The Tiger's Egg (20 page)

M
iles Wednesday, jolted, bounced and Iota-bound, stared at the little wooden dog that sat on the dashboard of Sergeant Bramley's paddy wagon. It was the kind of dog that has a spring for a neck and is supposed to nod happily at each bump in the road, but the combination of the sergeant's lunatic driving and a van without viable suspension had the little wooden beast in such a frenzy of nodding it seemed his head would fly off at any moment.

Miles barely noticed. He was thinking of the monstrous creature that had once been his father, and try as he might he could not shake off the feeling
that somehow he had let the beast down by not guessing its true nature before. Nonetheless he had stared into the empty eyes of The Null from much closer than he would have wished to, and when he thought of the howling void that he saw there it seemed that the hope of finding his father was more remote than ever.

He peered through the dusty windshield for any sign of the town of Iota. It was the place of his birth, according to the story the tiger had told him by their campfire the year before, which meant it was also the town where his mother had died. In his mind's eye he could see a place of storms and statues and strange gateways, and as he watched the road ahead the dim outline of a church spire came into view, rising above the trees. The van swerved suddenly into a small picnic area beside the road, and skidded to a halt. Sergeant Bramley jumped down from the cab and disappeared around the back of the van. He returned a moment later with Doctor Tau-Tau, who looked as though he had spent a couple of hours in a cocktail shaker. “I should have been traveling up front,” the fortune-teller was grumbling, “especially as I'm the one who knows the whereabouts of the beast.”

“That remains to be seen. Besides, space in front
is limited to authorized personnel, and I'm the one who does the authorizing.”

Doctor Tau-Tau stood by the van massaging his temples with a wounded expression. A column of steam rose from the engine, adding atmosphere to the proceedings. “We are close now,” he intoned, “but the danger is great. The beast is enraged by the chase, and it must be approached with great care. It will be best if just I and the boy go on from here.”

“I'm afraid that's out of the question,” boomed Lady Partridge. “Isn't it, Sergeant Bramley?”

“Er . . . quite,” said the sergeant. “Constables Flap and Wigge will accompany the boy and the oddball. As senior officer I will remain here in a command and control capacity.”

“You are far too modest, Sergeant,” said Lady Partridge. “I shall stay here and look after the van. Your steely nerve will be needed if the creature is found, and your constables will be looking to you for leadership.”

Sergeant Bramley, who had already pulled the peak of his cap low in preparation for a spot of quiet command and control in the cabin of the van, sighed deeply. “Well, if you put it that way . . . ,” he said. He tucked his truncheon into his belt with a resigned air.

“Where do you believe the suspect to be?” he asked Doctor Tau-Tau.

“The beast will be in the churchyard,” said Tau-Tau.

“How can you be sure it's there?” asked Miles.

“Because my second sight tells me so,” said Tau-Tau, “and anyway, if it can't get to you it's bound to end up here.”

“But why?” asked Miles. A sudden thought came to him. “Is this . . . where my mother is buried?” he asked.

“It's the most likely place,” said Doctor Tau-Tau. “I've never been here myself. Except,” he added, “in my travels of the mind, you understand.”

“Never mind all that,” said Sergeant Bramley. “Which way is the churchyard?”

“That way,” said Constable Flap before Doctor Tau-Tau could reply. The constable had done a course in orienteering in
Modern Constable
magazine and knew that the churchyard was sure to be a stone's throw from the spire that rose above the trees ahead of them.

“Lead the way then, Flap,” said Sergeant Bramley. The search party set off along a narrow path that wound through the trees. At the front were Constable Flap, carrying the rolled-up net, and Constable Wigge, who was quaking with fear.
Sergeant Bramley followed with Miles and Little, and Doctor Tau-Tau brought up the rear. The fortune-teller carried a long black case and glanced about him nervously. They came to the edge of the trees and Constable Flap motioned them to stop, using internationally recognized hand signals. Ahead of them was a church of dark stone, its narrow steeple rising from a green copper roof. The shadow of the steeple lay like an exclamation mark across the churchyard, ending in a circle of deep shade under an enormous yew tree.

“It's there, all right,” whispered Constable Flap, pointing at the yew tree. At first Miles could not make out anything unusual among the crooked gravestones in the tree's shadow, then all at once he noticed that one of the silhouettes was considerably shaggier than the others. When he shaded his eyes he could make out the shape of The Null, hunched and motionless by the mighty trunk. Miles could not tell if the beast had seen them or not. It seemed to be looking straight at him, but it neither moved nor uttered a sound. Miles began to creep forward, but Constable Flap reached out and gripped his elbow. At least, thought Miles, it was a step up from the Special Ear Pinch Arrest Method.

“Not so fast, lad,” whispered Sergeant Bramley from behind him. “The suspect didn't seem too pleased to see you before, and what's more it was last seen in the company of a dangerous and probably unlicensed feline.”

“A
Panthera tigris
, in fact,” added Constable Flap.

“I won't get too close,” said Miles. “Anyway,” he lied, “I think it's asleep.”

Sergeant Bramley cleared his throat. “Very well. Flap, Wigge, accompany the boy with the net extended.”

Miles stepped out into the sunlight. The grass was dry and scrubby beneath his feet, and somewhere high above him a skylark sang. He walked slowly toward the yew tree, and the closer he got the more certain he was that The Null was watching him. He expected at any moment to hear its insane cackle, or to see the beast unfold from the shadows and charge toward him, but The Null did not move a muscle. Miles risked a glance over his shoulder. Constable Flap seemed to be trying to keep abreast of him, but Constable Wigge, white-faced and gripping the other end of the net, was acting as a brake. From the edge of the trees Sergeant Bramley watched them with a frown, his whistle clamped between his fleshy lips, while Doctor Tau-Tau knelt
on the ground, fumbling with the long black case he had brought. Little sat in the low branches of a tree, like a white bird among the dark green foliage.

Miles reached the low stone wall that surrounded the churchyard. He could see The Null clearly now. It sat hunched on an overgrown grave, brooding and black, and staring straight at Miles with its red-rimmed eyes.

“Hello,” said Miles quietly. “Do you remember me?” He forced himself to meet The Null's eyes. It was as though the creature were hollow, containing nothing but all the empty space in the universe. Miles felt as he had when he looked into the mouth of hell, deep in the caves of the Fir Bolg. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, yet at the same time he was sure somehow that The Null was listening to him.

“Why don't you come home?” he asked the creature. The Null gave an immense sigh, and turned its massive head slowly away. At that moment there came a sound from behind Miles that sounded like a cork being drawn softly from a bottle. He felt something whistle past his right ear, and a small yellow dart appeared as if by magic in The Null's neck. The beast stiffened and let out a deafening howl. Its clawed hand scrabbled in the thick hair on
its neck, but before it could find the dart it keeled slowly over and lay still among the weeds.

Miles gasped with shock. He turned sharply to the two policemen behind him, but they were staring openmouthed at the slumped figure of The Null, looking as surprised as Miles himself. Over Constable Wigge's shoulder he spotted Doctor Tau-Tau emerging from the trees with a long blowpipe in his hand and a smug look on his face.

“Is the monster out?” shouted the beaming fortune-teller. A wave of anger flooded through Miles, mixed with a terrible disappointment. Doctor Tau-Tau approached cautiously. “Just as I thought,” he said, peering into the yew tree's shadow. “You're safe now, boy. Nothing on earth can withstand my full-strength sleepwater, especially when it's administered properly. When administered properly,” he repeated, “my sleepwater is overwhelming.”

Miles's knees felt suddenly weak. He could see Little drop from the branch where she perched and run across the grass toward him, and he sat back heavily on the stone wall. “What did you do
that
for?” he said to Tau-Tau.

The fortune-teller gave him a puzzled look. “What did I . . . ? The beast would have torn you limb from limb, boy. What do you think I did it for?”

Miles shook his head. “No it wouldn't. It's the first time it's ever let me get close. I don't know what it was going to do, and I'll probably never know now, thanks to you!”

Doctor Tau-Tau's face turned a darker red. “Nonsense, boy. You don't know what you're talking about. If I hadn't subdued the beast you'd be hanging from a tree at this moment, or worse. The creature is clearly deranged. When you get over the shock of being menaced you'll thank me for my prompt action, don't you worry.”

“Not if I live to be a thousand,” hissed Miles. “That creature used to be my father, and if it hung you in a tree it was no more than you deserved.” At that moment Sergeant Bramley arrived from the far side of the clearing, his notebook in his hand and his pencil retrieved from its perch behind his ear. “Mr. Tau-Tau,” he said, “I'm afraid I'm going to have to arrest you for possession of an offensive blowpipe.”

“Arrest me?” spluttered Doctor Tau-Tau. “For saving the boy?”

“Constable Wigge,” said the sergeant, “you will relieve the oddball of his weapon, conduct him back to the police vehicle and lock him in the back, then you will drive the van back here so we can load
the suspe . . . The Null onboard before it comes around.”

Constable Wigge needed no further urging to put some distance between himself and The Null, sleepwater or no sleepwater. He took the blowpipe from the rapidly purpling fortune-teller and snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, then he grasped him by the elbow and steered him back the way they had come.

Doctor Tau-Tau shook himself free of Constable Wigge's grip for a moment and turned to Miles. “Boy,” he said in a trembling voice, “you will regret your ingratitude. I have seen death stalk you through the cards, and only I know how close it is.” Constable Wigge gripped his elbow again, more firmly this time, and marched him toward the trees. “Your death I have seen,” shouted Doctor Tau-Tau over his shoulder, “and it is not far behind you, boy.”

 

Miles Wednesday, dust-caked and sleepwater-thwarted, knelt in the weeds by the inert monster that had once been his father. Despite its size The Null looked helpless, its mouth hanging open loosely and its sightless eyes half closed. He leaned forward and looked closely at the creature's hairy face, trying to make out any trace of the man in the
bleached-out photograph that he kept in his inside pocket.

“Do you think you will get your father back?” said Little quietly, making him jump.

Miles shrugged. “I don't know if there's anything of him left in there,” he said. “What do you think?”

“I don't know either,” said Little. “I never saw a thing without a name in the One Song before. But the name of Barty Fumble must be somewhere, because it has not ceased to exist.”

“How do you know, if you can't find it?” asked Miles.

“I can't find its place in the One Song,” said Little, “but if it was not there, the name Barty Fumble would sound more . . . hollow. It would not have a color. It's difficult to explain.”

“What if I do get him back,” said Miles, “and I don't like him? What if he wasn't as nice as everyone says?”

Little thought about this for a minute. “I never had a father or a mother,” she said, “so I don't really know much about it. But I don't suppose everyone would have liked him so much unless there was a good reason.”

“Tau-Tau didn't like him at all,” said Miles.

“Doctor Tau-Tau likes himself a lot,” laughed
Little. “I don't think there's much room left in his heart for anyone else.”

Little's laughter seemed to sweep some of the gloom away, and Miles felt himself smile. He sat back on his heels and looked around him. The Null showed no sign of awaking from its stupor, and Sergeant Bramley and Constable Flap had found a comfortable seat on a stone vault a little distance away. The constable was showing the sergeant a deadly choke hold that he had learned from
Modern Constable
magazine. As he thought it unwise to lay deadly hands on the sergeant, he was demonstrating the hold on himself. Sergeant Bramley, who did not want to appear too interested, was taking his time lighting a cigarette as his constable turned slowly blue. Somewhere in the distance a motor roared to life and buzzed for a while before fading into the autumn air.

Miles and Little sat by The Null, as though they were babysitting an enormous hairy infant. It lay at the foot of a simple granite headstone that was half obscured by tangled weeds, and it was some time before Miles noticed a name carved into the stone in plain, unpainted letters. He reached across The Null and pulled the weeds apart. The inscription read:

 

Celeste Mahnoosh Elham

What time has stolen

Let it be

 

Miles read the inscription several times over. So this is my family, he thought, together at last. My mother deep underground, my father no more than a shadow, hollowed out and covered in hair, and a four-hundred-year-old sister whom my parents never knew. He supposed this odd family reunion should seem strange to him, but it did not. He had never known any other life, so what was there to compare it to?