Tiger Thief (12 page)

S
harat’s pounding heart seemed loud enough to wake the dead, but whatever had reached up to grab him didn’t move again. Instead, the arms around his waist slowly relaxed and he heard the sound of gentle breathing.

The creature underneath him was asleep.

With trembling hands he felt behind him and his fingers encountered the smooth skin of an emaciated arm, the crispness of silk, and a tangle of hair. He breathed a sigh of relief. This was no monster. It was just a sleeping woman. But women did not usually sleep in urns. All at once his heart leapt. Could
this
be the Queen of the Forest?

He felt a growing sense of excitement, but just then he heard a sharp voice outside and was thrown to one side as
the urn was heaved off the ground. His body tensed, and the hands around his waist gripped tighter.

Catching his breath, he expected the lid to be pulled off at any moment, but instead the urn landed with a jolt and moments later they began trundling forward.

Trapped in the dark, Sharat wondered what to do next. He thought about the woman underneath him. He felt certain that she must be the Queen of the Forest, but if she was going to help him find Emira he’d have to wake her up. Nervously, he turned to give her a shake.

“Hello? Hello?” he whispered as loudly as he dared.

For a moment she stirred. The movement of her body dredged up more of the spicy smell that filled the urn, but she didn’t wake.

Sharat sighed. He should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy. After all, she was in an enchanted sleep. In frustration he slumped against the side of the urn.

“I just wish you could help me find Emira!” he said.

There was a moment of silence as the urn rocked gently from side to side. Then, very quietly, the woman began to sing.

Sharat froze, wondering if he’d woken her after all. But then he realised she was singing in her sleep and that the song was in a language that he didn’t understand.

Since there was no way to escape, he tried to make himself comfortable. At first he felt awkward, very aware of the woman lying underneath him. Then, to his surprise, she shifted to give him more room, so he curled up next to her and let the sound of her singing wash over him.

Despite his feeling of helplessness, Sharat felt strangely relaxed as the urn trundled slowly forward, but he kept his eyes open, waiting for an opportunity. Then, as he stared up into the darkness, he noticed tiny points of light appearing in front of his eyes. He blinked, wondering if he was imagining things, but soon they began to branch out, like cracks in the shell of an egg, splitting the walls of the urn into a luminous mosaic that flickered in time to the woman’s voice.

Curious, he put out his hand to see where the patterns were coming from, but as his fingers touched the inside of the urn, the stone seemed to explode into a thousand pieces and he was bathed in a glow of blue, green and gold. Just then, a fresh breeze hit his face, carrying the smell of flowers and earth.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked around. The urn and the woman beneath him had disappeared. Instead he was lying against the roots of a tree, its branches arching overhead as sun glimmered through the leaves above.

He sat up to take a better look. As he did so, he saw that he was no longer wearing Alcherisma’s disguise. Instead he was dressed in a simple white tunic belted at the waist and crowned with a garland of leaves. He was just reaching up to touch his crown when he heard a trilling sound and saw a flash of colour. He blinked. Hovering in front of him was a tiny bird with a silver beak and iridescent blue feathers. For a moment it flitted to and fro, its wings moving so fast that he could hardly see them. Then, once it had his attention, it let out a burst of song.

Sharat could feel magic in the air. Quickly, he jumped to his feet.

“What do you want?” he asked.

The bird trilled again as it flew into a clearing. There it waited in a sunbeam, its body shimmering against the vivid green of the forest.

Certain that he was meant to follow, Sharat hurried to catch up. As he did so he thought he could hear snatches of music carried on the breeze. It sounded like the tune the woman in the urn had been singing, but if he tried to concentrate on it, it slipped away and disguised itself as wind in the leaves or the sound of running water.

The tiny bird led him along a stream towards a grove of trees. Here, the stream formed a loop, almost encircling the space as it babbled past. In the middle of this grove stood a magnificent tree, its canopy of leaves glowing copper-gold as the sun shone through them, and fading to blackish green in the shade. Around its broad trunk grew a vine, bursting with scarlet flowers, and its spreading branches were laden with succulent orange fruits.

With a gasp Sharat started forwards, his mouth watering, but before he could reach the tree, the tiny bird let out a staccato warning and he stopped abruptly, almost falling over himself.

There, half hidden in dappled shadows at his feet, was the body of a woman.

Sharat put out his hand and steadied himself on a branch. For a moment he held his breath, hoping that his blundering approach hadn’t disturbed her. Then, when
she didn’t move or make any sign that she’d heard him, he squatted down to take a better look.

The woman lay on her side, cushioned by moss. Tall, shapely, and very wild looking, her soft, green dress blended with the colours of the forest, and her dark hair tumbled over her face.

Carefully, Sharat reached over and brushed away a strand of her hair, uncovering high cheekbones and a curved nose under strong, dark brows. Her eyes were closed peacefully, as if in sleep. Feeling brave, Sharat put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a shake.

“Wake up!” he whispered.

She didn’t move.

Sharat got a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach. He took her hand, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t find a pulse. It was as if she had been living only a moment before and he’d arrived just a moment too late. All at once his heart was filled with a sense of inconsolable loss.

Sharat never cried, but here, alone, he couldn’t help it. A single tear ran down his cheek and fell on to the woman’s lips.

He rubbed his eyes, annoyed with himself. He hadn’t cried for Emira, why should he cry for this strange woman? Getting to his feet, he started to walk away, but he had only taken a few steps when suddenly he heard a gasp behind him.

Startled, he turned to look. The woman under the tree had woken up.

For a moment she just yawned and stretched, leaves falling from her hair, but as she caught sight of Sharat, her face broke into a smile.

“Krishna!” she called.

With one graceful move, she was on her feet, hurrying towards him.

Sharat looked quickly behind him. There was no one there.

“I’m not Krishna,” he said. “I’m Sharat.” He touched his tunic. “I don’t know how I ended up in these clothes,” he added apologetically.

“Oh!” The woman stopped short. She paused, her eyes lingering on his face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I see now … I thought you were someone else, but of course you can’t be.” A look of sadness crossed her face. “Krishna is dead.”

Sharat didn’t know how to reply. Instead he looked at the trees around them and at the magical forests beyond. For the first time it occurred to him how strange it was that he had found himself here. “Where are we?” he asked.

“Don’t you know?” said the woman. “This is my home, Aruanda.” Just then the tiny bird appeared, its feathers shimmering as it flitted around her head. She lifted her hand and it landed on her finger.

Sharat’s heart leapt as he remembered the picture in the market. “Are
you
the Queen of the Forest?” he said.

The woman smiled. “That’s what they call me,” she said softly. “I have many names.”

Sharat felt a thrill of excitement, but he wasn’t sure
he understood.

“If you’re the Queen of the Forest, then what are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you were Doctor Rookh’s prisoner.”

The Queen sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid that’s true,” she said. “Unfortunately all this is only a dream.”

With one part of his mind Sharat knew he must be asleep, but the smells of the forest were unmistakeable. He reached over to touch a branch. The bark was rough under his fingers and the leaves caressed his arm. “It doesn’t
feel
like a dream,” he said.

“That’s because it’s not your dream,” the Queen told him. “It’s mine.”

At last Sharat understood. “So you
are
the woman in the urn!” he exclaimed.

“Is that where he’s keeping me?” murmured the Queen.

“Yes,” said Sharat. “That’s how I found you. I climbed into your urn to hide from Doctor Rookh.” He frowned. “But what am I doing in your dream?” Suddenly he felt a thrill of hope. “Are you going to grant my wish?”

The Queen hesitated. “That depends,” she said. “What did you wish for?”

Sharat swallowed, trying to contain his excitement. “I wished you would help me find my tiger,” he said.

All of a sudden the Queen’s eyes widened. “Tiger?” she said. “What tiger?”

“She’s a white tiger,” Sharat explained. “We worked together at the circus, but … but now Rookh’s got her.” As he spoke he could feel tears welling up inside him.
Angrily he bit his lip, but the Queen had already seen his expression. A look of shock crossed her face.

“Oh!” she cried. “My poor child!”

Stepping forward, she took him into her arms. It was too much for Sharat. Something in her touch brought his tears springing to the surface, and at last he allowed himself to cry while the Queen murmured words of comfort. Afterwards she let him go.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” she said as she wiped away his tears.

Feeling calmer, Sharat explained how the circus had come to town, and how Emira had disappeared while they were performing for the Emperor. As he was speaking, the Queen frowned.

“Did you say
Mohini
brought the circus to the city?” she demanded.

“Yes,” said Sharat. “Do you know her?”

“Of course I know her,” said the Queen. “She was my best friend.” For a moment she looked confused. “But why would she betray me to Rookh?”

Sharat shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said miserably. “All I want is to get my tiger back.”

The Queen’s eyes flashed. “And so you will,” she said. “The question is
how
?”

Sharat felt confused. “Can’t you help me with magic?” he asked.

The Queen let out a sigh of frustration. “I wish I could,” she said. “But while I’m Rookh’s prisoner, my powers don’t extend beyond the world of dreams.”

Sharat’s heart sank. “What am I going to do?” he cried. “If I don’t rescue Emira, Rookh’s sure to kill her.”

The Queen lifted her hand. “Wait!” she said. “
I
may not be able to help, but there could still be a way for you to rescue your tiger.”

“How?” said Sharat.

There was a thoughtful look on the Queen’s face. “There is still one free jinni in the City of Jewels,” she said. “If you can find him you might stand a chance.”

“Who is he?” asked Sharat.

The Queen’s eyes were dark with mystery. “He’s called the Prince of Jinnis,” she said.

Sharat bit his lip. So Aya had been right. He felt a moment of regret when he thought of the wasted wish.

“I’ve heard of the Prince of Jinnis,” he admitted. “Someone told me that a white tiger is supposed to lead him back to the city.”

The Queen stiffened. “Who told you that?” she asked.

“A girl called Aya,” said Sharat. “She’s helping me find Emira.”

“Aya?” said the Queen sharply. “Where is
she
?”

Sharat felt a pang of guilt. “She’s hiding from Doctor Rookh,” he said. “Just like me.”

The Queen took a deep breath. “Make sure you find her again,” she said. “You’ll need her help.”

Sharat nodded. He knew he needed Aya. After all, they still had one more wish, and she was the only friend he had in this city, but he was still thinking about the Prince of Jinnis. “So is it true?” he asked. “Is Emira the tiger
from the prophecy?”

The Queen nodded. “Yes, that is true,” she said, “but the time for the prophecy to be fulfilled is yet to come. All you need to do now is find the Prince of Jinnis. He’s the only one who’s strong enough to rescue your tiger.”

Sharat’s heart was torn. “But what’s his connection to Emira?” he asked, unable to hide his anxiety. “Does … does Emira belong to him?”

The Queen’s eyes softened in understanding. “No,” she said. “Emira only belongs to you.”

Gently, she reached out to take his hand. “Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “You don’t need to be afraid of the Prince of Jinnis. Together you’ll rescue Emira, and who knows, perhaps one day you’ll even help him rescue
me
.”

Her words and touch were like a balm. Sharat felt his resistance melt.

“But where is this Prince of Jinnis?” he asked.

The Queen shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t say exactly where he is,” she said. “He’s protected by a spell that even I can’t break. All I can tell you is that there’s a sanctuary deep below the city, a place of magic. You’ll find him there.”

Sharat swallowed. More magic. But now he felt a sense of excitement.

“How will I find this sanctuary?” he said.

“If you’re with me you’re almost there,” said the Queen. “Don’t be afraid. Keep to the left, stay off the beaten track and use your senses.” She reached up into the branches of the tree above and plucked one of the
fruits that were hanging there.

“Here,” she said, pressing it into his hand. “Eat this, it will help you find your way.”

Sharat’s mouth watered as the fragrant smell of the fruit filled his nostrils, but he didn’t take a bite. “What am I supposed to do when I find this sanctuary?” he said.

“You don’t need to do anything,” the Queen told him. “Once you reach the sanctuary, Vasuki will do the rest.”

As she spoke, the earth seemed to tremble underfoot and the leaves shivered in the trees above. Sharat felt his hair standing on end. “Vasuki?” he said. “Who’s
he
?”