The Tiger's Egg by Jon Berkeley Page B

his throat. “Well, I’m glad that’s cleared up,” he said.
    â€œCome,” said Fuat, ignoring him. “We will visit the Shriveled Fella. There are few breaths left to him, but he might use one of them to tell us what we need to know. Ar aigue liv. ”
    They prodded Doctor Tau-Tau and Miles toward the cave mouth and marched at a brisk pace along the sloping side of the cavern, their guards banging the butts of their spears rhythmically on the ground to keep up the pace. Doctor Tau-Tau was soon panting with the exertion, and muttering darkly with what little wind he could muster. Ahead of them ran Fuat, shoeless and tattooed and swift as a ferret, and as she ran she sang a song of the darkness, the bones of Earth and her many, many children.
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    Fuat, daughter of Anust, daughter of Etar, nose-ringed and spiral-skinned, stopped suddenly at the mouth of a long, low cave, and ducked inside without a word. Miles and Tau-Tau stood waiting fortheir breath to ease and wondering what would happen next. It was not long before Fuat appeared and beckoned Miles inside. Doctor Tau-Tau made to follow, but a quick swish of Fuat’s switch was warning enough, and he sank gratefully to the ground outside the cave’s entrance. Miles held his breath as he entered the cave. There was a smell of dried things, crackling leaves or rustling grasses. What little light there was in the main cavern barely entered the cave, and he felt Fuat’s strong grip on his wrist as she led him forward. They reached the far corner and there they stopped. Fuat began to speak to the wall in a soft voice, and gradually Miles’s eyes began to make out the shape of the Shriveled Fella, lying on a stone ledge in the warm darkness.
    The Shriveled Fella was by far the oldest person that Miles had ever seen—aside from Little, of course. His face was a tiny skull, wrapped in papery skin crisscrossed with a thousand fine wrinkles, one for every joy and sorrow the ancient man had collected in his long life. He lay on a bed of dried grasses, and the thin gray wisps of what once had been a fine mane of hair seemed to float in the air around his head. He lifted a bony hand and motioned to Miles to come closer, then he raisedhimself so slowly and stiffly that Miles was sure he would snap like a twig. The Shriveled Fella placed his papery ear to Miles’s stomach and listened. Miles held his breath, afraid to move. Eventually the tiny man sank back down onto the bed with a crackling sound that may have come from his brittle bones or the grass upon which they lay.
    â€œNeel aon Uv air bi, inyeen,” he said to Fuat in a dry whisper. “Ach taw ruddee a raw lom.”
    Fuat turned to Miles. “There is no Egg,” she said, “and he has words for you.”
    Miles leaned closer to the Shriveled Fella. The old man’s voice was barely audible, a wheezing breath shaped into words. “The bright hands are on you, buhall ,” he said, “and the far eyes, but it’s shut you have them.” His breathing settled into a steady rasp, and Miles waited to see if there was more. After a while the old man whispered, “You have forgotten to leave, a vic .”
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    The smoky glow in the cavern seemed almost bright after the darkness of the Shriveled Fella’s cave. Doctor Tau-Tau was slumped on the floor in his rumpled dressing gown, still without his fez. When he saw Miles he scrambled to his feet. “Well?” he said.
    â€œWell, what?” said Miles.
    â€œThe Egg!” hissed Tau-Tau. “Is it in there or not?”
    â€œNot,” said Miles.
    Doctor Tau-Tau’s bulging eyes widened in surprise. “You’re sure that’s what they said?” he asked. Miles nodded.
    â€œWell, that’s a relief, eh?” said Tau-Tau, looking disappointed. He leaned closer to Miles and whispered, “Just as well I made up that stuff about the Egg losing its power under metal,