"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