Killashandra Part 15

look in Killashandra's direction, Tanny shot one horrified glance at Lars as the latter smoothly invented a note that she had been removed from the island by a pa.s.sing vessel. He even flourished a piece of paper from his pocket as he commented that he was glad she was safe.

"That tears it," Erutown said gloomily. "We'll all be in trouble."

"I doubt it. A very good friend of ours skippered that s.h.i.+p," Lars replied without a blink "She can't go anywhere without my knowledge." Tanny made a strangled sound and Killashandra grinned, choking on her laughter.

"There's nothing you could safely do without jeopardizing yourself at this point, Erutown. It isn't as if you'll be out of touch," and Lars handed the man a small but powerful handset. "The frequency to use for any contact is 103.4 megahertz. All right? You can listen in on any of the other channels but communicate only on the 103.4."

Erutown agreed with ill grace, hefting the set doubtfully. With a sideways grin at Killashandra, Lars handed over hatchet, knife, and polly book.

"There now, you're completely equipped," Killashandra said cheerfully. "You'll find that a polly island is quite restful." She glanced maliciously at Tanny and Lars. "Everything you require -- polly for food, fish in the lagoon for sport and a change of diet, and a fine reef to prevent the omnivorous from dining on you. You're far better off than I was on my polly island, I a.s.sure you." Tanny squirmed, noticeably discomfited.

"Oh, we'll do fine, Carrigana." Theach grinned as he began to unpack the solar reflectors.

Lars chuckled, linking his arm in hers, and swinging her down the slope to the beach.

"C'mon, Tanny, I want to be at the Bar Island before sundown."

What with the routine necessary to up anchor and maneuver the Pearl through the one gap in the reef, there wasn't time for discussions until they were once again under full sail and beating due north for the Bar Island.

"Tanny, I think you'd better go below," Lars began, signaling Killashandra to join him in the c.o.c.kpit. "What you don't know won't hurt you -- "

"Who says?" Tanny growled.

"Fix us some grub, will you? All this excitement gave me an appet.i.te. So," and once Tanny had slammed the hatch closed, Lars turned expectantly to Killashandra, "could I have some explanations?"

"I rather think a few are due me!"

Lars c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, grinning sardonically at her. "Not when you must have figured out many of the answers already if you're half as smart as I think you are." Lars slid a finger across the scar on her arm, then he reached for her hand and held it up before her face, his thumb rubbing against the crystal scars. " 'I came from the City.' Indeed!"

"Well, I did . . ." she said, deceptively meekly.

"Your best line, you witch, was the one about your having had no choice about coming to the islands!" Lars could not contain his mirth then and tilting his head back, roared with laughter.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you, Lars Dahl. You're in an unenviable position in my files. " She tried to sound severe but couldn't.

His eyes were still br.i.m.m.i.n.g with humor when he abruptly switched mood. He touched the garland. "Yes, I am rather. And on Angel Island. For one thing, according to island tradition, this announces us handfasted for a year and a day."

"I had guessed that the garlands signified more than your loving wish to adorn my person." The words came out more facetiously than she meant for she ached with a genuine regret. Lars's steady blue eyes caught her gaze and held it. He waited for her explanation.

"With all the will in the world to continue what we started, I don't have a year and a day here, Lars Dahl." The words left her mouth slowly, unwillingly. "As a crystal singer, I am compelled to return to Ballybran. Had I understood yesterday morning precisely what these blooms meant, I would not have accepted them. Thus does ignorance wound the giver.

I am . . . tremendously attracted to you as a man, Lars Dahl. And in the light of what I have been told, heard, and overheard," she gave him a faint smile, "I can even forgive you that idiotic abduction. In fact, it would have been far more humiliating for me to have been caught in a raid on a bootleg brewery. What you cannot know is that I wasn't sent to Optheria merely to repair that organ -- I am here as an impartial witness, to learn if restriction to this planet is popularly accepted."

"Popularly accepted?" Lars lifted half out of the c.o.c.kpit seat in reaction. "What a way to phrase it! It is the most singularly unpopular, repressive, frustrating, discouraging facet of the Optherian Charter. Do you know what our suicide rate is? Well, I can give you hard statistics on that. We made a study of the incidents and have copies of what notes have been left by the deceased. Nine out of ten cite the hopelessness and despair at having no place to go, nothing to do. If you're lucky enough to be unemployed on Optheria, oh, you're given food, shelter, clothing, and a.s.signed stimulating community service to occupy you. Community service! -- Tr.i.m.m.i.n.g thorn hedges, tidying up hillsides, dusting boulders in the roadways, painting and repainting federal buildings, stuffing the faces and wiping the bottoms of the incontinent at both ends of life. Truly rewarding and fulfilling occupations for the intelligent and well educated failures that this planet throws upon the altar of the organ!"

He had been emphasizing his disgust with blows of his fist to the tiller, until Killashandra covered his hand with hers.

"Which one of our messages got through? It's been like tossing a bottle message into the Broad Sea with precious little hope of its ever floating to the Mainland."

"The complaint originated with the Executive Council of the Federated Artists' a.s.sociation, who claim a freedom of choice restriction.

A Stellar made the charge, though I wasn't told which one. His princ.i.p.al concern was with the suppression of composers and performers." She gave him a wry grin.

Lars raised his eyebrows in surprise. "It wasn't me who sent that one." Then he seemed to lake heart, his expression lightening with renewed hope. "If one appeal got through, maybe others have, and we'll have a whole school of people helping us -- And you'll help us?"

"Lars, I'm required to be an impartial -- "

"I wouldn't dream of prejudicing you . . ." His twinkling eyes challenged her as he threw his free arm about her shoulders, nibbling at her ear.

"Lars, you're crus.h.i.+ng me. You're supposed to be sailing this s.h.i.+p . . . I've got to think how to go on from here. To be candid, I really don't have much more than your word that there is a widespread dissatisfaction, and not just a few isolated instances or personal grudges."

"Do you know how long we've been trying to reach the Federated Council?" Now Lars gestured wildly in his agitation. "Do you know what it will mean to the others when I tell them one message has got through, and someone is actually investigating?"

"There's another matter that we have to discuss, Lars. Is it advisable to tell them, or would it be wiser for me to continue covertly?"

His jubilation subsided as he considered her question. "I suppose the suicide file would be acceptable as valid evidence. Has the restriction matter ever been put to the vote here?"

"A vote on Optheria?" He laughed sourly. "You haven't read that abominable Charter, have you?"

"I scanned it. A boring doc.u.ment. all those highflown phrases turned my pragmatic stomach." Before Killashandra's eyes rose the vision of tortured architecture coping with "natural formations" so as not to rape"

the Natural World. "So there is no referendum mechanism in the Charter?"

"None. The Elders run this planet and, when one of them keels over and can no longer be resuscitated, a replacement is appointed -- by the remaining undefunct Elders."

"No rising from the ranks on merit here?"

"Only in the Conservatory, and for especially meritorious composition and exceptional performance ability. Then one might possibly, on rare occasions, aspire to reach the exalted rank of a Master. Once in a century, a Master might possibly gain an appointment to the Council of Elders.

"Is that what you were after?"

Lars gave her a wry grin. "I tried! I was even willing to a.s.sault you to gain favor and show them what a good, useful, boy I was."

He snorted at his gullibility.

"Granted, I haven't heard an approved composition, much less yours, played on the sensory organ," Killashandra began in casual accents, "but I was tremendously impressed by your performance the other evening. The musical one."

"The time, the place, the ambiance . . ."

"Not so fast, Lars Dahl. I was a trained musician before I became a crystal singer. I can be a critical auditor . . . and when I heard your music, I didn't know you as well as I do now, so that is an unbiased a.s.sessment. If by any chance the Stellar who lodged the complaint with the Artists' a.s.sociation had had you in mind, I second his concern."

Lars regarded her with a genuine surprise. "You would? What music training did you have?"

"I studied for ten years at the Fuerte Music Center. Voice."

Lars nearly lost grip on the tiller and before he had altered the course, the Pearl yawed in the rough seas, throwing Killashandra against him "You were the soprano that night?"

"Yes." She grinned. "I recognized your tenor at the barbecue. Where did you learn Baleef's Voyagers? And the Pearl Fishers duet? Certainly not in the Conservatory.

"My father. He'd brought some of his microlibrary with him when he came to Optheria."

"Your father is naturalized?"

"Oh, yes. Like yourself, he didn't come to the islands by choice.

If we mention your true ident.i.ty to no one else -- and what is your true name? Or don't crystal singers give them?"

"You mean to say you don't know the name of the woman you a.s.saulted and then abducted?" Killashandra pretended outrage.

Lars shook his head, grinning at her with an almost boyish mischief.

"Killashandra Ree."

He repeated the syllables slowly, then smiled. "I like that much better than Carrigana. That was a rather harsh name to say endearingly. The ells and the sh are sweeter."

"Possibly the only sweet thing about me, I warn you, Lars."

He pointedly ignored that remark. "My father must know who you are, Killashandra. It will give him new heart for I'll tell you frankly, he was far more discouraged about those arrested in the Elders' search than he let on to the others. Nor" -- he paused, only then aware of the water slos.h.i.+ng in the c.o.c.kpit about their toes -- "nor do I like deceiving Nahia. She doesn't deserve it."

"No, she doesn't. Though I have the feeling she already has a good idea that I'm not the island maid I've been portraying."

"Oh? Was she at that reception in the Conservatory?"

"No, but she sensed the crystal resonance." Killashandra stroked her arm explanatorily. Lars caressed her then.

"You mean, that's what I've been feeling whenever we touch?"

Killashandra gave him a rea.s.suring smile. "Not entirely, lover.

Some of it is a perfectly spontaneous combustion."

Lars guffawed at that, embracing her once again.

"Shouldn't I bail or something?" she asked as the chill sea water splashed over her toes. His arm restrained her.

"Not just yet." He frowned, glancing off to port, not really seeing the sprouts of islets as he corrected their course a few points easterly.

"However, if we tell my father and Nahia who you are -- "

"Hauness, too?"

"What Nahia knows, Hauness does, and safe enough in both their hands. But then what? Hard copy on the suicide files is rapidly available.

But I should insist that you meet with other groups to prove unquestionably that the arbitrary restriction to Optheria is not popularly acceptable."

"I'm glad you agree to that."

"In doing that, you will also need to avoid the Elders. It wouldn't do for them to discover you blithely treading the cobbles at Ironwood or the terraces of Maitland."

"You never told them you'd kidnapped me, so why couldn't I visit other communities?"

"Because you've now been missing for five weeks. How would you explain such an absence, much less why you haven't repaired their precious Festival organ?"

"I'd've done that if that wretched security officer hadn't been in his flatulent dotage! My absence is easy to explain. I just don't explain it." She shrugged diffidently.

Lars sn.i.g.g.e.red. "You don't know how much our Elders dislike mysteries -- "

"You have seen me playing a humble island maid, Lars. Try seeing me as a highly indignant and aristocratic member of the Hept.i.te Guild." As she spoke, her voice became strange, disdainful, and Killashandra pulled herself arrogantly erect. Lars started to remove his arm from her shoulders in reaction to the transformation. "I'm more than a match for Ampris or Torkes. And they need my services far too much to annoy me again."

"I'm obliged to mention that they've sent for a replacement -- "

"I know that."

"How could you?"

Killashandra grinned at him. "Crystal singers have preternaturally acute hearing. You and your little band of conspirators were only across the room from me. I heard every word."

Lars momentarily let the tiller slip but Killashandra grabbed it and steadied the helm.

"A second crystal singer might be all to the good, depending on who they send. But we've time to spare -- it'll take nearly ten weeks to get another singer here. I happen to need the contract money so I'll repair their d.a.m.ned organ. Maybe this time, I'll get the kind of help I need." A thought suddenly struck Killashandra. "By all that's holy, I'll get you!"

She prodded Lars's chest with her forefinger.

Lars snorted with derision. "I'm the last person welcome in the Conservatory!"

"Ah, but you will be welcome -- as the man who rescued this poor abandoned crystal singer from durancevile!"

"What?"

"Well, that would answer why I've been absent. But, of course, I never set eyes on my abductor so I can't say who it might be." Killashandra fluttered her eyelashes in mock horror. "There I was, taking a stroll to compose myself after that horrible confrontation with an officious oaf and wham! bung! I'm coshed on the head and wake up, all alone, on a desert island, heavens know where!" Killashandra got into the part with a faked swoon. "I'm less of a ham with a properly respectful audience, I might add.

But there I am. Lost! Who knows who the dastards are -- using a plural will suggest a whole group of conspirators, you see -- And then you . . ."

Killashandra laid a delicate hand on Lars's arm. His eyes were bright with mirth and he had his lips pressed together against distracting laughter.

"You -- loyal despite your terrible disappointment" -- and Killashandra put her hand to her breast and breathed hard " -- rescued me and insisted on returning me to the safety of the City, to install the crystal manual so that the priceless organ will be ready for the Summer Festival. Thus currying favor with the powers that be -- which, in view of your subversive activities, is a very good idea -- and saving them the cost of another expensive crystal singer. We are very expensive to hire, you see. And I have the impression that the Elders are credit-crunchers."

Lars began to chuckle, rubbing his chin as if he was visualizing those moments of triumph.

"If you can be trusted not to overact" -- he ducked as she shook her fist at him -- "you know, it might work."

"Of course it will work! I was able to gauge audience reactions to a pico. And more than just give you a well-deserved return for their meanness and chicanery to you, I'll pretend that I'm so very nervous about a repet.i.tion of a.s.sault and battery that I'll need you by my side all the time."

"I think," Lars began, slowly, thoughtfully, "Father and the others will like this plan."

"Oh?"