Read Ties of Power (Trade Pact Universe) for Free Online

thought gathered into one. They were agreed.
    It was time to end the exile of Sira di Sarc.

Chapter 3
    “YOU want me to what?” From the look of him, Barac had slept better than I, but he was definitely not enjoying our breakfast conversation.
    Neither was Meragg, my household attendant who, along with her favorite life-partner Kupla, were the only employees of the Spacer’s Haven I allowed into my personal quarters. Meragg had stopped all pretense of serving fruit from the dish in her hands, eyes wide and swimming with black-flecked tears. I ignored her. “You need a place to stay,” I reminded Barac. “Kupla and Meragg will help you learn the details. The Haven essentially runs itself, anyway.”
    Barac so far forgot himself as to contact me mind-to-mind. I’ll be the laughing stock of the Clan. Barac the bartender. Barac the innkeeper. Barac—
    “Barac the warlock,” I added out loud, shutting my mind to his protest. “It’s done, Cousin. The Haven is yours, to do with as you wish. I would suggest that you keep the personal staff that I have chosen—they’re good people. Those working in the Haven itself range from reliable to predictable. Use your own judgment with them.”
    Barac shot a despairing look at Meragg, who had by this time buried her face in a towel and was wailing softly, the deep yellow of her skin flushing orange with distress. “This wasn’t quite what I had in mind, Sira, when I came here.”
    I’d taken the dish from the poor creature and was helping myself to some strips of green pya fruit. Its juice was deliciously sticky, and I licked my fingers, growing happier by the moment. The tiny gem was a still-unfamiliar and exotic weight on my brow. “Adapt, Barac,” I advised him cheerfully. “It will be an interesting challenge for you. And the place makes a tidy profit, after all.”
    Barac sighed dramatically, but I could see he was beginning to consider the possibilities. Meragg was peeking at him from over her towel—I could tell her agile mind was already at work judging the type of employer Barac would be. “Will you be back?” he asked, giving a shrug in surrender.
    “And where are you going?” This from the apartment doorway. As Morgan walked out on the balcony to join us, Meragg discreetly slipped past him to disappear into the galley—I could guess what cheery gossip she was readying for Kupla’s ears concerning the two now sharing my breakfast table. Poculans tended to multiple spouses.
    Barac’s smile of greeting was warm, as if he sensed an ally. “Morgan.” He stood and held out a hand that Morgan was quick to take in a firm grasp. A Human custom—the Clan did not engage in idle physical contact. Barac would make a good host for the Haven.
    Yes. I was making the right decision, and my newly gained peace of mind gave me the composure to greet Morgan calmly. His clear blue eyes flicked to the gem on my forehead, then came to rest steady and warm on my face. “Have you breakfasted, Jason?” I asked quickly, forestalling any conversation about that.
    “I’ll join you,” Morgan accepted, dropping into a seat. He was carrying his sketch pad and slid it my way as he said cheerfully, “Nothing like civilized food. What’s new on Camos, Barac?”
    I eyed Morgan warily, pouring myself another drink and passing him the container. As I flipped open the sketch pad, I found it impossible to concentrate on Morgan’s latest work, despite the lovely lines of the orchidlike flower he’d caught against the ragged surface of a cliff and the painstaking detail of a fern wet with dew. There was something odd in Morgan’s bearing, a sliver of steel beneath the friendly voice. I knew him too well. Morgan had had time to clean the jungle from his body and change to new clothes. I decided he had also had time to develop some suspicion concerning Barac.
    Barac didn’t notice anything untoward with the question. He began to talk about neutral things: changes in Human politics