I Was An Alien Cat Toy (13 page)

than being treated as if he was dumb.

Gredar stood. “Harsa. T’meen gajit,” he said, patting the bed.

“Sit? Stay? Temin stay?”

“Gajit.”

Then he said something else, the only word of which Temin recognised was ‘food’ but he understood.

“You’ll get breakfast, I’ll stay here. Temin happy.” Gredar flicked him with his tail, but his eyes were

elsewhere. He seemed...a bit distracted. Something on his mind. His mother, most likely.

Temin dressed fully while Gredar was off getting the food. He felt stronger today, and was sick of the

bed and this bedroom. He wanted to make progress towards getting out of here, and that meant getting a map,

or making Gredar understand what he wanted. That could take a while.

There was no one guarding the door, strangely, and Gredar had left it wide open. Temin could leave if

he wanted to, if he could avoid any of the others...but it was still winter, and shefting cold, and he still didn’t

know where he was, exactly. He’d been in a sack between being captured and brought to the house, so he’d

seen nothing of the landscape. For all he knew, there was a shefting great mountain between here and the

podpod. No, he would wait a little. He suspected Gredar would help him, if he could just find a way to ask.

Gredar returned with a tray, setting it on the table, and pulled up a cushion for Temin to sit on. Of

course the first thing Temin saw was his own name, carved into the table, stark white gouges in the reddish

brown surface. The top was ruined—they’d never polish it out, and he regretted that because it was a lovely

piece. He only vaguely remembered doing it, no recollection of why he’d felt he should—just of the rage and

fear and desperation he’d felt that night. “Sorry,” he said, a little shame-faced, looking up at Gredar.

“T’meen,” Gredar said, touching the marks. Then he touched his own chest. “Sorry,” he said in his

own tongue. Temin reached over and patted his hand. There wasn’t anything he could say, even if he knew

how.

There was fresh bread (it still amazed him that the day-neh ate bread, but then he kept thinking they

were cats when they were more like dogs in their appetite, and the way they lived together), and well-cooked

meat, cut up small. Also water, and some smelly hot tea stuff that Gredar obviously loved but which had

made Temin sick to his stomach when he’d tried it. The diet was very boring, but at least Gredar knew what

was safe for him, and how to serve it, which was good because the last thing Temin needed was another

stomach bug on top of the rest of it.

Gredar was in no hurry to clear the food away. He definitely had something on his furry mind, and

kept giving Temin these long, thoughtful looks, until Temin couldn’t stand it any more. He pushed his plate

away and folded his arms. “What?” he demanded, fixing Gredar with a hard glare.

Gredar sighed and stood. He beckoned Temin to follow him, and led him over the wall opposite the

end of the bed, pushing a cupboard aside so more of the pictures behind it were revealed. Then he fetched the

word lists they’d been making, Standard into day-neh and back.

During the time Gredar had been nursing him back to health, and during the hellish time before that,

Temin had had a lot of time to look at these pictures, and knew them all intimately. He still didn’t know what

they meant—he figured that was what Gredar was going to tell him now, though why, he had no idea. He

waited patiently for Gredar to explain.

Gredar walked over to a picture to the far right of them. “Day-neh no good.” He pointed to the figure

of a small one of his kind.

“Day-neh...bad. No good—bad.”

Gredar tested the word, and nodded. “Baad. Wasa. Ye-ess.” He drew his fingers along the image of a

path, and Temin suddenly got it. The story was in sequence—but he was reading it in the wrong direction.

The bad day-neh was being taken somewhere—in front of another group, all seated, all portrayed as much

larger than the bad guy. “Surat.” Gredar drew a finger around the group.

“Surat. Court?” Gredar gave him a look of confusion. “Never mind. What?”

Gredar indicated that the court made a decision on the bad guy—a criminal, Temin supposed. The last

image showed him being cast out by the court, and he was last seen walking out of the village, a small figure

on a long road. “Good?” Gredar asked.

“Yes.” But why...?

Gredar slapped the middle day-neh in the group, the one drawn the largest of all. “Kadit.” Then he

said a word that Temin had heard used last night.

Temin hastily looked it up. “Clan head?” he said in their tongue. That made sense—the clan head was

in charge of the court. “Yes.”

“Surat harek,” Gredar said, pointing to the floor—no,
downstairs.

“A court is here today?” Temin walked over to the first image of the criminal. “Temin bad?” he

asked, pointing to the figure, his blood going cold. They meant to try him?

Gredar shook his head. “No.” He brushed his fingers gently over the healing cuts on Temin’s arms,

then across his newly-bared nape. “Filwui. Bad day-neh. Day-neh wasa.”

“Bad day-neh—Filwui?” What did that mean?

Gredar pointed again to Temin’s wounds, then held up two fingers. “Day-neh.” Two of them...oh.

Gredar sketched the shape of a big day-neh, pointed to a golden yellow flower, then to his eyes. “Filwui.” He

held his hand a little lower, pointed to a green leaf, then to the eyes again. “Buhi.”

“Filwui, Buhi, bad day-neh?”

Gredar nodded, and pointed to the picture of the criminal to emphasise the point. “Filwui, Buhi,

surat.” Then pointed to the floor again.

Temin swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered. They would be in the house again. Gredar was warning him,

which was kind...but no, there was more to it, because now Gredar was pointing to the two of them, and then

to the pictures on the wall again. Ah...there were people to the side of the surat, and one of them had his

mouth open. Talking. “Witnesses.”
Shefting shit.
“No. No, Gredar, I can’t. I’m....”
Afraid I’ll fall apart.

He backed away and Gredar made no move to stop him. He just made a sad little yowl, and his tail

crept around from behind him, towards Temin, as if trying to entice him to stay. “No! Filwui bad! Very bad!

Meni wasa!”

Gredar crouched down and peered at him. “Gredar jersai T’meen.”

“Jersai?”

Gredar pantomimed holding something small—maybe like a baby—close to his chest with one arm,

and held the other up in a clearly defensive gesture, his lips suddenly peeled back revealing his enormous

teeth. He growled, and clawed at an invisible attacker, looking entirely primitive, and nothing like the genial,

gentle cat-man Temin had begun to trust again. Then he looked down at his imaginary child. “Jersai dacal.”

‘Dacal’ was a young day-neh. He looked straight at Temin. “Jersai T’meen.”

“Protect. You’ll protect me? Gredar protect Temin?”

Gredar nodded. “Meni. Vaary. Temin happy. Gredar jersai T’meen.” Then he made the little chirrup

yowl that Temin had learned long ago was ‘please’—coaxing the obdurate pet to do something he didn’t like.

“Filwui bad. Very bad, meni bad.”

Gredar bowed low again. “Sorry.”

Temin sighed. Gredar blamed himself, but it was Filwui and Buhi who’d done the deed. He just didn’t

know what he could do, since he spoke just a handful of words. “Temin no happy,” he said, to make the

point.

Gredar lifted his head. “Gredar jersai T’meen meni meni meni,” he said, and growled fiercely.

Temin lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, you win. But you owe me, big guy.”
And you better be

ready to use those shefting teeth, because that Filwui is one mean fucker and I wouldn’t trust him further

than I could drop kick him.

~~~~~~~~

Gredar was grateful for T’meen’s bravery and intelligence over this matter. That didn’t mean he was

looking forward to the surat any more than he had since his mother told him about it. A full surat presided

over by his mother, was a rare thing, and bound to cause talk and disharmony. For everyone’s sake, he

profoundly wished Filwui had chosen some other way to entertain himself during his absence. Still, the thing

was done. His concern now was to end it cleanly and with as little harm to T’meen as possible, while offering

the little huu-man some reparation for all his suffering. His mother had declared him torgu, and though

Gredar didn’t agree with that assessment, it was true T’meen wasn’t as elsart as he had been. His perfect skin

was going to be scarred for the rest of his life, and he was still thin and ill-looking under those strange things

he was wearing around himself.

It was time to go. “Surat,” he said to T’meen.

T’meen held up his hand and said something—what was he doing? Oh—he had a small knife in the

sack. Gredar held his hand out. He had to make sure it wasn’t going to be used against his mother or the other

females. T’meen passed it to him—it was sharp but not very big, the blade about five farkens long. It would

certainly cause an injury if jabbed straight in, but would probably be deflected by a daiyne’s fur. He handed it

back. “Kadit no,” he warned. “
Filwui
no.”

T’meen nodded. “No.” He tapped his chest. “T’meen protect T’meen.”

Well, that was fair, he supposed. It wasn’t like Gredar had done such a good job until now, and

T’meen was sensible. That he was frightened of Filwui was only to be expected.

Filwui was waiting outside the meeting room, lounging against the wall. “Hello, Gredar,” he said,

baring his teeth. “How’s your little pet?”

T’meen stood rigid at Gredar’s side, but didn’t show any other emotion. Gredar growled a threat.

“Safer for not being anywhere near you, Filwui. I will not know your scent any more.”

“Suits me. You’re a bit old now. I’ve moved onto fresh territory.”

Presumably that was Buhi, lurking, terrified, a little distance down the hall. Gredar felt sorry for his

nephew. Filwui could be so very charming, and had the weight of seniority and authority to back it up.

Gredar hoped his mother would be merciful towards a young, easily influenced kitling.

He wasted no more time on Filwui and his jibes, and went into the meeting room. His mother and

sisters were already seated there, as well as his two aunts, their adult daughters and three of his nieces. Jilen

came over to him as he told T’meen to sit on the cushions set aside for them. “You brought him? Was that

wise? You know we’re going to talk about his fate today.”

“I thought mother had already decided that.” Gredar laid a protective hand on T’meen’s head.

“She left the final decision to us.”

“And what do you think we should do, sister?”

She glanced down at T’meen, but wouldn’t meet the huu-man’s eyes. “I think there comes a time

when it’s more practical to put animals down, Gredar.”

“But you helped make him well!”

“And what of his future? The only one of his kind, always being stared at, always at risk of attack?”

“I can protect him!”

“You didn’t this time. And now my son’s involved, the family’s in uproar, your time’s absorbed with

T’meen and not with your proper responsibilities—this can’t end well, Gredar. It’s not that I dislike him. I

can see he’s fond of you and you of him, and...what was done to him was torgu. I don’t blame him for that,

but I believe you have to take a longer view.”

“I have to take—”

“Jilen! Gredar! The surat has not started,” his mother snapped. “Take your seats.”

They both sat down in their respective places, Jilen at their mother’s side, Gredar beside T’meen to

the right of the long table. Gredar’s other nieces came in at that point, and then his mother gave a signal for

Filwui and Buhi to be sent in.

Filwui wasn’t cowed in the slightest by the presence of all the clan’s senior females, throwing himself

casually down on the floor as if he had been invited for a meal. Buhi stood, stiff and terrified. Gredar kept his

arm close around T’meen. The huu-man was shivering, his eyes fixed on his tormenters. This had been a bad

idea. Too late now.

His mother put her half-clawed hands on the table in front of her. “Filwui, the accusation is of

disobeying a senior male’s order, of damaging his property, and violating his private quarters. You’ve also

violated the hospitality of my house and my orders that Gredar’s property should be kept safe. What say

you?”

“Property, Kadit? I thought he was supposed to be intelligent. That’s what Gredar’s been telling

people. So how can he be a pet? I fucked him, sure. I fucked Gredar too. That didn’t damage him.”

“You let a wild jopa in with him!” Gredar shouted.

“Gredar!” his mother snapped.

Filwui smiled. “Yes. You left the poor creature without any entertainment. Things just got out of

hand, and I had to dress his wounds. Accidents happen, you know that.”

“You disobeyed my orders to leave him alone!”

“Gredar, be silent or leave,” Jilen growled.

“Answer him, Filwui,” his mother said.

He turned to her, his ears suspiciously innocent and erect. “What orders? Did anyone else hear him

give an order to me?”

“Are you calling my son a liar, Filwui?”

He sat up, letting his impressive musculature display itself, his sleek, healthy fur proof of his youth

and fertility. “Are you going to seriously punish me over a
jopa
, Kadit? Do you have any idea how foolish

that will make you look?”