Thou shalt have my livery strait.

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 And other accoutrements fit for a man; 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

Yet meet we shall, and part, and meet again,

Milekey Ranges, bearing before its westward course the fleeing sleds of crystal singers like so much jetsam. Those laggard singers who had tarried too long at their claims were barely able to hold their bucking sleds on course as they bolted for the safety of the Heptite Guild Complex. Inside the gigantic Hangar, its baffles raised against the mach winds, ordered confusion reigned. Crystal singers lurched from their sleds, half deafened by windscream, exhausted by their turbulent flights. The Hangar crew, apparently possessed of eyes in the backs of their heads, miraculously avoided injury as they concentrated on the primary task of moving incoming sleds off the Hangar floor and into storage racks, clearing the way for the erratic landings of the stream of incoming vehicles. The crash claxon pierced even storm howl as two sleds collided, one to dip over the baffle and land nose down on the plascrete while the other veered out of control like a flat rock skipping across water, coming to a crumpling halt against the far wall. A tractor zipped in to fasten grapples on the upside-down sled, removing it only seconds before another sled skimmed over the baffle. That sled almost repeated the nose dive, pulling up at the last second and skidding across the Hangar floor to stop just inches away from the line of handlers carrying the precious cartons of crystal in to Sorting. Only a near miss, the incident was disregarded even by those who had barely escaped injury. Killashandra Ree emerged from the sled, taking as a good omen the fact that her sled had skidded to a halt so close to the Sorting Sheds. She caught the arm of the next handler to pass her and firmly diverted him to her cargo door, which she flung open. She didnt have much crystal, so every speck she had cut was precious to her. If she didnt earn enough credit to get off-planet this time Killashandra ground her teeth as she hurried her carton into the Sorting Shed. As the man she had pressed into her service quite properly put her carton down at the Hangar end of a line of ranked containers, Killashandras patience evaporated. No, over here! she shouted. Not there! Itll take all day to be sorted. Here. She waited until he had deposited her carton in the indicated row before adding her own. Then she strode back to her sled for a second load, commandeering two more unencumbered handlers on the way. Only after eight cartons were unloaded did she permit herself to pause briefly, coping with the multiple fatigues that assailed her. She had worked nonstop for two sales on digital slr cameras days, desperate to cut enough crystal to get off Ballybran. Crystal pulsed in her blood and bones, denying her rest in sleep, surcease by day, no matter how she tried to tire her body. Her only respite was immersion in the radiant fluid bath. But no one cut crystal from a bathcube! She had to get off-planet to ease the disturbing thrum. For over a year and a half, ever since the Passover storms had shattered Keborgens old claim, she had searched unremittingly for a workable site Killashandra was realist enough to admit to herself that the probability of finding a new claim as important and valuable as Keborgens black crystal was very low. Still, she had every right to expect to find some useful, and reasonably lucrative, crystal in Ballybrans Ranges. And, with each fruitless trip into the Ranges, the credit balance she had amassed from her original cutting of Keborgens site and from the Trundomoux black crystal installation had eroded beneath the continuous charges the Heptite Guild exacted for even the most minor services rendered a crystal singer. By fall, when everyone else she knew Rimbol, Jezerey and Mistra had managed to get off-planet, she had labored on, unable to make a worthwhile claim in any color. During the mild winter, she had doggedly hunted in the Ranges, returning to the Complex only long enough to replenish food packs and steep her crystal-weary body in the radiant fluid. You really ought to take a week or two up at Shanganagh Base, Lanzecki had said, intercepting her on one of her brief visits. What good would that really do? she had replied, almost snarling at him in her frustration. Id still feel crystal and Id have to look at Ballybran. Lanzecki had given her a searching look. Youre in no mood to believe me, and he paused to be sure that he had her attention, but you will find black crystal again, Killashandra. Meanwhile, the Guild has pressing needs in any shade you can find. Even the rose you so despise. A gleam shone in his black eyes and his voice turned lugubrious as he said, I am certain that you will be distressed to learn that the Passover storms destroyed Moksoons site, too. Killashandra had stared at him a moment before her sense of the ridiculous got the better of her and she laughed. I am inconsolable! I thought you might be. His lips twitched with suppressed amusement. Then he reached down and pulled the plug on the radiant fluid. Youll find more crystal,

"We'l hold you twenty mark," then said the foresters

years concerts. Oh, Killa! Youve done it. Not quite, Killashandra said with a laugh. Im only hypothesizing that the manual provides the unlocking mechanism. Weve no idea what sort of music key hed use. It could be anything No, not anything, Lars cried, shaking his head and grinning, his eyes vividly blue again. Id stake my life I know what hed use I wish you wouldnt use a phrase like that, Killashandra murmured. Lars gave her a reassuring grin and went on. Remember what you said about bureaucracy finding one mechanism that suited them? Well, Ampriss one and only Festival offering utilizes a recurrent theme. But everyone on the planet would know it then. What difference would that make? Youd still have to have access to this manual, wouldnt you? True. Whats the theme? Its a real thumpety-dump, and he da-da-ed the notes to Killashandras utter amazement. Not only is it thumpty-dumpety-dump, its complete and utter plagiarism. Ampris lifted that theme from an 18th Century composer named Beethoven. Who? Killashandra lifted her hands in exasperation. Enough of this idle speculation, Lars, weve got to finish the organ as fast as possible. What about Trag? Killashandra shook her head. Trag is no threat to us. If we could just get the bass noted finished, wed have something to show him. I hope. She dropped a set of brackets into Larss hands and took another for herself. You wouldnt happen to know the signature of Ampriss composition? When Lars shook his head, she cursed briefly and then began to chuckle. Well just try the original one! Because they were rushing, nervous with anticipation and hope, hands sweating from tension, it seemed to take three or four attempts to place each of the next three crystals. Lars was muttering imprecations by the time Killashandra could test the third one. No sooner had she struck the crystal than the door panel slid open and the aperture was filled by Trags bulky figure. Trag, I bless your timely arrival. Were both fingers and thumbs trying to set this manual. A fresh hand and a sane mind will work wonders! Trag gave her a nod of his head and stepped inside, giving Lars a cursory glance before his attention was completely taken by a critical appraisal of their endeavors. Killashandra ignored the entrance of Ampris, Torkes, Thyrol, and Mirbethan, who filed slowly into the room in digital concepts keychain camera Trags wake. Trag picked up the tuning hammer and struck each of the crystals. Trag merely nodded his head. Lars made a noise of protest but Killashandra shot him a warning glance. The fact that Trag had no comments to make was all the approval she required, knowing better than to expect overt praise from him. For a very fleeting moment, however, she was seized with a totally irrational desire to throw her arms about Trags neck, a notion which she quickly suppressed without revealing it by so much as a grin. Elder Torkes, resembling the scavenger bird more faithfully than ever, seemed about to step forward, then, apparently, changed his mind as if aware of how Trags bulk diminished his stature to insignificance. You have only just arrived, Guildmember, and as it is now midday, refreshment has been prepared for you. Torkes began with scant courtesy. Trag dismissed the offer. You gave the Guild to understand the matter was of the most urgent. We need to eat, Killashandra said tartly. Just send us in some food, please, someone, and she picked up more brackets as Trag removed the next crystal from its bed of plasfoam. We might even finish this today if given the chance to work without interruption. Not quite. Trag amended in his deliberate fashion as he held the crystal up for inspection in the ceiling light. Satisfied he lowered it, his gaze traveling beyond to the fascinated observers. If you please? And he extended his hand toward the door. Killashandra, her eyes on Larss blank face, had to fight not to chortle at the aura of dismay, fury, and shock emanating from the four high ranking Optherians. But her hands were free of both sweat and tremble and, with Lars carefully tightening the matching bracket, they were ready to fasten it the moment Trag inserted the crystal in place. The door panel whooshed over the rectangle of sunlight. Killashandra tightened her bracket just as Lars finished his. Trag took up his hammer for the ceremonial tap and the D, mellow and clear, broke the silence of the room. Just two more, Trag and I believe well have something to show you, Killashandra said, reaching for more brackets. This is Lars Dahl. A lover posing as a bodyguard! A young man with highly suspicious credentials, Trag said bluntly, his hooded stare fixed on Lars. Killashandra held up a hand to restrain any understandable outburst from Lars but he only smiled, inclining his head in brief acknowledgment of

Yet we'll go no more a-roving

can use. I had Civics like any other schoolchild. I cant go, Trag. I cant leave him. Not like this. Not without any sort of a Tears so choked her that she could not continue and a sudden disastrous inability to stand made her wobble so that Trag only just kept her from falling. She didnt realize at first that Trag was supporting her out of the room. When she found them in the hall, she tried to wrench herself out of Trags grasp but there was someone else by then, assisting Trag and between the two of them, she was wrestled into the lift. She struggled, screaming imprecations and threats, and although she heard Trag protesting as sternly as he could, she was put in padded restraints. The ignominy of such a humiliating expedient combined with fear, disappointment, and her recent physical ordeal sent Killashandra into a trembling posture of aggrieved and contained fury. By the time they reached the shuttle transport to the Regulus transfer moon, she had exhausted her scant store of energy and crouched in the seat, sullen and silent, too proud to ask for her release from the restraints. She let Trag and the medic lead her where they would, and didnt protest when they undressed her for immersion in a radiant fluid tank. Legitimate protest and recourse denied her, she submitted to everything then, despairing and listless. Over and over she reviewed her moments in the witness chair, when her body, the body which had loved and been loved so by Lars, had betrayed them both with false testimony. She was appalled at that treachery, and obsessed by the horrifying guilt that she, herself, her anxieties and idiotic presentiments, had condemned Lars on the one count which had not been dismissed by the Court. She could never forgive herself. Somehow, sometime, she would be able to face Lars, and beg his forgiveness. That she promised herself. All the way back to Ballybran, she said not a single word to anyone, nodding or shaking her head in answer to the few questions that were put directly to her by officials. Trag supervised her meals, immersed her in radiant fluid whenever such facilities were available, and remained by her side during her wakeful hours. If he resented her silence or interpreted it as an accusation, he gave no indication of regret, remorse, or penitence. She was too immersed in her obsession with the Outrageous circumstance of Larss betrayal to try to explain the complexities of her depression. By the time she and Trag had completed the long journey to Ballybrans surface, Killashandra was completely restored casio exilim ex-z600 digital camera to physical health. She paused only long enough in her quarters to check, as she had begun to do toward the end of the trip, with galactic updates. There was no further word on the Optherian situation beyond the original bulletin announcing the arrival of Revision troops on the planet to correct legislative anomalies. She refused to consider what that statement might mean for Lars. Dumping her carisak, she changed into a shipsuit. Then she headed for the Fishermans bailiwick and, with a voice grown gruff from disuse, demanded her sonic cutter. While waiting for him to retrieve it from storage, she checked with Meterology and, with a twinge of satisfaction, learned that the forecast predicted a settled period of weather for the next nine days. She backed her sled out of its rack herself, though she could see the wild protesting signals of the duty officer trying to abort her precipitous departure. As soon as she was clear of the Hangar, she poured on the power and, in an undeviating line, fled for the Ranges. It was all part of the miserable web of ironic coincidence that she found black crystal again in the deep, sunless ravine in which she had hoped to bury herself and her grief for the reason and manner of her parting with Lars Dahl. EPILOGUE Stolidly Killashandra watched, arms folded across her breasts, as Enthor reverently unpacked the nine black crystal shafts. Interstellar, at the least, Killashandra, he said, blinking his eyes back to normal vision as he stepped back to sigh over the big crystals. And this is all from that vein you struck last year? Killashandra nodded. Not much moved her to words these days. Working the new claim, she had quickly recouped her losses on the Optherian contract; Heptite rules and regs had required her to part with a percentage of that fee to Trag. She accepted that as passively as she had accepted everything since that day in Court on Regulus. Not even Rimbol had been able to penetrate her apathy, though he and Antona continued their attempts. Lanzecki had spoken pleasantly to her after her first return from the Ranges, complimented her on the new black crystal vein but their early relationship could never have been revived even if Lanzecki had persisted. She didnt see him. She saw no one but Lars, a laughing Lars, garland-wreathed, his blue eyes gleaming, teeth white in his tanned face, his bronzed body poised on the deck of the Pearl Fisher. She woke sometimes,

I think I must take up with avarice.

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 Ambition was my idol, which was broken 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

"His name shall be alterd," quoth William Stutely,

fearedand with reason -that on one of these occasions it would pull round the tail of the tractor after it and topple the tractor on its side, or, worse, drag it into a crevasse: so they had unhooked the tow-bar and left the sled. It was surprising that they hadn't done this earlier: apart from carrying their fuel and food, which reserves could easily have gone into the tractor cabin itself, it had been a useless encumbrance to them. As far as I could judge they had abandoned it with all its contents-apart, of course, from the portable radio-including the wraps we had given Zagero and Levin when they had ridden on it at the point of a gun. We took these, tucked them round Mahler and Marie LeGarde and passed on. Three hundred yards later I stopped so abruptly, that the sledge, bumping into me, made me lose my footing on the slippery ice. I stood up, laughing softly, laughing for the first time for days, and Zagero came up close and peered into my face. "What gives, Doc?" I laughed again and was just on the point of speaking when his hand struck me sharply across the face. "Cut it out, Doc." His voice was harsh. "That ain't goin' to help us any." "On the contrary, it's going to help us a very great deal." I rubbed a hand across my cheek, I couldn't blame him for what he had done. "My God, and I almost missed it!" "Missed what?" He still wasn't sure that I wasn't hysterical. "Come on back to the tractor sled and see. Smallwood claims he thinks of everything, but he's missed out at last. He's made his first big mistake, but oh, brother, what a mistake! And the weather's just perfect for it!" I turned on my heel and actually ran up the glacier towards the sled. Many items were carried as standard equipment in ICY parties, both in the field and at base camps, and none more standard than the magnesium flares which first came into common use in the Antarctic over a quarter of a century agothey are indispensable as location beacons in the long polar nightsand radiosondes. We carried more radio-sondes than any other item of equipment, for our primary purpose on the ice-capthe garnering of information about density, pressure, temperature, humidity and wind direction of the upper atmospherewas impossible without them. These sondes, still crated with the tents, ropes, axes and shovels which we had found no occasion to use on this trip, were radio-carrying balloons which wirelessed back information from heights of between 100,000 and digital camera brands sony cameras 150,000 feet. We also carried rockoons, radio rockets fired from balloons which took them clear of the denser parts of the atmosphere before releasing them. But right then rockoons were useless to me. So, too, were balloons at their normal operating height: 5000 feet should serve our purpose admirably. The dim glow from the torch was more than sufficient, Jackstraw and I had worked with these things a hundred times. To couple the balloon to the hydrogen cylinder, disconnect the radio and substitute a group of three magnesium flares fused with RDX took only minutes. We lit the fuse, cut the holding cord and had a second balloon coupled on to the cylinder before the first was 500 feet up. Then, just as we had the third on the cylinder and were disconnecting its radio, the first flare, now at about a height of 4000 feet, burst into scintillating brilliant life. It was all I could have wished for, indeed it was more than I'd ever hoped for, and Zagero's heavy thump on my back showed how joyfully he shared my feelings. "Dr Mason," he said solemnly, "I take it all back, all I ever said about you. This, Dr Mason, is genius." "It's not bad," I admitted, and indeed if anyone, in those perfect conditions of visibility, couldn't see the coruscating dazzlement of those flares at any distance up to thirty miles, he would have to be blind. If they were looking in the right direction, that was, but I was sure that with Hillcrest carrying five men and everybody almost certainly on the lookout for us, the chances of missing it were remote. The second flare, considerably higher, burst into life just as the first went sputtering into extinction and the further thought struck me that if there were any ships patrolling out in the sea beyond, it would give them a bearing the significance of which none of them could surely overlook. And then I saw Jackstraw and Zagero looking at me and though I couldn't read their expressions in the darkness I knew from their stillness what they were both thinking and suddenly I didn't feel so happy any more. The odds were high that Corazzini and Smallwoodthey could be no more than a few miles distanthad seen the flares also. They would know what it signified, they would know it was the first tug on the drawstring of the net that might even then be starting to close round them. In addition to being dangerous, ruthless killers, they would become frightened killers; and they had Margaret and Johnny

And I love him best of a';

Lars, Olver survived the purge and you can contact us through him when you need to. Corish had her by the arm and was drawing her toward a rear exit. May I hope to see you again, Killashandra? If that is at all possible, officially, yes, of course, and I look forward to the occasion. Abruptly, annoyed at her stilted phrases, Killashandra stepped forward and swiftly embraced Nahia, kissing her on both cheeks. She stepped back, rather surprised at her uncharacteristic effusiveness until she saw the pleasure in Nahias brilliant eyes and smiling face. Oh, you are kind! Dont he ridiculous! Killashandra replied fiercely, and then smiled with embarrassment. She felt Lars take her elbow and squeeze it gently. Should I need to contact you, Killashandra, Corish added, opening the door and all but pushing Nahia out, Ill leave a message at the Piper Facility. As I already have. The door closed behind them with an emphatic slam. Come, Olav said, striding toward his front office. Well signal the jet. Fortunately, the return of the Pearl has been entered in the Harbor log and not too much time will have elapsed before we inform them of this good news. Olav paused in front of the huge console, frowning slightly at Killashandra. You are certain you wish to go through with this? It could be dangerous! Far more dangerous for them, Killashandra said with a snort. To have put me in such a situation in the first place. Then she laughed. Just think, Olav, with Larss confession that Torkes and Ampris hired him to assault me, to prove my identity, how they have compromised themselves. I actually had not considered that aspect. He turned to the console and began to send out the message. The jet cruiser responded instantly with a request for visual with which Olav instantly complied. Look pleased but humble, Lars , Killashandra muttered before she turned to the screen, once more the haughty and arrogant crystal singer. Elder Torkes, I must protest! It is over five weeks since I was abducted from the City a City, I might add, in which I had already been assaulted though I had been told in unequivocal terms that Optheria was a secure planet, where everyone knew his place, and no unusual activities were condoned or permitted. Killashandra stressed the words as sarcastically as possible, enjoying the shock on the Elders face. Yet I could also be insulted by a minor and officious idiot, and kidnapped! I could be abandoned on this dreadful world. And it has taken you panasonic fx-12 digital camera all this time to come to the islands which you yourself told me were populated by a dissident group. Dissident they might be, but courteous they are, and I have been made to feel far more welcome in these islands than I was during your pompous, ill-provisioned reception. I will also inform you, if you havent already heard from them, that my Guild will take a very dim view of this whole incident. In fact, reparations may well be required. Now, what have you to say to me? Honored Guildmember, I cannot adequately express our horror, our concern for you during your terrible ordeal. Those in the Harbor Masters office saw the effort which Elder Torkes was forced to make to moderate his own manner. I dont know how the Council can ever redeem itself in your eyes. Anything we can do I suggest that you begin by expressing gratitude to the young man who rescued me after that frightening hurricane Why, I thought Id be swept to sea and drowned during the night. This is the young man, and ruthlessly Killashandra pulled Lars beside her. Torkess face was unreadable as he inclined his head in the curtest possible recognition. Hes the skipper of the what did you say your boats called, Captain Dahl? The Pearl Fisher, Guildmember. I might add that he took considerable risk to himself and his vessel to put in to that island. The monsters in the lagoon and all about it were in some sort of frenzy. The storm does that, he told me. But I was so relieved to see another human after all that time Look at me! Im a sight! My hair, my skin! Im nothing but skin and bones! Our estimated time of arrival is 18:30, Guildmember. Until that time, the Harbor Master will be able to attend to your comfort to the limits of his facilities. Torkes regained some of his usual repressive manner as he eyed Olav Dahl significantly. Begging your indulgence, Elder Torkes, but the Guildmember insisted that you be contacted before any personal comfort was seen to. We are hers to command until your arrival. The picture was cut off at the cruiser screen. No sooner was it blank than Lars seized Killashandra in his arms, whirling her about the communications room, roaring his approval. His face! Did you see how he had to struggle to control himself, Killa? Youll break my ribs, Lars Leave off! But you can see how easy it is When you have one of

"If the Bishop he doth take me,

butterfly nuts. In these latitudes, quick-release was a misnomer: the nuts invariably froze after even the briefest exposure. The accepted practice was to remove one's gloves and close mittened hands round the nuts until body heat warmed and expanded them enough to permit unscrewing. But there was no time for that tonight: I tapped the bolts with a spanner from the tool box and the steel pins, made brittle by the intense cold, sheared as if made from the cheapest cast iron. I crawled out at the foot of the tarpaulin, searchlight clutched under one arm, and as soon as I straightened I heard it againthe roar of aero engines, closing rapidly. They sounded very near, very low, but I wasted no time trying to locate the plane. Head lowered against the wind and the needle-sharp lances of the flying ice, I felt rather than saw my way back to the cabin hatch and was brought up short by Jackstraw's steadying hand. He and Joss were busy loading equipment aboard the sledge and lashing it down, and as I stooped to help them something above my head fizzled and spluttered into a blinding white .re that threw everything into a harsh black and white relief of frozen snow and impenetrable shadow. Joss, remembering what I had completely forgottenthat dousing our cabin lights would have robbed the pilot of his beaconhad ignited a magnesium flare in the slats of the instrument shelter. We all turned as the plane came into our vision again, to the south, and it was at once apparent why we had lost all sight and sound of it. The pilot must have made a figure of eight turn out in the darkness, had reversed his approach circle, and was flying from east to west less than two hundred feet up, undercarriage still retracted, it passed within a couple of hundred yards of us like some monstrous bird. Both headlights were now dipped, the twin beams a glitter of kaleidoscopic light in the ice-filled darkness of the sky, the twin oval pools of light interlocking now and very bright, racing neck and neck across the snow. And then these pools, increasing as rapidly in size as they diminished in strength, slipped away to the left as the plane banked sharply to the right and came curving round clockwise to the north. I knew now what the pilot was intending and my hands clenched helplessly inside mittens and gloves. But there was nothing I could do about this. "The antenna!" I shouted. "Follow out the line of the antenna." I stooped and gave the sledge its initial shove as Jackstraw shouted at Balto. Joss was by my side, head close to mine. "What's manual sakar digital camera 28690 happening? Why are we" "He's coming down this time. I'm sure of it. To the north." "The north?" Not even the snow-mask could hide the horror in his voice. "He'll kill himself. He'll kill all of them. The hummocks" "I know." The land to the north-east was broken and uneven, the ice raised up by some quirk of nature into a series of tiny hillocks, ten, twenty feet high, tiny but the only ones within a hundred miles. "But he's going to do it, all the same. A belly landing with the wheels up. That's why he reversed his circle. He wants to land upwind to give himself the minimum stalling ground speed." "He could land to the south, into the wind." Joss sounded almost desperate. "It's a billiard table there." "He could, but he won't." I had to shout the words to make myself heard above the wind. "He's nobody's fool. He knows if he lands to windward of us, even a hundred yards to windward, the chances of finding our lights, our cabin, in this weather just don't exist. He's got to land upwind. He's just got to." There was a long silence as we staggered forward, head and shoulders bent almost to waist ievel against the wind and ice-filled drift, then Joss moved close again. "Maybe he'll see the hummocks in time. Maybe he can" "He'll never see them," I said flatly. "Flying into this stuff he can't possibly see a hundred yards in front of him." The radio antenna, rime-coated now to almost fifty times its normal size, sagging deeply and swaying pendulum-like in the wind between each pair of fourteen-foot poles that supported it, stretched away almost 250 feet to the north. We were following the line of this, groping our way blindly from pole to pole and almost at the end of the line, when the roar of the aircraft engines, for the last few seconds no more than a subdued murmur in the night as the wind carried the sound from us, suddenly swelled and increased to a deafening crescendo as I shouted a warning to the others and flung myself flat on the ground: the huge dark shape of the airliner swept directly over us even as I fell. I would have sworn, at the time, that I could have reached out and touched it with my hand, but it must have cleared us by at least ten feetthe antenna poles, we later discovered, were undamaged. Like a fool, I immediately leapt to my feet to try to get a bearing on

And flesh (which Death mows down to hay) is grass;

expected. Indeed I do mean alcoholic beverages. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word she said, Alcohol is essential to the proper metabolic function of a crystal singer. I have never heard that in all my years as Medical Supervisor of this planet. Have you encountered many crystal singers in your career? Piqued by yet another dogmatic encounter, Killashandra discarded any semblance of tact. These people needed a set-down and she was in the enviable position of being able to give it with impunity. In actual fact, no Then how can you possibly dispute my statement? Or question my requirements? This, and she waved a scornful hand at the goblet before her, bilge That beverage is a nutritious liquid, carefully combined to supply the adult daily requirements of vitamins and minerals to ensure No wonder it tastes so revolting. And may I point out that any brewmaster worth his license provides the same vitamins and minerals in a form palatable enough to satisfy the inner man as well. The Medical Supervisor hitched his chair back, throwing his serviette on the table in preparation for harangue, and suddenly they were the center of attention. Young woman Spare me your condescension, Elder, Killashandra replied as she rose gracefully to her feet and glared down at him. She swept the table with a reproving look. I shall retire to my apartment until such time as my dietary requirements can be met with enough food she flipped over her empty plate to satisfy my appetite and sufficient alcoholic beverages to keep my metabolism functioning. Good evening! In the stunned silence, Killashandra left the room. Doors the size and density of the ones securing the dining chamber did not slam satisfactorily but she had enjoyed her exit so much that she did not miss that part of the finale. In the corridor, she startled minions, lounging against the walls. Does anybody know where my apartments are in this mausoleum? she demanded. When all raised their hands, she pointed to the nearest. Take me there. When he hesitated and looked anxiously at the door, she repeated her order in a louder and more authoritative tone. He scurried forward, more desirous of avoiding her immediate wrath than courting disfavor of an absent authority. Tell me, she asked in a pleasant tone when they had entered a small lift, is food plentiful on Optheria? He cast her a very nervous glance and when she smiled winningly at him, relaxed a little, though he kept as free digital camera memory card far from her in the carriage as possible. There is plenty of food on Optheria. Too much. This year only half the fields may be planted, and I know that early fruit has been left to rot on the vine. Then why did I get three mouthfuls at dinner? Something approaching levity touched the young mans face. All the Elders are old: they dont eat much. Hmm! Thats one explanation. But a good brew or a nice dry vintage would have helped! A smile tugged at the young mans lips. Well, Elder Pentrom was present and he is death on any sort of alcoholic beverage. Says it saps the energy of the young and disrupts thought in the mature. And he was my dinner partner! Killashandras crow of malice resounded in the enclosed space. My timing is, as ever, superb! Well, Im not under his jurisdiction and, if Optheria really needs that organ repaired, the Elders will have to placate me, not him. The young man was obviously shocked. Tell me, she said in her kindest, most wheedling voice, you seem to be a knowledgeable fellow, what sort in interesting beverages are produced on this planet? Oh, there are brews and vintages, he assured her promptly and with some pride, and some rather potent spirituous drinks manufactured in the mountains and the islands but that sort of stuff isnt permitted in the Conservatory. The lifts doors slid open, and the Optherian bustled out. Mores the pity. Killashandra strode on down the hallway after her guide. What do you drink? No, abort the question, and she grinned at his startled glance. What is the most popular drink? The most popular one on this continent is a brew called Bascum. Is Bascum a plant or a person? Person. Her guide was warming to his subject. He indicated they take the left-hand corridor at the junction. One of the Founding Fathers. So his brewery is allowed to function in the face of the Medical Supervisors displeasure? Killashandra grinned as he nodded. I infer from your remarks that there are other popular drinks? Any wines? Oh, yes, the western continent produces some very fine vintages, both white and red, and some doubly distilled liqueurs. Im not familiar with the wines at all. And those islands you mentioned, they go for the spirituous liquors? The

And Robin Hood he was a proper young man,

lines of disappointment as his fingers found no trace of the sensations typical of the priceless, elusive black crystal. No such luck. Killashandras voice broke on weary disgust. But I devoutly hope its a respectable cut. She half sat on the table, needing its support to keep on her feet, as she watched Enthor unpack the crystal blocks from their plastic cocoons. Indeed! Enthors voice lilted with approval as he removed the first white crystal shaft and set it with appropriate reverence on his work table. Indeed! He subjected the crystal to the scrutiny of his augmented eyes. Flawless. White can so often be muddy. If I am not mistaken Thatll he the day, Killashandra muttered under her breath, her voice cracking. Never about crystal. Enthor shot her a glance from under his brows, blinking to adjust his eyes to normal vision. Killashandra idly wondered what Enthors eyes saw of human flesh and bone in the augmented mode. I do believe, my dear Killa, that youve anticipated the market. I have? Killashandra pulled herself erect. With white crystal? Enthor lifted out more of the slender sparkling crystal shafts. Yes, especially if you have matched groupings. These are a good start. What else did you cut? As one, they retraced their steps to the storage, each collecting another carton. Forty-four Ranked in size? Yes. Enthors excitement triggered hope in Killashandra. Forty-four, from the half centimeter By the centimeter? Half centimeter. Enthor beamed on her with almost as much enthusiasm as if she had brought him more black crystal. Your instinct is remarkable, Killa, for you could not have known about the order from the Optherians. An organ group? Enthor gestured for Killashandra to help him display the white shafts on the workbench. Yes, indeed. An entire manual was fractured. Enthor awarded her another of his beams. Where are the rest? Quickly. Get them. If theres so much as one with a cloud Killashandra obeyed, stumbling against the swinging door. By the time the crystal was sparkling on the table, she was 3.2 camera digital hp mp photosmart shuddering and had to cling to the bench to keep upright. It took a century for Enthor to evaluate her cut. Not a single cloudy crystal, Killashandra. Enthor patted her arm and, taking up his little hammer, cocked his ear to the pure sweet notes each delicate rap coaxed from the crystal. How much, Enthor? How much? Killashandra was hanging onto the table, and consciousness, with difficulty. Not as much, I fear, as black. Enthor tapped figures into his terminal. He pulled at his lower lip as he waited for the altered display. Still, 10,054 credits is not to be sneezed at. He raised his eyebrows, anticipating a pleased response. Only ten thousand Her knees were collapsing, the muscles in her calves spasming painfully. She tightened her grip on the tables edge. Surely thats enough to take you off-planet. But not far enough or long enough away. Blackness was creeping across her sight. Killashandra released one hand from the table to rub her eyes. Would Optheria be far enough? a dry, amused voice asked from behind her. Lanzecki she began, turning toward the Guild Master, but her turn became a spin, down into the darkness which would no longer be evaded. Shes coming round, Lanzecki. Killashandra heard the words. She could not understand their sense. The sentence, and the voice, echoed in her mind as if spoken in a tunnel. At the softest repetition, comprehension returned. The voice was Antonas, the Chief Medical Officer of the Heptite Guild. Sensation returned then, but sensation was limited to feeling something under her chin and a restraint about her shoulders. The rest of her body was deprived of feeling. Killashandra twitched convulsively and felt the viscous resistance of radiant fluid. She was immersed that explained the need for chin support and the shoulder restraint. Opening her eyes, she was not surprised to find herself in the tank room of the Infirmary. Beyond her were several more such tanks, two occupied, judging by the heads visible above the rims. So, youve rejoined us, Killashandra! How long have you been soaking me, Antona? Antona glanced at a display on the tank. Thirty-two hours and nineteen rinses. Antona shook a warning finger at

Then Robin Hood stept to a thicket of trees,

screen." "No, no, I'm all right." She moved away from me. "Don't be silly, my dear." I wondered what trick of voice production made Marie LeGarde's voice so clear and carrying. "He is a doctor, you know." "No!" I shrugged and reached for my brandy glass. Bearers of bad news were ever unpopular: I supposed her reaction was the modern equivalent of the classical despot's unsheathing his dagger. Probably only bruises, anyhow, I told myself, and turned to look at the company. An odd-looking bunch, to say the least, but then any group of people dressed in lounge suits and dresses, trilby hats and nylon stockings would have looked odd against the strange and uncompromising background of that cabin where every suggestion of anything that even remotely suggested gracious living had been crushed and ruthlessly made subservient to the all-exclusive purpose of survival. Here there were no armchairsno chairs, evenno carpets, wall-paper, book-shelves, beds, curtainsor even windows for the curtains. It was a bleak utilitarian box of a room, eighteen feet by fourteen. The floor was made of unvarnished yellow pine. The walls were made of spaced sheets of bonded ply, with kapok insulation between: the lower part of the walls was covered with green-painted asbestos, the upper part and entire roof sheeted with glittering aluminium to reflect the maximum possible heat and light. A thin, ever-present film of ice climbed at least half-way up all four walls, reaching almost to the ceiling in the four corners, the parts of the room most remote from the stove and therefore the coldest. On very cold nights, such as this, the ice reached $e ceiling and started to creep across it to the layers of opaque ice that permanently framed the undersides of our rimed and opaque skylights. The two exits from the cabin were let into the fourteen-foot sides: one led to the trap, the other to the snow and ice tunnel where we kept our food, petrol, oil, batteries, radio generators, explosives for seismological and glacial investigations and a hundred and one other items. Half-way along, a secondary tunnel led off at right anglesa tunnel which steadily increased in length as we cut out the blocks of snow which were melted to give us our water supply. At the far end of the main tunnel lay our primitive toilet system. One eighteen-foot wall and half of the wall that gave access to the trap-door were lined with twin rows of bunkseight in all. The other eighteen-foot wall was given over entirely to our digital camera specification summary table stove, work-bench, radio table and housings for the meteorological instruments. The remaining wall by the tunnel was piled with tins and cases of food, now mostly empties, that had been brought in from the runnel to begin the lengthy process of defrosting. Slowly I surveyed all this, then as slowly surveyed the company. The incongruity of the contrast reached the point where one all but disbelieved the evidence of one's own eyes. But they were there all right, and I was stuck with them. Everyone had stopped talking now and was looking at me, waiting for me to speak: sitting in a tight semi-circle round the stove, they were huddled together and shivering in the freezing cold. The only sounds in the room were the clacking of the anemometer cups, clearly audible down the ventilation pipe, the faint moaning of the wind on the ice-cap and the hissing of our pressure Colman lamp. I sighed to myself, and put down my empty glass. "Well, it looks as if you are going to be our guests for some little time, so we'd better introduce ourselves. Us first." I nodded to where Joss and Jackstraw were working on the shattered RCA, which they had lifted back on the table. "On the left, Joseph London, of the city of London, our radio operator." "Unemployed," Joss muttered. "On the right, Nils Nielsen. Take a good look at him, ladies and gentlemen. At this very moment the guardian angels of your respective insurance companies are probably putting up a prayer f 46r his continued well-being. If you all live to come home again, "toe chances are that you will owe it to him." I was to remember my own words later. "He probably knows more than any man living about survival on the Greenland ice-cap." "I thought you called him 'Jackstraw'." Marie LeGarde murmured. "My Eskimo name." Jackstraw had turned and smiled at her, his parka hood off for the first time; I could see her polite astonishment as she looked at the fair hair, the blue eyes, and it was as if Jackstraw read her thoughts. "Two of my grandparents were Danishmost of us Greenlanders have as much Danish blood as Eskimo in us nowadays." I was surprised to hear him talk like this, and it was a tribute to Marie LeGarde's personality: his pride in his Eskimo background was equalled only by his touchiness on the subject. "Well, well, how interesting." The expensive young lady was sitting back on her box, hands

And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;

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 cold, the incessant roar and body-numbing vibration of the big engine, I think I would almost have enjoyed it. With the wide tractor body blocking off the view behind, it was impossible for me to see what was happening there: but every ten minutes or so Jackstraw would jump off and stand by the side of the trail. Behind the tractor body and its shivering occupants -because of the tractor fuel tank beneath and the spare fuel drums astern the stove was never lit while we were in motioncame the sledge with all our stores: 120 gallons of fuel, provisions, bedding and sleeping-bags, tents, ropes, axes, shovels, trail flags, cooking utensils, seal meat for the dogs, four wooden bridging battens, canvas sheets, blow-lamps, lantern, medical equipment, radiosonde balloons, magnesium flares and a score of minor items. I had hesitated over including the radio sondes, especially the relatively heavy hydrogen cylinders for these: but they were ready crated with tents, ropes, axes and shovels andthis was the deciding factorhad saved lives on at least one occasion when a trail party, lost on the plateau with defective compasses, had saved themselves by releasing several balloons in the brief daylight hours thereby enabling base to see them and send accurate radio bearings. Behind the heavy transport sled was towed the empty dog-sled, with the dogs on loose traces running astern of it, all except Balto who always ran free, coursing tirelessly backwards and forwards all night long, one moment far ahead of us, the next ranging out to one side, the next dropping astern, like some destroyer circling a straggling convoy by night. When the last of the dogs had passed by him, Jackstraw would run forward to overtake the tractor and jump in alongside me konica minolta digital cameras once more. He was as tireless, as immune to fatigue, as Balto himself. The first twenty miles were easy. On the way up from the coast, over four months previously, we had planted big marker flags at intervals of half a mile. On a night such as this, with the moonlight flooding the ice-cap, these trail flags, a bright luminous orange in colour and mounted on aluminium poles stuck in snow beacons, were visible at a great distance, with never less than two and sometimes three in sight at the same time, the long glistening frost feathers stretching out from the poles sometimes twice the length of the flags themselves. We counted twenty-eight of these flags altogetherabout a dozen were missingthen, after a sudden dip in the land, completely lost them: whether they had blown away or just drifted under it was impossible to say. "Well, there it is, Jackstraw," I said resignedly. "This is where one of us starts getting cold. Really cold." "We've been cold before, Dr Mason. Me first." He slid the magnetic compass off its brackets, started to unreel a cable from a spool under the dashboard, then jumped out, still unwinding the cable, while I followed to help. Despite the fact that the magnetic north pole is nowhere near the north poleat that time it was almost a thousand miles south of it and lay more to the west than north of usa magnetic compass, when proper variation allowances are made, is still useful in high latitudes: but because of the counter-acting magnetic effects of a large mass of metal, it was quite useless when mounted on the tractor itself. Our plan, therefore, was that someone should He with the compass on the dog-sled, fifty feet behind the tractor, and, by means of a switch which operated red and green lights in the tractor dashboard, guide the driver to left or right. It wasn't our original idea, it wasn't even a recent idea: it had been used in the Antarctic a quarter century previously but, as far as I knew, had not been improved upon yet. With Jackstraw established on the sledge, I walked back to the tractor and pushed aside the canvas screen at the back of the wooden body. What with the faces of the passengers, drawn and pinched and weirdly pale in the light of the tiny overhead bulb, the constant shivering, the chattering of teeth and the frozen breath drifting upwards to condense and freeze on the wooden roof, it was a picture of utter and abject misery: but I was in no mood to be moved at that moment.

The Queen she wants twa friars frae France,

would have to slide down slowly, an inch at a time. At night, Mallory knew, side vision is even more acute than direct, and the guard might catch a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. And then he would only have to turn his head and that would be the end: even in that darkness, Mallory realised, there could be no mistaking the bulk of his silhouette against the sharp line of the edge of the cliff. Gradually, every movement as smooth and controlled as possible, every soft and soundless breath a silent prayer, Mallory slipped gradually back over the edge of the cliff. Stifi the guard advanced, making for a point about five yards to Mallory's left, but still he looked away, his ear turned into the wind. And then Mallory was down, only his finger-tips over the top, and Andrea's great bulk was beside him, his mouth to his ear. "What is it?" Somebody there?" "A sentry," Mallory whispered back. His arms were beginning to ache from the strain. "He's heard something and he's looking for us." Suddenly he shrank away from Andrea, pressed himself as closely as possible to the face of the cliff, was vaguely aware of Andrea doing the same thing. A beam of light, hurtful and dazzling to eyes so long accustomed to the dark, had suddenly stabbed out at the angle over the edge of the cliff, was moving slowly along towards them. The German had his torch out, was methodically examining the rim of the cliff. From the angle of the beam, Mallory judged that he was walking alone about a couple of feet from the edge. On that wild and gusty night he was taking no chances on the crumbly, treacherous top-soil of the cliff: even more likely, he was taking no chances on a pair of sudden hands reaching out for his ankles and jerking him to a mangled death on the rocks and reefs four hundred feet below. Slowly, inexorably, the beam approached. Even at that slant, it was bound to catch them. With a sudden sick certainty Mallory realised that the German wasn't just suspicious: he knew there was someone there, and he wouldn't stop looking until he found them. And there was nothing they could do, just nothing at all. . . . Then Andrea's head was close to his again. "A stone," Andrea whispered. "Over there, behind him." Cautiously at first, then frantically, Mallory pawed the cliff-top with his right hand. Earth, only earth, grass roots and tiny pebblesthere was nothing even half the size of a marble. And then Andrea was thrusting cheap xd digital camera cards something against him and his hand closed over the metallic smoothness of a spike: even in that moment of desperate urgency, with the slender, searching beam only feet away, Mallory was conscious of a sudden, brief anger with himselfbe had still a couple of spikes stuck in his belt and had forgotten all about them. His arm swung back, jerked convulsively forward, sent the spike spinning away into the darkness. One second passed, then another, he knew he had missed, the beam was only inches from Andrea's shoulders, and then the metallic clatter of the spike striking a boulder fell upon his ear like a benison. The beam wavered for a second, stabbed out aimlessly into the darkness and then whipped round, probing into the boulders to the left. And then the sentry was running towards them, slipping and stumbling in his haste, the barrel of the carbine gleaming in the light of the torch held clamped to it. He'd gone less than ten yards when Andrea was over the top of the cliff like a great, black cat, was padding noiselessly across the ground to the shelter of the nearest boulder. Wraith-like, he flitted in behind it and was gone, a shadow long among shadows. The sentry was about twenty yards away now, the beam of his torch darting fearfully from boulder to boulder when Andrea stuck the haft of his knife against a rock twice. The sentry whirled round, torch shining along the line of the boulders, then started to run clumsily back again, the skirts of the greatcoat fluttering grotesquely in the wind. The torch was swinging wildly now, and Mallory caught a glimpse of a white, straining face, wide-eyed and fearful, incongruously at variance with the gladiatorial strength of the steel helmet above. God only knew, Mallory thought, what wild panic-stricken thoughts were passing through his confused mind: noises from the cliff-top, metallic sound from either side among the boulders, the long, eerie vigil, afraid and companionless, on a deserted cliff edge on a dark and tempest-filled night in a hostile landsuddenly Mallory felt a deep stab of compassion for this man, a man like himself, someone's well-beloved husband or brother or son who was only doing a dirty and dangerous job as best he could and because he was told to, compassion for his loneliness and his anxieties and his fears, for the sure knowledge that before he had drawn breath another three times he would be dead.. . . Slowly, gauging his time and distance,

As o'er the cold sepulcher stone

my face collided with the slatted sides of the instrument shelter, then jumped for the hatch, sliding down to the floor of the cabin on back and arms without bothering to use the steps. Joss, already completely clad in his furs but with the hood of his parka hanging over his shoulders, was just emerging from the food and fuel tunnel which led off from the other end of the cabin, his arms loaded with equipment. "Grab all the warm clothing you can find, Joss," I told him quickly. I was trying to think as quickly and coherently as I was talking, to figure out everything that we might require, but it wasn't easy, that intense cold numbed the mind almost as much as it did the body. "Sleeping-bags, blankets, spare coats, shirts, it doesn't matter whose they are. Shove them into a couple of gunny sacks." "You think they're going to land, sir?" Curiosity, anticipation, horroreach struggled for supremacy in the thin, dark intelligent face. "You really think so?" "I think they're going to try. What have you got there?" "Fire bombs, a couple of Pyrenes." He dumped them by the stove. "Hope they're not solid." "Good boy. And a couple of the tractor extinguishersthe Nu-Swifts, G-1000,1 think." A great help these little things are going to be, I thought, if several thousand gallons of petrol decide to go up in flames. "Fire axes, crowbars, canes, the homing spoolfor heaven's sake don't forget the hojning spooland the searchlight battery. Be sure and wrap that up well." "Bandages?" "No need. Seventy degrees of frost will freeze blood and seal a wound quicker than any bandage. But bring the morphia kit. Any water in these two buckets?" "Full. But more ice than water." "Put them on the stoveand don't forget to turn out the stove and both the lights before you leave." Incongruously enough, we who could survive in the Arctic only by virtue of fire, feared it above all else. "Pile the rest of the stuff up by the instrument shelter." I found Jackstraw, working only by the feeble light of his torch, outside the lean-to drift-walled shelter that we had built for the dogs from empty packing cases and an old tractor tarpaulin. He appeared to be fighting a losing battle in the centre of a milling pack of snarling yelping dogs, but the appearance was illusion only: already he had four of the dogs off the tethering cable and the sledge tracelines snapped into their harness. "How's it coming?" jvc digital video camera driver d I shouted. "Easy." I could almost see the crinkling grin behind the snow-mask. "I caught most of them asleep, and Balto is a great helphe's in a very bad temper at being woken up." Balto was Jackstraw's lead doga huge, 90-pound, half-wolf, half-Siberian, direct descendant of, and named for the famous dog that had trekked with Amundsen, and who later, in the terrible winter of '25, his sledge-driver blind behind him, had led his team through driving blizzards and far sub-zero cold to bring the life-giving anti-toxin into the diphtheria-stricken town of Nome, Alaska. Jackstraw's Balto was another such: powerful, intelligent, fiercely loyal to his master- although not above baring his wolfs fangs as he made a token pass at him from time to time -and, above all, like all good lead dogs, a ruthless disciplinarian with his team-mates. He was exercising that disciplinary authority nowsnarling, pushing and none-too-gently nipping the recalcitrant and the slow-coaches, quelling insubordination in its earliest infancy. "I'll leave you to it, then. I'll get the searchlight." I made off towards the mound of snow that loomed high to the westward of the cabin, broke step and listened. There was no sound to be heard, nothing but the low-pitched moan of the wind on the ice-cap, the eternal rattling of the anemometer cups. I turned back to Jackstraw, my face bent against the knifing wind. "The planehave you heard the plane, Jackstraw? I can't hear a thing." Jackstraw straightened, pulled off his parka hood and stood still, hands cupped to his ears. Then he shook his head briefly and replaced the hood. "My God!" I looked at him. "Maybe they've crashed already." Again the shake of the head. "Why not?" I demanded. "On a night like this you wouldn't hear a thing if they crashed half a mile downwind." "I'd have felt it, Dr Mason." I nodded slowly, said nothing. He was right, of course. The frozen surface of this frozen land transmitted vibration like a tuning-fork. Last July, seventy miles inland, we had distinctly felt the vibration of the ice-cap as an iceberg had broken off from a glacier in a hanging valley and toppled into the fjord below. Maybe the pilot had lost his bearings, maybe he was flying in

He is a stout fellow, forbear.

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 There 's no one shall wrong thee, friend, be not afraid 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

In fighting, hath tumbid me in."

Lars did not elect to join her for she could well imagine that he had been equally astonished by Olavs farewell. She sat staring at the squat bulk of the cruiser, and liked it less the nearer she got to it. Nor did her opinion change during the three-day voyage back to the City. The Captain, a dour man named Festinel, was waiting at the top of the gangplank and escorted her himself to her cabin, explaining that her bodyguard would be quartered in the next cubicle, within hearing distance. She did not groan but saw this trip would be a repetition of the Trundomoux voyage. Well, she had survived that, too. Lars came along the companionway at that point and was greeted almost effusively by Captain Festinel. During the evening meal, it was apparent from Festinels deference to Lars that the man had been impressed by the islanders seamanship, or rather, the false account of his rescue of Killashandra from the dangerously positioned islet of exile. Killashandra added only her physical presence to the officers mess. She was tired. She could feel muted crystal resonance in her body, though it was insufficient to raise the hair on those nearby. She was pleasant when addressed but limited her answers, contenting herself with enigmatic smiles. Elder Torkes kept shooting her wary, surreptitious glances but did not engage her in conversation. Which satisfied her. Keep him guessing about her, and off balance. Only how were she and Lars to have any sort of normal relationship if her quarters in the Conservatory were monitored? On the crowded cruiser there was no way for them to have a private word or even the chance of a caress. Abstinence after the feast did nothing for her temper. So, preoccupied, she didnt notice the subliminal whine until the second evening, when she twitched all through dinner, rubbing at her neck and ear. Something was wrong. Youre very unsettled tonight, Guildmember, Lars said finally, having endured her contortions throughout dinner. He spoke quietly, for her ears only, but his voice carried. Nerves No, its not nerves. Does this cruiser use a crystal drive? She spoke in a loud, accusing tone, looking to Captain Festinel for her answer. It does, Guildmember, and I regret to inform you that we are experiencing some difficulty with it. It urgently needs to be retuned. As soon as youre in port. The way it sounds right now, itll be broad-casting secondary sonics by morning. The engineer has been monitoring an uneven drive thrust but it should see us safely to the Mainland. You best binoculars camera digital have reduced speed? Of course, Crystal Singer, the moment the instrumentation recorded resonance. What is the matter with the cruiser? Elder Torkes asked, only then aware of the nature of the discussion. Nothing for you to worry about, Killashandra said curtly, without glancing in his direction, for she was rubbing that side of her neck. She felt Lars stiffen beside her, and heard the tiny intake of her left-hand partners breath. I hope. She rose. The whine is subsonic but highly irritating. Good evening, gentlemen. Lars followed her and for a miracle they were alone in the companionway as he escorted her to her cramped quarters. Is it monitored? she asked him in a low voice. He nodded. Do you require any medication to sleep, Guildmember? Yes, if you can find some polly wine, Captain. The steward will bring a decanter to your quarters. With a bottle of that inside her, Killashandra slept in spite of the increasingly audible distortion. The next morning, the noise was almost audible. Even Lars was affected. She was relieved when Captain Festinel requested her presence on the bridge. And concerned when she was shown the drive print-out. Festinel and his engineering officer were justifiably concerned. We were due for an overhaul when this emergency came up, Guildmember. The Broad Sea had more turbulence than we had anticipated putting a strain on the compensators as well as the stabilizers, especially at speed. The Captain was flatteringly deferential so Killashandra nodded as he made his points, and frowned wisely at the print-out as if she knew what she was seeing. Fortunately the bridge was buffered against crystal noise as the rest of the ship was not, giving her a respite from the sound. Until she put her hand on the bulkhead and felt it coursing through the metal. The drive is losing efficiency, Killashandra said, recalling the phrases which Carrik had used at the shuttle port on Fuerte, and obscurely pleased with herself that her memory remained lucid for that period, now so completely divorced from her present life. Frankly, Id prefer heaving to and having a good look at the crystal drive, but our orders are to proceed with all possible

And wish that you had never spoke the word,

the cave on the other side and were making their way down the treetufted, sloping valley side towards the sea, the dark sheen of the Aegean clearly visible in the gloom, when Louki, hearing something, had gestured them all to silence. Almost immediately Mallory, too, heard it, a soft guttural voice occasionally lost in the crunch of approaching feet on gravel, had seen that they were providentially screened by some stunted trees, given the order to stop and sworn in quick anger as he had heard the soft thud and barely muffled cry behind them. He had gone back to investigate and found Panayis stretched on the ground unconscious. Miller, who had been helping him along, had explained that Mallory had halted them so suddenly that he'd bumped into Panayis, that the Greek's bad leg had given beneath him, throwing him heavily, his head striking a stone as he had fallen. Mallory had stooped down in instantly renewed suspicionPanayis was a throw-back, a natural-born killer, and he was quite capable of faking an accident if he thought he could turn it to his advantage, line a few more of the enemy up on the sights of his rifle . . . but there had been no fake about that: the bruised and bloodied gash above the temple was all too real. The German patrol, having had no inkling of their presence, moved noisily up the valley till they had finally gone out of earshot. Louki had thought that the commandant in Navarone was becoming desperate, trying to seal off every available exit from the Devil's Playground. Mallory had thought it unlikely, but had not stayed to argue the point. Five minutes later they had cleared the mouth of the valley, and in another five had not only reached the coast road but silenced and bound two sentriesthe drivers, probablywho had been guarding a truck and command car parked by the roadside, stripped them of denims and helmets and bundled them out of sight behind some bushes. The trip into Navarone had been ridiculously simple, but the entire lack of opposition was easily understandable, because of the complete unexpectedness of it all. Seated beside Mallory on the front seat, clad, like Mallory in captured clothes, Louki had driven the big car, and driven it magnificently, an accomplishment so unusual to find in a remote Aegean island that Mallory had been completely mystified until Louki had reminded him that he had been Eugene Viachos's Consulate chauffeur for many years. The drive into town had taken less than twelve minutesnot only did the little man handle the car superbly, but he digital camera reviews and wildlife photography knew the road so well that he got the utmost possible out of the big machine, most of the time without benefit of any lights at all. Not only a simple journey, but quite uneventful. They had passed several parked trucks at intervals along the road, and less than two miles from the town itself had met a group of about twenty soldiers marching in the opposite direction in column of twos. Louki had slowed downit would have been highly suspicious had he accelerated, endangering the lives of the marching men but had switched on the powerful headlights, blinding them, and blown raucously on the horn, while Mallory had leaned out of the right-hand window, sworn at them in perfect German and told them to get out of his damned way. This they had done, while the junior officer in charge had come smartly to attention, throwing up his hand in punctilious salute. Immediately afterwards they had run through an area of high-walled, terraced market gardens, passed between a decaying Byzantine church and a whitewashed orthodox monastery that faced each other incongruously across the same dusty road, then almost at once were running through the lower part of the old town. Mallory had had a vague impression of narrow, winding, dim-lit streets only inches wider than the car itself, hugely cobbled and with almost knee-high pavements, then Louki was making his way up an arched lane, the car climbing steeply all the time. He bad stopped abruptly, and Mallory had followed his quick survey of the darkened lane: completely deserted though over an hour yet to curfew. Beside them had been a flight of white stone steps innocent of any hand-rail, running up parallel to the wall of a house, with a highly ornamented lattice-work grill protecting the outside landing at the top. A still groggy Panayis had led them up these stairs, through a househe had known exactly where he wasacross a shallow roof, down some more steps, through a dark courtyard and into this ancient house where they were now. Louki had driven the car away even before they had reached the top of the stairs; it was only now that Mallory remembered that Louki hadn't thought it worth while to say what he intended to do with the car. Still gazing out the windowless hole in the wall at the fortress gate, Mallory found himself hoping intensely that nothing would happen to the sad-eyed little Greek, and not only because in his infinite resource and local knowledge he had been

And she's sent for twa friars of France,

arranged his mouth in a smile which she took to mean approbation. The lower octave is always easier, for some reason, to set and pitch, Killashandra went on affably. Were making excellent progress. And? Killashandra heard a curious vibration in that single word. Elder Ampris was overly eager to have this installation completed and it could not be simply to allow performers practice time. He also exhibited an uncharacteristic nervousness; his fingers rubbed against his thumb. I think well have the entire manual finished by tomorrow evening. Set the next pair of brackets, will you, Lars Dahl, while I watch. Killashandra stepped away from the cabinet, stood next to Elder Ampris. Hes quick and deft and once Im sure hes doing it right, well work both ends against the middle. Ampris regarded her with a blink, his mind evidently jumping to another application of that phrase. His stiff and pleased smile forewarned her. You will then perhaps be delighted to have trained assistance. Trained? Killashandra glanced at Lars who had also suspended motion, catching the smugness in Ampriss dry tone. When we could not find you anywhere in the City, Guildmember, we apprised your Guild of your disappearance. And requested a Ampriss smile took on a faintly apologetic twist, replacement. Our need, as Im sure you appreciate, is urgent. It takes nearly ten weeks to get from the Scoria system to the Ophiuchian. Not by FSP courier ship. Ampris inclined his head briefly. Your Guild values you highly, Killashandra Ree Surely youve communicated news of my rescue? Ampris spread his hands deferentially. But of course. But we did not then know how promptly the Heptite Guild would respond. The courier ship has entered our atmosphere and at this very moment is landing at the shuttleport. Trag! And there was no doubt at all in Killashandras mind that that was who had been dispatched. I beg your pardon. Lanzecki would have sent Trag here. This man is capable? Eminently. However, the more we can do now, the sooner Trag and I will finish. If youll excuse me, Elder Ampris? And Killashandra signaled Lars to continue. Our last request to you, Ampris, although Ampris had not yet stirred from his vantage point those tubs of crystal shard sonytm digital slr camera review could now be removed to wherever I or Trag will be instructing the trainees. Some of the larger pieces can be useful but they are a considerable nuisance sounding off in here. Yes, we should want to restore the monitors within this room, Guildmember, now that the organ is nearly repaired. Ampris flicked his hand at Thyrol who then issued the appropriate order to the guards. Killashandra did not dare glance in Larss direction. Dont bounce the tubs about, Killashandra warned, as the guards shuffled out with the first one. There now, Killashandra said when the door had slid shut leaving them alone, the shardsll be more accessible to us now. We can purloin the ones we want. Can you get your hands on a small plasfoam pouch? Yes. Whos this Trag? The best person they could possibly have sent. Lanzeckis Administration Officer. Killashandra chuckled. Id rather him than an army, and certainly Id rather him than any other singer they could have chosen. And a courier ship. I am flattered. Somehow Ampris is too pleased with this development. Yes, and fretting with impatience. Killashandra mimicked his hand gesture and Lars nodded grimly. Is it just that he wants the organ done? Or us out of the loft for good? She swiveled slightly so that she was facing the wall they could not shift. Why? She bit one corner of her lip, trying to solve its mystery. Then, with an exclamation, she ran her hands around the casing of the manual, picked up the lid and examined it closely. What are you looking for, Killa? Blood! Did you see any discoloration on the shards you handled? No If Camgail was killed by, and he gestured at the newly placed crystal spires, there would have been blood somewhere here! Was there only the official version of Comgails end? No. I had a chance to speak with one of the infirmary attendants and she said that he was covered in blood, crystal fragments had pierced eyes, face, and chest. With a little help, perhaps? But do you know for certain that it was Comgail who shattered the manual? Lars nodded slowly, his eyes gray and bleak, his face expressionless. And he had mentioned earlier that he knew the access to the subliminal units