Then she noticed the fine white lines across his bare arm and chest, parallel in some places, criss-crossed in others.
“I believe I mentioned that I sang crystal,” he said.
“Cut crystal would be nearer the truth from the look of you,” she said, raising her upper body to see the rest of his well-muscled torso. Then she frowned. “How do you know so accurately what I'm thinking? No one mentioned a telepathic adaptation to the spore.”
“There is none, dearling. I have merely become adept at reading expressions and body language over the decades.”
“Is that why you're Guild Master instead of Singer?” She had heard, and savored, the endearment.
“There must be a Guild Master,”
“Trag would never make it.”
“Now who is telepathic?”
“Well, you'd better watch your mouth.”
“My mouth said nothing about Trag's future.”
“It didn't have to. So, are recruits deliberately selected?”
His mouth gave nothing away to her. “Where did you get that idea, Killashandra Ree?” His eyes were laughing, denying her remembrance of Borella's conversation to the other Singer on the shuttle from Shankill.
"The notion had occurred to me from the pounds of prevention FSP applies to keep people from joining the Guild .
«The FSP» – and Lanzecki's mouth drew into a thinner line – «is also the largest purchaser of crystal. Especially black crystal.» He rolled back to her, his eyes on her mouth. «This is my rest day, too. I earnestly desire to relax in your good company.» He was indeed as earnest as she could have wished and exceedingly obliging. While they paused to eat, she asked him how they had moved from his office suite to his apartment on the Singer level.
“Private lift.” He gave a careless shrug of his cicatriced shoulders as he sought morsels of food in the rich spicy sauce. “One of my perquisites.”
“Is that how you do your appearing act?”
Lanzecki grinned at her, delighted in an unexpectedly boyish way – that put her guiltily in mind of Rimbol – that he had disconcerted her.
“I often have need to 'appear' unexpectedly.”
“Why?”
“In your case?” His smile altered slightly, his lips taking a bitter twist. “Serendipity. I liked your misplaced loyalty to Carrik. I wished you well away from the Scoria system. Once you passed the entrance requirements, you became my responsibility.”
“Isn't everyone in the Guild?”
“More or less. But you, Killashandra Ree, had a Milekey transition.”
“You do this every time? . . .” She was piqued by his candor and gestured with all the contempt of an outraged opera heroine around the bedroom.
«Of course not,» he said with a burst of laughter. He caught her hand and kissed her palm with the usual effect, despite her indignation. «This is not one of my perks, dearling. It is a privilege you have granted me. I did – and have no doubts on that score for the duration of your memory – want to know you before you went into the ranges.»
“Before?” She caught that subtle emphasis.
He made an untidy pile of their dishes and shoved them into the disposal slot.
“Before singing crystal has stung your blood.”
He turned back, and she could see the sadness in the droop of his mouth.
“But you've sung crystal?”
He put both hands on her shoulders, looking down at her. There was no expression in his eyes; the planes of his face were still, the line of his mouth uncompromising.
“Do you mean that after I have sung, I won't be any good. Or any more good to you?” She flung the options at him.
Instead of repudiating either, he caught her resisting body up in his arms, laughing as he swung her around and around tight against him.
"My darling, I shall make love to you until tomorrow morning when I shall . . . shepherd . . . you to your sled and to Moksoon. You shall endeavor your best, once Moksoon has demonstrated the Cutter's art on an actual face, to find Keborgen's claim. When you return from your first trip" – and he gave an enigmatic laugh – "I shall still be Guild Master. But you" – and here he kissed her-"will be truly a Crystal Singer."
He did not let her speak then; nor did they return to the subject of their occupations.
The following morning, Lanzecki was completely the Guild Master when she met him and the petulant Moksoon in the flight officer's ready room. She had been out in the hangar checking her sled, putting her cutter in its brackets with a loving snap, aware of the acrid, chemical tang of new plastic and metal from the run-in of the drive.
Moksoon was not Killashandra's notion of a shepherd for her first trip into the dangerous Milekeys. That he was as dubious about her was unmistakable in the sidelong glances he gave her. A slightly built man who had probably always had a wizened appearance to his face, he looked old, odd enough in a Crystal Singer. He also looked thoroughly annoyed, for the maintenance officer was suavely explaining why it had taken so long to repair his sled. Since Lanzecki had explained to her that Moksoon's most important qualification as her guide was that he was known to be cutting in the Bay area, Killashandra knew that the delay had been contrived.
“Remember, of course, Moksoon, that the bonus alone sees you safely off-planet.” Lanzecki said, deftly entering the conversation. “This is Killashandra Ree. Master recorder on! Moksoon, this will be on continuous replay in your cabin. You are shepherding Killashandra Ree in accordance with Section 53, Paragraphs one through five. She is cognizant of the fact that she is entitled to nothing that she may cut under your direction at your claim. She is entitled to stay with you two working days when she will depart to seek a claim of her own. She will never make any attempt to return to your claim under Section 49, Paragraphs 7, 9, and 14. Killashandra Ree, do you . . .” And Killashandra found herself repeating, affirming, avowing, under the strict penalties imposed by the Heptite Guild that she would obey the strictures of the two sections and the paragraphs cited. Moksoon was also required to repeat his willingness, which was forced, above and beyond the bonus offered, to instruct her in the cutting of crystal for the two day period as allowed by Guild rules and regulations.
Moksoon's repetition was so marred by lapses into silence and prompts from Lanzecki and the flight officer that Killashandra had half a mind to revoke her contract. Lanzecki caught her eye, and her rebellion ended.
The official recording made, replicas were patched into the communications units of both sleds. The flight officer escorted Moksoon to his vehicle, slightly canted to the left and battered in spite of fresh paint that attempted to blend the most recent repairs into the older dings. Lanzecki strode beside Killashandra to her brand new sled.
“Use the replay whenever he falters. Your switch is rigged to activate his.”
"Are you sure that Moksoon is the right – "
“For your purpose, Killashandra, the only one.” Lanzecki's tone allowed no argument. “Just don't trust him about anything. He's cut crystal too long and sung too long alone.”
"Then why – " Now Killashandra was totally exasperated.