“Mind you, Comgail did not intend to be a martyr. But he didn’t draw back when the moment was on him. So the Government was forced to apply to the Heptite Guild for a complete and very expensive new crystal manual. And this is where Comgail’s sacrifice becomes relevant; he was also the only technician on Optheria capable of installing the replacement. They’d have to have the services of – at the very least – a highly skilled technician or ideally a crystal singer to make the repair. Once the crystal singer was on Optheria, we’d make sure there’d be an opportunity to present our desparate situation and ask that it be submitted to the FSP Council. A singer has access to the Council, you know.”
“Go on, Lars . . .” A nasty suspicion began to form in Killashandra’s mind, recalling Ampris’s snide remarks about islanders.
He inhaled, closing his eyes briefly against unpleasant memories. “The crystal singer arrived on the Athena the day after my audition. Only the Elders weren’t sure of her identity.”
“That sort of I.D. cannot be forged, Lars.”
He gave a contemptuous snort. “I know it, you know it, but you must also know how paranoid our Elders are. And Torkes is now in Communications.” Again his words elicited a nodded reaction from her. “Oh, the urgency behind this slight favor was subtly presented to me. A crystal singer is known to have great recuperative powers. A minor scratch would be no inconvenience to a crystal singer but would unconditionally reveal an imposter. Since islanders are known,” his voice dripped with sarcasm, “to live primitive and violent lives, accustomed to handling dangerous weapons, it was thought that I was admirably suited to perform this small favor for the Masters, in return for their reevaluation of my composition.”
“And did they promise you immunity from reprisal as well?”
“I’m not quite that naive, Carrigana. They did not require a frontal assault. So, I picked a window on the upper storey where I’d have a good view of the arrival. I’ve been winning competitions with the star-blades since my father first allowed me one. A simple flick and the blade angles at the right trajectory. It caught her on the arm. I think a little higher than I’d planned for she moved just as I had completed the throw.” His was expression was chagrined and he gave Killashandra a quick defensive glance. “Oh, she was all right, Carrigana. I scooted round to the infirmary the back way and she was walking out of the surgery without so much as a bandage showing.” He smoothed her arm reassuringly. “Crystal singers really do heal with unbelievable speed. She seemed more annoyed with her escort than the incident.
“The next morning, of course, I was told that on due reconsideration, the Masters had to abide by their original decision. The omnipotent, omniscient Masters, speaking from their immense and encyclopedic knowledge of all forms of music and their total understanding of the universe and Man’s subliminal relationship with the Natural World, do not believe that this facet of Optherian life needs to be celebrated at any point in the year, certainly not during the Summer Festival when off-worlders might possibly hear something evoking a valid Optherian subculture and more original than variations on the usual pre-predigested pap that ‘accredited’ composers churn out.”
“Stupid, insensitive, unimaginative, flatulent fardlings!” Killashandra’s derision was slightly colored by hearing the details of the ‘outrageous’ attack, and by the realization that her instinct about Ampris’s specious assurance was quite valid. “They’re so old they’ve lost the energy enthusiasm requires; they couldn’t possibly recognize imagination.”
Lars smiled at her vehemence. “So, despite all their promises and assurances, I was given a ticket back to Angel as a reward for my unmentionable service, and told to be out of the City on the evening oceanjet. Guardians were there to be sure I boarded, which I did. After a stroke of incredibly good luck.”
He turned his face fully to her then, his lips lightly compressed as if controlling amusement, and the sparkling of his eyes indicated that he had considered confiding in her. As much as she hoped that he might, she wished fervently that he would not. For his honesty would require the similar courtesy from her.
“Lars, I don’t mean to be a spoil-sport, but something occurred to me. A star-knife is an island blade, isn’t it?”
“Yes . . .” He regarded her, suddenly alert.
“And if an island blade was responsible for wounding the crystal singer – even if it healed rapidly – would that not prejudice her against listening to your problem?”
“A good point. The Elders don’t miss many tricks, but that ploy would not have worked. Nahia and Brassner were going to speak for us.”
“Were going?”
“Yes, I did say that I had a stroke of good luck,” and he clasped her hand with a firm grip, his clear blue gaze fixed on the thick bushes. “Nahia and Brassner will now have an even better chance to present our situation.” He sounded so confident that Killashandra would have given much to be privy to his plans. “You’ll see.”
“Since I’m being candid, let me tell you that you’ve been rather indiscreet confiding in me, Lars. You don’t know me – ”
“Don’t know you?” Lars threw back his head and guffawed. He clasped her to him, rocking her in his arms, roaring with laughter. “If I don’t, young woman, no one ever will.”
“You know what I mean. Who were you talking to last night on the beach? He’s not an islander.”
“Oh, him? Corish von Mittell – something. No, he’s not an islander. In fact, he could be very useful . . .” Lars paused a moment in thought, and then shrugged it off. “He’s looking for an uncle. Father asked me to help him, take him on my next swing through the islands. Frankly I don’t think the uncle came this far out: doesn’t sound like a man who’d want this sort of life style.”
“Are you sure this Corish is who he says he is?”
Lars eyed her with some interest. “Father’s sent for an I.D. verification. We’re not so haphazard as all that in these islands, you know. There’ve been snoopers before. Father’s got a sixth sense about the breed and that Corish tilted it. Oh, he says he came in on the Athena, and he sounded as if he’d made the trip on her.” Then he added in another tone altogether, “I’m glad you worry about my safety.”
He smoothed back her sun-bleached hair, fingering the strands before he patted them in place, his whole face softening as once more he fell in her thrall. Then he relaxed, lying back again, hands under his head, his eyes intent on her face, a very tender smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Anyway, everyone on Angel dislikes federal interference as much as we do. I studied under a master of heresy. My father. The duly appointed harbor master of the Angel Island archipelago and federal representative. If you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em.”
“Your father’s the harbor master?”
Surprise registered blankly on Lar’s face. “Of course. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that?”
“I do. I didn’t.”
“So, if you really insist on going back to the City, you’ll have to be very nice to me.” He was smiling as he gently reached for her arms to bring her down to him.
“Oh?”
“Very nice to me.”
“Are you able for it?”
He settled her into the curve of his arm, her head pillowed on his shoulder, his cheek against her hair.