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

spilled its contents nonchalantly on the mat between us. I picked up one of a dozen large, green-streaked teeth. “Most impressive,” I said honestly, quite willing to believe that considerable effort and skill had been required to remove the objects from their original owners.
    Encouraged by this admiration, Premick drew his knife and held the carved handle out to me. “I can provide for you, Lady Witch,” he said earnestly.
    “And for your own flesh as well?” the question from the doorway was sharp, and in almost accent-free Comspeak. I kept my face smiling, although there was an unusually strong feeling of menace about the two figures shadowing the net of the door cloth.
    “Enter if you have business with me, lurkers at doors,” I suggested coolly. Premick had stood, knife still drawn. I wasn’t sure if it was for my defense or his own.
    The two hesitated only briefly before pushing through the door cloth to stand just inside its shelter. One was Withren, the village’s headwoman, her collection of memory bones making a heavy, tinkling rattle as they swung around her legs. I dismissed her immediately as the source of the menace I felt—her concern was more for my reaction to being disturbed.
    No, it was the other one. The rudimentary mental abilities I sensed in Premick and others of his kind were keener, more controlled in this old male, though scarcely a match for a child of the Clan. The sense of menace was his, based in a considerable anger directed solely at Premick.
    “I am within custom, Laem’sha,” that worthy was now protesting, looking very distraught as he felt the other’s fury.
    Laem’sha. I nodded respectfully, having heard of the village wise man from Morgan. “Welcome under my roof,” I said politely, but firmly. “What is your business with me, Laem’sha, Withren?”
    With that naming of names, the wise man seemed to recollect himself, damping the emanations of his own emotions with acceptable skill. “Greetings, Lady Witch,” he said smoothly. “Forgive our intrusion, but we need to speak to this hunter—”
    “Before I can accept him as my provider?” I finished for Laem’sha when he paused. “That seems more my affair than yours.” It could be an error on my part to give in too easily; theirs was a society painfully conscious of status. On the other hand, I had no wish to become embroiled in local politics. I frowned slightly. “What is your concern here?”
    Surprisingly, it was Withren who answered, her voice calm and placating, her Comspeak heavily accented but, again, better than my smattering of Poculan. “Our village has given four hunters to the service of your sisterhood, good Lady. It is a high ambition, and one which brings honor to us all.” A delicate pause. “We wish only to remind Premick of his—obligations—elsewhere.” The scowl on Laem’sha’s face indicated he would have stated the village’s preference in more forceful terms.
    I could hardly fail to understand their predicament. Poor, sister-ridden Premick (who now sat looking quite deflated and stripped of his bravado) was in truth a dreamer to think the village would allow him to traipse off in my wake. And, although custom was on their side, who were the Ram’ad Witches to take the cream of the hunters from their families, leaving the burden of support on those less able? I was no such parasite, even though I posed as one.
    I thought furiously for a moment, then reached out to touch the hilt of Premick’s knife with my right hand—touched, but didn’t take the blade to hold in completion of the ritual I’d seen through Morgan’s eyes. “I am honored by your offer, noble Premick,” I said solemnly. “But I am not free to accept your service.”
    The elders were obviously pleased, though they carefully avoided expressing that emotion in front of Premick. It was likely Premick wouldn’t have noticed. His pupils dilated in shock. I sighed. “Jason Morgan stands at my door, Hunter