If for no other reason, in Tamt’s case, than simple loneliness. Tamt was not an outcast in her own society, no. But she was one of such low status that she had enjoyed little in the way of respect from her own kind, much less intimacy. Caitlin realized now that her perceptions of the Jao had been heavily skewed, all her life, by the fact that she’d only been in contact with Jao from the stratosphere of their alien society, or their close hangers-on. But how did that same society look—feel, if you would—when you were one of the members at the bottom of the pyramid?
And it was a pyramid. The Jao could delude themselves all they wanted about their egalitarian ways, and deride humans for their obsessions with the petty perks and protocols of prestige—such as having doors opened, and salutes. But, in another way, the Jao were far more status-ridden than humans ever were. In modern times, at least.
It was interesting—and worth pursuing. The glimpses Caitlin had gotten of that old fellow Wrot were just as intriguing. Another Jao, it seemed, who had . . . not turned his back on his own, no. He was obviously pleased now that he was part of Aille’s service. But, clearly enough, Wrot had a very different attitude toward humans than Caitlin would have thought any Jao did, until very recently.
Perhaps her father’s long-squelched hopes were not just daydreams, after all. Perhaps “association” was not simply a Jao euphemism for the relationship between a drover and his oxen.
Her own motivations, when it came to Tamt, were clear enough. A lot of it was pure and simple gratitude, combined with savage glee. Banle had oppressed Caitlin all her life, since she was four years old, had been a constant and never-ending looming shadow. A ghoul, she’d sometimes seemed, and always a troll.
To finally see that troll twisted into a pretzel, by someone stronger than she was . . .
Ha!
Caitlin smiled. That was a memory she’d treasure all her life, for a certainty. The shrieks of human doctors and nurses, scattering everywhere while two great Jao slammed each other back and forth in the clinic. Caitlin herself, despite her injuries, had been the only one who hadn’t looked for shelter.
She wouldn’t have missed that, for all the world! The first shock—and despair—at discovering that the hated Banle had not only survived after all but had come to take her back into the darkness. Then, to her surprise, seeing Tamt bristle and growl with indignation and fury—which Banle had returned immediately, and in kind.
That had been foolish. Tamt was not only bigger and stronger than Banle, but Yaut had been training her in the Jao methods of hand-to-hand fighting. No doubt Banle, being Narvo herself, had received equal training. But that had been long ago, before she’d spent twenty years overseeing a human girl who didn’t begin to match her strength. In the here and now, in the savagely physical battle that had erupted between the two, she’d been overmatched.
Caitlin had watched avidly, without a thought for her own safety, despite being in the position of a human caught in a room when two walruses went at each other. Okay, small walruses, granted. But the Jao method of hand fighting was a lot like sumo wrestling—combined with a use of their big teeth, which would have had any human referees frantically blowing whistles. By the time Tamt finally left Banle lying on the floor hammered into a pulp, they’d just about wrecked that room in the clinic.
Caitlin’s own cot had been included in the wreckage. She’d had to scramble hastily aside, at the end, broken arm or no, when the battle finally brought the two Jao her way.
She hadn’t minded. Tamt had put the cot to good use, pounding Banle’s head against it until the cot was in splinters—twisted metal, rather—and Banle was unconscious.
She sighed happily, even with the pain. Yes, that was a memory to cherish.
But, there was more. Caitlin had been very lonely too, and she knew she’d enjoy Tamt’s company, once she managed to overcome the Jao female’s odd combination of shy reticence and social awkwardness.