The Tiger's Egg (5 page)

M
iles Wednesday, belly-f and fire-warmed, closed his eyes and let the soft echoes of applause and sweet music wash through him. The first show of the season was over, the townspeople had all gone, and the animals were fed and settled in their cages for the night. Now the two-legged performers sat around a large campfire in the center of their wandering village, eating their supper and laughing over the small mishaps and major triumphs of the night's performance.

The show had been a resounding success. It seemed that every man, woman and child in Shallowford had squeezed themselves into the big
top until the canvas bulged. In truth, many of them had come because they had seen Doctor Tau-Tau's name painted on his circus wagon, and the rumor had spread like wildfire that the circus would be dispensing Dr. Tau-Tau's Restorative Tonic. The townspeople had dropped their tools and forgotten their appointments and flocked to the circus, elbowing each other in their anxiety to buy tickets for the show.

Once inside the tent they had filled every seat, and settled themselves in the aisles between, anxiously looking for signs of the small green bottles of the tonic, which was the only relief they knew from the the grayness that had enveloped their lives since they had fallen under the Great Cortado's sinister hypnosis at the Palace of Laughter.

There was, of course, no tonic on offer at the Circus Bolsillo, but it was not long before the townspeople forgot all about the temporary relief of the little green bottles. Instead they found themselves watching a magical show of such warmth and gaiety that it seemed to shine a light on their troubled souls. The animals were beautifully groomed, powerful and well-trained, the acrobats flew like birds, and the clowns put all their heart into their craft, gently sending up everything that was sad and
funny and flawed and good in human nature, and bringing out laughter that was born where it should be, in the heart.

But the best thing of all was the music. Such music had never been heard in the town of Shallowford in living memory! It was funny and strange, and it flowed through the night air like a gurgling stream of happiness, smoothing frowns and lifting hearts until the people began to laugh with pure delight, in a way they could not remember laughing for what seemed like a lifetime. Its echo could still be heard among the firelit circus folk now, as from time to time one of the musicians would pick up his trumpet or his flute to make it sing that phrase just one more time, and others would be unable to resist joining in.

Little smiled to herself, sitting beside Miles in her sparkling acrobat's costume, with his old overcoat wrapped around her. She had joined Henna and Etoile, the dark-haired trapeze artists, to form a treble act in which Little walked a high wire while the girls somersaulted through the air, and Miles had watched her through a gap in the backstage curtain. He had found himself holding his breath at the sight of her, glowing in the spotlight and perched high above the audience, as she had been the very
first time he'd seen her, at the Circus Oscuro.

“You were very good,” he said to her. “Weren't you afraid up there, without your wings?”

Little shook her head. “It felt good to be up high again,” she said, “and we have practiced a lot. Were you afraid?”

Miles shrugged. “Not really,” he lied. “Stranski's never skewered anyone yet. At least not as far as I know.”

He could still feel the glow from the applause that had greeted his act with Stranski the Magician. It was a new experience for him, and he allowed his tired eyes to close so that he could relive his moment of triumph.

There he was, padlocked in a star-painted box with his knees tucked up and only his head showing, while Stranski stood in the center of the ring and held a long saw in the air for all the people of Shallowford to see. The saw's teeth glinted as the magician turned it under the spotlights, then he turned suddenly on his heel and began to saw vigorously through the center of the box. The crowd gasped, and Miles only just prevented himself from flinching as the saw's teeth bit through the wood.

Stranski wheeled the two halves of the box apart to show beyond doubt that the boy had been
halved. From the other half, Miles knew, a pair of shoes would be wiggling frantically, but Stranski had not revealed even to him whose feet they might be, or how they came to be alive. When the box was rejoined and Miles released, Stranski gave him a curt nod, which was the closest thing to praise that he ever bestowed on his helper. Miles smiled as he stretched his arms wide and did a complete turn under the spotlights, and applause swept through the ring.

Miles was jolted from his reverie by the sound of shouting from somewhere beyond the firelight. There was a thud and a gasp, and a woman's scream, then a man's voice bellowed, “Bet you didn't predict
that
, Mr. Presents Your Future.”

The fireside conversation stopped for a moment, and Fabio and Umor slipped away toward the sound of the scuffle. Fabio tapped K2, the enormous strongman, on his shiny bald head as he went. K2 lumbered to his feet and followed them into the night. They were back a few moments later. K2 sat down heavily on the end of the log he had vacated, causing Gila, who sat at the other end, to bounce several inches into the air.

“What happened?” asked Little as Fabio sat down beside her.

“Telling fortunes is a dangerous game,” said Fabio.

“Especially when your customer is a pretty girl,” chuckled Umor.

“Tau-Tau predicted she'd find new love in the spring,” said Fabio.

“What's wrong with that?” asked Little.

“Her husband was listening outside,” said Umor.

“And he didn't think it was funny.”

Gila produced his harmonica and began to play a comical tune. Other band members joined in, and Tariq the juggler snatched a couple of burning sticks from the fire and began to toss them in the air, the ragged flames sputtering as they wove arcs of light against the night sky. Miles watched for a while, the warmth of the fire on his face, and sighed contentedly. He was in a strange place, surrounded by stranger people, and he had never felt so at home.

“You're feeling homesick,” said a voice by his ear, “but it will pass in time.” It was Doctor Tau-Tau, his words whistling slightly through a broken tooth.

“No I'm not,” said Miles.

“You don't have to be shy with me,” said Tau-Tau. “You know your mind is an open book to someone with skills such as mine.” His bulging eyes glistened
in the firelight, and he sipped gingerly from a small china cup with no handle, which he refilled from a silver pot that he placed between his feet. A large bruise was spreading across his swollen jaw.

“That must hurt,” said Miles.

“Ah,” said Tau-Tau, “it's just one of the hazards that attend greatness.”

Miles thought about the irate husband's words. “Couldn't you have avoided it?” he asked.

“You mean by looking into my own future?” Tau-Tau shook his head. “Absolutely not. It's the first thing Celeste taught me about clairvoyance. A fortune-teller can see the paths of others' lives like veins in a leaf, but his own future remains in darkness, and with good reason.”

“But why?” asked Miles.

“Because it would lead to madness. To madness, my friend, is where it would lead. Imagine you could see all the pitfalls in your life, right up to your own death. You would be forever dodging and turning like a hunted fox, but fate cannot be tricked, and it would master you anyway. To see into your own future would rob you of the ability to live in the present.”

He took another sip from his china cup, and sighed deeply. “Masala tea,” he said, smacking his
lips and grimacing with the pain. “The best way that man has yet devised to usher in the night.”

“It smells nice,” said Little.

“And it tastes even better,” said Tau-Tau. “I would pour some for you, but I'm afraid I have a head cold that I wouldn't like to pass on, and my other cups are in my wagon.”

“I'll get them,” said Miles quickly. He had been looking for an excuse to see the inside of Tau-Tau's wagon, but the chance had not arisen on the ride to Shallowford.

“Perhaps another time,” said Doctor Tau-Tau.

“I won't disturb anything,” said Miles, “if you just tell me where to find them.”

“Very well,” said Tau-Tau. He fished a key from his pocket. It was tied by a ribbon to a small wooden figure with matted hair and tiny cowrie-shell eyes. “In the purple cupboard to the right of the door when you enter.”

Miles got up and faced into the darkness. As he headed in the direction where he judged the wagon to be, Doctor Tau-Tau called after him, “And touch nothing else, my friend.”

Away from the fire Miles could see the stars clearly, twinkling like frost in the moonless sky. His breath made clouds before him, and the grass
crunched underfoot. Here and there a lantern glowed softly under the eaves of a wagon, but he was guided as much by his nose as by the little he could see. He left the musty odor of the lions' cage to his right, and passed by the oily smell that surrounded the llamas' enclosure. As far as he could remember, Tau-Tau's wagon was the third one after the swampy reek of the crocodiles' tank.

When he reached the wagon he thought for a moment that he had found the wrong one. He could hear drawers opening, and what sounded like soft muttering, from inside. He stopped for a moment on the steps, the key raised halfway to the lock. He leaned backward, and read the words that were faintly visible on the side of the wagon.
DOCTOR TAU-TAU PRESENTS YOUR FUTURE
, they said. He waited for a moment more, but the sounds had stopped, and he could hear only the faint laughter and music carried from the campfire on the cold night air. He shrugged. “Must have been from another wagon,” he said quietly to Tangerine, wishing he had brought a lantern with him. Tangerine, it seemed, was also listening closely. Miles took a deep breath and opened the door.

There was a flurry of movement in the darkened wagon, and the sound of a bottle smashing. He
thought he glimpsed someone disappearing through the open window opposite him, and a moment later another figure leaped up onto the sill and turned for an instant to stare at him. He could see its hairy outline, no bigger than that of a six-year-old child, silhouetted against the rectangle of starry sky. Its movements were quick and sudden, like a bird, and two black eyes glittered faintly with reflected firelight. Miles had the odd feeling that if he entered the wagon he would be stepping into a dream, and he froze where he was on the top step. He heard the creature's feet scrape on the wooden sill, then it dropped from the window and was gone.

Miles stood frozen on the top step of Doctor Tau-Tau's wagon. The darkness inside seemed to yawn with silence, and he wondered if there might be more of the creatures lurking in it, just waiting for him to make a move. He fumbled inside the door, feeling for a light switch behind the heavy clothing that hung there. The impulse to shut the door and run had almost overtaken him when his fingers found the switch, and he flicked it on.

The inside of the wagon was filled with a dim red light, and it was a moment before Miles could make sense of what he was seeing. It looked as though a violent storm had passed through the
little room. A round table lay on its side in a sea of scattered envelopes. Every cupboard had been ransacked, the drawers pulled out and emptied onto the carpet. A fleet of small bottles had sailed across the slightly tilted floor and come to rest in an untidy pile in the corner. Pictures hung askew, and at one end of the wagon a mattress sagged from the bed to the floor, as though it had tried to escape and been brought down by the sheets that were twined around it. Over all this chaos the faint aroma of the masala tea that Doctor Tau-Tau had brewed earlier still hung in the air.

A sudden movement in the corner made Miles jump, but it was only a tiny bird flying up from the floor to perch on the curtain rail. The bird was gray, with a black head and tail, and it looked at him with curiosity. In the corner from which it had appeared, Miles saw a small wooden cage lying on its side with its door wide open. Miles picked his way across the floor to shut the window. A small pile of books lay in the shadow of the capsized table, and they toppled over as he passed. There were assorted books on numerology and geomancy, and two leather-bound notebooks. The notebooks were old and well worn, blotched with overlapping stains and frayed at the edges. A loose page had fallen from one of
them, and Miles picked it up with his thumb and forefinger, as though it might fall apart at his touch.

The paper was thin and crisp like an onion skin, and densely covered with tiny writing and strange diagrams. He looked at it curiously, but the symbols that covered the page seemed to swim and wriggle in the dim light, and he could make no sense out of them. He opened one of the notebooks and carefully inserted the loose page.

It was an uncomfortable feeling to be shut in the ransacked wagon, ankle-deep in Doctor Tau-Tau's personal possessions. He felt as though he had walked in and surprised him in his underwear. The thought made him laugh despite himself, and it was at precisely that moment that the door swung open, and Doctor Tau Tau stepped inside.

The fortune-teller opened his mouth to speak, a look of mild irritation on his florid face, but as he did so he noticed the sea of wreckage spread across the floor. His bruised jaw dropped farther, and he winced with the pain. Without a word he strode across the floor and snatched the notebook that Miles held in his hand. For a moment Miles expected to be struck, but Doctor Tau-Tau merely fixed him with a wounded stare as he tucked the notebook into his waistcoat pocket.

“
Why
, boy?” he croaked.

Miles folded his arms and looked at him indignantly. “It wasn't me!” he said. “It was . . .” He struggled to think of a way to describe the intruders that would not sound like a tall story. He could hardly expect Doctor Tau-Tau to believe that they were small hairy creatures that had escaped through the window like monkeys.