Free Ties of Power (Trade Pact Universe) by Julie E. Czerneda Page B

flattered to have two such admirable suitors? Would it not be interesting to see who remains standing to claim his place as your provider?”
    “I have no intention of allowing a brawl to determine who is to be my provider or anything else.” I drew a breath, steadied my voice. “We have enjoyed your feast-night, Laem’sha. I fear too much so. Morgan may be more serious than Premick realizes.”
    Competing shouts greeted some move by a visibly battered Morgan to throw Premick against a hut wall, collapsing part of the structure. Laem’sha put his fragrant, sticky arm around my shoulders in a fatherly way and drew me in the opposite direction. Frustrated almost to the point of some violence of my own, I allowed him to do so, keeping a wary eye on the truthsayer beast as it adjusted to the movement by digging paired claws into Laem’sha’s skin. “Yet Premick needs to lose some of his ambition, Lady Sira,” the wise man said reasonably.
    “Especially with regard to a certain Ram’ad Witch?” I suggested, grasping his meaning quickly enough, but unable to listen to the noise behind without wincing. “Isn’t having Morgan defend his place physically rather demeaning to me?”
    Laem’sha laughed, then looked down at me with a knowing smile. “I have been to the spaceport and its city, Lady Sira. I know of other worlds—and other powers.”
    Why, the old faker. “You know I’m not a witch,” I said, pulling away to look at him searchingly. His large yellow-ringed eyes met mine without evasion. “Then why have you permitted Morgan and me to live in your village? Why haven’t you exposed us? And how did you know?” Pride as well as curiosity prompted my last question; I had done my research thoroughly, I’d thought, before assuming the role. The fight became rather less important.
    Laem’sha seemed quite entertained by my reaction, although he looked around carefully for eavesdroppers. “In part, because you paid your way, giving the village its fair share of Morgan’s hunt. Of course, you did not fool Horhy here at all.” The creature waggled its oversized head at the sound of its name.
    I was puzzled. “Why permit our imposture, if you knew?”
    “Magic, Lady Sira,” was the soft answer. “We must have magic in our lives. And yet the true practitioners, our witches, are—shall I say—hard to live with at best? You provided a resident magician without causing any harm.” I looked at Laem’sha with new respect. “And in return we gave you some peace, did we not?”
    It was a reflex to check my mental shields; his perception must come from a deep knowledge of people. “You are a good and wise being, Laem’sha,” I said, stopping to offer him my hands. A smash from the distance made me close my eyes briefly. “But don’t you think Premick is convinced by now?”
    What Laem’sha would have said I never learned. In that instant, as we stood isolated and partially hidden, there came the whine of a falling object before a dagger of light drove consciousness from my mind.

INTERLUDE
    “You cannot enter.”
    Others who knew Jason Morgan would have been warned by the icy flash of his blue eyes. But then it was likely Withren had faced down enough hunters during her reign as virtual monarch of her tribe to be unimpressed by either rage or calm argument when they went against her wish.
    Even so, Morgan was amazed to find himself still obeying the dictates of the village headwoman. He stared past Withren’s narrow shoulder at the closed and guarded door of the hut, fists clenched, straining every mental faculty to reach Sira’s mind, to assess her condition. Again, all he sensed was the peacefulness of deep sleep. But why hadn’t she awakened by now, and why were Withren and her people so determined to keep him away from her?
    He tried another tack. “Our ways are not yours, Withren. Lady Sira would want me to be with her, I assure you.”
    “You are male,” the headwoman pronounced as if this