I Was An Alien Cat Toy (27 page)

“No.” She contemplated T’meen for a moment or two, her tail twitching a little. “But he must have

come from somewhere—why doesn’t he return?”

“He can’t. I don’t know why, but I know he would if he could. Jilen...I’m sorry, but I’m tired.”

“Yes, you are.” She moved forward, presumably to check on him, but jerked back as T’meen sat up

and made it clear he wasn’t happy at her approach by pointing the weapon straight at her face. “He has to let

me tend you.”

“T’meen, is okay. Jilen no hurt T’meen, Gredar. Understand?”

T’meen turned to him and seemed to be weighing up the statement, before nodding. “Okay.” He faced

Jilen. “T’meen no hurt Jilen. Promise this thing. Honest.”

“Jilen understands. Jilen will not hurt T’meen. Understand?”

“Ye-ess.” But he still remained wary as she checked the bandages, and was tense until she moved

away again.

“Rest. Both of you,” she said. “I’ll return in the morning. Karwa’s outside the door, call if you need

anything.”

“Thank you.”

She left and T’meen sagged. “Gredar trust Jilen?”

“Ye-ess. T’meen trust Jilen too. Sleep now.”

~~~~~~~~

Gredar was ashamed at being surprised that Jilen and his mother kept their word over T’meen, but the

scent of treachery was in the air, and the situation was so unusual, he couldn’t trust his assessment of it. He

was not without visitors. Jilen came several times a day, even though she was horrendously busy looking

after the other injured and Halit’s kitlings. All his surviving siblings came to call, Jakir spending a long time

with him, just twining tails and remembering his twin. T’meen hid in the washroom at such times, a discretion Gredar appreciated, whatever his motive.

Gredar was being treated as solicitously as if he was a high-ranking, fertile female, and he knew his

mother had ordered it thus because in her house, who else could do so? But his mother didn’t visit, nor send a

message other than that first one. It wasn’t a good sign. She wasn’t just avoiding him, she was avoiding

T’meen, and that probably meant she was determined to have him killed, no matter what his defence was.

Jilen didn’t want to discuss it—no one did.

T’meen was at his side as soon as Gredar was alone, and was as tender in his care as any mother with

her kitlings. He couldn’t lift Gredar, but he could do everything else, and Gredar minded looking weak much

less in front of his huu-man than he did in front of his family. T’meen didn’t talk about his fate, or the events

of the night of the singing—he didn’t talk much at all. In his position, Gredar doubted he’d be inclined to

chat either.

He knew from previous experience with hunting injuries that he healed fast, and so it proved to be

once more, despite his age. Within three sun passes, he was walking with only a little help, within four he

could walk unaided, at least to the toilet and back. On the morning of the sixth sun pass, Wilna came to his

room. “Gredar, Mother wishes to hold a meeting downstairs. Are you able to come?” She carefully avoided

looking around, though T’meen had scuttled into the washroom at the sound of her step in the doorway.

“About him?”

“Yes. He must come as well. If he won’t...then he’ll be made to.”

“We’ll be there.”

She seemed about to say more, but then only nodded. “By the third strike.”

T’meen emerged as soon as she left. Gredar summoned him over, and put his arm around T’meen’s

shoulder. “Meeting downstairs, soon. Gredar, T’meen go.”

“No, T’meen stay.”

He tried to pull away, but Gredar held firmly on. “T’meen...must.”

“Kadit kill.”

“Maybe. T’meen can go away. Jilen help. Go away or go to meeting. Two choices. No more.”

“Go where?” The high-pitched harmonics, very faint, were the sign of fear. It didn’t mean T’meen

was a coward. Anyone would be afraid in this situation.

“Anywhere. Out. T’meen home, maybe?”

“No. No can go home. Gredar say, Gredar protect T’meen!”

And he had. He wrapped his tail around T’meen’s leg, and bowed a little. “Gredar sorry. T’meen can

go away. Jilen give food, things,” he said, waving his hand vaguely to indicate supplies.

“T’meen no know...Ptane. No know hunt, make home, make cloze. No fur for snow, no....” He shook

his head. “No can go. Can talk to Kadit, maybe.”

“Ye-ess. Gredar no want T’meen killed.”

“T’meen no want too,” he said, making a strange choked noise that sounded a little like huu-man

laughter, but Gredar didn’t think it was funny. “When?”

“Soon. T’meen can think, then can go.”

T’meen hesitated. “No. Talk to Kadit. Kadit....” He wrapped his arms around himself as if he was

cold. “T’meen try to be good. But is no good for day-neh.”

“T’meen is very good. Is brave, clever, good lover, tall.” He won a small smile, and he licked

T’meen’s face as gently as he could, putting all the affection he felt for him into the gesture. “Is
good
friend.

Gredar luff T’meen. Is the right word? ‘Luff’”

T’meen went very still, as his scent subtly changed, became bitter with stress and something else

Gredar couldn’t interpret. “Ye-ess.” His voice was shaking. “Is right word. T’meen luff Gredar too. Is sad if

T’meen go. Is sad if T’meen dead.”

“Ye-ess.” He tugged T’meen down onto the bed and hugged him, because it was all he could do.

And on the third strike of the house bell, they went downstairs.

~~~~~~~~

T’meen walked ahead of him down the stairs, back straight, apparently confident, his lethal and

mysterious weapon in his hand, loosely at his side. Gredar needed Karwa’s help to walk down, his thoughts

not on his unsteady steps but what was about to happen. It seemed incredible to him that T’meen could be—

probably was—walking to his death, when he had done nothing wrong whatsoever, and had done many

things that were honourable and right. It wasn’t how things were supposed to go in Gredar’s ordered, stable

existence. He half contemplated grabbing T’meen and making a run for it—but he was in no state to do that,

and while he could certainly survive in the wild, he knew T’meen could not. Which T’meen understood, and

why he had chosen to meet his fate in this way. Gredar could only hope for unprecedented eloquence in

pleading for his friend’s life.

They were ushered into the meeting room, and the door was locked behind them with a very final

thunk and scrape of heavy wood on stone. T’meen jerked at the ominous sound, and looked at Gredar for an

explanation. He could only shrug as he steered T’meen over to a cushion, and sat beside him. His apprehension was now replaced with a sick dread of the inevitable. There was nothing he could do to save

T’meen, and he couldn’t even really offer any comfort to his friend. Curling a tail around him didn’t really

count.

All the females in the immediate family were there, already seated and solemn-faced. It hurt, not

seeing Halit next to Wilna, and as Wilna caught his eye, she nodded slowly. She knew what was in his heart.

To Gredar’s puzzlement, Martek was there, sitting like a witness to the right of the females. “Why are

you—?”

Gredar’s mother interrupted, and called for his attention. “Martek is here at my request, Gredar.” He

turned to face her. In the six sun passes since he’d seen her, his mother seemed to have aged five cycles—

there actually seemed to be more white around her muzzle, impossible though that might be. “My son, we

have two things to do at this meeting. The first is more pleasant, so I’ll do that first.”

She rose from her seat and walked over to him, carefully bypassing T’meen, and not even looking at

him. She laid a hand on Gredar’s head. “Gredar, six evenings ago, you acted to save my life and those of my

grandchildren. In doing so, you showed yourself to be a faithful son, a faithful member of our clan, an honour

to the line of Kelara. In thanks, I have decreed that henceforth, you shall never fear banishment from this

clan, not while I live, nor my daughters, nor my daughters’ daughters. Your place is secured for the rest of

your life. Martek is here to record this. We shall announce it again at the singing in Halit’s memory.”

He looked up to see her smiling gravely at him. He rubbed his face against her palm. “Thank you. I

would have done it anyway.”

“I know, which is why you’re so treasured, despite your balls.” He had to grin at that. “Are you well,

my son?”

“Getting there. Still sore. Mother, about T’meen....”

“No. Wait.” She clasped her hands in front of her, glancing sidelong at T’meen for the first time.

“There’s more you don’t know.”

“Mother?”

But she just flicked her tail and walked back to her seat. Beside her, Jilen and Wilna subtly altered

position—anticipating a threat. From him? Surely not. He put his arm around T’meen’s shoulders and pulled

him close as his mother nodded to Martek. “Tell Gredar what you’ve discovered in our records.”

Martek rose, holding a book in his hands, his tailing drooping and his ears half-flat in misery.

“Gredar, I’m sorry...but T’meen is...his kind are our deadly enemy. And he can’t be allowed to live, or leave

this room.” He bowed. “I’m truly sorry—for both of you.”

He handed the book to Gredar, and backed away without looking at either of them. Gredar opened the

book—it was an old volume, not clan history, but of Ptane. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve marked the place. Read.”

Gredar turned to the page, T’meen watching beside him. His friend tensed as the pictures, and the

horrific story they related, were revealed—but there was no surprise. “You knew,” Gredar whispered as

T’meen stared at the vile...oh no. Gredar looked up, horrified at what he’d just worked out. “No. He...he

would never...Martek, you
know
him.”

“Do I? Do any of us? Gredar—he knows of this, and never mentioned it, like he never mentioned that

weapon. His kind tried to wipe us from the face of Ptane.”

Gredar slammed the book down on the floor, and thumped the ground beside it. “No! How long ago?

He’s not like that! Mother, Jilen—he saved our lives! When did this happen?”

Jilen shifted. “Three hundred cycles ago. A long time ago, certainly.” She lifted her chin. “But he’s

using the same weapons. Ask him, Gredar. Ask him if they’re his people.”

Gredar’s throat was suddenly dry, and his hands shook as he picked up the book again and opened it.

“T’meen. These are huu-man? You do this?”

T’meen pulled away from him and stood—as one, the females bared their claws, but he ignored them.

“Ye-ess, is huu-man. No, T’meen no do this thing. T’meen say, this is bad thing. Very bad. T’meen sad when

see this. Very sad.”

“T’meen.” He turned to face Gredar’s mother. “Where are huu-man?”

He pointed up to the ceiling. “In sky, many many many lelil far. T’meen fly alone, hit here.” He

swooped his hand through the air. “Three lelils. Karwa find, take T’meen this home. T’meen no hurt any.”

He indicated the room. “T’meen want to protect Gredar, Kadit, Jilen.”

“That may be true, but the huu-man completely destroyed three clans, and nearly destroyed another

four. We defeated them at a terrible cost.” Martek’s entire posture was miserable—he took no pleasure in

bearing bad news. “I agree with Kadit. T’meen and his weapon are too dangerous.”

“Then take the weapon from him!” Gredar appealed to his mother, then his sisters.

“And if he has more? If he’s lying and his friends are close by, or will come to look for him? We

can’t allow even one of his kind to live, Gredar.” His mother was taking no pleasure in this either. “T’meen

must die. I’m sorry. I have sp....”

“No! Please...don’t make it an order.” He bent forward painfully, his forehead on the floor. “I beg

you. Mother, he’s my friend.”

“Gredar.” He looked up—that was T’meen speaking. “Gredar stop. Is enough.” His friend was

trembling, his lips pressed tightly together. “Is enough.” He knelt in front of Gredar and wrapped his arms

around him. “T’meen luff Gredar. Is farewell.”

“No! No, Gredar protect T’meen!”

T’meen shook his head. Water was leaking from his eyes—Gredar had never seen that before. “No.

T’meen protect Gredar because T’meen luff Gredar.” He pressed his head against Gredar’s chest. “Is okay.”

“No! Please!” But when T’meen pulled back, Gredar didn’t try and hold him, though it was well

within his power. “T’meen, no, wait.”

T’meen stood up, and shook his head again. “No. Is tir-ed. Is enough.” He touched the book with his

foot. “Is bad thing. Huu-man do bad thing. T’meen is huu-man. Understand Kadit is afraid. Only two things

—T’meen kill all, T’meen is killed. No other.”

“No—three things. T’meen go away? Please?”

“We can’t allow that now, Gredar,” Jilen said, though not unkindly.

T’meen seemed to understand her words. “No. Is farewell. Uh...give scent to T’meen?”

“Ye-ess,” Gredar whispered, and tasted salt as he rubbed his face against T’meen’s cheek, licked the

moisture from it and his chin. “Gredar is very sad.”

“T’meen is...is....” He patted the uninjured side of Gredar’s muzzle with a shaking hand. “Is farewell.

Be haapy.”

He shrugged off Gredar’s curling tail and walked to the middle of the room. He laid his weapon down

on the floor, then walked forward and knelt in front of Gredar’s mother. “T’meen no hurt any. Want to

protect only.” He bowed low, and remained unmoving in that position.