She was not so happy after she had climbed to the highest point above the blind valley. She stared about her in the drizzling gloom. The valley was in the form of a blunted crescent, any part of which was an easy hike from the undercut. Crystal Singers exerted themselves only to cut crystal, not heft it any distance. Keborgen's claim had to be somewhere in the valley.
She slithered down the rocky side, adding more rubble to what was scattered about. When she returned to her sled, she checked the met report. Cloud cover ending midday, unless the cold front moving up from the southern pole picked up speed. She'd probably have a clear afternoon and Sun on the southern tip of the valley. Rain or not, she told herself, she'd be out at first light. Keborgen had made two obvious mistakes: fresh claim and old sled paint.
Keborgen's cutting eluded her the entire damp gray morning as she searched the crescent for any signs of cutting, rubbed her hands and fingers raw scraping at stone. The valley's walls varied in height, on the longer curve up to 10 meters, sloping down to a dip almost directly across from the undercut. From the bottom of the valley, she couldn't see any signs, even accounting for the fact that Keborgen had taken crystal rubble with him.
She clambered back to her sled for something to eat, totally discouraged. She might just as well have braved Moksoon another day for all she had accomplished on her own.
A sudden gleam of light attracted her attention to the window. Clouds were scuttering across the sky to the north, and she saw patches of bright sky. As she left her sled, a light breeze blew directly into her face. Suddenly, sunlight shafted from the clouds, blinding after almost two days of dismal gray.
With sun, she might just he lucky enough to catch crystal flash – if she was turned in the right direction at the exact moment. Keborgen's cut could not have built much dirt cover after the short storm.
The sun was more west than east. She'd have a better chance if she was facing the west. She scrambled up the valley side to the ridge, turning to her right and stopped. With the sun shining, she could discern what the rain had hidden the day before, a clear if uneven and winding path of packed dirt, suitable for an agile pair of feet. The path had been worn by a long-legged man, and as she eagerly followed it, she occasionally had to hop or stretch. She was so much occupied with her footing that she would have tripped into the fault if she had not first noticed the tamped-down flat space 2 meters from the edge. Just where someone could leave crystal cartons. It could have been excitement at first, but Killashandra felt a prickling along her legs. Then she heard the soft sighing, more noise than so light a breeze should make. It was as if someone distant were humming softly, and the sound floated to her on the breeze. Only this sound emanated ahead of her.
Trembling, she took the last two steps and looked down into a trench, a V shape, slanting down toward the valley floor, some 10 meters below the lowest arm of the V. Muddy water oozed off the V point. Water had collected in a too obviously geometric puddle halfway down the uneven side. Uneven because Keborgen had left foot rests for easy access to the heart of his claim. As she descended, she could feel black crystal surrounding her. When she reached the bottom, she knelt by the symmetrical pool, a fingertip deep, and felt its sides. Smooth. Her fingers tingled.
Rising, she looked around. Roughly 6 meters long, carefully cut to maintain that rough, natural look, the V opened to a width of 4 meters on the ravine side. Reverently now, she took a waste-cloth and brushed mud away. The dull shine of cold black crystal was revealed. Using the cloth, she mopped away the water. Keborgen's triad had been cut true, but to themselves, not to the angle of the vein, leaving this little wedge to accumulate water. No, this little piece was flawed, storm damage, more than likely. She caressed it, feeling the roughness of the flaw. Then she began excitedly to clean the ledge, to find out where the flaw stopped, where was the good black crystal. Ah, here, at the side, just where Keborgen had stopped cutting when the storm arrived.
How big, how deep, how wide was this crystal vein? This treasure store? Killashandra's elation overwhelmed her initial caution laughing, she scrubbed at first this spot in the opposite wall, then along the slanty arms of the V, mopping the disguising grit and mud from the crystal and giggling softly to herself. Her titter echoed back to her, and she began to laugh, the louder sound reverberating.
She was surrounded by crystal. It was singing to her! She slid to the floor, oblivious of the mud, stroking the crystal face on either side of her, trying not to giggle, trying to realize, get it through her dazed brain, that she, Killashandra Ree, had actually found Keborgen's black crystal claim. And it was hers, section and paragraph.
Killashandra was unaware of the passage of time. She must have spent hours looking around the claim, seeing where Keborgen had cleared flawed crystal from the outside. He had undoubtedly expected to return once the storm had blown out. He was cutting from a shelf a meter above the higher arm of the V. He was an astute Cutter, for he hadn't ravaged crystal but worked for flawless cuts, the triads, and quartets, the larger groupings that would command the highest price from the greedy FSP who were eager to set up the crystal links between all inhabited planets. Keborgen had kept a natural-fault look to his claim, allowing the foot of the V to gather mud and dirt that wind and water would spill naturally across the lower part. By comparison, Moksoon was a very lazy Cutter, but then he had only rose quartz.
The crystal around her began to crackle and tzing soft reassuring noises. As if, Killashandra thought fancifully, it had accepted the transfer of ownership. Enchanted, she listened to the soft sounds, waiting almost breathless for the next series until she also became aware of chill, that she sat in true dark, not shadow.
Reluctantly and still bemused by the crystalline chorus, she hoisted herself from the claim, retracing the rough path to her sled.
Relative sanity returned to her in the clean newness of her vehicle. She sat down and made a drawing of the claim, testing her recall of the dimensions, jotting down her assumptions on Keborgen's work routine.
She'd get an early start in the morning, she thought, looking at her cutter. She'd have several clear days now.
“I'll have several clear days?” The certainty of her thought on that score astonished her. She snapped on the met forecast. Tomorrow would be fair, with a likelihood of several more to come.
What had Lanzecki said about a weather affinity in the Milekey transition? That she could trust her symbiont? Distrust of the mechanical had brought about Keborgen's belated start to safety. Ah, but if he'd stopped to repaint his claim mark, he had listened to some warning.
Killashandra hugged her arms tightly to her. In theory, the symbiotic spore was now part of her cellular construction, certainly no part of her conscious mind nor a restless visitor in her body. At least until she called upon its healing powers. Or resisted its need to return to Ballybran.
She made a voice-coded note on the recorder about her instinctive knowledge of the weather. She could keep a check on that.
She remembered to eat before she lay down, for the excitements of the day had fatigued her. She set her buzz alarm for twenty minutes before sunrise. Breakfasted, and refreshed by her sleep, she was on the summit path as the sun's first rays found their way over the top of the far range, cutter slung over her shoulder, carton swinging from her free hand.
She left the carton where Keborgen had left his – how long would echoes of the dead accompany her in this site? – and stepped down into the claim. Sun had not yet reached even the higher point of the V. It would be easier to cut now, she thought, before the crystal started its morning song. She wiped clean the protuberance she meant to cut, roughly 50 centimeters long by 25 centimeters high and varying between 10 and 15 centimeters wide. She had to follow the ridges left by Keborgen's last cuts. Why ever didn't he just make straight lines? Flaws? She ran her hands across the surface, as if apologizing for what she was about to do. The crystal whispered under her touch.