The Tiger's Egg (23 page)

“Maybe she saw you would grow up without parents.”

Miles nodded. He felt suddenly angry at the mother he had never met. If she was a healer, and could read the future, and had the power of a Tiger's Egg at her disposal, how could she let her son fall into the clutches of Mrs. Pinchbucket and her foul husband? The suddenness of this unexpected feeling caught him off guard, and he opened his mouth and blurted out his question. “How could
she let herself die?”

Gila flinched as though he had been hit, and Umor continued examining his toes, but Fabio looked Miles straight in the eye.

“She didn't, Master Miles,” he said. “We did.”

F
abio Bolsillo, broad-faced and dark-eyed, watched Miles closely as the boy tried to grasp what had just been said to him. Perched sixty feet above a ring of sawdust is probably not the best place to hear a shocking secret, and the little ringmaster was ready to reach out and grab Miles if he seemed about to lose his balance. Fabio could tell that his two brothers were thinking the same thing.

“I don't understand,” said Miles at last. “What did you have to do with my mother's death?”

“We borrowed the Tiger's Egg, Master Miles,” said Fabio.

“We needed it to save Gila's life,” said Umor.

“On the night you were born there was a terrible storm.”

“The thunder roared so loud, we thought the earth would crack,” said Umor.

“The animals were nervous, and even Tembo took fright,” said Fabio.

“She broke out of her pen and crashed her way through the camp.”

“Gila tried to stop her, but she was terrified out of her wits.”

“She never even saw me,” said Gila.

“She crushed him against one of the tent trucks, and when we found him he was close to death.”

“We didn't know what to do. Barty and Celeste were occupied with the birth of . . . with you, Master Miles,” said Umor.

“I was sure Gila would die,” said Fabio quietly, “so I sent Umor to get the Tiger's Egg from Celeste's wagon.”

“We knew where it was hidden.”

“We knew a little about its use, from scraps of things our father had told us.”

“We thought, Master Miles, that we could borrow its power for a few moments, and no one would ever know.”

The Bolsillo brothers fell silent. The tent boys
had gone back to their wagons, and a light breeze sang in the cables that anchored the tent. One of the canvas panels flapped and danced in the wind, and little storms of sawdust eddied across the ring.

Umor resumed the story. “I brought the Tiger's Egg to where Gila lay.”

“He was the color of marzipan, and he shook like a leaf.”

“I held the Egg to his chest, and all at once the thunder stopped.”

“We could hear Varippuli roaring in his cage, like he would smash his wagon to pieces, and then we got really frightened,” said Fabio.

“I ran back to Celeste's caravan and hid the Egg exactly where I had found it. When I got back, Gila was breathing again.”

“But Celeste paid the price.”

“We didn't mean it to happen, Master Miles,” said Umor.

“We were so busy looking after Gila, we only found out the next morning.”

“We never knew exactly how she died.”

“But she lost the protection of the Tiger's Egg just when she needed it most.”

“So you see,” said Fabio, “how a Tiger's Egg might be considered a mixed blessing.”

“Or a mixed curse,” said Umor.

Fabio looked straight at Miles, his eyes like little black olives in his sun-browned face. “Just supposing you found the Tiger's Egg,” he said, “what would you do with it?”

The rigging creaked as the big top stood against the breeze. Suddenly it seemed a very long way to the ground. “You know where it is, don't you?” said Miles.

“No, we don't,” said Gila.

“Fried it for breakfast a long time ago,” said Umor.

“Yes, we do,” said Fabio.

“Don't tell him,” whispered Gila.

“It's too dangerous,” muttered Umor.

“It's his inheritance,” said Fabio. “And it's time he knew.”

“I don't know what I would do with it in the end,” said Miles, “but it's my only chance of getting my father back, and I'd have to try that first.”

“You would never be able to do that,” said Fabio.

“It would take a lifetime of learning.”

“And there's no one to teach you.”

“I have my mother's diaries,” said Miles. He did not mention that the diary he needed most was in the possession of the Great Cortado. “She knew how to use it.”

Fabio sighed. “We hid the Tiger's Egg many years ago, Master Miles, and we had to hide you too.”

“After your mother died and your father . . . left, you were no longer safe,” said Umor.

“Varippuli's attack had made the Great Cortado more dangerous than ever.”

“With your parents out of the way, he was in sole charge of the circus again.”

“And he swore that he would kill you as soon as he recovered.”

“Why me?” asked Miles with a shiver. “I was just a baby.”

“He believed that Celeste had been a witch, and that Varippuli was her familiar,” said Umor.

“He wanted revenge.”

“And you were the easiest target.”

“We had to get you away from the circus.”

“And we had to send the Egg with you.”

“Why would you do that?” asked Miles.

“The Tiger's Egg was your inheritance, Master Miles.”

“And the promise that went with it.”

“Besides, we were afraid the Great Cortado would find it by chance.”

“It would be safer with you than it would be at the circus.”

“But how to send it with you? That was the question.”

“You were only three weeks old.”

Gila grinned. “There was one thing you never let out of your grasp,” he said.

“Had it with you day and night,” said Fabio.

Miles's hand reached instinctively into his pocket, and he felt the threadbare grip of his oldest friend. “Tangerine!” he said.

“Tangerine.” Umor nodded. “I took the Egg from its hiding place again and sewed it into the stuffing of the bear's head.”

“It was a stroke of genius,” said Gila.

“It was good stitching,” said Umor.

“Then we wrapped you up in the dead of night and took you to the orphanage in Larde.”

“We left you on the doorstep, with the bear tucked up in your arms.”

“Afterward we told everyone that you had come down with a fever in the orphanage, and you had died in the night before the doctor could be found.”

“But you were supposed to be looking after the Egg,” said Miles. “What did the Fir Bolg say?”

Fabio gave Umor a sidelong glance. “Well . . . ,” he said.

“We never actually told them, as such,” said
Umor. “We just told them that it was safe.”

“We meant to go back and fetch you, and the Tiger's Egg, on your eleventh birthday.”

“Which was when the Egg was due to be returned.”

“But you came and found us instead,” said Umor.

“Or the Egg did,” said Fabio.

“But you didn't return it to the Fir Bolg then, either,” said Miles.

“That's true, Master Miles.”

“Returning the Tiger's Egg is only half of the bargain.”

“The other is the promise that Celeste made.”

“And we still hadn't found out what that was.”

“A bargain half fulfilled would not go down well.”

“Didn't you know they'd come looking for it?” asked Miles.

“We tried to delay them,” said Umor.

“I went to the Crinnew,” said Gila, “and I asked them for more time.”

“They agreed, and gave us another year.”

“Then why were they raiding the circus?”

“Some of the young lads are very keen on raiding parties,” said Fabio.

“They would think it a fine thing to come back
with the Tiger's Egg.”

“A Fir Bolg agreement is a flexible thing,” said Gila.

“Everyone makes up their own mind.”

“There are no leaders.”

“Two hundred kings and twelve,” said Miles.

“That's right, Master Miles,” said Umor. “Two hundred kings and twelve.”

“What we didn't know,” said Fabio, giving Miles a sharp look, “was that you'd go looking for
them
.”

“If we'd known where Doctor Tau-Tau was bringing you we'd have been after you like cheetahs on roller skates.”

“You were lucky to escape with your life.”

“You were lucky that Little was more awake than we were.”

“But how can I ever return the Egg if we don't know the other half of the bargain?” asked Miles.

Fabio scratched his curly head and frowned. “You say you have your mother's diaries?”

“Yes,” said Miles, “two of them, anyway.”

“Well that's simple, then,” said Umor, standing up to coil a rope that dangled from the rigging.

“The deal must be in the diaries,” said Fabio.

“Otherwise what's the point in keeping one?” agreed Gila.

Miles reached into his pocket, which Tangerine now shared with two of his mother's notebooks. They were still there, and beside them he felt the little bear's sawdust-stuffed head. “It must be very small, the Tiger's Egg,” said Miles. He had pictured something about the size of a hen's egg, but it would certainly have to be smaller to fit comfortably inside Tangerine's head.

“It's the size of a man's thumb, from the last knuckle,” said Umor.

“Then I suppose it's not so ridiculous that Doctor Tau-Tau believed I'd swallowed it,” said Miles.

“'Course it is!” said Fabio. “You have to talk to a Tiger's Egg so that it accepts you as its master.”

“You'd have to be talking to your stomach day and night,” said Gila.

“What's so odd about that?” said Umor.

“Do you talk to that bear of yours?” said Fabio.

Miles nodded. “All the time,” he said.

“Then perhaps you've already made a start, Master Miles.”

 

Little Sky Beetle, waist-deep and water-bound, sat in the hippo tank in Jules and Gina's wagon, holding a newborn pygmy hippopotamus in her arms. The barrel-shaped infant slept peacefully, his belly full
with his first feed, while his mother, Violet, lay in the shallows, now and then heaving an enormous sigh. Miles climbed into the darkened trailer and sat on a bench beside the tank. “So this is where you are,” he said to Little. “I didn't even know Violet was expecting a baby.”

“She's been talking about it for weeks,” said Little. “Isn't he cute? He was born just an hour ago.”

Miles stood up and looked more closely at the sleeping hippo. He was about the size of a small pillow, the gray-black of his back fading to a delicate pink on his underside and his cheeks. “Has he got a name?” he asked.

“Not yet,” said Little. “Gina asked me to look after him while she went to help Jules get the crocodiles ready. She said I could name him if I wanted. Have you any ideas?”

Miles shrugged. He did not feel in the mood for baby naming.

“It was a difficult birth,” Little whispered. “We though we would lose Violet at one point.”

Miles looked at Violet sleeping in the shallows, her ribs heaving with each breath. “Fabio says it was his fault that my mother died,” he said.

“Why does he say that?” asked Little.

“Because they borrowed the Tiger's Egg at the
moment I was born,” said Miles. “There was a thunderstorm, and Gila was accidentally crushed by Tembo. They thought they could save him with the Tiger's Egg. My mother died because she didn't have the Egg to protect her.”

Little shifted the heavy calf to a more comfortable position. He gave a wriggle and let out a quiet squeak. “Celeste died because her part in the One Song reached its end,” she said.

“But the Egg has the power to protect your life, doesn't it?” asked Miles.

“It can be used to hide from the Sleep Angels,” said Little, “but that's not the same thing as having a life. Once your part in the Song has been sung, you have no purpose to fulfill. That's when you should rejoin the Song, otherwise you are just blowing around like a leaf in the wind.”

“Then it wasn't the Bolsillo brothers' fault that she died?” said Miles. He felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“No,” said Little, “and if they've believed that ever since, you should tell them that it's not true.”

“But what about Gila?” asked Miles. “Was it the Egg that saved his life?”

Little smiled. “It's hard to be sure. The Fir Bolg are not like other people. They are clever and wise,
and they make their own bargains. I don't think they'd have survived all this time otherwise.”

The baby hippo began to struggle in her arms. “He's hungry again already,” said Little, “and I think I'll call him Puck.”