The Eleventh Tiger by David A McIntee Page A

into their home. The only thing that emerged from the quiet darkness within was a faint smell of flowers and incense, just tangible enough to be pleasant.
    Nothing else happened, other than the rain continuing to patter on the leaves, and Barbara suddenly realised that the singing had stopped. Perhaps whoever it was didn’t want visitors, and was playing dumb in the hope that the trio would pass on by.
    ‘Hello?’ she called.
    No answer.
     
    She heard Fei-Hung beside her, and turned to see him lift a lamp from a hook on the eaves. It was old and grimy but, after shaking it and peering inside, he said, ‘There’s still a little oil in here.’ He pulled out some flint and steel and lit the lamp.
    In the soft lamplight Barbara could see through the gap in the doorway into the house. The floor was covered in dust that was disturbed only by old footprints made by small paws and claws. There was no furniture in the part she could see.
    ‘It looks deserted,’ Vicki said. She was holding Fei-Hung’s umbrella now that he had the lamp.
    Barbara decided that if anyone was in the house they would either have come to investigate by now or they were unconscious and needed help. More likely, they just didn’t exist. She pushed the door open and it juddered over the uneven floor. The rest of the room was as bare as the part she had already seen. There was no furniture, but nor were there spots of wetness, which meant they could shelter from the rain.
    The three of them went inside and Barbara almost closed the door, but thought better of it. She didn’t want it to jam and trap them inside.
    ‘Well, this is cosy.’
    ‘I suppose,’ Vicki said doubtfully. ‘Some chairs would be nice.’
    ‘Be grateful, Vicki. The roof is solid, so we won’t get any wetter. The grass is always greener, isn’t it?’
    ‘What?’ Vicki sank on to her haunches in a corner.
    ‘People always seem to want more, rather than appreciating what they’ve got.’
    Fei-Hung cast the lamplight around the room. He still looked a little nervous, but not as nervous as before. His face set into a look of more practical concern. ‘I’d better check we’re alone.’
    ‘Of course we’re alone.’ Vicki said.
    ‘I meant animals. Snakes, especially, like to shelter in places like this.’
     
    Vicki immediately jumped to her feet, looking down as if she expected to see a cobra flaring its hood at her from the patch of dust she had disturbed. Barbara tried not to smile too obviously, and Vicki sat back down.
    There were only two doors. Fei-Hung shone the lamplight through first one, then the other. ‘No snakes,’ he said, sounding surprised.
    ‘Is there any furniture?’ Vicki asked. Chairs, or stools?’
    No.’ He put the lamp on the floor near Vicki. ‘You were right,’ he said to Barbara. ‘This is a good place to wait out the rain.’
    Barbara wished she could feel as patient about reaching the Ship and getting the medical kit back to the Doctor as she had been when she was out in the rain. ‘Are we for from the TAR-from the old temple?’
    The young man frowned in concentration. ‘Perhaps another half-mile, but the path leading to it will be on the other side of the road.’
    ‘That shouldn’t take us long, once the rain has stopped.’
    Barbara turned and went to lean against the door, looking out at the mini-deluge. Though she didn’t like getting wet, she had always loved watching rain. It was such a fresh and natural thing, washing away the dirt and dust of the day, bringing life to trees and flowers, and even the potatoes in the family allotment. Sometimes she would stand at her bedroom window, imagining herself to be looking out at a storm from the wheelhouse of one of the steamers her father helped to build.
    She had once wondered, setting an imaginary course to search for sunken treasure from the Armada, whether she could grow up to become a sea captain, but her father told her that many sailors were superstitious and thought women