The drive was in the main a silent one, with Ampris stewing beside her and Lars stiffly silent. The strained atmosphere began to affect her, causing her to wonder if she really were doing the right thing for Lars. Yet if she hadn’t taken pains to divert suspicion from him, he’d be running with a threat of rehabilitation hanging over him. Had she erroneously assumed that he was as eager to continue their relationship as she was? Olav had wreathed them both with the handfast garlands. Surely that act held significance. She’d best have it out with Lars as soon as possible.
After what seemed a long time, they drew up at the imposing entrance to the Conservatory.
“I dispensed with the formality of a welcoming throng, Guildmember, in the interests of security.” Elder Ampris got out of the car and turned to give her a steadying hand.
“I have no fear of a second assault, Elder Ampris,” she said taking his dry clasp and smiling ingenuously at him, “with Captain Dahl beside me. And, you know, after the courtesies I received at the hands of the islanders, I’m beginning to think that that attack, as well as my abduction, were made to seem island-instigated. I can’t imagine an islander being jealous of anything on the Mainland.”
Lars had emerged from the car, but his expression was devoid of reaction. The skin on Ampris’s face was taut with the effort of controlling his. “With your comfort in mind, Guildmember, perhaps you might prefer to eat in your suite this evening.”
“That is so thoughtful, Elder Ampris. Resetting a crystal drive is an exhausting process. So many fiddling things requiring fine muscle coordination and complete concentration.” She sighed wearily, turning slightly to smile apologetically at Mirbethan and the others. “I want to be well rested to attack that repair tomorrow. Oh, Thyrol? With Captain Dahl to assist me, I won’t need any other helpers.”
She took Lars’s arm and ascended the shallow steps to the main entrance. She felt him quivering but for which of several reasons she couldn’t have told without glancing at his face. And she didn’t dare do that. “Do you know the way to my quarters, Captain Dahl?”
“If I may just escort you,” Mirbethan answered, hastening to lead the way.
“I was never in this part of the Conservatory, Crystal Singer,” Lars said as they entered the imposing main lobby.
“You’ve been to the conservatory, Captain Dahl?” Killashandra asked.
“Yes, Guildmember, I studied here for three years.”
“Why, Captain, you have unexplored capabilities. Are you then a singer?”
“Vocal music is not taught at the Conservatory: only the organ.”
“Really, I would have thought the planet’s main Conservatory would exploit every musical potential. How odd!”
“Do you find it so, Guildmember?”
“In other parts of the FSP, vocal arts are much admired, and a Stellar soloist highly respected.”
“Optheria places more value on the most complex of instruments.” Lars’s tone was of mild reproof. “The sensory organ combines sound, olfactory and tactile sensations to produce a total orchestration of alternate reality for the participant.”
“Is the organ limited to Optheria? I’ve never encountered one before in all my voyaging.”
“It is unique to Optheria.”
“Which certainly has many unique experiences for the visitor.”
Mirbethan’s pace, and her erect back, seemed to reflect at once her approval, and shock, at their conversation.
“Why, then, Captain Dahl, if you have studied to use the organ, are you sailing about in the islands?”
“Because, Guildmember, my composition was ah . . . not approved by the Masters who pass judgment on such aspirations, so I returned to my previous occupation.”
“To be sure, I am selfishly glad, Captain – for who would have rescued me had you not been in those waters?” Killashandra sighed deeply just as they turned the corridor into the hall she did recognize . “Mirbethan?”
The woman whirled, her expression composed though she was breathing rather rapidly.
“By any chance, I mean, I know I’ve been gone a good while, but I do hope that those beverages . . .”
“Your catering facility has been completely stocked with the beverages of your choice.”
“And the chimes have been turned off?”
Mirbethan nodded.
“And the catering unit instructed to supply proper-size portions of food without requiring additional authorization?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. I, for one, am starving. Sea air, you know.” With a final smile, Killashandra swept through the door Lars held open.
By the time he had shut it, she had discovered four ceiling surveillance units in the main salon. “I am quite weary, Captain.”
“With due respect, Guildmember, you did not eat much of the evening meal, perhaps a light supper – ”
“The variety on the catering unit seems geared to student requirements . . . unless you, having spent time here, can make a suggestion.”
“Indeed I would be delighted to, Guildmember.” Lars located several more as they moved through the suite to the two bedrooms. He peered into the first bathing room and grinned broadly at her. “May I draw you a bath?”
“An excellent idea.” She strode to what was evidently the one room that had been left unmonitored.
Lars began filling the tub, having turned the taps on full.
He reached into his tunic and extracted an innocuous metal ball. “A deceiver, Father calls it. It distorts picture and sound – we can be quite free once it’s operating. And when we leave the suite,” – he grinned, miming the device returned to his pocket – “it’ll drive their technicians wild.”
“Won’t they realize that the distortion only works when we’re here?”
“I suggest that tomorrow you complain about being monitored in the bedroom. Can we cope with just one free room?” He began to undress her, his expression intense with anticipation.
“Two,” Killashandra corrected him with a coy moue as the bright and elegant overall Teradia had chosen for her fell in a rainbow puddle at her feet.
It was, of course, thoroughly soaked with the water displaced when Lars overbalanced her into the tub.
When they had sated their appetites sufficiently, Killashandra idly described wet circles on the broad expanse of Lars’s chest. “I think that with the best motives in the world, I have placed you in an awkward situation.”
“Beloved Killashandra, when you sprang that,” and he aptly mimicked her voice, “ ‘I have no fear of being assaulted with Captain Dahl beside me,’ I nearly choked.”
“I felt you quaking, but I didn’ t know if it was laughter or outrage.”
“And then suggesting that someone else had instigated the attack to implicate islanders – Killashandra, I wouldn’d have missed that for anything. You really got mine back on the flatulent fardling. But watch him, Killa. He’s dangerous. Once he and Torkes start comparing notes . . .”
“They still have to get that organ fixed in time for all those lucky little composers to practice their pieces. I’m here and even if a replacement is coming, it’s the old bird-in-the-hand.”
“Yes, and they’ve got to have done all the Mainland concerts to ensure a proper Optherian attitude toward visitors.”
“Proper attitude? Mainland concerts? What do you mean?”
Lars held her slightly away from him in the capacious bath, reading her face and eyes.
“You don’t know? You don’t really know why that organ is so important to the Elders?”
“Well, I do know that the set-up will produce an intense emotional experience for the listener. It verges on illegal manipulation.”
Lars gave a sour laugh. “Verges? It is. But then you would only have seen the sensory elements. The subliminal units are kept out of sight, underneath the organ loft.”
“Subliminals?” Killashandra stared at Lars.