Tiger Thief by Michaela Clarke Read Free Book Online

hurried to find a dark corner so that he could watch.
    Bare-chested servants stood by, lighting the way withflaming torches. Golden lanterns hung from the ceiling of the royal pavilion, casting complex shadows in the twilight. As night fell, a flock of crows appeared from nowhere and darkened the sky, wheeling above the palace.
    Two of them, heavy, black birds with cruel beaks, flew down to perch on the supporting pillars of the pavilion. Blinking their yellow eyes, they turned to look down at Sharat in his hiding place. He shrank back with a shiver.
    Just then Emperor Suleiman arrived, surrounded by his courtiers and bodyguards. He was a stocky boy, not much taller than Sharat, but far more muscular. He wore linen trousers and a white shirt, and a curved sword hung from his belt. He was too young to grow a beard, but an enormous emerald sparkled at the front of his turban and his face was stern.
    He sat down with his courtiers. When they were ready, he clapped his hands.
    “Let the performance begin,” he commanded. His voice was high, but carried authority. Sharat was surprised; he had been expecting to see a spoilt, arrogant boy, but Suleiman had power and dignity and, if the rumours were true, the fearsome weapon around his waist was no toy.
    The flares sprang to life, casting a silver glow on to the circus ring. For a few moments Sharat watched the performance begin, then he went back to Emira’s cage. She let out a reproachful growl.
    “Only one more show,” Sharat told her. “Then we’ll be out of here.”
    Emira tossed her head impatiently. As well as the rubies, she had a lead around her neck. After what had happened the night before, Pias had insisted on it.
    “I’ll undo it when we get to the ring,” Sharat told her as he opened the cage door.
    Tugging the lead, he led her to the back of the circus pavilion. Hussein was waiting in the shadows.
    “How is she?” he asked.
    Sharat shook his head. “Not happy,” he said. “Calm her down while I undo this.”
    Again, Emira growled low in her throat.
    “Steady, girl,” said Hussein, putting a firm hand on her back as Sharat undid the knot. Emira lashed her tail, but there was no repetition of the previous night.
    Sharat let out a sigh of relief. From the corner of his eye, he saw Risa fly though the air towards the trapeze. This time there were no accidents as she spun gracefully through her routine and, at last, Lemo introduced Tiger Boy and Emira, the White Princess.
    “Here goes,” muttered Sharat, running into the ring as he flicked his whip. Right on cue, Hussein released Emira. With a roar, she bounded in after him.
    At first Sharat’s stomach was tight with nerves, but Emira behaved perfectly, and as they went through all their familiar moves, he was pleased to see the Emperor himself lean forward, his face alive with excitement. After that he lost himself in the act and soon it was time for the grand finale.
    With a crack of his whip, he tossed his ring of fire intothe air and did a backwards flip, landing neatly on his feet. But this time, as the tiger leapt up to jump through the spinning hoop, the impossible happened. For a moment, Emira and the hoop seemed to hang, frozen in mid-air. Then, before Sharat even had time to blink, there was a flash of light and they both disappeared.
    Confused, he stared up at the empty space above him. Where had Emira gone? Had she landed behind him? Was she hiding? He spun to look around the ring.
    “Emira!” he called out harshly. “Emira?”
    There was no reply.
    “Bravo! Bravo!” cheered the young Emperor, a grin of delight lighting his face at this unexpected illusion. His courtiers joined in with whistles and applause.
    Sharat stopped in the middle of the ring.
    “Don’t clap!” he cried. “That wasn’t part of the show.” He stepped towards the royal pavilion.
    At this the Emperor’s guards glanced at each other and drew their swords.
    Lemo ran out into the ring, closely followed by Hussein.