Then Robin was stout, and tumd him about,

Thyrol. I will need the duragloves Everything you requested before your unfortunate disappearance is in the organ loft. Oh, very well then. Its gathered dust long enough. Lead on! Once again the instinctive reaction to tiptoe and maintain silence affected Killashandra as they emerged onto the stage of the Festival auditorium. She glanced at Lars to see if he was similarly affected. He grimaced slightly and she noticed that his active stride perceptibly altered. She did not miss the almost covetous way he frowned at the covered organ console. And wondered what she could do about that! She had been entranced with the music he played on the twelve-stringed instrument, and she was eager to hear it with organ amplification. Or would that be too cruel an imposition? As Thyrol used his keys on the panel to the loft, Killashandra wondered if among them were the keys that would allow access to subliminal mechanisms. All three on that ring were apparently needed to open the loft door. Or would someone of Thyrols rank even know about such a refinement? She presumed it was limited to Elder rank only, or maybe a Master or two. Theyd need someone with a hefty dab of imagination and energy to create subliminal images. Unless the subliminals reflected the inflexibility of the Elders attitudes toward everything, which was also logical Why search for a template when one was oneself the ultimate role model? The necessary equipment was indeed in the loft, neatly stacked against one side of the long wall. Lars maintained an attitude of casual indifference after giving the room a sweeping glance. Killashandra noted the monitor buds, caught Larss glance and gave him a nod. She waited until his hand disappeared into his pocket and then bent over the open console and the glittering shards of crystal. Lars Dahl, grab a mask and some gloves, and bring that bin over here. And a mask and gloves for me. I dont fancy inhaling crystal dust in those close quarters. Then she looked up at the burly men taking up so much space in the loft. Out! She flicked her fingers at them. Out, out, out, out! Youre taking up space and air. This room is well ventilated, Guildmember, Thyrol began. That is not the point. I dislike observers peering at my every move. Theres no need for them. Certainly no one can get in or out of here. They can stand on the other side of the door and repel boarders! In fact, Thyrol, without meaning all about digital cameras offense, your absence would oblige. Youll only be hovering. Im sure you have more important duties than hovering! And youre a distraction Or, are you one of those Im to teach crystal installation? Thyrol drew back, affronted by the suggestion and without further protest retired from the loft. Now, Killashandra began, not even watching the man leave, the first thing we must do is clear the shards. Stick to the larger pieces, Lars Dahl. My body deals with cuts more easily than yours. Hang up that lid. Well put the pieces on that before transferring them to the bin. Crystal has a disastrous habit of spraying shards when it bounces Shouldnt want unnecessary accidents to mar this procedure. Whyd you want the jammer on in here? Guild secrets? Larss voice was muffled by the mask. I just want them to understand that monitors wont work around me. I was brought up on a planet that respects privacy and Im not allowing Optherians to violate that right. Not for all the sensory organs on this narking world. Besides, how else can we search for the access? It would look far odder if suddenly their scanners dont work, than if they havent worked from the start. Now, lets do what we came for. It was slow work, especially once Lars had cleared the larger pieces. The extractor could be used only in short bursts; continued suction expelled tiny splinters right through the bag. For that reason, the bag had to be emptied and brushed out after each burst. Itd be easier with two of these, wouldnt it? When Killashandra nodded, Lars strode to the door panel, slid it open, and issued the request. Killashandra heard a murmured reply. Now, I said! We dont have time to wait for the request to go through Security. By the First Fathers! Does everything have to be authorized by Ampris. Move it! Now! Killashandra grinned at him. Larss return grin was pure satisfaction. If you knew how often Ive wanted to bark at a Security man I cant honestly imagine you making meek Youd be surprised at what Im willing to do for a good reason. He gave her a singularly wicked look. A case of the extractors was delivered in half an hour by an officer whom Lars later told Killashandra was Blazs second in command, but not a bad fellow for all of that. Castair had been known to look the other way during student romps which Blaz never would

For here nevir mair maun I bee O

Optheria until the next liner and thats not due for at least two weeks. Two more weeks! Killashandra realized that she had taken for granted the same constant space traffic that frequented Shanganaugh Moon Base. What? Have my charming presence and inspired coupling worn thin now that you have a fellow crystal singer to pair you? Trag? You think Trag and I? Dont be funny! Listen to me, young man, theres a lot you dont know about crystal singers! Id like the time to find out. His reply was wistful even if the kiss he gave her was not. And her response to his embrace temporarily suspended less urgent matters, even the bath. Fortunately, by the time Trag knocked peremptorily on the bathroom door, they were both dressed. Coming, Killashandra responded in a trill, bestowing one last kiss on Lars before she hauled open the door. Sweeping dramatically into the main room with Lars a step behind her, she was delighted to see Trag, a half empty glass of beer in his hand, in the company of Thyrol, Mirbethan, and Pirinio. Facetiously wondering if Polabod had been loaned to another Quartette, she greeted them graciously, exclaiming her eagerness to attend the evenings concert and, at long last, hear an Optherian organ. Dinner was served in the same chamber that had charmed Killashandra. The charm was enhanced this time by the fact that Elder Pentrom was missing from the guest roster. Trag was monopolized at one end of the table by Elders Ampris and Torkes, who engaged him in very serious discussions, while Mirbethan did her best to introduce unexceptional topics into conversation at the other. Thyrol, Pirinio, and two very meek older women instructors completed the buffer between the Elders and the distinguished and newly arrived Guild-member Trag. Elder Torkes, Trag said in a well-pitched voice that carried to every part of the dining room after he had sipped the beverage in his glass, my metabolism requires the ingestion of a certain quantity of alcohol daily. What have you to offer? After that, Killashandra didnt bother straining her ears to hear what information, or misinformation, might be exchanged. Fortunately the portions served them were considerably more generous, if unexciting to the palate, than her first dinner there, so that hunger was assuaged. There was no reason to dally at the festive board so, immediately after the sweet course was finished, Mirbethan led the way to the Conservatory Concert Hall. Those already assembled rose to their feet at the entrance of the distinguished visitors. Like lambs to fuji digital camera ac adaptors the slaughter, Lars whispered in her ear. Wrong again! she whispered back, then composed her features in a gracious expression. Until she had a good look at the seating. The organ console, of course, dominated the blue and white stage. Golden curtains were richly draped to complete the frame which was bathed in a gentle glow of diffused light. They walked up a slight ramp to the orchestra floor where Mirbethan smilingly turned and gestured toward their chairs. Bloody inquisition, Killashandra thought to herself. Upholstered in a mid-blue velvety fabric, the chairs were bucket shaped, semirecumbents equipped with broad arm rests, sculptured to fit wrist and hand for proper sensory input. Killashandra did not expect to find an easy repose for over each seat was a half hood, no doubt containing additional sensory outlets. As Lars might remark, the occupants of the seats were sitting ducks. Nevertheless, and because it was consonant with the role she had adopted, Killashandra expressed delight over the ambiance of the hall, the charming decor, and the unusual seating. She counted fifteen rows extending up and into the shadows behind her, all of them filled. She counted the front-row seats on her side of the entrance as fifteen so that some four hundred and fifty people, the complement of the Conservatory, were about to be entertained. She took her seat but because of the tilt and the arm rest, the only part of her that could touch Lars was her foot. She angled so that she could touch his. She felt a return pressure which gave her far more reassurance than she should need or had expected to gain from such a minimal contact. The house lights dimmed and Killashandra was filled with a perturbation she had never experienced before at what was usually the most enjoyable, anticipatory moment of a performance. A woman swirled out onto the stage, her robes flowing out behind her. She bowed quickly to the assembly and took her place at the organ console, her back, with its pleated draperies, illuminated by the spotlight. Killashandra saw her lift her hands to the first manual and then all the lights went out as the first chord was played. Killashandra all but kicked Lars as she recognized the music. In most Conservatories, a man named Bach would have been credited with its composition. On Optheria it was unlikely that any sheep safely grazed. Then the sensory elements began their insidious plucking. It was well done, the scent

Thou, the hall of my fathers, art gone to decay;

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