Killashandra

“The wall drops – how I don’t know, but there is just the slightest gap at the top, where no one would think to look for it. And three very heavy cables go through the wall.”

Lars replaced the tub before he began to inspect the corner joint. Once again he gave an exultant yip.

“The whole wall must move, Killa – but how?”

That large a mass sinking into the floor might be a touch noisy.”

“If we knew the mechanism . . .” He felt along the corner, then the floor, pressing and tapping.

“That’s far too obvious, Lars. Stupid they are but never obvious. Try for an extrusion on one of the units, underneath ‘em, inside . . .” She ran searching fingers under the one nearest her, finding nothing but a rough edge on one corner which produced a gouged finger. “Ach, I haven’t the patience for this sort of nonsense right now. You go ahead. I’ll finish this last bit of cleaning.”

By the time their lunch was brought in, Lars had found nothing more. The units that could be opened had been opened with no result. Lars stewed and fussed all through the meal at his inability to resolve the problem.

“What sort of form do the security measures generally take on Optheria? Bureaucracies tend to find a reliable mechanism and stick with it,” Killashandra suggested, with only half her attention on that part of the problem since she was so close to clearing the manual case for the next task.

“I can find out. Would you mind being left alone this evening?” He gri

“And where would that be?” she asked with an arch glance of mock disgust.

“I’ve got to acquire a few more clothes,” and he twitched the fabric of his shirt, not as gaudy as that of most island designs but certainly noticeable amid the drab garb of the city dwellers. “Talk to a few people. Lucky for us, it’s nearing the time of year when the subliminals wear off and normal student appetites revive. I might he late, Killa,” – he made a grimace of regret – “We don’t have as much time together . . .”

She kissed the pulse in his throat. “Whenever you return then. That is, of course,” and she had to add a light touch to relieve the tension in her throat, “if the guards pass you in.”

Chapter 20

And?” Killashandra prompted Lars the next morning as they breakfasted. Despite a valiant effort to stay awake, she had been asleep when he returned and he was showering when she was awakened by the distant chimes.

“I got clothing, all right enough,” Lars admitted with a frustrated sigh. “The Elders’ search and seizure for you was far more comprehensive than our visitors,” and despite the jammer he was taking no chances, “had led us to believe. Or perhaps knew. Anyone – anyone who has been booked even for a pedestrian offense – was drawn. Half a dozen students were sent on to rehab without benefit of Inquiry.”

“Olver?”

Lars ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his head vigorously as if to erase his despondency. “How he escaped I don’t know and neither, I gather, does he. We didn’t exchange more than a few signs.” Lars propelled himself from his chair, pacing, head down. “It could very well be that the Elders have marked him and are playing a waiting game.”

“Are Nahia and Hauness safe?”

Lars gave her a quick and grateful smile for that concern. “They were holding clinics in Ironwood,” he waved his hand to the north, “at the time of your disappearance. The City, Gartertown, and the Port took the brunt of search and seizure. And Security then used your disappearance as an excuse to take known dissidents in protective custody.

“How many are?”

“In protective custody? My dear Guildmember, such figures are never made public.”

“An informed guess? Suicide is one form of social protest, the size of the p.c. population another one.”

Lars shook his head. “Hauness might be able to find out,” and Lars resumed his head shaking, “but I wouldn’t risk getting in touch with him right now.”

Killashandra stared at Lars Dahl for a lone moment, a sinking sensation that had nothing to do with hunger cramping her guts.

“And I have made you as vulnerable as any of those already in p.c., haven’t I?”

Lars shrugged and gri

“After I’ve gone?”

Lars shrugged again, then gave her an impudent wink. “All I need is a half-day’s start on ‘em. And once I’ve made the islands, there isn’t an S & S team that can find me if I don’t wish to be found.”

He sounded so confident that, for a moment, Killashandra almost believed him. As if he sensed her doubt, he leaned over her in the chair, his eyes more brilliantly blue than ever, his lips upturned in a provocative half smile.

“Beloved Su

“Which might yet be in a rehab booth!”

“I know the risk, and it’s been worth it, Killa!” He kissed her then, a light brief touch of his lips to hers but it set her blood ringing as quickly as crystal.

“Speaking of Elders,” she began in an attempt to shake off her anxiety, “we begin to bracket crystal today.” She rose from the chair with a determined effort, then saw his expression. “All right – I grant you, learning to bracket and tune crystal won’t advance you in the Elders’ files, but those are useful skills anywhere else in the FSP.”

Lars laughed. “Had we but worlds enough and time – ”

Killashandra let out a great guffaw. “Malaprop!” But outrageous humor made a better start to a tricky day than gloom.

Lars was every bit as quick to learn and adept in the use of his strong hands as Killashandra had thought he’d be. To set the white crystal in the brackets, she asked Thyrol the height of the stroke of the padded hammers. They already had six in place by the time Elder Ampris appeared in the loft, Thyrol hovering anxiously behind him in the open door. Killashandra noticed, first, the breath of sweet fresh air and she flicked a quick glance at the intruders as they stood there. Lars was holding the crystal dead still.

“You’ll feel just the slightest surface tension and a slippery, almost electric, tension when the clamps are tight enough. Tell me when you do.”

She tightened the brackets, keeping both little fingers under the crystal so that she could sense that surface tension.

“Now!” Lars said.

“Right on!” She struck the crystal with the tone hammer, and the rich deep note spun through the air, drifting out and causing the two door guards to risk a quick peer into the loft. A muted and discordant response came from the covered tubs of crystal shard. Then she straightened up and turned to the observers. “And that’s how it’s done, Elder Ampris.”

Ampris’s bright brown eyes glittered as he 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. “We’re 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 we’ll 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. “He’s quick and deft and once I’m sure he’s doing it right, we’ll 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.”