Ties of Power (Trade Pact Universe) Read Online Free PDF Page A

shouted: “I have made my Choice!”
    A different voice, still faceless in the dark, soft and sad. “There is no Choice for you. There never was. There never will be. You are the most powerful Chooser to ever live. How could there be a candidate for you? Would you kill him? Kill him? Kill him?”
    Did I begin to spin, or were the echoes making me dizzy? “I won’t kill him. I won’t—”
    A new voice, with the crackle and snap of a campfire behind it. “It is the most unnatural self-control—what will you do when it breaks and he dies at your touch? What will you do when you’ve murdered him?”
    Somehow I closed my eyes, seeking an inner, more tangible darkness, a point of reference to lead me out of the old, familiar nightmare. I felt my body under the sheets and knew I was awake.
    More sleep would elude me. I accepted this as normal; my eyes snapped open to stare at the city-dimmed stars that showed through the ceiling ports. This was my weak time, when the tasks I had set myself seemed both futile and hopeless, my life as muted as those distant stars. It was part of what I had become since restoring my memory—this self-doubt that I acknowledged only in the dark and alone. Life had been clear to Sira di Sarc, who had plotted to risk the life of a Human to save her kind. It had been clear to Sira Morgan, the person I’d become when my memories and powers had been stripped away, leaving someone who learned to love.
    Now? Now I was something lodged between those two, like a piece of meat stuck between teeth. And my life and loves were anything but clear to me.
    Impatiently, I reached for the lights, only to have them come on before my hand touched the control. I blinked at the figure revealed half-curled in a lounge under a circle of brightness.
    It’s good to see you, my thought sped out, unchecked and honest.
    Morgan stretched, a lazy, familiar movement, almost feline. His coveralls were jungle-stained and his blue eyes smudged with weariness. “You called me,” he said aloud. “You knew I would come.” And unspoken, without reproach: I would have come before.
    “You are still at risk,” I countered, aloud, and stood. Part of me felt the effect of my nakedness on Morgan, shared it as heat on my skin; part of me was fiercely glad of the strength in him when he brought this under control, too, even as I shivered in the abrupt shared chill. It gave me hope.
    I slipped my arms into a robe and led the way into the galley. I didn’t ask how long Morgan had been there, or what he thought of my sleeplessness. How he’d arrived unnoticed in my bedroom was simplest of all—the protections around this building were his.
    We were partners once more; a transformation as easy in the end as shared sombay and toast. Our conversation was of small, immediate things. Although there was no good reason to delay telling Morgan that Barac was here—in the next room, in fact—I was loath to do so. It was the newer part of me which had grown sensitive and which I was continually torn between exorcising and sheltering. Once I recognized the weakness, I put my cup down firmly to announce, “Barac came to the Haven last night.”
    There was, of course, no reaction to be read on Morgan’s regular features, a lack perhaps more meaningful than any surprise. His eyes glowed slightly. “How is he?”
    I looked at him sharply, suspecting humor. “Aren’t you more interested in why he’s here, Jason? This is no casual reunion as your kind are prone to do. It is not the Clan way.”
    A definite chuckle. Morgan leaned back comfortably, contemplating his callused, broken-nailed hands. I noticed his body looked well-used: hardened, made leaner and more graceful by his time in the jungle. I knew his mind would show the same toughening. “Point taken, Clanswoman,” he said after a moment. “But if you knew why Barac had come, you wouldn’t have called me. So perhaps my question is important after all.”
    The Human continually