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Chapter 14

 

“Stufid voy,” Jallin heard someone saying.  Some piece of cloth fell over him.  “Vhy ju run avay, stufid voy?” 

 

“How’d you find me?” Jallin asked, looking up at the old sho’s face.  The ears and whiskers were back.  The eyes narrow slits.  The old sho merely touched the side of his muzzle. 

 

“Ju stink.  Vhat ju doing here?  Vhy ju naked?” 

 

“They stole everything.” 

 

“Who?”

 

Jallin buried his face in his hands. 

 

“They were my friends, back when I lived here.  I didn’t know they’d do it.  I didn’t know they’d steal from me.”    

 

“Ju live here?  Next time, they von’t have nothing to steal, eh?” the old sho said, nudging Jallin’s shoulder.  “Come, ve get ju home, and all fix.  Mayve, if ve lucky, ve get Shi-Feo to make clam soup.  It good stuff.  Ju like that?  Maybe she cook veetles, too.  If ju ask her, I think she do it for us, for ju, on jur bad day.”

 

Kir-Tuko pulled Jallin to his feet. 

 

“Stufid, fink, no fur voy.  Vhere ju go vith no clothing, eh?  Feofle think ju a slave come from market.    Here, wrap this around ju so ju no make feofle see jur ugly.” 

 

Jallin blushed and tied the shirt around himself.  It wasn’t much, but it served well enough as a makeshift loincloth and would at least be enough to get him home without anyone thinking he was an escaped slave.  Kir-Tuko was now shirtless though. 

 

He led Jallin down Brogan’s Way, back to Chu-Kabra street, and Jallin watched the scars in Kir-Tuko’s fur.  They seemed to wriggle like snakes in grass.  Did Master Noshó ever make one of those scars? 

 

As they neared Master Noshó’s house, Jallin’s mind kept thinking about what he would say.  How would he explain the loss of an entire set of clothes?  Would he have to explain himself to Master Noshó?  He wasn’t a slave, but Master Noshó had bought those clothes for him.  And the boots?  The boots were probably worth a month’s wages for Auntie Hurga.  Jallin felt as though he might throw up again, but he wondered how he had anything left inside him. 

Kir-Tuko stopped in front of the wall.  He pulled from his pocket the same key Auntie Hurga had when she went out and unlocked the chain holding the gate closed.  Jallin prepared to step past him and into the house, eager to get out of sight in his near nakedness, but Kir-Tuko stopped him, putting his calloused paw on Jallin’s chest. 

“Ju vait here.” 

Jallin didn’t understand, but Kir-Tuko went inside without him.  Surely he didn’t expect to leave him standing here with nothing but a shirt to cover him.  It wasn’t icy, but spring still held a little bit of bite to it, and he had no fur of any description to warm him, and he would look like a slave.  If a narg guard came by, it could be trouble.  He couldn’t decide if he wanted to turn and look between the gate and the wall to see what went on within or if he wanted to be prepared for anybody walking up and finding him here.  By and by, he did both, turning and leaning towards the crack in the gate, then putting his back to the wall and watching the street. 

Jallin heard some talking from within.

A female voice.  Then, Kir-Tuko responding.  Then, the female voice again.  Was it Eja?  Was it Shi-Feo?  It couldn’t have been Auntie Hurga.  She was washing clothes somewhere.  She didn’t stay at home during the daytime, most of the time. 

Before Jallin could find out, Kir-Tuko came out of the gate.  He through something at Jallin, which Jallin barely caught and held onto.  They were clothes.  A strange mixture of smells hit Jallin so hard, tears welled in his eyes: some strange musk, flea-powders, and kinto-shah perfumes of varying expense. 

“Get dressed, ve have vurk to do.” 

Jallin held out the old tunic in front of himself, tucking the pants under his arm.  The old sho only had two, maybe three, pairs of clothes, so Jallin had memorized his clothing.

“These are yours?” Jallin said.

“Ja, I know that.  Now they jurs.” 

“I can’t.”

“Okay, ju can vurk in shirt ju veering.  Come in.”  He let Jallin through the gate and into the household.  “Vell, ve vurk now, jes?  Ve have much to do now.  Ve vaste lots of time.” 

Jallin offered back the clothing Kir-Tuko tried to give him, but Kir-Tuko didn’t take them.  Instead, he made his way out into the garden, toward a patch of herbs.  He bent over and inspected some leaves, picked a few, then moved on like a giant insect towards the next patch.  Here, he took a few zuganberries off their little miniature bushes.

Realizing it was getting late, and Auntie Hurga was coming home before dark, he quickly put on the clothes he’d been given.  He threw the shirt back at Kir-Tuko, who put it on without a word.  He was going to catch some Ferro[1] from Auntie Hurga, but he figured he better be dressed for it.

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[1] Ferro: Ferro was a member of the Qwadro, the four demons who, in their two attacks on the world of Trithofar, managed to unhinge the Counsel of Eight and nearly destroy the world.  Ferro was a demon of absolute hate, rage, and unbridled passion.  Effectively, Jallin is saying that he will ‘catch hell’ from Auntie Hurga.