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“We shan’t leave anything to chance, however, Sunny, Lars went on as they climbed to the last terrace level. “If sun-bleached hair and eyebrows alter your appearance enough to deceive an FSP agent – ”

“Corish was not expecting me to be on that beach, any more than you – ”

“Then Teradia can restore your beauty. With more sophisticated clothes, and that hauteur of yours, you’ll he every inch the crystal singer.” Lars halted, swinging her into his arms again. No one was in sight. “Will the impressively beautiful crystal singer still favor her island lover?” He smiled down at her, but tension caught at the corners of his grey-tinged eyes.

“Don’t tell me you – who braves hurricanes, Elders, and Masters – feared my ranting?” She soothed the creases from his eyes. “I assume a role, Lars Dahl, from some opera or other. I play no role with you, no matter under what circumstances. Believe me. Let’s not lose a moment of what we have together!”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and the hunger they both felt made them tremble.

“How are we going to make out, Killa, on board that cruiser? And back on the Mainland?”

“Oh, citizen!” Killashandra laid her hand gracefully against her bosom. fluttering her eyes, as much to keep back the tears as to embellish her assumed character. “When I trust to you my safety, where else shall you be but with me, wherever I go, even in my bedchamber? And have you seen where they quartered me in the Conservatory? You’ll see, Lars. It will all be arranged my way!”

By then they had reached an establishment with a modest sign spelling out “Teradia” in graceful lettering. Teradia herself greeted them, a woman as tall as Lars, with a supple, willowy figure, and densely black hair very intricately braided. Her skin was olive and flawless, the pale green pupils of her eyes appeared luminous: she was a superb testimonial to her establishment.

“Olav Dahl wants the very best for you, Killashandra Ree, and I myself will see to your care.”

“I’ll supervise,” Lars interrupted. “The bleaching must be . . .”

With a quick movement, Teradia placed one hand across Lars’s chest and eased him away from Killashandra, a look of mild disdain on her elegant features. “My dear boy, clever you may be in some of the ways of pleasing a woman, but this is my art . . .” she began to draw Killashandra away with her, “and you will allow me to practice it. Come, Guildmember, this way.”

“Teradia, that’s not fair.” Lars pushed through the door in pursuit. “I’m Killashandra’s bodyguard – ”

“Here I guard her body, though from the look of her skin and hair, you’ve done a poor job – Sun-bleached, dry-skinned, waterlogged child.”

“Teradia!”

For the first time Killashandra had seen her lover rattled; she looked more keenly at Teradia. There was a twinkle in the woman’s eyes, though her expression did not soften at his exasperation.

“It is, of course, as the Guildmember wishes . . .”

“How do you do it, Teradia?”

“Do what?”

“Quell him.”

Teradia shrugged delicately. “It is easy. He has been reared to respect his elders.”

“What?” Killashandra peered more closely at Teradia’s face.

“She’s my grandmother,” Lars said with a disgusted growl

“My compliments, citizen,” Killashandra replied, trying not to laugh at Lars’s discomposure. “I shall have your artistry to support me this evening – ”

“And me!” Lars was emphatic.

So, under Lars’s eyes and occasionally with his help and company, Killashandra was soaped and bathed and massaged and oiled, and repairs to hair and nail accomplished, Killashandra fell asleep during the massage and later Lars fell asleep while Teradia tinted Killashandra’s hair and dyed her eyebrows dark again.

“It does make a considerable difference in your appearance,” Teradia said, surveying her handiwork. “I’m not certain which becomes you more,” she added thoughtfully. “You are a striking woman in either guise. Now,” she went on so briskly that Killashandra did not have to make any reply to this assessment, “we don’t have everything back from hurricane storage, but I know exactly where I put several unusual gowns that would suit your style and rank. Come this way, into the dressing room.”

Killashandra looked over her shoulder at the slumbering Lars.

“If he fell asleep in your presence, he is far more tired than he would ever admit, Killashandra Ree. We will leave him so until he is needed to escort you back to Olav Dahl.”

By the time Teradia had garbed Killashandra to her satisfaction, which had nothing, Killashandra realized, to do with her own, Lars had awakened. He executed a double take at the vision before him, presented a properly stunned expression before he began to smile then nod with approval.

“In there, “ Teradia said, flicking her fingers to direct him to another dressing room in the shop portion of her establishment. “We can’t have a shabby escort. Not that any will notice you.”

Killashandra began to frown, then the woman winked slowly and grinned. “That one is too sure of himself by half.”

“He’ll need it,” Killashandra said sadly.

“Oh?”

But before Killashandra could say anything more, an unclad Lars had stormed into the room, waving a heavily embroidered, tissue thin, blue shirt and equally thin blue trousers.

“If you think I’m parading about like a stud on sale! When did I ever have the need to display – ”

In one long stride Teradia reached the room, and scooped up a pair of blue briefs that had evidently fallen to the floor. She flourished them under his nose and then pushed him back into the room.

“Well, if that’s the case . . .”

Killashandra stifled her giggles.

“You only wanted to take the limelight . . .”

He poked his head around the door. “Not when I know Torkes’s proclivities. Then again,” he paused in the act of withdrawing his head, “he probably has the cruiser packed with his boys so I’m safer here than in City.”

“Who needs the bodyguard then?”

“Shall we have a mutual assistance pact? I read those were once very popular.”

“Done!”

Lars slammed open the door, strode across the room, and gathered her into her arms, beaming down at her. “If you spoil her dress or make-up . . .” Teradia’s mock anger subsided as she became aware of the atmosphere between them.

Lars ached to kiss Killashandra as badly as she wanted to have his lips on hers. He sighed deeply and let her go. “You look regal, Killashandra! But I think I liked you even better on the beach at Wing! Then you were mine alone to enjoy!” His voice was low, his words meant for her, his sentiment unhindered by his grandmother’s presence. “You have outdone yourself, Teradia.” He pulled the woman close, and kissed her cheek.

Killashandra felt relief that there would be another sane and well-adjusted person to help Lars when she had returned to Ballybran.

“Now we had better go, Killashandra. The cruiser will have docked!”

Killashandra thanked Teradia as warmly as she could, wishing that the woman did not dismiss so casually her genuine gratitude.

As they started to retrace their steps to the Harbor Master’s residence, Killashandra was instantly aware of an alteration in the ambiance. Far below the squat bulk of the cruiser jet did much to explain the change, looming as it did, gross and menacing, its white ovoid hull diminishing the graceful fishing vessels. The slanted superstructure, the little nodules of its armaments, and the sprouting whiskers of its communications and surveillance equipment added to its menacing presence.