Tiger Thief (16 page)

Sharat didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The Queen of the Forest
was his mother! With a feeling of regret he remembered her warmth and her kindness. How was it he’d never guessed? He looked back at Rookh.

“What are you going to do to us?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“That depends entirely on you,” Rookh replied.

“What do you mean?”

Gesturing for them to follow, Rookh turned to face the doors at the back of the room.

“Come this way!” he ordered as the second door swung open.

With long strides, he led them into a domed chamber with the proportions of some grand temple or mosque.

At the centre of the dome there was a hole that allowed a beam of light to shine down from the outside world, but this time the light was thin and cold, like that at dawn or dusk. Sounds of despair came from cages that were stacked along the walls, and the miserable faces of a thousand wretched creatures peered out from behind the bars. Worse still, the room stank of fear and excrement.

Sharat felt sick. Was Emira down here? Before he could look around, a thousand ruby eyes lit up and turned to catch him in their glare. Too late, he saw that the dome above them was crawling with life.

With a cry, he shrank back. Similickers!

A cold smile crossed Rookh’s face. “I see you are already acquainted with my little friends,” he said as he lifted his arm. Moments later there was a clicking sound and he brought down his hand. On one of his fingers was perched a tiny golden sparrow, encrusted with jewels.

The bird let out a burst of mechanical song.

“Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you while you’re with me,” Rookh told them.

A lanky man came hurrying forward. He wore a pair of green spectacles on his large nose, and his chinless face was spotty and unhealthily pale.

“Ah, Neek,” said Doctor Rookh.

“Have you brought me more subjects, master?” asked Neek, his eyes flat and emotionless behind the thick lenses.

“Perhaps,” said Rookh. “But first I wish to demonstrate
the power of our toys.” He held up the sparrow. “Can you choose a suitable victim for this little fellow?”

“Of course, sir,” said Neek. He leaned over to unlock one of the cages.

There was the sound of hissing. An eagle emerged angrily from the cage, lifting its wings to fly towards the sun. Neek hurried out of the way as Doctor Rookh released the golden sparrow. It flew straight for the eagle, and the two birds clashed in mid-air.

In nature there would have been no contest. Eagles were predators, sparrows were prey, but now there was a flurry of feathers and the eagle dropped heavily to the floor. The little bird perched on the fallen body, its
needle-sharp
beak stained with blood. It let out a triumphant burst of song.

“The similickers do whatever I want,” Rookh remarked. “They are far superior to natural animals.”

He glanced over at Sharat. “At first I could only use the technique on insects, and small birds,” he said, “but then we found a way to convert reptiles, and recently Neek has been experimenting on larger mammals.”

Neek bowed his head modestly.

Sharat felt a moment of panic. “Where’s Emira?” he said, scanning the cages around the room.

“Show him, Neek,” snapped Rookh.

Neek stepped towards an iron box at the edge of the room. Just then, something clanked urgently behind the door and there was a desperate roar.

“Emira!” cried Sharat. He started forward, but Mohini
put a cold hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” she hissed.

Neek pulled out a jangling set of keys and unlocked the door to expose a golden cage. Behind the bars, Emira stared blindly out at them. It was the first time she’d seen light since being stolen. She looked gaunt and ill. As she caught sight of Rookh she bared her teeth in a violent snarl.

Sharat thought his heart would break. “Emira!” he called. “What have they done to you?”

Emira turned her head, and her snarl changed to a cry of longing. She pressed her head to the bars and roared more gently.

“Silence!” spat Doctor Rookh. “We’re not here for some kind of emotional reunion.”

Sharat couldn’t hide his anger. “Why
are
we here, then?” he demanded.

Rookh’s eyes burned into him. “You are the Prince of Jinnis,” he said. “By rights I should just enslave you, like I enslaved your mother. However, I admire your spirit, so instead I would like to make you an extremely generous offer.”

Sharat glared at him. “What sort of offer?”

“For years I’ve been looking for a suitable heir,” Rookh told him. “Everything you see around you could be yours. All I require is a small gesture of loyalty.”

A feeling of sick anticipation rose up through Sharat’s guts. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Rookh stepped towards the workbench and opened a
thin wooden box. Lying inside it was a silver sword.

“Simple,” he said. “Just pick up this sword, and kill the tiger.”

S
harat stared down at the sword. He’d recognised it at once. It was the sword from Fonke’s shop. The sword that killed jinnis.

He glanced around the room. Rookh’s face was icy calm, but Mohini’s fists were clenched, and her fingernails were so deeply embedded in the palms of her hands that they were drawing blood. Suddenly he caught a whiff of her perfume as it mingled with the scent of decay that wafted up from the animal’s cages. A wave of nausea swept through him. To think he’d believed she was his mother!

Feeling dizzy, he looked back at Emira. He
had
to get her out of here, but how?

Once more his eyes rested on the sword in front of him.
As he looked at it the silver seemed to glow slightly. It was almost as if it was calling to him. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and seized the handle. Immediately he felt its power running like electricity up his arm.

Aya gasped. “Sharat! No!” she cried, but Sharat had no intention of killing Emira. Instead he spun around, blade flashing, and lunged at Doctor Rookh.

“Aya, run!” he shouted.

The demons were ready for him. With a thump, they knocked him to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aya struggling in Mohini’s cruel grasp. Then they were both hauled to their feet. Rookh’s mouth twitched as he looked down at Sharat.

“You’ll regret this,” he said.

Sharat stared up at him, wordlessly.

Rookh glanced at the demons. “Take them to the dungeons!” he ordered.

One of the demons cackled. “With pleasure, sir!” it said.

A terrible roar split the air as the tiger hurled herself against the bars of her cage.

“Emira!” said Sharat, twisting his head in desperation. For a moment the tiger’s eyes blazed out at him in pain and fury. Then one of the demons jabbed him viciously in the solar plexus. Choking, all he could do was stumble forward.

Sniggering, the demons dragged them out of Rookh’s workshop into a tunnel lit by flickering torches. As they descended, the air became stale, and the chip, chip,
chipping sound of the mines grew louder. Soon they reached a metal door. This time there was no
house-marshal
there to greet them. Instead the demons used an iron key that grated in the lock.

As the door swung open, a mouldy stench hit their nostrils. The room was barely lit, and the walls were hung with whips, goads and other cruel devices. To their horror they saw that two ghuls were hanging cruelly by their wrists from chains in the wall, but most terrible of all was the iron maiden – an open coffin in the shape of a woman standing in the corner, her insides lined with cruel metal spikes. As the demons dragged them past, her bloodshot eyes revolved to follow them.

“Fresh meat, fresh meat,” she muttered, grinding her rusty teeth.

The demons shoved them on to a bench hacked out of stone and shackled them by their ankles.

“Enjoy your stay,” one of them sneered before the door slammed behind him.

Sharat caught Aya’s eye. Her face looked ashen in the flickering light. Once more he felt overwhelmed by guilt and shame. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Mohini … I can’t believe I thought she was my
mother
.”

Aya shook her head. “She enchanted you,” she said, her voice bitter. “That’s what she does, only her magic doesn’t work on
me
.”

“Now I know how she got my father to break his promise and come to the city,” said Sharat miserably.

“And you know who your mother is,” said Aya.

Sharat tugged at his shackles. “I just wish she’d told me my
name
,” he said in frustration.

Aya’s eyes scanned his face. “Are you sure she didn’t?” she said.

Sharat hesitated. “She did try and tell me something right at the end,” he said. “But she couldn’t finish.” He grimaced. “Rookh was trying to kill her.”

Aya shook her head. “If only we still had the amulet!” she said. “I bet Alcherisma could help us.”

Sharat glanced around the dungeon. “Even if we did, I doubt he’d come down here,” he said.

“Poor Alcherisma,” said Aya. “I hope Rookh didn’t catch him.”

“Never mind Alcherisma,” said Sharat. “What about Emira?” He felt like his heart would break as he remembered the sight of her desperate eyes. “How am I going to rescue her now?”

All of a sudden, Aya clutched his arm. “Wait a minute!” she said. “Ghuls are jinnis.”

“So what?” said Sharat miserably.

Aya’s eyes were bright with excitement as she pointed at the ghostly forms that dangled in front of them.

“Maybe one of
them
knows your jinni name?” she said.

With a shiver, Sharat lifted his head to look up at their fellow prisoners. As they hung from the wall, their hoods had fallen back to reveal pitiful faces, barely more than skin and bone. Their hollowed eyes were closed in pain.

“They’re half dead,” he said dismissively. “I don’t think they can even talk.”

There was a steely look in Aya’s eye. “So what?” she said. “I woke things up from the
dead
in Fonke’s shop.”

Sharat’s heart skipped a beat. “The Mazaria!” he said.

Aya was already reaching into her bag. Quickly, she pulled out the little instrument. As she did so the silver fingers wiggled invitingly.

Sharat took a sharp breath. “It’s showing you what to play!” he said.

Aya nodded. Trembling with excitement she cupped it in her hands. Then, as she began to pluck the silver fingers, the clear, pure sound of the Mazaria broke the silence of the dungeon. The ghuls’ eyelids began to flutter.

Sharat felt a thrill. “Keep going!” he said. “It’s working!”

But before Aya could play another note, the iron maiden’s mouth flew open and she let out a series of blood-curdling screams.

“Aiiiii! Aiiiiiii! Aiiiiiiiiii!”

As she screamed, Aya froze. Moments later, there was a blast of searing wind, and before either of them could react, Doctor Rookh materialised before them, flanked by two of his demons.

“Silence!” he called out harshly.

Raising his staff, he took aim, and the ghuls disappeared in a flash of lightning as their robes crumpled, empty, to the floor. Then, with a sharp move, he flicked the Mazaria out of Aya’s hands and brought a boot-clad foot down on to the delicate wooden drum, shattering it with a single stomp. As he kicked it out of the way, the
mangled silver fingers shrank into a fist and were still.

“No!” cried Aya.

Doctor Rookh looked down at her in disgust. “I’ll kill you, too, if you’re not careful,” he vowed.

Aya’s face crumpled in despair and she began to cry, hot tears spilling down her face.

Sharat felt sick with shock. Burning with helpless rage, all he could do was wrap his arms around his friend and hold her tight.

“Leave her alone!” he spat, no longer caring what Rookh might do.

Rookh’s eyes were cold. “You’re in no position to make demands,” he said.

For a moment Sharat felt utterly helpless. Then suddenly he realised he did have one final bargaining point. Rookh wanted Emira dead, and if Fonke had been telling the truth, only
he
could use the silver sword. He shivered as he remembered the power of that weapon. If only it could find the right target.

Swallowing, he looked up at Rookh.

“Take me back to Emira!” he said. “I’ll kill her, but please, please … just let Aya go!”

A look of horror crossed Aya’s face. “No!” she gasped. “Sharat … you can’t!”

“What else can I
do
?” asked Sharat, turning to her in desperation. “
One
of us has to get out of here.”

Rookh’s lips curled. “I’m afraid it’s too late for bargains,” he said. “Mohini has come up with a far more entertaining solution.”

Sharat felt his stomach twist in revulsion. “What does she want?” he said.

“You and your tiger are to meet again in the ring,” Rookh told him. “Only this performance will be much more interesting than it ever was at the circus. This time it will be a fight to the death.”

With a click of his fingers he summoned the demons. “Take the boy to the workshop!” he ordered.

The horrible creatures cackled as they seized Sharat and bound his arms to his body.

“You won’t get out of that, tiger boy,” jeered one of them.

Sharat felt a wave of panic as the demons dragged him towards the door. “Wait!” he called. “What about Aya? What will happen to her?”

Rookh’s face was hard. “The girl stays here until either you or the tiger are dead,” he said.

Sharat and Aya’s eyes locked in horror.

“No!” Aya gasped.

“I’ll come back and get you. I promise,” cried Sharat, but before Aya could answer, the metal door slammed shut behind him.

There was a dangerous smile on Rookh’s face as he stepped towards the stone bench.

“So,
this
is little Aya,” he said, his voice soft with threat.

Aya shrank away in horror. She’d been hoping he’d forgotten her. “You know who I am?” she managed to ask.

“I do now,” said Rookh. He glanced contemptuously down at the mangled Mazaria that lay lifeless on the floor. “You gave yourself away when you played your mother’s instrument.”

Aya’s heart wrenched, but despite everything that had happened she no longer felt scared of Doctor Rookh. Slowly, she lifted her head, and for the first time she dared to look him straight in the eyes.

“What are you going to do with me?” she demanded.

Rookh leaned closer. “What would
you
do with a runaway daughter?” he said.

“
Daughter
?” gasped Aya, staring up at him in disbelief.

“Of course,” said Rookh. His lip curled. “You’re my daughter. Didn’t your mother tell you?”

Numbly, Aya shook her head.

Rookh leaned over her. “Just think,” he whispered. “You could have been enjoying life as the most important princess in the
Zenana
. Instead you ran away to live in the
sewers
.”

Aya could feel his breath on her cheek, but she tried not to flinch in the flickering glare of his diabolical eyes.

“Let me go!” she begged. “What have I ever done to you? What has
anyone
ever done to you?”

Rookh’s face closed like a vice. “We’re not talking about
me
,” he snapped.

Shaking with rage, he lifted his staff. Aya shrank back, expecting the worst. But Rookh had no intention of letting her go that easily. A gust of air whipped up his robes. And before she could blink, he was gone.

Moments later, Rookh was back in the womb-like chamber that separated his workshop from the mines. Cape swirling, he spun to face the urn that stood waiting against the blood-red walls. He’d caught the tiger and dealt with the brats. Now it was time for the Queen of the Forest to witness her final defeat.

Putting his hand on the stone, his lips twisted.

“So, Casmerim,” he murmured. “You thought you could outwit me, but you were wrong.”

With a snap of his fingers, he summoned two of his demons. In an instant they stepped out of the shadows.

“Take her out!” he said sharply. “I want her to watch the fight.”

The demons hesitated. “Are you sure that’s wise, master?” said one of them. “She’ll wake up once she sees the light. What if she finds a way to escape?”

“What can she do?” demanded Rookh. “She’s still my slave.”

“But she’s the Queen of the
Jinnis
,” the other demon reminded him.

A look of impatience crossed Rookh’s face. “Cowards!” he said. “You call yourself demons, but you’re as jittery as a pair of old hens!”

Lifting his staff, he pointed it towards the urn and the stone shattered into a thousand pieces.

Casmerim’s body tumbled out, as fragrant as ever. She wore only her underclothes, creamy white against her
skin, and her luxuriant hair cascaded over her emaciated form.

Eagerly, Rookh stepped towards her, his actions betraying his true feelings, but as he gazed down at the skeletal body at his feet, his expression turned to one of disgust.

“Look at you! You’re a ghul now, just like the rest,” he sneered. With a quick move he reached down to flip her over, but instead of the sleeping woman he’d expected to find, her skin was icy cold.

Roughly, he brushed the hair from her face. Still she didn’t move, but to his horror he saw that her eyes were open. Worse still was the smile that touched her lips. Mocking him.

He stepped back in shock. “No,” he breathed. “You can’t be dead. Not
now
.”

So many times he’d tried to kill her. And so many times he’d failed. Until he’d assumed she was immortal, would always be his plaything,
would one day call him master
…

Rookh pressed his lips together. It was to have been the moment of his greatest triumph, but in an instant everything turned sour. With the Queen dead who would there be to witness his victory? What chance now for redemption?
What chance now for love?

With a sharp movement he lifted his staff, and a blast of lightning enveloped the Queen’s body in a cloak of flames.

“Yes, master! Yes!” cackled one of the demons. “Now she’ll
never
escape.”

Rookh didn’t reply. He knew the demons were right. He was better off without Casmerim. Mohini was a far more
suitable
match. But even as the Queen turned to ash he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to erase the memory of that final, taunting, smile.