“You could always throw another tantrum.”
“No thank you. Fits of temper are exhausting.”
“Oh, is that truly why you’re tired today?”
“Pleasure never tires me. Now let’s eat and dress. I’ve just been attacked by a case of circumspection.”
A few minutes later they emerged onto the reception floor with no further delays. An officer immediately leaped to his feet at their arrival, stammering queries about Killashandra’s rest, apologies for any inconvenience caused by the power failure, and obsequiously requesting Killashandra and Captain Dahl to join the Harbor Master and Elder Torkes in the communications room.
Olav Dahl looked tired but there was a merriment in his eyes as he asked if all her needs had been satisfied. She reassured him, then turned to Torkes and affected surprise at his evident fatigue, fussing at him graciously.
“If the Guildmember is agreeable, I should like to depart immediately,” Torkes replied, when the amenities were completed. He eyed her as if he expected her to demur.
“I left unfinished – even unstarted, to be totally candid – ” she said, “the task which brought me to Optheria. I am more eager than you can imagine to complete the organ’s repair and depart. I’m sure we will all feel relieved when I’m safely homebound.”
Patently Elder Torkes could not be more in agreement, although he kept throwing skeptical glances at Killashandra as he made his farewells to Olav Dahl. Lars kept in the background. Meanwhile sailors in Council uniform had formed up into a guard of honor all the way from the Residence down to the pier where the cruiser’s boat awaited its distinguished passengers.
Just as she reached the top of the steps, Killashandra looked up at the terraces, at the polly trees, the dwellings, at the old volcano on the Head, at the fishing skiffs serenely clearing the harbor, and she didn’t want to leave Angel Island. Someone touched her arm and there was Olav with two garlands in his hand.
“Indulge me in an island custom, Guildmember.” He draped the fragrant blossoms about her neck. Killashandra had just recognized the blooms as those with which Lars had handfasted her, when she saw Olav bestow one on his son. “Discharge your duties assiduously to the protection of the Guildmember’s person, my son, and return to us only when you have seen her safely to the shuttle port!”
Before Killashandra could say anything in acknowledgment, Olav had stepped back. So, she could only smile her gratitude for his vote of confidence and proceed to the waiting boat. Impatiently she brushed aside the tears in her eyes before anyone could notice, and took a seat under the awning amidships. She was not surprised when Lars did not elect to join her for she could well imagine that he had been equally astonished by Olav’s farewell.
She sat staring at the squat bulk of the cruiser, and liked it less the nearer she got to it. Nor did her opinion change during the three-day voyage back to the City. The Captain, a dour man named Festinel, was waiting at the top of the gangplank and escorted her himself to her cabin, explaining that her bodyguard would be quartered in the next cubicle, within hearing distance. She did not groan but saw this trip would be a repetition of the Trundomoux voyage. Well. she had survived that, too. Lars came along the companionway at that point and was greeted almost effusively by Captain Festinel.
During the evening meal, it was apparent from Festinel’s deference to Lars that the man had been impressed by the islander’s seamanship, or rather, the false account of his rescue of Killashandra from the dangerously positioned islet of exile. Killashandra added only her physical presence to the officers’ mess. She was tired. She could feel muted crystal resonance in her body, though it was insufficient to raise the hair on those nearby. She was pleasant when addressed but limited her answers, contenting herself with enigmatic smiles. Elder Torkes kept shooting her wary, surreptitious glances but did not engage her in conversation. Which satisfied her. Keep him guessing about her, and off balance. Only how were she and Lars to have any sort of normal relationship if her quarters in the Conservatory were monitored?
On the crowded cruiser there was no way for them to have a private word or even the chance of a caress. Abstinence after the feast did nothing for her temper. So, preoccupied, she didn’t notice the subliminal whine until the second evening, when she twitched all through dinner, rubbing at her neck and ear. Something was wrong.
“You’re very unsettled tonight, Guildmember,” Lars said finally, having endured her contortions throughout dinner. He spoke quietly, for her ears only, but his voice carried.
“Nerves – No, it’s not nerves. Does this cruiser use a crystal drive?” She spoke in a loud, accusing tone, looking to Captain Festinel for her answer.
“It does, Guildmember, and I regret to inform you that we are experiencing some difficulty with it.”
“It urgently needs to be retuned. As soon as you’re in port. The way it sounds right now, it’ll be broad-casting secondary sonics by morning.”
“The engineer has been monitoring an uneven drive thrust but it should see us safely to the Mainland.”
“You have reduced speed?”
“Of course, Crystal Singer, the moment the instrumentation recorded resonance.”
“What is the matter with the cruiser?” Elder Torkes asked, only then aware of the nature of the discussion.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Killashandra said curtly, without glancing in his direction, for she was rubbing that side of her neck. She felt Lars stiffen beside her, and heard the tiny intake of her left-hand partner’s breath. “I hope.” She rose. “The whine is subsonic but highly irritating. Good evening, gentlemen.”
Lars followed her and for a miracle they were alone in the companionway as he escorted her to her cramped quarters.
“Is it monitored?” she asked him in a low voice. He nodded.
“Do you require any medication to sleep, Guildmember?”
“Yes, if you can find some polly wine, Captain.”
“The steward will bring a decanter to your quarters.”
With a bottle of that inside her, Killashandra slept in spite of the increasingly audible distortion. The next morning, the noise was almost audible. Even Lars was affected. She was relieved when Captain Festinel requested her presence on the bridge. And concerned when she was shown the drive print-out. Festinel and his engineering officer were justifiably concerned.
“We were due for an overhaul when this emergency came up, Guildmember. The Broad Sea had more turbulence than we had anticipated putting a strain on the compensators as well as the stabilizers, especially at speed.” The Captain was flatteringly deferential so Killashandra nodded as he made his points, and frowned wisely at the print-out as if she knew what she was seeing Fortunately the bridge was buffered against crystal noise as the rest of the ship was not, giving her a respite from the sound. Until she put her hand on the bulkhead and felt it coursing through the metal.
“The drive is losing efficiency,” Killashandra said, recalling the phrases which Carrik had used at the shuttle port on Fuerte, and obscurely pleased with herself that her memory remained lucid for that period, now so completely divorced from her present life.
“Frankly, I’d prefer heaving to and having a good look at the crystal drive, but our orders are to proceed with all possible speed to the Mainland.” The Captain shrugged and sighed.
Killashandra decided against reassuring him. The drive was souring: she didn’t need the printouts to tell her that. But she had only the one experience on which to base an opinion and had no intention of ruining the image she had projected by a bad guess.
Then Captain Festinel asked hesitantly, “Do you really hear crystal resonance?”