Crystal Singer

She was almost to the lift shaft when a group emerged from the Commons.

“Killashandra?”

“Rimbol?” Killashandra mocked his surprised query with a light laugh. “You ought to know me!”

Rimbol gave her an odd grin that relaxed into his usual ingenuous smile. Jezerey, Mistra, and Borton were with him.

“Well, you're more like yourself this evening than you were yesterday,” Rimbol replied. He scratched his head in embarrassment, gri

“I don't think I've changed,” Killashandra replied stiffly, a

Rimbol laughed. «Well, you've used your mirror» – and he indicated her careful grooming – «but you haven't seen.»

“No, I haven't.”

Rimbol made a grimace of apology for her sharp tone.

“Singers are notorious for their irritability,” Jezerey said with an uncordial look.

“Oh, pack that in, Jez,” Rimbol said. “Killa is just in off the ranges. Is it as bad as it's made out, Killa?” He couched that question in a quiet tone.

“I would have been fine if I hadn't had to deal with Moksoon.”

“Or the Guild Master.” Rimbol was sympathetic.

“Oh, you stayed on?” Killashandra decided to brazen through that episode. “He was quite right, of course. And I pass on that hard-learned lesson. Save your own sled and skin in the ranges. Will you be around later, Rimbol? I've got to see Lanzecki now.” She allowed her voice to drop, expressing dread and looking for sympathy in their expressions. “I'd like to join you later if you're in the lounge.”

“Good luck!” Rimbol said, and he meant it. The others waved encouragingly as she entered the lift.

She had much to think about during the short drop, and none of it about her interview with Lanzecki. How could she have changed so much in the past few days just by cutting crystal? Jezerey had never been overly friendly, but she had never been antagonistic. She was a

She sighed, standing before the door to the Guild Master's office. In the second between the a

“Killashandra Ree.” Lanzecki's voice came from the corner of his large office, and she saw him bent over a spotlighted work surface, layers of printout in front of him. He did not look up from his research until she reached him. “Did you have enough to eat?” he asked with more than ordinary courtesy and a close scrutiny of her face.

"I had a high-protein and glucose cereal – " she began because, as soon as he mentioned eating, she felt hungry again.

“Hmmm. A bowl was all you had time for, I'm sure. You've slept sixteen hours, so you've missed considerable nourishment already.”

“I did eat in the ranges. Really I did,” she protested as he took her hand and led her to the catering console.

“You've still wit enough to feed yourself, but you can't know how immensely important it is to replenish reserves at this point.”

“I won't be able to eat all that.” She was appalled at the number and variety of dishes he was dialing.

“I get peckish myself, you know,” he said, gri

“What happens that I need to eat myself gross?” she asked, but she helped him clear the catering slot of its first deposit, sniffing appreciatively at the enticing mixture of aromas from the platters.

“You'll never see a plump Singer,” he assured her. “In your particular case, the symbiont is only just settled into cell tissue. A Milekey transition may be easier on the host, but the spore still requires time to multiply, differentiate, and become systematically absorbed. Here, start with this soup. Weather and other considerations compelled me to direct you into the ranges prematurely as far as the process of your adaptation is concerned.” He gave her a sardonic glance. “You may one day be grateful that you had only two days on your claim.”

“Actually three. I didn't spend two with that twithead Moksoon. He's utterly paranoid!”

“He's alive,” Lanzecki replied succinctly, with sufficient undertone to make the statement both accusation and indictment. “Three days! In ordinary training, you would not have gone out into the ranges until the others were also prepared.”

“They won't make it out before the Passover storms now.” Killashandra was dismayed. If she had had to wait that long . . .

“Precisely. You were trained, eager and clever enough to precipitate the event.”

“And you wanted that black crystal.”

“So, my dearling, did you.”

The caterer chimed urgently to remind them to clear the slot for additional selections. Lanzecki slapped a hold on the remainder of the programmed order.

“Even with your help, I'll never eat all this,” Killashandra said after they had filled the small table and three more dishes remained in the slot.

“Listen to me while you eat. The symbiont will be attenuated after intense cutting. I could see that in your face. Don't talk. Eat! I had to be sure you ate last night once the radiant fluid had eased your nerves. Your metabolism must be efficient. I would have thought you'd been awakened by hunger a good four hours ago.”

“I was eating when I got your message.”

He gri

Whatever it was he fed her was exceedingly tasty. She speared another.

«Now, several unexpected elements are in display. One» – and he ate a spoonful of small brilliant green spheres – «you brought in five medium black crystals for which we have received an urgent request.» He waved his empty spoon at the printout layers on his desk. «Two, you have no sled, nor can Manufacturing produce a replacement before the Passover storms. Which, by the way, were heralded by that unpredicted blow in the Bay area. Short, hard, but destructive. Even though conjunction occurs over the seas north and east of this continent, Passover is going to be particularly nasty, as it coincides with spring solstice. Weather is generally cyclical on Ballybran, and the pattern which has been emerging coincides with '63 . . . 2863GY, that is – eat, don't gawk. Surely you have wandered through data retrieval, Killashandra, and discovered how long I've been a member. Fuerte ca

She swallowed as the significance of his qualifying the century occurred to her.

“But not how long you've been Guild Master.”

He chuckled at her quick reply, passing a dish of stewed orange-and-green milsi stalks to her. “Excellent for trace minerals. The Passover turbulence will be phenomenal even in terms of Ballybran's meteorological history. Which, I might add, goes back further than I do. Don't choke now!” he rose to give her a deft thump between her shoulder blades. “Even the Infirmary level will shake. You, so recently exposed to crystal for the first time, will be severely affected by the stress. I can, as Guild Master, order you off Ballybran,” and his face fell into harsh immobile lines, impersonal and implacable. But his mouth softened when he saw her determined expression. “However, I would prefer that you cooperate. The five blacks you brought in are currently, if you'll forgive the pun, being tuned and should be ready for shipment. I would like to assign you to take them to the Trundimoux System and install them.”