For this very jest, amongst all the rest,

moon, preternaturally large and rather more than half full, heaved itself above the distant horizon and flooded the ice-cap with its pale and ghostly light, laying down between itself and our feet a bar-straight path of glittering silver grey. We watched in silence for a full minute, then Jackstraw stirred. Even before he spoke, I knew what was in his mind. "Uplavnik," he murmured. "Tomorrow, we set off for Uplav-nik. But first, you said, a good night's sleep." "I know," I said. "A traveller's moon." "A traveller's moon," he echoed. He was right, of course. Travel in the Arctic, in winter, was regulated not by daylight but my moonlight. And tonight we had that moonand we had a clear sky, a dying wind and no snow at all. I turned to Joss. "You'll be all right alone?" "I have no worries," he said soberly. "Look, sir, can't I come too?" "Stay here and stay healthy," I advised. "Thanks, Joss, but you know someone must remain behind. I'll call you up on the usual schedules. You might get a kick out of the RCA yet. Miracles still happen." "Not this time, they won't." He turned away abruptly and went below. Jackstraw moved across to the tractorwe didn't say another word to each other, we didn't have toand I followed Joss down to the cabin. No one had moved an inch, as far as I could see, but they all looked up as I came in. "All right," I said abruptly. "Get your stuff together and pile on every last stitch of clothes you can. We're leaving now." We left, in fact, just over an hour later. The Citroen had been lying unused for the better pan of a fortnight, and we had the devil's own job getting it to start. But start it eventually did, with a roar and a thunderous clatter that had everybody jumping in startlement then looking at it in dismay. I knew the thoughts in their minds, that they'd have to live with this cacophony, this bedlam of sound assaulting their shrinking eardrums for no one knew how many days to come, but I wasted little sympathy on them: at least they would have the protection of the wooden body while I would be sitting practically on top of the engine. We said our goodbyes to Joss. He shook hands with Jackstraw and myself, with Margaret Ross and Marie LeGarde, and, pointedly, with no one else. We left him standing there by the hatchway, a lonely figure outlined against the pale light of the infomation on cannon a300 digital camera steadily climbing moon, and headed west by south for Uplavnik, three hundred long and frozen miles away. I wondered, as I knew Joss was wondering, whether we would ever see each other again. I wondered, too, what right I had in exposing Jackstraw to the dangers which must lie ahead. He was sitting beside me as I drove, but as I looked at him covertly in the moonlight, at that strong lean face that, but for the rather broad cheekbones, might have been that of any Scandinavian sea-rover, I knew I was wasting my time wondering. Although nominally under my command, he had only been lent me, as other Greenlanders had been lent as an act of courtesy by the Danish Government to several IGY stations, as a scientific officerhe had a geology degree from the University of Copenhagen and had forgotten more about the ice-cap than I would ever knowand in times of emergency, especially where his own pride, and he had plenty of that, was concerned would be extremely liable to do what he thought best, regardless of what I thought or said. I knew he wouldn't have remained behind even if I had ordered him to- and, if I were honest with myself, I was only too damned glad to have him along, as a friend, as an ally, and as insurance policy against the disaster that can so easily overtake the careless or the inexperienced on the ice-cap. But even so, even though I quieted my conscience as best I could, it was difficult to push from my mind the picture of his dark vivacious young schoolteacher wife and little daughter, the red and white brick house in which I'd lived for two weeks as a guest in the summer. What Jackstraw thought was impossible to say. He sat immobile as if carved from stone, only his eyes alive, constantly moving, constantly shifting, as he probed for sudden dips in the ice-cap, for differences in the structure of the snow, for anything that might spell trouble. It was purely automatic, purely instinctive: the crevasse country lay, as yet, two hundred and fifty miles away, where the ice-cap started to slope sharply to the sea, and Jackstraw himself maintained that Balto, his big lead dog, had a surer instinct for crevasses than any human alive. The temperature was dropping down into the minus thirties, but it was a perfect night for arctic travela moonlit, windless night under a still and starry sky. Visibility was phenomenal, the ice-cap was smooth and flat, the engine ran sweetly with never a falter: had it not been for the

Though the night was made for loving,

his neck was strong and the pulse beat in his throat. She wanted to put her finger tip on it and almost did before retracting her hand. He was more truly hers when asleep, untouched by stress, relaxed, his rib cage barely moving. She loved the line of his chest, the smooth skin clothing smooth pectoral muscle, and once again she had to repress the wish to run her hand down the shape of him, to feel the fine crisp hair on his chest. He was not hirsute and she found that much to her preference as well, his legs and arms having only a fine dusting of blond hairs. She had seen handsomer men but the composition of his face pleased her better. Lanzecki now that was the first time shed thought of him in days actually was the more distinguished in looks, heavier in build. She decided she preferred the way Lars Dahl was put together. She sighed. It was easier to be philosophical about Lanzecki. Would she have been as easily resigned to that loss if she hadnt met Lars Dahl? She had broken off with Lanzecki for his own good, but she hadnt lost him, for she would return to Ballybran. Once shed left Optheria For a moment her emotions hovered above a new abyss of despair and regret. And for the first time in her life, the thought of bearing a mans child crossed her mind. That was as much an impossibility as remaining with Lars, but it emphasized the depth of her emotional involvement with the man. Perhaps it was just as well that no child was possible, that their liaison would end when this assignment was over. She surprised herself! Children were something other people had. To feel that desire was remarkable. Optheria, for all its conservatism and alleged security, had unexpected facets of danger. Not the least of which were her adventures so far. She could hardly fault Trag, or rail at the Encyclopedia Galactica. Facts she had had. What couldnt have been foreseen were the astonishing predicaments which had entangled her. And the fascinating personalities. More extraordinary still, she remembered all too vividly, and with just a trace of chagrin, her rantings and ravings and desperations when shed left Ballybran, a sacrifice to the Guild for Lanzeckis good. Now, when contemplating a much deeper and irreversible loss, why was she so calm, fatalistically resigned, even philosophical. How very strange! Had her loss of Lanzecki inured her to others? Or was she mistaking her feelings for Lars Dahl? No! Shed remember Lars Dahl for the rest of her life without benefit of data retrieval. The second chimes rang faintly across digital cameras using microsd storage the open court outside the windows. Faint but sufficient to waken Lars. He was as neat on wakening as he was in sleep. His eyes opened, his right hand searched for her body, his head turned and his smile began as he located her. Then he stretched, arms above his head, back arching toward her as he extended his legs and then on the top of his extension, suddenly retracted himself, drawing her against him, to complete a morning ritual which included the exercise of their intimate relationship. Each time, they seemed to discover something new about themselves and their responses. She particularly liked Larss capacity for invention, stimulating as it did heretofore unsuspected originalities in herself. As usual hunger roused them from these variations. Breakfast here is the heartiest meal, Lars said cheerfully, striding quickly for the catering unit. Youll like it. Killashandra saw that he had left the jammer behind him, and she followed him at a quick trot, holding the device up to distort anything else he might say. He laughed. Wed best leave them something to hear. A discussion of breakfast must be sufficiently innocuous. Killashandra settled in one of the chairs near the catering unit, swiveling her hand as she looked at the little jammer. If only some way could be found to mask that mineral residue in Optherians! Blank out the detector. You know, Killashandra said as they ate, sitting companionably together on the elegant seating unit, I simply cannot understand this concentration on one instrument albeit a powerful one but theyre wiping out more than ninety-nine percent of the FSPs musical traditions and repertoire, as well as stultifying talents and potential. I mean, your tenor is formidable! Lars shrugged, giving her a tolerant side glance. Everyone sings at least in the islands, they do. But you know how to sing. Lars cocked an eyebrow at her, still humoring what he felt was her excessive fascination with a minor ability. Everyone knows how to sing I dont mean just opening the mouth and shouting, Lars Dahl. I mean, projecting a voice, supporting it properly on the breath, phrasing the music, carrying the dynamic line forward. When did I do all

But I, being fond of true philosophy,

away, boss?" "An hour, maybe a little more." "And what are we goin' to do with Junior, here? Leave him? It's his only chance, I reckon." "Stevens comes with us." There was a flat finality in Mallory's voice. Miller looked at him for a long time in silence: his face was very cold. "Stevens comes with us," Miller repeated. "We drag him along with us until he's deadthat won't take longand then we leave him in the snow. Just like that, Huh?" "Just like that, Dusty." Absently Mallory brushed some snow off his clothes, and looked up again at Miller. "Stevens knows too much. The Germans will have guessed why we're on the island, but they don't know how we propose to get inside the fortressand they don't know when the Navy's coming through. But Stevens does. They'll make him talk. Scopolamine will make anyone taik." "Scopolamine! On a dying man?" Miller was openly incredulous. "Why not? I'd do the same myself. If you were the German commandant and you knew that your big guns and half the men in your fortress were liable to be blown to hell any moment, you'd do the same." Miller looked at him, grinned wryly, shook his head. "Me and my" "I know. You and your big mouth." Mallory smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "I don't like it one little bit more than you do, Dusty." He turned away and crossed to the other side of the cave. "How are you feeling, Chief?" "Not too bad, sir." Casey Brown was only just awake, numbed and shivering in sodden clothes. "Anything wrong?" "Plenty," Mallory assured him. "Search party moving this way. We'll have to pull out inside half an hour." He looked at his watch. "Just on four o'clock. Do you think you could raise Cairo on the set?" "Lord only knows," Brown said frankly. He rose stiffly to his feet. "The radio didn't get just the best of treatment yesterday. I'll have a go." "Thanks, Chief. See that your aerial doesn't stick up above the sides of the gully." Mallory turned to leave the cave, but halted abruptly at the sight of Andrea squatting on a boulder just beside the entrance. His head bent in concentration, the big Greek had just finished screwing telescopic sights on to the barrel of his 7.92 mm. Mauser and was now deftly wrapping a sleeping-bag lining round its barrel and butt until the entire rifle was wrapped in a white cocoon. Mallory fuji finepix s3100 digital camera watched him in silence. Andrea glanced up at him, smiled, rose to his feet and reached out for his rucksack. Within thirty seconds he was clad from head to toe in his mountain camouflage suit, was drawing tight the purse-strings of his snowhood and easing his feet into the rucked elastic anklets of his canvas boots. Then he picked up the Mauser and smiled slightly. "I thought I might be taking a little walk, Captain," he said apologetically. "With your permission, of course." Mallory nodded his head several times in slow recollection. "You said I was worrying about nothing," he murmured. "I should have known. You might have told me, Andrea." But the protest was automatic, without significance. Mallory felt neither anger nor even annoyance at this tacit arrogation of his authority. The habit of command died hard in Andrea: on such occasions as he ostensibly sought approval for or consulted about a proposed course of action it was generally as a matter of courtesy and to give information as to his intentions. Instead of resentment, Mallory could feel only an overwhelming relief and gratitude to the smiling giant who towered above him: he had talked casually to Miller about driving Stevens till he died and then abandoning him, talked with an indifference that masked a mind sombre with bitterness at what he must do, but even so he had not known how depressed, bow sick at heart this decision had left him until he knew it was no longer necessary. "I am sorry." Andrea was half-contrite, half-smiling. "I should have told you. I thought you understood. . . . It is the best thing to do, yes?" "It is the only thing to do," Mallory said frankly: "You're going to draw them off up the saddle?" "There is no other way. With their skis they would overtake me in minutes if I went down into the valley. I cannot come back, of course, until it is dark. You will be here?" "Some of us will." Mallory glanced across the shelter where a waking Stevens was trying to sit up, heels of his palms screwing into his exhausted eyes. "We must have food and fuel, Andrea," he said softly. "I am going down into the valley to-night." "Of course, of course. We must do what we can." Andrea's face was grave, his voice only a murmur. "As long as we can. He is only a boy, a child almost. . . . Perhaps it will not be long." He pulled back the curtain, looked out at the evening sky. "I will be back by seven o'clock." "Seven o'clock,"

I '11 show you right Nottingham play.

with her tasks well enough to gain his nods of approval. The Pearl Fisher was fitted to be sailed single-handed, with the sheet lines winched to the cockpit and other remotes to assist in the absence of a human crew. Lars beckoned Killashandra to join him in the stern as the anchor was lifted by remote. Another hauled the sloops mainsail up the mast, Larss pennon breaking out as the clew of the sail locked home. The wind took the sail, and the ship, forward, out of the wide mouth of the harbor, which was now clear of all craft. Nor did there seem to have been anyone to notice their delay. The beach was empty of people. The shuttered shops and houses had an abandoned look to them. The tide was already slopping into the barbecue pits and Killashandra wondered just how much would be left on the waterfront when they sailed back into Wing Harbor. Killashandra found the speed of the Pearl Fisher incredibly exhilarating. To judge by the rapt expression on his face, so did Lars. The fresh wind drove them across the harbor almost to its mouth, before Lars did a short tack to get beyond the land. Then the Pearl was gunwale deep on a fine slant as she sped on a port tack toward the bulk of the Wing. It was an endless time, divorced from reality, unlike cutting crystal where time, too, was sometimes suspended for Killashandra. This was a different sort of time, that spent with someone, someone whose proximity was a matter of keen physical delight for her. Their bodies touched, shoulder, hip, thigh, knee, and leg, as the canting of the ship in her forward plunge kept Killashandra tight against Lars. Not a voyage, she realized sadly, that could last forever but a long interval she hoped to remember. There are some moments, Killashandra informed herself, that one does wish to savor. The sun had been about at the zenith when they had finally tacked out of the Wing Harbor. It was westering as they sailed round the top of the Wing with its lowlands giving way to the great basalt cliffs, straight up from the crashing sea, a bastion against the rapidly approaching hurricane. And the southern skies were ominous with dark cloud and rain. In the shelter of those cliffs, their headlong speed abated to a more leisurely pace. Lars announced hunger and Killashandra went below to assuage it. Taking into account the rough water, she found some heat packs which she opened, and which they ate in the cockpit, companionably close. Killashandra found it necessary to curb a swell of incipient lust as Lars shifted his long body digital camera solution disk ver 19 against hers to get a better grip on the tiller. Then they rounded the cliffs and into the crowded anchorage which sheltered Angels craft. Lars fired a flare to summon the jitney to them, then he ordered Killashandra forward with the boat hook to catch up the bright-orange eighty-two buoy to starboard. He furled the sail by remote and went on low-power assist to slow the Pearl and avoid oversailing the buoy. Buoy eighty-two was in the second rank, between two small ketch-rigged fisherboats, and Killashandra was rather pleased that she snagged the buoy first try. By the time Lars had secured the ship to ride out the blow, the little harbor taxi was alongside, its pilot looking none too pleased to be out in the rough waters. What took you so long, Lars? A bit of cross-tide and some rough tacks, Lars said with a cheerful mendacity that caused Killashandra to elbow his ribs hard. He threw his arm about to forestall further assaults. Indeed they both had to hang on to the railings as the little boat slapped and bounced. For a moment, Killashandra thought the pilot was driving them straight into the cliff. Then she saw the light framing the sea cave. As if the overhang marked the edge of the seas domination, the jitney was abruptly on calmer waters, making for the interior and the sandy shore. Killashandra was told to fling the line to the waiting shoremen. The little boat was sailed into a cradle and this was drawn up, safely beyond the depredations of storm and sea. Last one in again, eh Lars? he was teased as the entire party made its way out of the dock and started up the long flight of stairs cut in the basalt. It was a long upward haul for Killashandra, unused to stairs in any case and, though pride prevented her from asking for a brief halt, she was completely winded by the time they reached the top and exited onto a windswept terrace. She was relieved to find a floater waiting, for the Backbone towered meters above them and she doubted her ability to climb another step. Polly and other trees lined the ridge, making a windbreak for the floater as it was buffeted along, ending its journey at a proper stationhouse. Killashandra had profited by the brief rest and followed Larss energetic stride into the main hall of the Backbone shelter. Lars, called the man at the entrance, Olavs in the command post. Can you join him? Lars waved assent and

And share in its shame.

relaxedif only for a momentfor the first time in five days and just to look at him. I could tell that it hadn't done him the same good to look at usin the bright overhead light I could clearly see our yellowed, blistered, emaciated faces, the bleeding, black-nailed, suppurating all but useless hands, and I was shocked myselfbut he concealed it well, and busied himself with handing out restoratives, tucking away Mahler and Marie LeGarde in two deep, heat-pad-filled bunks, and supervising the efforts of the cook who had a steaming hot meal ready prepared. All this he had done before he had as much as asked us a question. "Right," he said briskly. "First things first. Where's the Citroen? I presume the missile mechanism is still aboard it. Brother, you just don't begin to have any idea how many heart attacks this thing is causing." "That's not the first thing," I said quietly. I nodded to Theodore Mahler, whose hoarse gasping breath filled the room. "This man is dying." "All under control," he boomed. He jerked a thumb at Joss who, after the first delighted greeting, had returned to his radio set in the corner. "The boy here hasn't left his set for over twenty-four hoursever since we got your 'Mayday' call." He looked at me speculatively. "You took a chance there. I wonder you didn't stop a bullet for your pains." "I just about did. . . . We were talking about Mahler." "Yes. We've been in constant contact, same wave-length, with two ships hi that timethe destroyer Wykenham and the carrier Triton. I had a fair idea your friends must be heading in this direction, so the Wykenham has been moving up overnight and is lying off the coast. But the leads and patches in the ice aren't big enough for the Triton to manoeuvre to fly off planes. She's about eighty miles south, in clear water." "Eighty miles!" I didn't bother to conceal my shock and my disappointment, I'd begun to have a faint irrational hope that we might yet save the dying man. "Eighty miles!" "I have news for you, Doctor," Hillcrest announced jovially. "We have moved into the air age." He turned towards Joss and raised an inquiring eyebrow. "A Scimitar jet fighter is just taking off." Joss tried to speak unemotionally, but failed. "It's airborne-now. Time-check 0933. We're to fire our first rocket at 0946thirteen minutes from now. Then two more at intervals of thirty seconds. At 0948 we're to set off a slow-burning magnesium flare where we want the stuff dropped, at least two hundred yards from the digital camera mp3 player tractor." Joss listened for another few moments and grinned. "He says we're to get the hell out of it after we've lit the flare or we're liable to collect a headache or worse." I didn't know what to say, where to look, moments like this came all too seldom. Not until that moment did I realise how much of a symbol Theodore Mahler had become, how much his survival had meant for me. Hillcrest must have had some intuitive understanding of how I felt, for he spoke at once, his voice normal, matter of fact. "Service, old boy. Sorry we couldn't have laid it on earlier, but the Triton refused to risk an expensive plane and an even more expensive pilot flying low over virtually uncharted territory unless they definitely knew that Mahler was alive." "They've done all anyone could ask." A sudden thought struck me. "These planes don't usually carry ammunition in peace-time, do they?" "Don't worry," Hillcrest said grimly. He ladled some steaming stew on to our plates. "Nobody's playing any more. There's been a flight of Scimitars standing by since midnight, and every cannon's loaded. . . . Right, Doctor. Give with the story." I gave, as briefly and concisely as possible. At the end, he clapped his hands together. "Maybe five miles ahead, eh? Then it's tallyho down the old glacier and after 'em." He rubbed his hands in anticipation. "We're three times as fast and we've three times as many rifles. This is the way any decent IGY expedition should be run!" I smiled faintly, a token response to his bubbling enthusiasm. I never felt less like smiling: now that the worry of Mahlerand in that warmth and with hot food, almost certainly also the worry of Marie LeGardewas off my hands, my anxiety about Margaret had returned with redoubled force. "We're not tallyho-ing-down any old glacier, Captain Hillcrest. Apart from the fact that it's a rotten surface, which would bring your speed down to about the same as the Citroen's, open pursuit is a pretty sure way of guaranteeing that Margaret Ross and Mr Levin get a bullet through their heads. Incidentally, Mr Levin is the father of Mr Zagero." "What?" Both Hillcrest and Joss had spoken at the same time. "Yes. But later. Have you a map of the area?" "Sure." Hillcrest handed it over. Like most Greenland maps it showed topographical detail for no more than the first twenty miles inland, but it was

"This infant was called John Little," quoth he,

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they "Which name shall be changed anon; imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

that in a ship as large as the Pearl. To her surprise, the first person they saw as they entered the Harbor Masters office was Nahia. She had been using the terminal and upon their entry she half rose, her expression eager for Larss news of the stranded crystal singer. We neednt have worried ourselves for a moment about out captive, Nahia. Lars strode up to the empath and, before she could protest, kissed her hand. Lars, you simply must stop that, Nahia protested, giving Killashandra a worried glance. Why? I only do you a courtesy you fully deserve! Would Nahia comfort Lars, Killashandra wondered, after she had departed Optheria? The woman is all right, isnt she, Carrigana? Nahia was by no means reassured by Larss droll comment. Never better, Killashandra replied affably. She wondered why Lars was drawing the game out when he had specifically said he didnt wish to deceive Nahia. She gave him a sharp glance. Wheres father! Im here, Lars, and theres trouble on its way, the Harbor Master said, appearing from the front office. Im only grateful we had the hurricane, for it slowed down the official transport. Theres to be a full search of the Islands. Torkes leads it so itd be the height of folly to protest or interfere. Then isnt it fortunate that the crystal singer has been rescued, Killashandra said. She has? Olav Dahl looked about, even to peering outside, seeking the woman. Unerringly now, Nahia turned her worried face toward Killashandra, her eyes widening. And, Olav Dahl, by your courageous son, who found her abandoned on an island while he was on a hurricane rescue mission in the vicinity. Young woman, I Olav Dahl began, frowning at her light tone. You are Killashandra Ree? Nahia asked, her beautiful eyes intent on Killashandras face. Indeed. And so grateful to the loyal upright Optherian citizen Lars Dahl that this much-abused crystal singer feels secure only in his presence. Killashandra beamed fatuously at Lars. Nahias slender hands went to her mouth to suppress her laughter. I presume that in your official capacity you can inform the official vehicle of the felicitous news? Killashandra asked Olav Dahl, smiling encouragingly at him to coax a less reproving response. Olav Dahl regarded Killashandra with an camera digital e317 hp photosmart expression that became more and more severe, as if he didnt believe what he was hearing, didnt condone her levity, and quite possibly would not accept her assistance. Slowly he sank onto the nearest desk for support, staring at her with amazement. Killashandra wondered that this man could be Larss father until suddenly a smile of great charm and pure mischief lightened his countenance. He got to his feet, one hand outstretched to her, radiating relief. My dear Guildmember, may I say how pleased I am that you have been delivered from your ordeal? Have you any idea at all who perpetrated this outrage on a member of the most respected guild in the galaxy? None under the sun, Killashandra relied, the epitome of innocent bewilderment. I left the organ loft, rather precipitously, I hasten to add, because of a distressing incident with an officious security captain. I hoped that a stroll in the fresh air might compose my agitated spirits. When all of a sudden She brought her hands together. I think I must have been drugged for a long time. When I finally regained consciousness, I was on this island, from which your son fortuitously rescued me only this morning! Killashandra turned, fluttering her eyelashes at Lars in a parody of gratitude. I find that absolutely fascinating, Killashandra Ree, said a totally unexpected newcomer. Lars half crouched as he whirled toward the doorway framing Corish von Mittelstern. Evidently your credentials were far more impressive than you led me to expect. So youre the crystal singer who was dispatched? Oh, and have you found your dear uncle? Actually, I have. Corish, his lips twitching with the first real amusement she had seen him exhibit, gestured toward Olav Dahl. Lars was not the only one who stared at his father. Nahia gave a silvery laugh. It was too amusing, the confrontation, Lars, Nahia said, chuckling. They were circling the truth like two hemlin cocks. It was all I could do to retain my composure, for, of course, Hauness and I have known Olavs history. It didnt take me very long to perceive that Corish was not looking for the man in the hologram. I could hardly brandish Dahls real likeness in case I jeopardized him. Id memorized his facial characteristics so I thought Id recognize him once I did see him. Then Corish turned to Killashandra. He hadnt altered as much as you had. I didnt

That courtiers thrive at latter Lammas day,

Turzig said stiffly. The tone, the manner, were punctilious, correct, but the distaste, the latent hostility were mirrored in his eyes. "My men were maybe a little onthusiastic. We wanted to make no mistake." "Quite right, Lieutenant, quite right," Skoda murmured approvingly. "These are dangerous men and one cannot take chances with dangerous men." He pushed back his chair, rose easily to his feet, strolled round the table and stopped in front of Andrea. "Except maybe this one, Lieutenant?" "He is dangerous only to his friends," Turzig said shortly. "It is as I told you, sir. He would betray his mother to save his own skin." "And claiming friendship with us, eh?" Skoda asked musingly. "One of our gallant allies, Lieutenant." Skoda reached out a gentle hand, brought it viciously down and across Andrea's cheek, the heavy signet ring on his middle finger tearing skin and flesh. Andrea cried out in pain, clapped one hand to his bleeding face and cowered away, his right arm raised above his head in blind defence. "A notable addition to the armed forces of the Third Reich." Skoda murmured. "You were not mistaken, Lieutenant. A poltroonthe instinctive reaction of a hurt man is an infallible guide. It is curious," he mused, "how often very big men are thus. Part of nature's compensatory process, I suppose. . . . What is your name, my brave friend?" "Papagos," Andrea muttered sullenly. "Peter Papagos." He took his hand away from his cheek, looked at it with eyes slowly widening with horror, began to rub it across his trouser leg with jerky, hurried movements, the repugnance on his face plain for every man to see. Skoda watched him with amusement "You do not like to see blood, Papagos, eh?" he suggested. "Especially your own blood?" A few seconds passed in silence, then Andrea lifted his head suddenly, his fat face screwed up in misery. He looked as if he were going to cry. "I am only a poor fisherman, your Honour!" he burst out. "You laugh at me and say I do not like blood, and it is true. Nor do I like suffering and war. I want no part of any of these things!" His great fists were clenched in futile appeal, his face puckered in woe, his voice risen an octave. It was a masterly exhibition of despair, and even Mallory found himself almost believing in it. "Why wasn't I left alone?" he went on pathetically. "God only knows I am no fighting man" "A highly inaccurate statement," Skoda interrupted dryly. "That fact must be patently obvious to every person in the room by this time." He tapped his teeth blown up digital camera with a jade cigarette-holder, his eyes speculative. "A fisherman you call yourself" "He's a damned traitor!" Mallory interrupted. The commandant was becoming just that little bit too interested in Andrea. At once Skoda wheeled round, stood in front of Mallory with his hands clasped behind his back, teetering on heels and toes, and looked him up and down in mocking inspection. "So!" he said thoughtfully. "The great Keith Mallory! A rather different proposition from our fat and fearful friend on the bench there, eh, Lieutenant?" He did not wait for an answer. "What rank are you, Mallory?" "Captain," Mallory answered briefly. "Captain Mallory, eh? Captain Keith Mallory, the greatest mountaineer of our time, the idol of pre-war Europe, the conqueror of the world's most impossible climbs." Skoda shook his head sadly. "And to think that it should all end like this. . . .I doubt whether posterity will rank your last climb as among your greatest: there are only ten steps leading to the gallows in the fortress of Navarone." Skoda smiled. "Hardly a cheerful thought, is it, Captain Mallory?" "I wasn't even thinking about it," the New Zealander answered pleasantly. "What worries me is your face." He frowned. "Somewhere or other I'm sure I've seen it or something like it before." His voice trailed off into silence. "Indeed?" Skoda was interested. "In the Bernese Alps, perhaps? Often before the war" "I have it now!" Mallory's face cleared. He knew the risk he was taking, but anything that concentrated attention on himself to the exclusion of Andrea was justified. He beamed at Skoda. "Three months ago, it was, in the zoo in Cairo. A plains buzzard that had been captured in the Sudan. A rather old and mangy buzzard, I'm afraid," MallQry went on apologetically, "but exactly the same scrawny neck, the same beaky face and bald head" Mallory broke off abruptly, swayed back out of reach as Skoda, his face livid and gleaming teeth bared in rage, swung at him with his fist. The blow carried with it all Skoda's wiry strength, but anger blurred his timing and the fist swung harmlessly by: he stumbled, recovered, then fell to the floor with a shout of pain as Mallory's heavy boot caught him flush on the thigh, just above the knee. He had barely touched the floor when he was up like a cat, took a pace forward and coliapsed heavily again as his injured leg gave under

The next loud blast that he did give,

with rehab blocks. A good block and Hauness is the best there is prevents the victim from confessional diarrhea and a total loss of personality. Comgail had been so above reproach all the time hed been at the Conservatory that not even a paranoid like Pedder would have suspected him of collusion with dissidents. But, for shattering the manual, Comgaild automatically be sent to rehab. He had prepared himself for that. He wasnt killed by a crystal fragment, Killa, he was murdered by it. I think it was because he had found the access to the subliminal units. Subliminals! Killashandra seethed with horror at the potentially total control. And he found the access? Where? All I need is one look at them Lars regarded her solemnly. Thats all we need once we find them. Theyve got to be somewhere in the organ loft. Well, then Killashandra embraced him exuberantly wasnt I clever to insist that you and I handle the repairs all by ourselves. If were allowed! Youve the jammer. She rose from the deep bath, Lars following her. Say, if your fathers so clever with electronics, why hasnt he figured a Way to jam the shuttleport detection arch? Lars chuckled as she dried him, for once more interested in something other than his physical effect on her. Hes spent close to thirty years trying. We even have a replica of the detector on Angel. But we cannot figure a way to mask that residue. Watch out for my ears! She had been briskly toweling his hair. Does the detector always catch the native? Infallible. And yet She wrapped her hair in a towel. She pointed to the jammer and then proceeded to the salon. Lars followed, the jammer held above his head like a torch, a diabolical gleam in his eye as he waved it at each of the monitors he passed. Yet when Thyrol came out right with me, the detector didnt catch him. And passed me. What? No matter how many people pass under it, it will always detect the native! It didnt then! I wonder if it had anything to do with crystal resonance. You mean in you? Hmmm. Its not exactly something we can experiment with, is it? Prancing in and out of the shuttleport. Hardly and were half a world away from the only other one. Well, we can worry about that later. After weve found the access and after weve repaired that wretched organ! Now, and she review canon rebel xsi digital camera opened the doors of the beverage store with a flourish, what shall we drink with our supper? Chapter 19 Killashandra woke before the chimes, which did not sound in her suite but were nevertheless audible from the adjacent sections of the Conservatory. She woke refreshed and totally relaxed, and cautiously eased herself away from Larss supine body so that she might have a better view of his sleeping form. She fell oddly protective of him as she propped her head on one hand and minutely inspected his profile. Thus she noticed that the tips of his long eyelashes were bleached and the lid itself was not as dark as the surrounding skin. Fine laugh, or sun lines, fanned out from the corners to the temple. The arch of his nose just missed being too high, too thin, being balanced by fine modeling and length. His cheeks wore a dusting of freckles which she hadnt noticed before. And several dark brow hairs were out of line as the brow curved around the eye socket. Several hairs bristled straight up at the inner edges of brows that would almost meet when he frowned. She liked best his wide lips, more patrician than sensual. She knew the havoc they could raise with her body and felt they were perhaps his best feature. Even in sleep, the corners raised slightly. His chin was rather broader than one was aware when his face was mobile, but the strong jawline swept back to well-shaped ears, also tan, with a spot of new sunburn about to peel on the top skin. The column of his neck was strong and the pulse beat in his throat. She wanted to put her finger tip on it and almost did before retracting her hand. He was more truly hers when asleep, untouched by stress, relaxed, his rib cage barely moving. She loved the line of his chest, the smooth skin clothing smooth pectoral muscle, and once again she had to repress the wish to run her hand down the shape of him, to feel the fine crisp hair on his chest. He was not hirsute and she found that much to her preference as well, his legs and arms having only a fine dusting of blond hairs. She had seen handsomer men but the composition of his face pleased her better. Lanzecki now that was the first time shed thought of him in days actually was the more distinguished in looks, heavier in build. She decided she preferred the way Lars Dahl was put together. She sighed. It was easier to be philosophical about Lanzecki. Would she have been as easily resigned to that loss if she hadnt met

May mine attract thy pensive eye!

the various units in flow sequence. Into the synapse carrier encoder and demodulator multiplexer, both of which feed into the mixer for the sensory transducer terminal network. Beaming with pride, he continued, While the composition memory bank primarily programs the sensory synthesizer, the feedback loop controls the sensory attenuator for maximum effectiveness. I see. Keyboard to CPU, direct interface with manual and synapse carrier encoder, plus the double handshakes. Killashandra hid her shock this emotion manipulator made the equipment at Fuerte look like preschool toys. Talk about a captive audience! Optherian concertgoers hadnt a chance. The Optherian organ could produce a total emotional override with a conditional response unequaled anywhere. And a sufficient gauge of the audiences basic profile could be ascertained by matching ID plates and census data. Killashandra wondered that FSP permitted any of its citizens to visit the planet, much less to expose themselves to full-scale emotional overload at Festival time. I can see why youd need many soloists. Theyd be emotionally drained after each performance. We recognized that problem early on the performer is shielded from the full effect of the organ in order to retain a degree of objectivity. And, of course, in rehearsal the transducer system is completely bypassed and the signals inserted into a systems analyzer. Only the best compositions are played on the full organ system. Naturally. Tell me, are the smaller organs amplified in this fashion? The two-manual organs are. We have five of them, the rest are all single manual with relatively primitive synthesizer attentuator and excitor capability. Remarkable. Truly remarkable. Thyrol was not blind to the implied compliment and looked about to smile as the outside door opened to admit the work party. Behind them came three more men, their stance and costume identifying them as security. The work party stopped along the wall while the security trio tramped stolidly down to where Thyrol and Killashandra stood by the sensory feedback transponder. Elder Thyrol, Security Leader Blaz needs to know what disposition is to be made of the debris. He saluted, ignoring Killashandras presence. Bury it deep. Preferably encapsulated in some permaform. Sea trench would be ideal, Killashandra answered and was ignored by the security leader, who continued to look for an answer from Thyrol. Abruptly Killashandras canon s60 digital camera captious temper erupted. She slammed her right hand into the leaders shoulder, forcefully turning toward her. Alternatively, insert it in your anal orifice, she said, her voice reasonable and pleasant. With a wave of astounded gasps sounding in her ear, she made her exit. Chapter 7 As Killashandra started across the stage to retrace her steps to the Complex, she decided that that was the last place she wanted to go in her state of mind After all, Trag had chosen her because she could be more diplomatic than Borella. Not that Borella mightnt have handled that security fardle-face with more tact, or effectiveness. However, the Optherians were stuck with her and she with them, and just then she didnt wish to see one more sanctimonious, self-righteous, smug Optherian face. She strode to the edge of the stage, peered over at the ten-foot drop to the ground, saw the heavy doors at each end of that level and made her decision. She lay at the edge, swung her legs down, gripping the overhang, and let go. Her knees took the jar and she leaned against the wall for a moment just as she heard the men emerge from the organ room. Shell have gone back to the Complex, Thyrol said, breathless with anger. He hurried across the stage, followed by the others. Simcon, if you have offended the Guildmember, you may have jeopardized far more than you have protected The heavy door closed off the rest of his reprimand. Somewhat mollified by Thyrols attitude and pleased with her timely evasion, Killashandra dusted off her hands and moved toward the clearly marked exit door at the outer edge of the amphitheater. Even the soft sound of the brushing was echoed by the fine acoustics. Grimacing, Killashandra stepped as cautiously and as silently as she could toward the exit. The heavy door had the usual push-bar on the inside, which she depressed, holding her breath lest it be locked from a control point. The bar swung easily out. She opened it only wide enough to permit her egress and it closed with a thunk behind her. Its exterior was without handle or knob for reentry and a flange protected it from being forced open if such a circumstance ever arose on perfect Optheria. Killashandra now found herself on a long ledge which led to one of the switchback paths she had seen yesterday, though this one was at the rear of the

Was walking along the town.

from time to time. Such as alcohol. Oh, I see, Thyrol replied, although clearly he did not. Does no one on this repulsive planet have a sense of humor? Killashandra wondered. Ah, here we are so soon, Pirinio said, for the vehicle had swung down the curving drive to the imposing main entrance of the largest building on this musical height. In orderly fashion but in decorous haste, a second welcoming committee formed itself on the wide and shallow marble steps under the colonnaded portico that shielded the massive central doors of the edifice. Although large urns had been planted with some sort of weeping tree to soften the harsh architecture, the effect was forbidding, rather than welcoming. Killashandra emerged from the vehicle, ignoring Thyrols outstretched hand. The Optherians obsequious behavior could quickly become a major irritant. She had just straightened up and turned to step forward when something slammed hard into her left shoulder and she was thrown off balance against the vehicle. The fleshy point of her shoulder stung briefly then began to throb. Thyrol began to bellow incoherently before he attempted to embrace her in the misguided notion that she needed his assistance. For the next few moments total chaos erupted: Thyrol, Pirinio, and Polabod dashed about, issuing conflicting orders. The throng of dignitaries turned into a terrified mob, splintering into groups which fled, stood paralyzed, or added their shouts to the tumult. A flock of airborne sleds reared up from the plateau to hover above the Music Complex, darting off on diverse errands. Mirbethan was the only one able to keep her wits. She tore a strip from the hem of her gown, and despite Killashandras protestations that she required no aid, bound the wound. And it was she who discovered the weapon, imbedded in the upholstery of the back seat. Thats a businesslike piece of wickedness, Killashandra remarked as she studied the asterisk-bladed object, three of its lethal blades buried in the seat back. The one which had wounded her pointed outward, a strand of her sleeve material laid neatly along the cutting edge. Dont touch it Mirbethan put out her hand to prevent such action. No fear, Killashandra said, straightening up. Local manufacture? No. Mirbethans voice took on a note of indignant anger. An island implement. An outrage. We shall spare no effort to discover the perpetrator of this deed. There was a subtle, but a345 camera digital film fuji discernible, alteration in Mirbethans tone between her first two remarks and the last which Killashandra caught but could not then analyze, for the rest of the committee suddenly recalled that there had been a victim of this outrage and more attentions were showered on Killashandra by the concerned. Despite her protestations, she was carried into the vaulting entrance hall of the main building, and whisked along a corridor, lined floor to ceiling with portraits of men and women. Even in her swift passage she noticed that they all smiled in the same tight, smug way. Then she was conducted to a lift while dignitaries bickered about who should accompany her in the limited space. Once again, Mirbethan won Killashandras approval by closing the door on the argument. They were met at their destination by a full medical convention and Killashandra was made to lie on a gurney and was wheeled into diagnostics. At the moment of truth. when the temporary bandaging was reverently unwound from the injury, there was a stunned silence. I could have spared everyone a great deal of unnecessary effort, Killashandra remarked dryly after she glanced at the clean, bloodless cut. As a crystal singer, I heal very quickly and am not the least bit susceptible to infection. As you can see. Consternation was rampant, with all the medics exclaiming over the wound, and others cramming forward in an attempt to witness this miracle of regeneration. Glancing up, Killashandra saw the very smug smile on Mirbethans face, so very like the smiles on the portraits. To what agency do you attribute such remarkable healing properties? asked the eldest of the medical people in attendance. To living on Ballybran, Killashandra replied. As you must surely be aware, the resonance of crystal slows down the degenerative process. Tissue damage regenerates quickly. By this evening this minor cut will be completely healed. It was a clean swipe and not all that deep. She seized the opportunity to slip off the gurney. If we may take a sample of your blood for analysis, the elder medic began, reaching for a sterilely packaged extractor. You may not, Killashandra said and again felt a wave of incredulous dismay and surprise from her audience. Was contradiction forbidden on Optheria? The bleeding has stopped. Nor will analysis isolate the blood factor which slows degeneration, she went on with a kind smile. Why waste your

"But O forbid." said the Earl Marischal,

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they "That I this deed should dee! imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

EDWARD

main room so vast that she had to stifle a chuckle. Mirbethan indicated the toilet and the slightly open closet panel where her clothes had been hung. Then the woman withdrew. Stripping off the torn garment, Killashandra flicked open one of the Beluga spider-silk kaftans which ought to be suitable for any reception: certainly a foil against the predominantly white or pale colors which the Optherians seemed to prefer. Except for that brooding young man. Killashandra dwelt briefly on him as she washed hastily. Then she couldnt resist a peek into the other hygiene rooms. One contained a variety of tubs, massage table, and exercise equipment while the third boasted a radiant-fluid tub and several curious devices which Killashandra had never before encountered but which left an impression of obscenity. Back in the bedchamber, she heard a soft rapping at the door. Im ready, Im ready, she cried, masking irritation with a lilt in her voice. Chapter 5 That protocol had become an art form on Optheria told Killashandra quite clearly that if there were no rebellious spirits then the entire population had stagnated. At the reception, every faculty member, their subordinates, then every student, all in order of their rank and scholastic standing, filed past her. Mercifully, handshaking was no longer a part of the ritual. A nod, a smile, a mumbled repetition of the name sufficed. After fifty nods, Killashandra felt her smile fixed in her cheeks and her face stiffened into that mode. With her everfaithful quartette, she stood at the top of a massive double staircase, whose white marble nights curved down into a marbled hall below. The ceiling of the vast reception chamber was so high that the murmuring of the assembled crowd was absorbed. Killashandra had had a glimpse of tables, laden with patterns of plates whose contents were as precisely placed as the plates were, and with beakers of colored liquids. The assembled scrupulously kept their eyes from the direction of the refreshments. Killashandra guessed that they all knew too well the taste and texture of the reception repast. There were curious patterns, too, in the reception. Five people would take the right-hand staircase, the next five would descend on the left. Killashandra wondered if a steward in some distant anteroom ticked the people off for left and right. There were never more than ten people waiting to be introduced, yet the flow down the buy digital cameras discount electronics hallway was steady despite its apparent randomness. Abruptly no more people were making their way to the reception line and Killashandra let her cheeks relax, rotating her head on her neck, wriggling her lips and nose in a very undignified manner in order to ease the muscles. One never knows when ones early training as a singer is going to prove useful, she thought, just as she heard a concerted intake of breath from her quartette. Reorganizing her expression, she glanced up the hall in time to observe the ceremonial approach of dignitaries. The seven figures who processed and that was the correct verb to describe their advance were not differently garbed from the other highly placed Optherians, but they wore their pale robes with an unmistakable air of authority. Four men and three women, each wearing the same slight smile upon their serene faces. Faces, Killashandra would shortly note, that had been carefully adjusted by surgery and artifice to enhance that serenity, for only one of the smiles reached the weary, bored, aged eyes. Elder Ampris, Killashandra was immensely relieved to discover, was the only one of the Optherian rulers with whom she would have much contact. He was currently responsible for the Music Complex. If there should ever be a Stellarity Award given for Best Character Actor among Planetary Rulers, surely Ampris would win it. But for the disparity of expression between eye and face, Killashandra might have missed that gleam of humor and possibly ignored that spontaneous lifting of the heart that occur when one encounters a kindred spirit. The others, whose names Killashandra promptly forgot, gave her hand one firm shake in welcome, a few words of gratitude for making so arduous a journey in this moment of planetary crisis, and passed on by, having acquitted their duty. They all waited, without appearing to wait, at the top of the right-hand stair. Then Killashandra felt the almost electric touch of Ampriss hand, looked into his bright and knowing eyes and returned the first genuine smile of the long afternoon. We will have time to talk later on, Guildmember. In the meantime, let us gild their afternoon with the gold and scarlet of our presences. His negligent wave took in the whole room, not just the high dignities patiently awaiting the dissolution of the reception line. Thyrol glanced at Killashandra, her hand on Ampriss arm, then he turned to the nearest Elder woman and offered his

That were sae fair to see O?

pulled under by the fierce turbulence of its passage, and she swallowed a good deal more water than she liked before she returned to the surface. As soon as she clambered up on the fifth island, she headed for the nearest ripe polly fruit only to discover that she had lost her hatchet, the last packets of emergency rations, and the fish hooks. She slaked her thirst on overripe polly fruit, ignoring the rank taste for the sake of the moisture. That need attended to, she gathered up enough dry fronds to cushion her body, and went to sleep. She woke sometime in the night, thirsting for more of the overripe fruit which she hunted in the dark, cursing as she tripped over debris and fell into bushes, staggering about in her search until she had to admit to herself that her behavior was somewhat bizarre. About the same time she realized that she was drunk! The innocent polly fruit had been fermenting! Given her Ballybran adaptation, the state could only have been allowed by her weakened constitution. Giggling, she lay down on the ground, impervious to sand or discomfort and fell into a second drunken sleep. Much the worse for her various excesses, Killashandra awoke with a ghastly headache and a terrible need for water. Number five was a much larger island than her other way stops and she was searching so diligently to relieve her thirst that she almost passed the little canoe without its registering on her consciousness. It was only a small canoe, pulled up beyond the high tide mark, a paddle angling from the narrow prow. At another time and without her urgent need, Killashandra would not have ventured out on the open sea in such a flimsy craft. But someone had already brought it from wherever they came so it could as easily convey her elsewhere, too. Her need for water diminished by this happy discovery, Killashandra climbed the nearest polly tree and, hanging precariously to the ridged trunk, managed to saw through several stems with her short knife blade. She didnt waste time then, but threw the fruit into the small craft, slid it into the gentle waves, and paddled down the coast as fast as she could, just in case the owner should return and demand the return of his canoe. While she no longer needed to wait until noon to cross to the next island in her northern course, Killashandras previous days fright made her cautious. She keenly felt the loss of her hatchet. But good fortune continued to surprise her for, as she paddled around a narrow headland, she spotted the unmistakable sign of a small stream draining into the sea. camera cx4300 digital easy kodak share She could even paddle a short way up its mouth and did so, pausing to scoop up a handful of sweet water before she jumped out of the canoe and pulled it out of sight under the bushes. Then she lay down by the water and drank until she was completely sated. By evening, just before the sun suddenly settled below the horizon in the manner characteristic of tropical latitudes, she stood out on the headland, deciding which of the island masses she would attempt to reach the next day. The nearest ones were large, by comparison, but the distant smudge lay long against the horizon. The water lapped seductively over her toes and she decided that she had fooled around with the minor stuff long enough. With the canoe, a fair start in the morning, and plenty of fruit in her little craft, she could certainly make the big island, however distant. She had the foresight to weave herself a sun hat, with a fishtail down her back to prevent sunstroke, for she wouldnt have the cooling water about her as she had while swimming. She had no experience with currents or riptides, nor had she considered the possibility of sudden squalls interrupting her journey. Those she encountered halfway across the deep blue stretch of sea to the large island. She was so busy trying to correct her course while the current pulled her steadily south that she was unaware of the squall until it pelted against her sunburned back. The next thing she knew she was waist deep in water. How the canoe stayed afloat at all, she didnt know. Bailing was a futile exercise but it was the only remedy she had. Then suddenly she felt the canoe sinking with her and, in a panic lest she be pulled down, she swam clear, and had no way to resist the insidious pull of the current. Once again the stubborn survival instinct came to Killashandras aid, and wisely she ceased struggling against the current and the run of the waves, and concentrated on keeping her head above water. She was still thrashing her arms when her legs grated against a hard surface. She crawled out of the water and a few more meters from the pounding surf before oblivion overcame her. Familiar sounds and familiar smells penetrated her fatigue and allowed her to enjoy the pangs of thirst and hunger once again. Awareness of her surroundings gradually increased and she roused to the sound of human voices raised in a happy clamor somewhere nearby. She sat up and found herself on one end of a wide curving beach of

Of the mail-cover'd Barons, who proudly to battle

shocking incident, Lanzecki said diffidently as he served himself more Malva beans. The performer who damaged the organ was killed by the flying shards. He was also the only person on the planet who could handle such a major repair. As is so often the case with such sensitive and expensive equipment, it is a matter of planetary urgency to repair the instrument. Its the largest on the planet and is essential to the observances of Optherias prestigious Summer Festival. We are contracted to supply technicians as well as crystal. He paused for a mouthful of the crisp white beans. He was definitely baiting her, Killashandra knew. She held her tongue. While the list of those qualified does include your name The catch cant be the crystal this time, she said as he purposefully let his sentence dangle unfinished. She watched his face for any reaction. White crystals active, reflecting sound Among other things, Lanzecki added when she paused. If it isnt the crystal, whats the matter with the Optherians, then? My dear Killashandra, the assignment has not yet been awarded. Awarded? I like the sound of that. Or do I? I wouldnt put it past you, Lanzecki, to sucker me into another job like that Trundomoux installation. He caught the finger she was indignantly shaking at him, pulling her hand across the laden table to his lips. The familiar caress evoked familiar responses deep in her groin and she tried to use her irritation with his methods to neutralize its effect on her. Just then a communit bleep startled her. With a fleeting expression of annoyance, Lanzecki lifted his wrist unit to acknowledge the summons. A tinny version of Trags bass voice issued from the device. I was to inform you when the preliminary testing stations reported, the Administration Officer said. Any interesting applicants? Although Lanzecki sounded diffident, even slightly bored, the curious tension about his lips and eyes alerted Killashandra. She pretended to continue eating in a courteous disregard of the exchange, but she didnt lose a syllable of Trags reply. Four agronomists, an endocrinologist from Theta, two xenobiologists, an atmospheric physicist, three former spacers Killashandra noted the slight widening of Lanzeckis eyes which she interpreted as satisfaction and the usual flotsam who have no recommendations from Testing. Thank picassa and digital camera you, Trag. Lanzecki nodded his head at Killashandra to indicate the interruption was concluded and finished off the dish of fried Malva beans. So what is the glitch in the Optherian assignment? A lousy fee? On the contrary, such an installation is set at twenty thousand credits. And Id be off-world as well. Killashandra was quite impressed with the latitude such a credit balance would give her to forget crystal. You have not been awarded the contract, Killa. I appreciate your willingness to entertain the assignment but there are certain aspects which must be considered by the Guild as well as the individual. Dont commit yourself rashly. Lanzecki was being sincere. His eyes held hers steadily and a worried crease to his brows emphasized his warning. Its a long haul to the Optherian system. Youd be gone from Ballybran nearly a full year All the better You say that now when youre full of crystal resonance. You cant have forgotten Carrik yet. His reminder conjured flashing scenes of the first crystal singer she had met: Carrik laughing as they swam in Fuertes seas, then Carrik wracked by withdrawal fever and finally the passive hulk of the man, shattered by sonic resonance. You will in time, Ive no doubt, experience that phenomenon, Lanzecki said. Ive never known a singer who didnt try to push himself and his symbiont to their limits. A major disadvantage to the Optherian contract is that you would lose any resonance to your existing claims. As if I had a decent claim among the lot. Killashandra snorted in disgust. Rose is no good to anyone and the blue petered out after two days cutting. Even the white vein skips and jumps. I cut the best of the accessible vein. With the kind of luck Ive been enjoying, the storm has probably made a total bollix of the site. I am not not, I repeat spending another three weeks in a spade and basket operation. Not for white. Why cant Research develop an efficient portable excavator? Lanzecki cocked his head slightly. It is the firm opinion of Research that any one of the nine efficient, portable and durable, a significant pause, excavators already field-tested ought to perform the task for which it was engineered except in the hands of a crystal singer. It is the opinion of Research that the only

Which out of all the lovely things we see

three times, wordlessly, and with great care, Andrea shot Hauptmann Skoda through the heart. The blast of the shells lifted the little man off his feet, smashed him against the wall of the hut, pinned him there for one incredible second, arms outfiung as though nailed against the rough planks in spreadeagle crucifixion; and then he eollapsed, fell limply to the ground, a grotesque and broken doll that struck its heedless head against the edge of the bench before coming to rest on its back on the floor. The eyes were still wide open, as cold, as dark, as empty in death as they had been in life. His Schmeisser waving in a gentle arc that covered Turzig and the sergeant, Andrea picked up Skoda's sheath knife, sliced through the ropes that bound Mallory's wrists. "Can you hold this gun, my Captain?" Mallory flexed his stiffened hands once or twice, nodded, took the gun in silence. In three steps Andrea was behind the blind side of the door leading to the anteroom, pressed to the wall, waiting, gesturing to Mallory to move as far back as possible out of the line of sight. Suddenly the door was flung open. Andrea could just see the tip of the rifle barrel projecting beyond it. "Oberleutnant Turzig! Was ist los? Wer schoss . . ." The voice broke off in a coughing grunt of agony as Andrea smashed the sole of his foot against the door. He was round the outside of the door in a moment, caught the man as he fell, pulled him clear of the doorway and peered into the adjacent hut. A brief inspection, then he closed the door, bolted it from the inside. "Nobody else there, my Captain," Andrea reported. "Just the one gaoler, it seems." "Fine! Cut the others loose, will you, Andrea?" He wheeled round towards Louki, smiled at the comical expression on the little man's face, the tentative, spreading, finally ear-to-ear grin that cut through the baffled incredulity. "Where do the men sleep, Loukithe soldiers, I mean?" "In a hut in the middle of the compound, Major. This is the officers' quarters." "Compound? You mean?" "Barbed wire," Louki said succinctly. "Ten feet highand all the way round." "Exits?" "One and one only. Two guards." "Good! Andreaeverybody into the side room. No, not you, Lieutenant. You sit down here." He gestured to the chair behind the big desk. "Somebody's bound digital camera canon a540 to come. Tell him you killed one of ustrying to escape. Then send for the guards at the gate." For a moment Turzig didn't answer. He watched unseeingly as Andrea walked past him, dragging two unconscious soldiers by their collars. Then he smiled. It was a wry sort of smile. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Captain Mallory. Too much has been lost already through my blind stupidity. I won't do it." "Andrea!" Mallory called softly. "Yes?" Andrea stood in the anteroom doorway. "I think I hear someone coming. Is there a way out of that side room?" Andrea nodded silently. "Outside! The front door. Take your knife. If the Lieutenant. . ." But he was talking to himself. Andrea was already gone, slipping out through the back door, soundless as a ghost. "You will do exactly as I say," Mallory said softly. He took position himself in the doorway to the side room, where he could see the front entrance between doot and jamb: his automatic rifle was trained on Turzig. "If you don't, Andrea will kill the man at the door. Then we will kill you and the guards inside. Then we will knife the sentries at the gate. Nine dead menand all for nothing, for we will escape anyway. . . . Here he is now." Mallory's voice was barely a whisper, eyes pitiless in a pitiless face. "Nine dead men, Lieutenant and just because your pride is hurt." Deliberately, the last sentence was in German, fluent, colloquial, and Mallory's mouth twisted as he saw the almost imperceptible sag of Turzig's shoulders. He knew he had won, that Turzig had been going to take a last gamble on his ignorance of German, that this last hope was gone. The door burst open and a soldier stood on the threshhold, breathing heavily. He was armed, but clad only in a singlet and trousers, oblivious of the cold. "Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" he spoke in German. "We heard the shots" "It is nothing, Sergeant." Turzig bent his head over an open drawer, pretended to be searching for something to account for his solitary presence in the room. "One of our prisoners tried to escape. . . . We stopped him." "Perhaps the medical orderly" "I'm afraId we stopped him rather permanently." Turzig

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they Colder thy kiss; imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at