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Majel woke at his usual hour, broke his fast with bread and jam, and carried his second cup of tea with him to his desk.

Sipping, he went over the Tree-and-Dragon info-packet again, then Portmaster krogerSlyte’s notes, paying special attention to the Talents held by the team members.

Master Trader yos’Galan was a Healer; Captain Mendoza a multi-Talent; Dyoli ven’Deelin was also a Healer, and Mar Tyn pai’Fortana, a Serendipitist. Security personnel—Grad Elbin, Karna Tivit, Tima Fagen—were Deaf. Trader yos’Galan was—“Very bright,” krogerSlyte had said. “Too bright for me to read.”

Which meant nothing, really. As Majel understood the case, the portmaster was a very modest Truthseer, and not anything like a Sorter.

Majel carried his cup over to the window, and looked down at the morning sky reflected in the river below.

It was interesting—even disturbing—that no mention was made of the team’s various Talents in their info-packet. There was a bio for each member, but that confined itself to experience at trade, fields of specialty, professional affiliations, and the like.

The résumés and info-packets Majel most usually handled listed Talent directly after the name, excepting those like him, who had no Talent to list. One immediately understood that résumés listing no Talent were those of Deaf applicants.

Had the members of the trade team expected to pass as Deaf? He frowned down at the blameless river.

It made no sense. The reason for subterfuge was to gain an advantage. There was no advantage in being Deaf. And how could they have hoped to carry off such a deception, when nearly everyone they met would be able to read them, if only a very little, and know them for Talents?

Perhaps, in the wide universe, it was not done to . . . boast of one’s Talents? Perhaps it was seen as a challenge? Surely, a master trader had better things to do with his time than to have his Talent evaluated at every port.

Majel sighed, and drank off what was left of his tea.

Truly, the wide universe must be very strange. He would have to mention the point of etiquette at luncheon today. The trade team surely would not wish to falsely convey to the whole of Colemeno that they were Deaf.

The comm buzzed. He went to the desk and tapped the button.

“ziaGorn.”

“I’d hoped you would be awake,” Seylin said, sounding not so weary as he felt, though he was willing to wager that she had yet to seek her bed. “We have something that you might want to look at.”

“Where?” Majel asked.

“The Yellow Room,” said Seylin, and Majel sighed. Of course.

“I’ll be right down,” he said.


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