Ties of Power (Trade Pact Universe)

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Seven in accord; seven voting for the Trade Pact. They would not attack Jarad directly, but with this Vote they had turned their backs on his politics and schemes. But seven was not enough; there was one vote, now the deciding vote, left. I could see resignation in the faces of the Humans and Sta’gli, in the drooping antennae of the Drapsk, and in the limp feathers of the Tolian.

  Every Human but Morgan. He stood, legs apart and hands ready, as though preparing for battle. There was a look of grim anticipation on his face.

  “Then,” said Jarad di Sarc, “the answer is no, since I vote against acceptance. We don’t need these aliens.”

  “Ah, but, Father,” I breathed, stepping closer to him, feeling my power surging as it demanded an outlet. “You have no vote.”

  “What? Has your link to the mind of this—this Human cost you the last of your wits?”

  I pulled myself to my full height, feeling my hair starting to lift of its own volition, as if there was too much power within me to contain any longer. I questioned neither its source nor any price I’d pay later. Now was all that mattered. “As First Chosen and most powerful of our House, I claim the Council seat of di Sarc. Step aside, Jarad di Sarc. Your time is over.”

  Time. It narrowed itself down to this moment, forgot all that was before or might be after, focused on the breath coming from his nostrils and mine. I had Challenged him. He could flee—and I would permit it.

  But not before he lost. There were too many here, starting with those from Acranam, who believed in his pattern of thought, his lust for power over all. They would understand this contest, this moment, better than all the reasoned arguments and cold logic I could give them.

  Jarad smiled, knowing this and more, and struck.

  He might have thought this first blow would end it, for, as I expected, he sent his power raging, not against me, but against my Chosen.

  There were no rules in these struggles for supremacy among us, so none would cry foul if Jarad ended my threat to him by eliminating Morgan. My mind would dissolve into the M’hir, pulled there by our Joining, my body a mindless hulk.

  A good plan? What a pity Jarad had not assessed his enemy.

  Morgan’s shields, trained and tested, were holding; I could feel their strength as well as Jarad’s sudden and horrified comprehension. Yes, Father, I sent. We are truly Joined. His power— his Human power—is a match for mine within the M’hir. All of your lies have been found out.

  “No!” the Clansman said out loud, as though he had no power to spare to return my sending. His fists raised, clenched above his head. “It cannot be! A Human resists me? Why have the Watchers allowed this? He pollutes the M’hir! No!”

  “Yes and yes again!” I countered, standing close enough to Jarad that my hair lashed at his face, staring up into the madness growing in his eyes. “You have denied it—well, here is your proof, Father. Morgan is my Chosen because he deserves that place by all the measures of the Clan. End this now!”

  “Never!” Jarad’s power left its assault on Morgan with a suddenness that sent the Human staggering. Terk supported him before he could fall, I noted even as my own shields took the new attack and I prepared to attack in return.

  My strength wasn’t what it should have been—there was a price demanded by my body for all I’d been through over the last weeks. Jarad was at his prime. My goal wasn’t as clear—I needed his defeat, but couldn’t afford a killing blow, knowing this would cost Mirim, my mother and Jarad’s Chosen, her life, too. Jarad wanted the death of Morgan even more than my own.

  But my purpose was too important for such minor details. I gained strength from it, sure to the core of my being that it was the survival of the Clan that was at stake. And, thanks to Morgan and the Drapsk, I did know where my duty lay.

  Jarad never stood a chance. I began ripping apart his protections, layer by layer, methodically making my way to the level of thought where the control of his motor functions resided. Once I held those in my grip, he would have to admit defeat.

  Then it was my breath stopping, my body abruptly losing control.

  I had time to realize that Jarad had wrapped his hands around my throat and was choking me to death, before that hold was broken. Morgan tore him away from me, throwing the Clansman to the ground with an oath.

  Jarad, his fine robes spread over the carpeting like a stain, crouched like some cornered beast, nothing left in those features but rage.

  Then he was gone.

  Unashamed to need it, I leaned on Morgan’s arm, then looked at the stunned Councillors. “I vote,” my voice was oddly husky and I coughed to clear it. “I vote to accept.”

  Degal made the gesture of appeasement, with the undertone of acknowledging superior power. “First Chosen. Yours is the greater power,” he said, as if unsure I’d leave any of them standing. “You must speak the verdict.”

  Politics by fear; rule by power. I looked over at Tle’s unformed face and thought—one thing at a time.

  I gestured my agreement. “The Council is unanimous,” I said, looking at all of them and finding it hard to focus on any one face. “The Clan will join the Trade Pact. Our isolation ends here and now.”

  It might have been coincidence that my hair chose that moment to slide up Morgan’s shoulder and tickle his ear.

  INTERLUDE

  Is she crazy?

  “That is hardly the way to talk about the First Chosen of my House and the Speaker for Council,” Rael answered Barac aloud, trying to sound offended, but the touch of her power against his in the M’hir glowed with joy. “If she is,” Rael went on, “I suspect it will become contagious.” She stretched lazily on the couch. They were staying in Ica’s resort, the Clanswoman having decided to visit more distant relations. The Clan was still unsure how to deal with the respected and powerful First Chosen of Teerac. If it weren’t for the new obligations to the Human telepaths under the Trade Pact, Ica’s and Ru’s crimes would have been forgotten, their ideas just another in the frenzy appearing throughout the M’hiray daily now as everyone discussed their future. Sira had made sure even the children knew what might lie ahead.

  As Rael had said, they were all a little crazy at the moment.

  “What will you do now?” Barac asked her, shoving another shirt into his carrysack. “Return home to Deneb?”

  Her touch in the M’hir warmed even more. “I was actually going to ask where you were planning to go, Cousin. Back to your bar, perhaps?”

  Barac gave a refined shudder. “I’ve had more than sufficient exposure to that lifestyle.” He paused, not meeting her eyes. “I don’t know. Kurr’s murder gave me a purpose, Rael. Without it, I’m not sure what I’ll do next.”

  Rael admired the suppleness of her ankle. “You could apply to Council for another Testing. With Sira there, you can be sure of some serious effort toward a good match.”

  His mouth twitched with irony. “The second Council vote was to suspend any Testing of Candidates until our new allies in the Trade Pact can help investigate the Power-of-Choice. It may be months before any Choosers are permitted to Join. They can wait, you know. Time only passes for the unChosen.”

  Rael smiled mysteriously. “We’ll see. But in the meantime, if you don’t have any plans, Barac, why don’t you come with me?”

  “To Deneb? No thanks. It’s a bit rich for my taste—”

  Her smile broadened, reaching her dark eyes and sending them sparkling with mirth. “Oh, I have a new spot in mind, Cousin.

  “How would you like to become a Mystic One?”

  Chapter 61

  “I CAN’T wait, Brother! The orders are piling up. There’s—Good morning, Sira,” Huido broke off what amounted to a tirade at Morgan as I walked into the main hall. His eyestalks were whirling.

  Morgan smiled a greeting, looking rested and content—something I attributed as much to his checking over the Fox after her flight with Terk at the helm as to a good night’s rest. Through the M’hir, I felt a wash of caring that brought war
mth to my cheeks. “Huido is being crushed by his own success,” he informed me.

  I raised an eyebrow at the Carasian. He was pacing, an activity which not only generated a significant level of clattering and rumbling, but also threatened the furniture. The Cloisters hadn’t been designed or furnished with his massive restlessness in mind. As well, I thought to myself, drive a groundcar in circles around the vases.

  “The truffles,” I said, understanding at once. “Poculan truffles.”

  “What else!” Huido’s claws threatened a chandelier I was fond of and I winced. He noticed and calmed himself, but only slightly. “There have been orders from throughout the quadrant. Who knows how, but the word of my new recipe spread translight. The com system at the Claws & Jaws has been overloaded for two days!”

  How Morgan kept his face straight I didn’t know. Then, when he spoke, I found out: “Which means, my lovely witch, the Fox and I have to make a run to Pocular and do some digging, or my brother here could be out of business.” There was an undercurrent of regret to the M’hir, a fervent promise to return along with a not-completely controlled and quite flattering frustration.

  I settled into a chair, straightening the formal robe Enora had helped me put on this morning. There would be another Council meeting today. “We are Joined, Jason,” I reassured him. “There is no real distance between us, no matter where you have to go.”

  A flicker of something, quickly suppressed. We might be forever linked in our thoughts, but Morgan had kept much of his inscrutability. As it should be, I thought, making sure I kept some of my own.

  He sketched a bow. “Then we’ll be off. Huido—” this with a definite glare of irritation, “has already scheduled a docking tug. And Huido is planning to go ahead to pay the fees—?” this hint bringing the Carasian to attention. He waved a claw at me.

  “I’ll make sure we send the first batch to your table, Sira.”

  With a satisfied snap, Huido left.

  We were alone.

  I looked at Morgan. “You’d better hurry. He might leave without you.”

  The Human hesitated, off-balance as if he’d been about to reach for me, then thought better of it. I kept myself perfectly still. “Of course,” he said instead. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  I nodded. “I await your return.”

  “Huido! Huido! Where is he?” The muttering was coming close and I clamped down my barriers as tightly as possible. “Damn his shell, anyway. Huido! I need that spanner—”

  Morgan stormed into the cargo bay, his cheeks spotted with red and his blue eyes stormy. There were lines between his brows and from the edges of his mouth to his chin.

  “This spanner?” I said, coming out from behind the plas crate I’d been securing against one wall. No point taking the Fox out empty.

  The way his face changed made me tremble, but I held my voice and thoughts light. “There’s a lot to do, Captain, to make that schedule. Do you need the spanner or not?”

  He took a step toward me. “The Clan needs its First Chosen,” Morgan reminded me, blue eyes starting to glow.

  “They know how to find me.”

  Another step. “The Drapsk need their Mystic One.”

  “I’ve arranged a suitable replacement.”

  A final step, bringing Morgan so close I could feel the beating of his heart, twin to my own. His eyes were deep pools

  I would drown in forever.

  “The Trade Pact—”

  “Has functioned quite well without me so far and will continue to do so.” I watched my hair slide up to brush his now-pale cheeks and whisper across his smiling lips.

  “You know full well, Captain—” I said softly, my arms and power wrapping around to hold him tightly: the farthest I ever hoped to be from my Chosen. . . .

  “The Fox needs her crew.”