly think he might have been overdoing it, and perhaps it would be more seemly for a man his age to keep some emotion in check and remain even a little more impassive. Mamat could usually do this with no problem, but such was his identification with his birds that right now, he was incapable of showing anything but his rawest feelings, like a child ready to cry.