I Was An Alien Cat Toy (11 page)

Martek nodded. “Very well. I needed chalks small enough for
T’meen
to use, and I’m a little short on

working paper so don’t waste it—we can get no more until snow melt.” Gredar nodded. “Here are the books I

judge best for a beginner. If he gets on with them, then we can see what he should move on to, but I won’t

hand over another until I meet him.”

Gredar smiled. “As you wish. You’ll have your curiosity satisfied soon enough. Just give him a little

time to recover his confidence.”

“Was he very badly hurt?”

“It shames the clan. A daiyne treated thus would require a blood punishment. I have no idea what

Mother will order.”

Martek rocked, nodding. “A sad business, and so pointless. Now, you might as well take these to him,

since they’re no use to me.” He shoved over the strange objects T’meen had had with him when he was

captured. Gredar had seen them before—some dark red, some green, some white, they were made out of a

soft material Martek had never come across, not leather and not paper. “If he really isn’t a former pet, they

belong to him.”

Gredar could only suppose they did, though whether T’meen would want them was another question.

“Any advice on how to learn his language?”

“Since you’ve done it and I have not, young Gredar, that makes you the expert. Normally I would

have no need to counsel patience, but you seem...less patient than usual.”

Martek’s blue eyes peered at him, looking for the answer to the unvoiced question. Gredar sighed.

“It’s been very trying and...Filwui’s betrayal shocked me. My very home was violated, and my pet. I’d rather

they’d attacked me.”

Martek’s tail curled around Gredar’s ankle in comfort. “I understand, kitling. But let me counsel this

instead—we don’t know anything of your T’meen, or how long he might live. We daiyne are long-lived,

compared to jopas and other creatures. Don’t become too involved.”

It was wise advice and kindly meant, but the idea that T’meen was somehow less important because

he might be short-lived, was not one Gredar could accept. “Right now, I just want to make him well, and find

out where he came from. If he has a home, then it is right he should be returned to it. If not, then he has one

here.”

“If Kadit allows it, you mean.”

“Why wouldn’t she? We allow strangers to visit all the time.”

“And then to leave, yes. Fertile males aren’t the same thing as a troublemaking pet, Gredar. I hope no

female can be done up by him.”

“If fertility is the only measure of worth, old one, you and I are in trouble.”

Martek chuckled. “True, true. Which reminds me it’s been too long since you spent the night. I don’t

get the offers that our clan head’s elsart son does.”

Gredar leaned over and licked along Martek’s muzzle, tasting his rich scent. “If I wasn’t in such a

hurry, you’d get an offer. I’ll come back soon.”

He scooped the books and other things up into his arms and stood, as did Martek. “Your T’meen

would be as welcome as your kala. Either will entertain me.” Gredar whacked him with his tail for the

cheekiness, which only made him chuckle again. “But you have a singing to give, and soon. Kadit will be

furious if we don’t keep them up because of your pet.”

“Before ten sun passes, I’ll give my singing, I promise.”

“Then get along with you, and treat those books with care. I expect a full report along with your

kala.”

Martek’s laughter followed him out of the room. It occurred to Gredar it had been too long since

someone had made him smile.

Karwa had deserted his post, Gredar was annoyed to find, and Jilen was in his room without his

permission, though physicians were notorious for assuming they could go anywhere at any time. T’meen was

lying on his side, his eyes open, but he didn’t react to Gredar’s arrival which, Gredar suspected, was his way

of covering up the fact he was distressed. “How is he?”

Jilen knelt at the bedside. “Better, though he needs to drink and eat more. Is the food not to his

liking?”

“Not much. He has a delicate stomach.”

“Then best find something he can tolerate soon. You’re better at that than me,” she said, covering

T’meen again with the fur. She stood and noticed what he was holding. “What’s all that?”

“It’s for him. Wait a bit, will you?” He selected the strange objects, and knelt. “T’meen?”

T’meen glanced up at him without much interest, but when he saw what Gredar was holding, he sat

up—rather too quickly because he swayed. He knocked away Gredar’s helping hand and grabbed for his

things—Gredar allowed the rudeness because seeing T’meen so animated was better than his apathy.

“What are they?” Jilen asked as T’meen, ignoring them both, began to paw over the strange material.

“No idea...wait, is he...are they like a fur?” Gredar said as T’meen began to drape the stuff over—no,

wrap himself in them.... He looked at his sister, lacking the words to describe what he was looking at. “Have

you ever seen anything like that?”

T’meen was now looking at them both with an unmistakeably happy expression, his body covered

with the strange things. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to drag what looked like leather buckets onto

his feet. It had been over a moonsweep since Gredar had seen him so lively.

“They make their own fur?” Jilen said.

“Still think he’s a jopa?”

She shook her head. T’meen was searching inside his ‘fur’, into what looked like sacks attached to it.

He seemed distressed about something, and pointed at the empty interiors of the sack as if something was

missing. Gredar got it. “Sister, did Karwa give everything to Martek that he found with him or not?”

“I have no idea. I’ll ask him when I go downstairs.” She seemed mesmerised by T’meen’s new

covering. “I guess that explains how they survive without fur. But how do they make it? And where are the

rest of his kind?”

“That’s what I need these,” Gredar said, hefting the books and slate, “to find out.”

~~~~~~~~

Temin couldn’t stop grinning. Clothes! Boots! He was independent again—well, he would be when

he could stand up without passing out. He was amazed that none of it had been damaged, though he wished

he had the scanner and his handheld—probably lost forever. But now he had the basics he needed to get out

of here.

If they’d let him, that was. Gredar was watching, looming over him from his great height. “Thank

you,” Temin said loudly, repeating the words in Gredar’s tongue. They’d got a few basic terms down

between them—‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘good’, ‘like’, ‘thank you’, ‘may I’ and ‘sorry’, and a couple of nouns. The rest

of the time it was all down to sign language, and whatever Gredar learned by sniffing him, which he did from

time to time. The other one, J’len—she tended to lick him, which was weird, but as she seemed to be their

medic, he supposed that was normal. Whatever was in her ointments was pretty good stuff. He could easily

be dead, if not for her. And for Gredar.

He sat down again, and took everything but his shorts and shirt off, folding it all neatly. Gredar made

no move to touch it when Temin laid the items on the table near the bed. There was just no way to explain

that Temin needed to keep the clothes for when he wanted to go outside, since there wasn’t any way of

replacing them.

Sheft it, he was dizzy. And there was Gredar again, crouching down, waiting to steady him. He batted

away the helping hand and pointed at the other stuff Gredar was holding. “What’s that?” He’d decided to talk

as much as possible, because Gredar had already picked up a little bit from him doing that. Gredar found

pronouncing Standard very difficult, which was only fair since cat language made Temin’s sore throat ache.

Gredar sat properly and handed Temin what turned out to be a book. A book! “Ye-sss?” Gredar

asked.

“Yes!” Temin shouted, and reached out to hug the guy, forgetting for a moment who Gredar was and

where they were. Gredar froze, obviously confused as sheft by Temin’s action, then one big arm came

carefully around Temin’s back, holding him close but gently. A low purr began to rumble in Gredar’s chest,

and for a few seconds, Temin held on, just...wanting to thank him, and to be held, even if Gredar wasn’t even

the species Temin longed for, let alone the person.

It was Gredar who broke it off, pushing Temin back onto the bed, and pressing the book into his

hands again, opening the worn leather cover and turning the first page.

“Oh,” Temin said. He should have expected it really, with the gorgeous pictures on the walls and the

decorations on pottery and the furniture but.... “It’s beautiful.” He’d never seen book illustrations of such

delicacy before—hand-coloured, and incredibly detailed. The oddly thin paper pages were thumbed and

curled slightly in the corners from long use, but the book hadn’t been mistreated, and the colours were still

vibrant and gem-like.

“Good?”

“Yes. Good.”

“May I?”

“What? Oh. Yes.” Gredar sat down next to him, and waited politely.
Hey, we just had a conversation,

Temin thought. Actual dialogue. That was pretty cool.

But that wasn’t what was on Gredar’s mind. He wanted Temin to look at the page. He pointed to a

small symbol—intersecting lines and a circle—next to an exquisitely rendered picture of a young cat person.

“Day-neh.” He repeated it, then pointed to his own chest. “Day-neh.”

“Day-neh?” Understanding dawned. “J’len, day-neh?” Gredar nodded. “Temin, day-neh, no?”

“Day-neh.” Gredar pointless at himself. “No day-neh,” he said, touching Temin’s leg.

So that was the name of their race. Temin was going to turn the page, to see what else he could learn,

but Gredar wasn’t done. He picked up a huge slate and sat it on top of the book, then pushed a white stick

into Temin’s hand—chalk. “T’meen,” Gredar said, pointing at the slate.

Temin wrote his name, and under it, another word. “Temin,” he said. “Human.”

“‘Mun?”

“Huu-man.” Gredar always had problems with the first parts of words, or maybe they were nearly

always close to silent in day-neh speech.

“T’meen, huu-man, ye-esss?”

“Yes. Good!” Gredar chirruped, and his tail curled around Temin’s waist. He didn’t mind that at all.

~~~~~~~~

Gredar had transformed Temin’s life. A few minutes ago, he was just a helpless victim, without any

resources. Now he had power, independence, entertainment at his finger tips. The hour or so the two of them

spent going carefully through the book, looking at the pictures with Gredar patiently pronouncing each word,

waiting for Temin to transcribe them (with a pencil! And real paper!), was possibly the happiest he’d spent

since he was five, making models of spaceships with his Mum and Dad out of scrap metal cut-offs. It was

only a children’s book, but it was just what he needed—it gave him the building blocks of the language.

Gredar, too, made notes, because the process wasn’t one way—he was trying to learn Temin’s language as

much as Temin was trying to learn his. It was that willingness to see things from the other point of view

which made Gredar so unusual. And such a good owner, of course. Was Temin still a pet? Could he put his

boots on and walk out the door, and have no one stop him? Maybe today wasn’t the best time to try that.

Besides, he was enjoying himself and that had been rare enough lately that he just wanted to savour

the experience. Gredar was still as comfortable and kind as ever, and the fact that his ‘pet’ had suddenly

developed a brain didn’t seem to bother him at all. The main change was that he now tried to ask Temin what

he wanted, rather than making intelligent guesses. His guesses hadn’t been too badly off before, and once

Temin got over his resentment that it had taken them all so long to work out he could
talk
, he couldn’t really

fault Gredar’s treatment. Except for what had happened in Gredar’s absence, and Temin would bet a year’s

salary Gredar had been as shocked by what had happened as Temin was. It probably wasn’t fair to blame him

for the failure of people he presumably trusted, and just now, when Temin was feeling warm and happy and

hopeful, he was inclined to be generous. He liked Gredar and Gredar seemed to like him. In an alien

landscape, among an alien race, that was no small thing.

He was starting to get tired—well, more tired—and he thought his brain, which hadn’t had to learn

another language before, was getting to its limit for the day. He closed the book, faked a yawn, and pointed

to his mouth. “Tired.” He mimed going to sleep.

Gredar repeated the word, said the day-neh version until Temin got it, and then put the book and slate

up on the desk. He took Temin’s hands in his big paw and stared into Temin’s eyes with what seemed

concern. “Temin good,” Temin reassured him.

“Ye-esss.”

“Thank you.” Then Temin laughed as Gredar tickled him under his chin with his tail, repaying him by

scratching the fur on his stomach in a way Gredar seemed to like.

He heard a yowl from the door and his guts turned to water. He froze, his hand clenched in Gredar’s

fur. “No. No!”

Gredar enfolded him completely, letting Temin bury his face against his chest, his big arms covering

his back. Temin heard him speaking, the vibrations deep in his chest. He sounded sharp, maybe not enraged,

but annoyed. Temin tried to control his shivering and the nausea, and wished whoever it was, would go the