I Was An Alien Cat Toy (21 page)

Temin’s presence.

“What Gredar do?” Temin asked in day-neh. Gredar said a word Temin didn’t understand, but then he

found it in Temin’s word list. “Singing? Why?”

The two day-neh looked at each other. It was Martek, speaking slowly, who tried to explain. “Gredar

teach. Learn hjuiri...uh.” He made a movement with his hands—Temin shook his head, not understanding.

“Learn make....” Gredar found the word. “Pots. Hjuiri. Clan learn make pots singing.”

Temin twisted the sentence around in his head a bit. “You teach with singing. Teach how to make

pots.” He carefully found all the words and repeated them, pointing to each on his list as well.

“Ye-ess. Teach hjuiri.”

“Okay.” He didn’t understand, but maybe it would make sense later.

Martek tried to explain a little more, laboriously picking out words and fetching a map to show

Temin. Gredar had been to a meeting of other day-neh—other clans, Temin figured—at a place where the

borders of four day-neh territories intersected, about four hundred clicks from the village. This was apparently something he did a lot, something that most of the males did at least once a year, many more

often. The reason for this wasn’t clear until Martek made a surprisingly filthy hand gesture, pointed to Gredar

and then to Temin, then hugged himself as he chortled at his joke. Gredar’s tail flicked, though with annoyance or amusement, Temin couldn’t tell, and just said the words for ‘female’ and ‘fertile’. The clan

meetings were some kind of regular orgy, apparently, when the women came to be impregnated.

“Hjuiri?” Temin asked helplessly, wondering when they’d got from pottery to fucking.

“Gredar learn...Gredar teach.” He gestured as if to say, ‘I don’t know how to explain it’.

But Temin understood, or thought he did. Gredar had learned something—a new pottery technique,

maybe?—and was going to teach it to the others. It didn’t really explain why it had to be by singing, but that

wasn’t the oddest thing Temin had learned that day, so he accepted it. “Okay,” he said, nodding vigorously.

“Temin go Kadit najil? Go home?”

“Soooon,” Gredar said, and then gave Martek a puzzled look as his friend collapsed laughing again.

“Ignore him.” Temin reached out and tugged Martek’s tail in reproach, which only made him laugh

harder and Gredar look at Temin in surprise. “Martek meni wasa. Very bad. Wasa day-neh. Bad day-neh.”

“Maybe,” Gredar agreed. He reached over and stroked Temin’s face. “Tir-ed?”

“Yeah. Meni. A lot.”

“Temin go Martek najil grueni?”

“Yeah, I’ll come to his house tomorrow, if he behaves.” He pulled Martek’s tail again. “Martek good,

Temin go Martek najil. Martek bad, Temin no go.”

“Ye-ess,” Gredar said slowly, and then chuckled. He said something to Martek Temin didn’t catch,

and then stood. Temin hastily gathered all his notes and got up too. “Thank you,” Gredar said in day-neh.

Temin repeated it, and Martek, now on his feet, patted his head. “Temin good. Good suun.”

“Shut up,” Temin said, wagging his finger.

~~~~~~~~

“Martek, what are you doing to T’meen?”

“Nothing, my friend—perhaps I should ask what
you’re
doing to him. He smells of you. Are you

sleeping together?”

Gredar didn’t react to the innuendo. “He shares my bed, of course he does. He can’t cope with the

cold otherwise.”

“Of course,” Martek said, flicking his ear in a sceptical manner. “Your lesson is far from perfect,

Gredar. I need you to return to practice tomorrow.”

“I’ll try but Jilen wants my assistance and I’ve already neglected her and the kitlings far too long....”

Martek picked up on what he didn’t say. “She objects to the time spent with him, doesn’t she?”

“She’s afraid of him, afraid because he’s so strange, and because we know nothing of his

background.”

“Hmmm. I see her point. But at the same time, he’s obviously harmless.”

“She says,” Gredar said, hating himself for betraying T’meen this way, “that he can’t be that harmless

or he wouldn’t have survived. He has a knife.”

“Which he’s not used against any of us, and he’s had more than enough provocation,” Martek said,

nodding at T’meen, and the all too obvious marks of what that bastard had done. “I’ll keep looking through

our records, see what I can find. I’ll speak to Jilen too—she’s a reasonable person. It’s just the new kitlings—

they always make females overprotective. She’ll calm down when they’re older.”

“I don’t think we have that kind of time. She’s given me until snowmelt, and then she wants him

gone.”

Martek nodded again. “Only to be expected. Don’t despair, kitling. We’ll find an answer. I like your

little huu-man. He’s funny. How does he feel when you fuck him?”

“I don’t know,” Gredar said tightly. “I don’t plan on finding out. He’s not my grooming mate—and I

won’t force him as Filwui did.”

Martek looked down at T’meen, holding onto Gredar’s tail and petting it gently—a habit so familiar

now, Gredar hardly remarked it. “I doubt there’d be any forcing, kitling. His is an affectionate kind, it seems.

He’d make a remarkable pet...if he’d allow it,” he added, as Gredar bridled. “He’d be welcome to stay here,

if being at Kadit’s house is the problem.”

It might help, Gredar had to admit that, but the idea of T’meen not being...where Gredar could easily

protect him, made his stomach cold with worry. “Perhaps. But I must go. I’ll bring him tomorrow.”

“And you, kitling. Practice.”

“Perhaps,” Gredar said with a smile.

T’meen seemed...confused, was the only word for it, Gredar thought as they walked through the

twilight back to the house. He’d been at ease in Martek’s house, but with an underlying edge of unease. Now

he was uninterested again, clinging to Gredar’s shoulders, but not talking and not looking around. Perhaps he

was tired—Martek did take some getting used to. And he was still getting over his illness—Gredar had to

remember that huu-man were not as strong as daiyne.

“T’meen is hungry?” he asked as they entered the hall.

T’meen hesitated, then shook his head. “Tir-ed.”

“T’meen wash? Want bath?”

His huu-man looked up at him, blinking, his whole posture drooping. “Ye-ess, much want. But

T’meen is tir-ed.”

“Leave it to me,” Gredar said, and T’meen, nodding again, understood the tone, if not the words.

Gredar offered his arm again, and T’meen allowed himself to be carried up the stairs—Gredar wondered

what it was like for the little huu-man, living in a world where everything was the wrong size for him. It had

to be worse than for jopas, who had their tails to help. Living without a tail must be very strange too.

He couldn’t help tighten his hold a little, as he might a nervy kitling, as he felt the fine tremors

running through T’meen—he hadn’t meant to leave him with Martek so long, but re-establishing trust and

friendship with his twin would benefit T’meen in the long term. Gredar’s own position was secure enough,

for a male, and he had no real expectation of being exiled, but T’meen was a different matter. It was difficult

to balance his responsibilities to family and friend, but it had to be done.

“Wait. Rest,” he told T’meen. “I’ll come back soon.” He left his friend taking off his foot coverings—

shooz, that was the term—and preparing to lie down.

He suspected that T’meen may not have been entirely honest about not feeling hungry—perhaps he

thought Gredar was going to inflict another family meal on him, which in hindsight, may not have been the

wisest thing he’d ever done. He would find something light and tasty for his friend, though he also suspected

none of their food appealed particularly. He had to ask Martek to make more of an effort to find out about

huu-man society and preferences. His elderly friend was more than nosy enough for the job.

But the bath should be a treat too, and Gredar had been making plans since that morning for this. Now

he went to the kitchen to find Luilan. His nephew was alone, washing pots at the sink—Gredar briefly

wondered why Buhi wasn’t helping, but perhaps he’d been given a worse chore.

“Hello, Uncle, are you ready for the water?”

“Yes, and the bucket and other things. Is there any of the berry bread left?”

“A little,” Luilan said, setting down the tray he was scrubbing.

“I only need a little.” He fetched it, and sniffed it—it was a bit past perfect freshness, but the fruit

retained much of its flavour, and yes, this might tempt a weary huu-man. “If you could bring the water and

the rest of it up when you’re ready, I’d be grateful,” he said, twining his tail with his nephew’s.

“Uncle Gredar, can we talk to your jopa?”

Gredar was taken aback, a little. “Of course. Give it a couple of days—he’s still somewhat unwell.

But...why do you want to?”

Luilan grinned. “Well, it’s something to tell people about, isn’t it? When I go to the gathering? A

talking jopa! No one else has ever heard of such a thing. It’ll make the clan famous.”

“We’re already famous, you know. You realise T’meen’s a person in his own right. He’s not actually

a jopa.”

His nephew shrugged. “He’s not a daiyne, that’s all that matters. You should take him to the

gathering, put on a singing with him. I would, if he was mine.”

“He’s not....” Gredar made himself stop. Emphasising T’meen’s independence might not help, and in

any event, it wasn’t the issue here. “Perhaps. If he wants to. He can do what he likes.”

“Then why doesn’t he go home?”

“He just can’t. Thank you, Luilan. I owe you for this.” He was going to owe a lot of people before the

issue of T’meen and his permanent residence was sorted out.

T’meen was sitting on the bed, cross-legged, going through things in his personal sack—he hastily

stuffed everything out of sight as Gredar walked in, as if he was afraid Gredar would steal them. “I brought

you some food.”

“Thank you.” T’meen started to get up, but Gredar waved him to sit down. Gredar himself sat on the

floor near the bed and held out the plate. “You no want food?”

“Later, maybe.” T’meen nodded. “Eat?”

T’meen picked delicately at the berry bread and was careful not to get crumbs on the furs. Though he

was no longer a pet, Gredar couldn’t help but remain fascinated by the graceful movements of small fingers,

the mobile, naked face. He really should make some sketches.

“Whaat?” T’meen demanded.

“T’meen is elsart.”

His friend carefully put the bread he was holding back on the plate. “T’meen no is elsart. Filwui make

T’meen torgu. Martek say this.”

Gredar winced. “T’meen is not torgu.”

“T’meen no
worry
T’meen is torgu. T’meen....” He waved his hands in the air as if frustrated, then

grabbed his sack of belongings and pulled out his word lists. He spent a little time finding the words he

wanted, and then he pointed at them, jabbing at the paper as he said the words aloud. “T’meen is young,

clever, brave, good lover.
Tall
,” he added, glaring at Gredar and daring him to argue. “T’meen no worry

T’meen no is elsart. Gredar understand?” he said, hands on his hips and a set look to his lips.

Gredar chuckled and stroked T’meen’s hair. “Ye-ess. Good lover?”

“Ye-ess. Very good.”

“I bet.” Gredar wrapped his tail around T’meen’s ankle. “Eat. Bath is coming.”

He had carefully instructed Luilan to leave the water and bath things outside his door, but T’meen still

jumped with fright when he heard the thunk and clatter of metal on the stone floors. “Sshhh. Safe.”

“Ye-ess.” But T’meen put the bread down again and made it clear he didn’t want to eat any more.

“Bath?”

There was a communal steam and bathroom downstairs, but Gredar had known from the first that

T’meen could never use it, even if the family would allow it. Instead, he’d arranged to borrow a small tub

used for bathing youngsters, which would allow T’meen to sit and be washed as clean as he liked. T’meen

eyed it distrustfully as Gredar hauled it and the first bucket of hot water into the washroom.

“Is thing for kitling,” he said flatly.

“No?” T’meen tapped his foot. “Ye-ess,” Gredar admitted. “But is good.”

“Is thing for
kitling
.”

“Gredar sorry. T’meen no want bath?”

“Ye-ess,” he said, as he began to undress. Gredar thought he heard a muttered ‘kitling’ but he let it

pass.

Whatever T’meen’s objections to the origin of the tub, there was no mistaking his pleasure as he sank

into the hot water—it seemed huu-man loved their baths as much as daiyne. “Good?” Gredar asked.

“Very good. Not cold,” T’meen added, shuddering.

Gredar nearly asked what he meant, but then realised—pet jopas were bathed in cold water, because

they were used to it. “Hot is good for T’meen,” he said, and T’meen nodded enthusiastically. “Use wash?”

“Huh?”

He demonstrated, sprinkling some of the disinfectant powder on the water and making it foam a little.

“Clean better.”

“Oh—ye-ess. Wash is good.” T’meen splashed some of the foam onto himself. “Is sope.”

“Sope?”

“Ye-ess. Wash—huu-man say ‘sope’.”

“Okay.”

He picked up T’meen’s cloze, intending to soak them, but his friend sorted them into two piles. The

smaller of the two, T’meen permitted to be cleaned with the wash powder. Before putting them in the water,

Gredar took a surreptitious sniff—T’meen’s scent on them was rich, clearly old, but not unpleasant.