"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 grat.i.tude.

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.

Killashandra unconsciously hugged Lars's arm. "That is a very deadly looking machine. Do they have many of those?"

"Enough!"

"Can Nahia and Hauness escape it?"

Lars chuckled, relieving his own tension and reducing hers. "The Yellowback is smaller and faster, highly maneuverable and could slip through reefs that would ram the cruiser. Once they're away, they're well away."

Killashandra could see the coming and going on the ramp leading to Olav's -- people bearing tables, chairs, seating cushions, baskets of fruit, bowls of fruit, jars, several men staggering under loads of provender. Killashandra had been expecting another beach barbecue, with its pleasant informality. It had not occurred to her that there might be no beach at North Harbor, nor would the Elder have been entertained in the casual setting she had so much enjoyed at Wing. She groaned.

Lars squeezed her hand. "What's wrong?"

She gave a gusty sigh. "State occasions! Formality! Sc.r.a.pes and smiles and total boredom."

Lars laughed. "You'll be surprised. Pleasantly."

"How will your father get away with it?"

Lars grinned at her. "You'll see."

What she first saw was the disposition of guards, lining the route up from the harbor, s.p.a.ced neatly and stiffly about the Residence, and armed. She had seen very few stun rifles in her life but she could recognize them.

"What was he expecting? Civil war?"

"Elders usually travel with a considerable entourage. Especially in the islands. We are so aggressive, you see." Lars spoke with deep sarcasm and she took in an anxious breath. "Oh, don't worry, Killa. I'll be circ.u.mspect. You'll not even recognize me as your impetuous lover."

She c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at him. "I'll expect a return of that lover as a reward for my evening with Torkes. And why is it Torkes? I thought he was in charge of Communications."

Lars choked back a loud laugh, for they had neared the first sentry. "Elder Pedder is afflicted with motion sickness."

The sentry who had been watching them approach from the corner of his eye suddenly pivoted, ported his weapon, and stared with impartial malevolence at them. "Who goes there?"

"The crystal singer, you fool," Killashandra replied in a loud and disgusted tone. "With her bodyguard, Lars Dahl." When Killashandra would have proceeded she was stopped by the weapon. "How dare you?" She darted forward, grasped the weapon by its muzzle, and levered it forcefully to the ground. The surprised young sailor panicked and relinquished his weapon.

"How dare you threaten a crystal singer? How dare you threaten me?"

Killashandra was seized by a violent surge of real anger at the archaic and inane formality. She didn't hear Lars trying to soothe her; she barged past two more sentries who came to a.s.sist their mate; she would have gone through the officer who came hurrying up the ramp, flanked by three additional guards on either side. She paused momentarily, seething at this additional obstacle. The officer had either encountered Elders in a tearing fit or he instantly recognized an elemental force. He barked an order, and the barricade suddenly became an escort which fell in behind the officer and Lars, who had managed to keep at Killashandra's heels as the enraged crystal singer stormed forward to the Residence seeking the initiator of this additional affront.

Here Lars took the lead, adroitly indicating the way. She heard an exchange of urgent shouts. She had a confused vision of more guards snapping to attention, and another pair hastily opening the elaborately carved wooden doors -- which despite her involvement in anger, she recognized as magnificent panels of polly wood. Then she was in the formal reception antechamber of the Residence, and she remembered thinking that the tip of this iceberg was the business end. She continued her angry progress right to the shallow tier of steps that led down to the main level. With an alert and wary expression, Olav was half way across the floor to greet her. Behind him Elder Torkes was seated on a high wooden chair, members of his staff standing about the room, conversing with several islanders.

Automatically, Killashandra gave the a.s.sembled one quick glance before she proceeded toward Torkes. "Did I spend weeks on a deserted island to be stopped and questioned by an armed minion? To have a weapon thrust in my face as if I were an enemy? I" -- and Killashandra nearly bruised her breast bone as she thumped herself with rigid fingers -- "I am the one who has been a.s.saulted and abducted. I am the one who has been at jeopardy and you -- " Now she pointed an accusing finger at Torkes, who was regarding her in a state of shock. "You have been safe! Safe!"

Afterwards Lars told her that she had been magnificent, her eyes visibly emitting sparks, her manner so imposing that he had been breathless with astonishment. What operatic role had she been using?

"I wasn't," she'd replied with a rueful smile, for the effect of her dramatic entrance had more than satisfied her rage. "I've never been so angry in my life. A weapon? Pointed at me?"

Torkes heaved himself out of his chair, his expression that of a man confronting an unknown and dangerous ent.i.ty and uncertain which course to take. "My dear Crystal Singer -- "

"I am not your dear anything."

"Your experiences have unnerved you, Guildmember Ree. No aggression was intended against you, merely -- "

" -- Your wretched, suffocating need for protocol and an irrelevant show of aggression. I warn you" -- and she waggled her finger at him again -- "I warn you, you may expect the most severe retribution" -- she caught herself; in her rage, she had been on the point of revealing too much to Elder Torkes -- "from my Guild, reparation for the callous and undignified way in which I have been treated."

Torkes regarded her finger as if it were some sort of deadly weapon in itself. Before he could a.s.semble a suitable reply Olav was at Killashandra's elbow, offering a gla.s.s of amber liquid. "Guildmember, drink this . . ." His baritone voice, so soothing and conciliatory, penetrated her ranting. She knocked back the drink, and was rendered momentarily speechless. The shock of the potent beverage effectively restored her to discretion. "You are understandably overwrought, and have been needlessly upset, but you are safe here, now, I do a.s.sure you. Elder Torkes has already initiated the most thorough investigation of this terrible outrage and personally supervised your security here on Angel Island."

Olav's tactful rea.s.surances gave her the time to regain use of her throat and vocal cords. Her throat was on fire, her stomach throbbing, and her eyes watered. Which seemed a good cue to develop. She allowed her tears to flow and reached weakly for Olav's hand to support her. Instantly she felt Lars take her right arm, and the two men led her to the other elaborate chair in the chamber, seating her as if she were suddenly fragile.

"I am overset. Anyone would be, enduring what I have," Killashandra said, using her sobbing to purge the last dregs of anger, for she estimated that she'd worked that pitch long enough. "All alone, on that wretched island, not knowing where I was, if I'd ever be rescued. And then the hurricane . . ."

A second gla.s.s was proffered. When she glared at Olav, he winked.

Nevertheless, she sipped cautiously. Polly wine.

"Please accept my apologies, Elder Torkes, but that ridiculous weapon was the last straw." Her voice died away but she managed to sound reasonably sincere. Then she smiled weakly at the nonplussed Elder, and fluttered her eyelashes at his attendants. They seemed afflicted by some sort of paralysis. It afforded Killashandra considerable satisfaction that she had managed to confound an entire Optherian crew. They had stood in great need of such a lesson. She relaxed into the cushioned back of the chair.

"There isn't an islander in this Archipelago who would do you any injury, Guildmember," Olav continued, now offering her a finely st.i.tched handkerchief. "Especially after the news of your devoted nursing of the Bar Island injured. When I consider how unselfishly you volunteered to a.s.sist, and you only an hour away from being rescued, why, we are all in your debt."

Shielding her face from Torkes with the handkerchief, Killashandra looked up at Olav. She blotted the last of the tears she could manage to squeeze out. She had received his message. She gave a sniff, then exhaled in a huge sigh.

"What else could I do? Their need was far greater than mine for I had suffered no real physical injury. It was excellent therapy," and she managed that on a rush of breath, "for me to tend those less fortunate than I. And I do feel safe with you, Harbor Master, and with Captain Dahl!" She touched each man on the arm, favoring them with a tremulous smile. Lars managed to give her shoulder an admonitory pinch which, she felt, indicated that she had milked this scene for all it was worth. "I hope you didn't encounter that ferocious storm on your way here, Elder Torkes?"

"Not at all, Guildmember. In fact," Torkes cleared his throat nervously, "we didn't set out until sure that the hurricane had dwindled. I ought to have listened to Mirbethan's representations, Captain" -- he turned to the senior officer behind him -- "for she offered to accompany us, Guildmember, on the slim chance that we would discover you here."

"How very kind of her."

"She would have been an ideal companion to settle your nerves, Guildmember."

"Yes, she was most considerate but, though I appreciate her willingness, I now insist on someone . . ." she waved a negligent hand in Lars's direction, "who is capable of managing himself in difficulties. I have seen Captain Dahl in action, fighting to bring his ship close enough to take me off that island, and in dealing with high seas, and injured people." And that should be the end of that notion. Had it been Mirbethan's? Or Ampris's? From whichever source, she'd not spend credit on it.

"If I may suggest it, Guildmember, would you be feeling recovered enough to dine now?" Olav asked, deftly changing the subject. "Or should Captain Dahl escort you to the quarters prepared for you here in the residence?"

"Why, yes," Killashandra said, extending her hand to Lars and smiling graciously at Olav, "I think that perhaps hunger is at the root of my deplorable temper. I'm not usually so easily upset, citizens." Now that the scene had been played, she was ravenous and hoped that Olav's hospitality would be to the standard she expected. It was, and she was seated on Olav's right at the beautifully appointed banquet table. Torkes was opposite her, Teradia appearing at his right hand. Evidently she had merely had to change her gown. Killashandra did wonder how she had arrived so promptly. Other charmingly dressed ladies partnered the officers of Torkes's retinue and from some discreet corner delicate music wafted to the diners' ears.

The food was sumptuous, a feat, considering the island had so recently been in the throes of a hurricane. As Killashandra sampled the many dishes presented, she realized that the components were not as varied as the manner in which they had been prepared. Polly -- fruit, pulp, and heart -- was the basis of nine dishes. Smacker was served as a chowder, boiled, broiled, fried in a delicious light batter and in a rich piquant sauce. The largest yellowbacks she had yet seen had been lightly broiled with slivered nuts. A succulent mollusk was offered, grilled with a dollop of some flavor enhancer. There were salads of greens, molded salads of some jellied vegetable, fruit, and fish.

From the way in which Torkes's officers filled their plates, and refilled them when the dishes were presented a second time, they weren't used to eating. Torkes was abstemious by comparison although a fair trencherman away from Elder Pentrom's dietary regimen. He did not refuse the wine, either, though his two senior captains did.

When the first hunger was appeased, Torkes addressed Lars, his expression far too bland to be as affable as he sounded.

"Just where did you discover the Guildmember, Captain Dahl?"

"On a polly islet slightly east of Bar Island. I don't normally pa.s.s by for it's a bit off the regular trade route, but with the higher tides to give me clearance over the reef in that area, I could take a bit of a short cut to Bar, which I aimed to beach before sunset."

"Do you have this islet marked on your charts?"

"Of course, Elder Torkes. I will show you its location immediately after dinner." Lars had one hand on her thigh under the table and gave her a rea.s.suring squeeze. Had his father tipped him off as he had her? "As well as the entry in my log which verifies the position."

"You keep a log?"

"Of a certainty, Elder Torkes. The Harbor Master is most insistent on such details which are, in my view, an integral part of responsible seamanship."

Farther down the table, an officer nodded his head in agreement.

Torkes returned to his meal.

"What is this delicious fish, Harbor Master?" Killashandra asked, indicating the smacker.

"Ah, that is one of the island delicacies, Guildmember," and Olav launched into an amusing description of the habits of the tropical behemoth and the dangers of capturing it. In his tale he managed to touch on the strength and bravery of smacker fishermen and their dedication to an unenviable task. Much of the smacker catch went to feed the Mainland.

With such innocuous tidbits and discourse, the meal finished.

Immediately upon rising from the table, Elder Torkes told Lars Dahl that now was the time to show him the islet.

"We can call up the information right here," Olav said, going to the elaborate sideboard of the dining room. One section of its flat surface immediately transformed to display a terminal while the island seascape above slid to one side exposing a large screen.

Killashandra, watching Torkes obliquely, saw him stiffen until Olav merely gestured for Lars Dahl to retrieve what doc.u.ments he needed. Within a moment, a small-scale chart of the entire Archipelago dominated the screen. Lars tapped keys and the chart dissolved to a larger-scale one of Angel Island, then flowed left toward Bar Island, slightly upward, and in another adjustment, magnified the chosen islet, complete with its protecting reefs, quite isolated from other blobs of polly-treed islands.

"Here, Elder Torkes, is where I discovered the Guild-member.

Fortunately, whoever abandoned her left her where there is a good fresh spring." He now magnified the islet so that its topographical features were apparent.

"I'd a bit of a shelter on the height," Killashandra said.

"Here," Lars agreed and pointed.

"And mercifully I was high enough there to be out of reach of the hurricane tides -- just barely -- I fished in this lagoon, and swam, there, too, because the larger things couldn't pa.s.s over the reef. But, as you can see, gentlemen, I could not even have swum to an occupied island for help!"

One of Torkes's officers noted the longitude and lat.i.tude of the islet.

"Just thinking about it again distresses me." Killashandra turned to Olav. "That was a magnificent dinner to he served so soon after a hurricane, Harbor Master. And it was such a pleasure, for me especially,"

and she graciously gestured, "to have so much variety to choose from and enjoy. Now, I would like to retire."

"Guildmember, there is much to discuss -- "

"We can discuss it just as easily in the morning, Elder Torkes. It has been a long and exhausting day for me, remember. We left Bar Island with the injured at dawn and it's now midnight." She turned from the Elder now to Olav. "I am quartered tonight in the Residence?"

"This way." Olav and Lars immediately escorted her to the inner wall where a lift door slid aside. "Let me a.s.sure you that this is the only way into the living section of the Residence. This will be guarded well tonight." He peremptorily gestured for thc guard to be posted.

"Elder Torkes, this is the first time that we have been privileged to entertain members of the Council," Teradia said, her deep voice tinged with awe as she took Torkes's arm and began to lead him back to the reception room.

Olav bowed over Killashandra's hand, smiling as he came erect and gestured her into the lift. The door slid shut on Killashandra and Lars and, with an exaggerated sigh of relief, Killashandra leaned against him.

He made a quick sign with his hand, his eyes busy on the ceiling pane.

"I am totally exhausted, Captain Dahl." So, Torkes had had the area monitored. That would make it exceedingly awkward for her and Lars.

The lift made a brief, noiseless descent and then the door slid open to a scene that caught her breath. The wide window gave onto moonlit harbor. An aureole of bright light illuminating the ancient stratovolcano as a second moon rose behind it. Of one accord, they stood for a long moment in appreciation of the beauty.

As Lars led her down to the short corridor toward two doors at its end, he glanced at the chrono on his wrist. Killashandra had time to notice the grin on his face before all the lights went off. Simultaneously she saw three short blue flashes, two along the corridor and a third one at the first door.

"What -- " she began in alarm, but then the lights came on and Lars took her in his arms.

"Now we're safe!"

"You blew the monitors?"

"And his ship's systems. Father's got a way with electronics and .

. ." he swung her into his arms and impatiently strode toward the first door, which slid open to their approach. "I'm about to have my way with you."

Which, of course, was exactly what Killashandra had been hoping for.

Chapter 17.

A breakfast tray in hand, Teradia appeared early next morning. Killashandra found she was in a large room brightly lit by sunlight reflected from the surface of the harbor. How the woman maintained her perfect grooming and serene composure Killashandra would have given much to know. Perhaps it had something to do with the experiential tranquillity of advanced years, although "old" in the physiological sense did not seem to apply to Teradia.

"And what of the day, oh bringer of delights?" Lars asked, settling pillows behind Killashandra. "Olav didn't miss a trick last night, did he?"

"He's still playing them this morning." Teradia smiled faintly.

"May I compliment you on last night's performance, Killashandra? You were spectacular. I don't think anyone on Torkes's staff had ever witnessed its like."

"I was consumed with righteous wrath," Killashandra replied.