Tooth and Nail, Fur and Scale

by Anupam Arunachalam

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The village is yours, with all its farmland and produce—if you let me keep my trophy.’

  The chieftain looked at the king through slitted eyes.

  ‘Luckily, my captain here has brought the charter in his satchel, and the wax. And I happen to be wearing my signet ring. If you should choose to accept my offer, I’ll put my seal upon it here and now. Even before you deliver the animal to me!’

  ‘The man-tiger is sacred to us, sir,’ said the chieftain.

  ‘Why do you persist in calling it that? Why not call it the mardkhor, like the rest of the world does?’

  ‘Because we named him before the rest of the world even suspected his existence, and because he does not seek to eat man nor venture into man’s province to kill him. This is why we do not call him by that false name.’

  ‘Indeed, indeed. Anyway . . . back to the matter at hand. I give you my word that I shall keep the corpse of this animal, stuffed to resemble its lifelike form, away from the eyes of my guests. If you insist, I shall stow it away in my deepest dungeon, so that no other man may look upon it but I! In return, you shall have a productive village on the plains.’

  ‘I see what you’re doing,’ said the chieftain, his mouth stiff and his face expressionless. ‘You’d planned this late interjection so that you might sway me while I’m away from my council. You think you can appeal to my pragmatism while my more dogmatic colleagues are away!’

  A half-smile flickered on the king’s face. ‘No such thing, Chieftain.’

  ‘The body will be burned the moment you pull your spear out of it,’ he said, ‘provided, of course, that you can get your spear in it in the first place.’

  The king’s expression hardened. The captain and the other young soldier bristled behind him, but contained themselves.

  The trackers appeared presently, from two different directions, as if they had coordinated their return in advance. The younger of them untethered their ponies while the old man approached the chieftain.

  ‘If these city folk can be quiet for a few minutes,’ he whispered, ‘I believe we’ve found the perfect place to lure him.’

  ‘Did you find fresh pugmarks?’

  ‘We spied the creature himself,’ he said. ‘He’s making a ruckus. Injured, I think.’

  The chieftain dismounted, indicated that the king and his men should do the same and they followed the trackers, leading their beasts.

  They waited in the shadow of stunted sals, their breathing reined in. The animal could be heard beyond the trees. The king and his retainers had perked up at his trumpeted call, which was unlike any other creature’s.

  A hobbled deer lay in the centre of the clearing, its legs tied to a stake driven deep into the ground. It had been a while since it had stopped bleating and squirming. The men hoped that the hungry beast’s mind was far enough gone for him to approach such an obvious trap. Going by how loud and disruptive he was being, it sounded like he couldn’t hunt for himself.

  The outsiders sure knew how to wait—the chieftain would give them that much. They silently chewed a mixture of cashew nuts and raisins, one hand always free to reach for a javelin from a quiver that was lodged in the ground between them.

  A sharp rustle came from their left, and the king and his men whirled around, ready to attack, arms raised, missiles in hand. A grey hare streaked across the glade and back into the foliage. The chieftain and his trackers had their arrows nocked in their bows, but kept them facing down. If it had been the old beast, they’d have had enough time to aim and fire.

  The king smiled at them wryly and shrugged. The chieftain stared back at him, blank-faced. Morbid thoughts invaded his mind as he replayed the priest’s words about the Forest’s wrath coming down on them if he let this lowlander slaughter the man-tiger. You can still put a stop to this, he told himself. It hasn’t happened yet. His father had been a practical man too. He’d chosen to trust these lowlanders for the good of his people, and it had got him killed.

  He studied the king’s face; the postured smile was still pasted on it for the benefit of his men, who mimed sniggers at each other like children, blowing off the tension of the moment. The chieftain marvelled at their soft, immature skin and their soft, immature ways. How have these lowlanders kept us down for so long? he thought. We keep telling ourselves that we’re strong and that we will overcome them with this new strategy or that new artifice, but it’s been centuries—and they’ve still got us cornered up here in the mountains while they lord over the fertile plains!

  He was watching them thus, diverted by these thoughts about the nature of their coexistence, when the bushes behind them came alive and a gigantic red form leapt through. This time, the chieftain and his trackers had their bows raised and drawn, ready to fire, but the lowlanders were motionless.

  The king stood staring at the creature, his spear hanging limply beside his head, the muscles of his arm slack. Fear gripped the chieftain as he realized that the man would not strike. He was doubtless stunned by that terrible feature of the man-tiger—his human visage.

  The creature growled and pawed the forest floor, scanning the scene, his shaggy mane of red-and-grey hair tossing from side to side. The jointed tail was curved above the head, and at its end hung the deadly teardrop of a stinger. The lips, stretching from ear to ear, were drawn back in a frothy snarl, the brow was lined with age and anger and the eyes bulged out of their sockets, glazed and unfocused.

  ‘Do it!’ barked the chieftain. ‘Do it now!’

  The creature turned his attention towards him, letting out a full-throated roar and exposing a mouth that was bristling with teeth—several rows of them.

  The king let his spear fly, more from reflex than from true intention. The throw was weak, and the point glanced off the monster’s foreleg, slashing the flesh. The man-tiger shrieked like a broken wind instrument, and turned back to the king, who was scrambling for another spear.

  ‘I can get it!’ the captain shouted, his javelin at the ready.

  ‘No!’ yelled the king. ‘It’s mine!’

  The creature stood crouching, as if he understood, poised to leap.

  The king’s throw was powerful this time, and the javelin caught the man-tiger in his pectorals while he was in the air. He twisted mid-leap and lashed out as he came down, swatting the captain across his armoured chest. The beast landed in a heap, the spear digging deeper into his chest as he struck the ground, screaming. A few feet away, the captain lay sprawled in the mulch, groaning.

  ‘End it!’ the chieftain said. ‘Kill him now!’

  The king circled the man-tiger, another javelin in his hand, keeping out of his reach. The young soldier leapt to his side, shouting, ‘Uncle!’ But Kalyan Singh waved him away. The creature was alternating between bawls and whines as he writhed.

  ‘Fascinating,’ the king breathed. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it!’

  ‘Finish the job!’ the chieftain said, his voice hoarse. ‘Show mercy!’

  The king whirled around. ‘This animal is mine by right,’ he said, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘I will kill it at my pleasure! Tend to the captain, and hold your tongue!’ He turned back around to stare at the creature’s face. ‘Almost human,’ he said, his voice soft, almost loving. ‘But not quite. There’s too much beast in there for it to truly be a man’s face.’ The creature’s moan turned into a gurgle, and it spat out blood. ‘And look at that hideous tail!’

  The chieftain motioned for his trackers to take care of the captain, who was trying to pick himself up, and raised his bow.

  ‘Kalyan Singh!’ he called.

  ‘What?’ said the king, turning around again, infuriated.

  ‘Move,’ said the chieftain, and loosed off an arrow.

  It flashed past the king’s face—inches from his nose—and pierced the animal’s eye halfway to the fletching. The writhing stopped almost instantly.

  The king bellowed with rage and raised the javelin, pointing it at the chief
tain. And if the young soldier hadn’t grabbed him around the chest, he might have let it fly. The captain of the guard, who was now being helped to his feet by the trackers, had withdrawn a tiny whistle from his belt and blew on it thrice.

  ‘That animal was mine to kill!’ said the king as the woods thrummed with the sound of galloping hooves. ‘How DARE you take it from me, you savage idiot!’

  The chieftain mounted his horse. ‘I permitted you to hunt the animal, King. I did NOT permit you to torture it! That is not the way of the—’

  ‘I don’t care what your way is! It was my only chance to observe one of these things while it lived, and you took it from me!’

  Soldiers had started girding the clearing now in a dense circle that was three men deep, about the same number of uplanders and lowlanders among them.

  ‘I will not stand by this misconduct, King,’ the chieftain said. ‘Take your men and leave. Keep your pieces of paper and your seals. Raid the foothills to your heart’s content, and we shall protect them as we have been doing for all these years!’

  ‘Hah!’ laughed the king. ‘You think it matters to me whether or not you settle among those barren rocks? If I wanted it—if I truly wanted it—I could wipe your kind from those lands in an afternoon!’

  The chieftain only stared at him, his face betraying nothing.

  ‘We had a deal, Chieftain, and you will come through with your end of it. Or I shall—or I shall burn your forests to the ground!’

  A murmur went up from the men around them as they stood alert now, their hands on their hilts.

  Raja Kalyan Singh was not done. ‘I’ll turn your sacred groves to ash, and I’ll root out every one of these filthy red monstrosities and murder them ever so slowly!’

  Yet the chieftain was silent, letting the man work off his rage.

  ‘You will give me another beast to kill,’ continued the king. ‘You will, or I will march to my palace and return with the entire might of Jamnasar and all its allies to take what little land you have!’

  The chieftain looked up and found his master-at-arms among the ring of men surrounding them. The man tilted his head back and stared at him defiantly. ‘This is what you get for trying to bargain with a snake,’ his eyes seemed to say.

  The chieftain nodded at him slowly, closing his eyes, and turned to the king. ‘There’s no need for aggression,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘All the woods around you are man-tiger territory. Go and find one for yourself, and do as you will.’

  The king looked at him, eyes bloodshot, as he descended from his summit of fury.

  ‘But my men and I will not accompany you. We shall stay at the perimeter. Take more of your own if you wish, and be done with this business.’

  ‘Hah!’ jeered the king. ‘You are a coward twice over, Chieftain! You dare not risk my ire, but you cannot bear to look upon a mere beast’s death either!’ He wiped the spittle from his lips on his sleeve, and called out to four of his men by name. Then he walked over to the captain of the guard and whispered commands in his ear.

  ‘I’ll be back before sundown,’ he announced as he mounted a horse. ‘Take your men and mark the territory. I know how to hunt a big cat, and this is not so different . . . this man-tiger of yours.’

  That’s where you’re wrong, thought the chieftain. That’s where you’re wrong about the beast, and that’s where you’re wrong about us.

  The sunlight was ruddy and the trees were dancing to bird calls when they heard the screaming.

  The soldiers had been dispersed in a wide circle as before, but one of the elephants had been approaching the edge of the trees. With the chieftain in the howdah next to his master-at-arms, the two trackers had led the way on foot, following the king and his men, watching for signs of the man-tiger.

  When the screaming began, the mahout immediately pressed the goad to the elephant’s back and sent it crashing through the trees, making the trackers jump out of the way.

  ‘I hope the beast hasn’t already torn out his throat,’ said the master-at-arms, a gap-toothed smile hiding under his moustache.

  ‘That could complicate things,’ said the chieftain. They raised their shields as the voices got louder and loosened their daggers in their scabbards.

  The elephant almost crushed the king under its feet.

  ‘Help!’ he cried from where he lay on the ground. ‘For God’s sake! Help us!’

  A few men stood around unsteadily while the others lay on the forest floor in a ring around the man-tiger, who wore an expression of calm hatred. His coat was a deep crimson and his face bore none of the creases of old age. His eyes, burning electric blue, regarded the newcomers with a canny stare.

  This was a creature in his prime, and the chieftain had about two seconds before he started making the decisions.

  ‘Kill it!’ said the king’s sprawled nephew and raised his sword hand, displaying the three spines that were embedded in his forearm. ‘Kill it quick!’

  The chieftain looked down and noticed that the king’s plate armour was pitted in several spots and that his legs sprouted two spines each. The captain of his guard lay beside him, breathing heavily and bleeding from a hole in his right palm.

  ‘Drop your weapons,’ the chieftain said, letting his spear fall to the ground beside his elephant. His men did likewise.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ the nephew cried, pointing his sword at the creature. ‘It’ll shoot us all down!’

  And sure enough, the man-tiger flicked his tail, and a volley of spines flew at the boy, who screamed for a brief moment before his body went limp. The king groaned from his place on the forest floor.

  ‘Drop your weapons, all of you!’ said the chieftain. ‘He won’t attack you if you’re unarmed.’

  This time, the king’s men obeyed.

  The chieftain lowered himself from the elephant’s back and unfastened his scabbard, carefully placing it next to his spear. He took a few steps towards the man-tiger and, meeting his eyes, went down on one knee. The beast studied him, then looked up at the others, who maintained loose, unthreatening stances. Only the mahout moved, caressing the elephant’s back so that it wouldn’t spook.

  The man-tiger suddenly shook his mane and screamed, making every man start. Before they could recover their composure, several shrieks from every direction answered his call. The chieftain’s blood froze in his veins.

  ‘What—what was th-that?’ stuttered one of the king’s men.

  The chieftain thought for a moment. The man-tigers were solitary beasts. For so many of them to be in one’s territory was unthinkable. It just didn’t make sense, unless . . .

  ‘We’ve been surrounded,’ said the chieftain.

  The soldiers who had been at the perimeter gradually filtered in through the trees, some of them carrying torches. The light betrayed the look of nervous bewilderment on their faces.

  ‘Put the torches out!’ said the chieftain, projecting his voice but being careful not to shout. ‘And throw down your weapons. If you can, kneel on the ground and show that you do not mean harm.’

  ‘What is happening?’ said the captain of the king’s guard. ‘Why are we acting as if we’re—’

  With a decisive grunt, the man-tiger backed away into the foliage. Once he had disappeared from view, he called again—this time it was not as loud while being much more . . . self-assured.

  His call was returned almost immediately, the responses sounding a lot closer.

  ‘You’re right, Captain,’ said the chieftain, ‘we are surrendering. They have us cornered.’

  The bushes rustled busily around them now, and from time to time a snarl or a low growl could be heard. The creatures were letting them know that they were there. That they were watching.

  The king’s men had dragged him to a tree, propped him up against the trunk and made him a cushion with their woollens. Minutes had passed as they’d simply stood around, examining his wounds.

  The chieftain presently walked over to him, followe
d by the old tracker.

  ‘Let my man here show yours how to get those out,’ he said. ‘The man-tiger’s spines are barbed, so removing them might be a bit tricky.’

  The king moaned in response.

  ‘You won’t feel too much pain,’ added the chieftain. ‘The venom will have numbed your legs.’

  The king stared at him through tears. ‘V-venom?’

  The chieftain turned his back to him and signalled the old tracker to get to work. ‘Not life-threatening if treated,’ he said. ‘My men will have the antidote ready in a minute. It has to be freshly prepared.’

  The Pahari soldiers had lit a small fire in the middle of the clearing, and were warming a crucible on it. Two of them added some ground herbs to the liquid boiling inside.

  He walked past them to the captain of the king’s guard, who was being ministered to by the younger tracker and a couple of lowlanders.

  ‘Give me your satchel,’ he said.

  ‘Let me get these . . . blasted . . . quills out!’ the captain gasped. ‘The pain is—’ His words ended in a loud groan.

  ‘The pain will fade, and my men will take time with the spines to try and save your arm,’ assured the chieftain. ‘You don’t want to hurry them. But I need you to give me your satchel right now.’ He reached for the strap around the captain’s chest, and the injured man did not resist. Fishing out two rolls of parchment and a stick of red wax, the chieftain walked back to the king.

  ‘Here,’ he said, crouching beside the raja. ‘This one says you surrender the foothills to my people.’ Placing the satchel on the ground, he spread the parchment on it.

  ‘You’ll make me seal this now?’

  ‘I’m afraid you haven’t earned my trust, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘I brought you to a man-tiger that you could have slain—a creature so old that he had lost his spines, so desperate that he could be lured by a bait and so slow that you could have hit him. I fulfilled my part of the bargain.’