An alarmingly thin and earnest young man, swallowing his Adam's apple convulsively as he crossed the stage, was the next performer. He looked more like a wading bird than a premier organist. And when he took his seat and lifted his hands, they splayed to incredible lengths, making the soft opening notes ludicrous to Killashandra's mind, especially when she recognized the seductive phrases of a French pianist. The name escaped her momentarily but the erotic music was quite familiar. She held her breath against the first image and choked on the howl of laughter as the subliminal image of Ampris-the-seducer was superimposed, in reds and oranges, on the viewers' abused senses. Fortunately, the notion of Ampris making love to her, or anyone, was so bizarre that the eroticism -- even magnified by scent and sensory t.i.tillation -- failed to achieve its full effect. Lars's continual tapping -- was he succ.u.mbing to the illusion, keeping the beat, or trying to distract her from the powerful sensuality -- against her toe kept reminding her how perilous their position was at the moment.

Bolero! The name returned to her as the lights came up. And fury at this arrant manipulation set a flush in her cheeks that matched those in Mirbethan's as the delighted woman turned to inquire breathlessly how Killashandra had enjoyed the concert.

The seats were all tilting forward, releasing their occupants once more into the cold cruel world of reality.

"I have never so totally experienced music before in my life, Mirbethan," Killashandra said in ringing, heartfelt tones. What she felt in her breast was not what the performance was expected to generate. "A balanced and professional performance. The artists were magnificent.

Excellent adaptations to the Optherian organs."

"Adaptations? Oh, no, Guildmember, this was the first performance of three brilliant new compositions." Mirbethan said and Killashandra could only goggle at her.

"That music was totally original? Composed by the performers?"

Killashandra's surprised was misinterpreted by Mirbethan as the proper expression of awe. Lars squeezed her arm warningly and she managed to contain her outrage.

"A truly brilliant concert," Trag said, joining them as the audience was dispersing. "An experience I would not willingly have foregone."

Never having heard so much warmth in his voice, Killashandra looked sharply at Trag. Surely, if her symbiont had protected her . . ." Now she stared at Trag's flushed face, his bright eyes, and noticed that a smile had reshaped his lips. Killashandra grabbed at Lars's arm, before anyone else could see her dismay, she pulled them both into the crowd, away from Trag and the two Elders who escorted him "Easy, Killa," Lars murmured in her ear. "Don't give it away. Not now!"

"But he -- "

His hand twisted her fingers cruelly, reminding her of the danger they were in.

"That last piece will send them all to their beds, alone if necessary," Lars continued, breaking up the sentence into quick short phrases as he hurried her away from the hall. "No one is expected to linger. Not after that dose of eroticism." They turned a corner, Killashandra accepting Lars's direction. "Trag's coming."

"Don't you understand? No one here composed that music. It was all stolen!"

"I know, I know."

Yours wasn't stolen. It was original. The only b.l.o.o.d.y original music I've heard on this fardling mudball!"

"Shush now, Killa. Only one more corridor and we're home safe and then you can rant and rave."

"I get the cold shower first."

"What and waste the music?"

She tried to kick him but they were walking so fast she would have lost her balance if she'd succeeded.

"I will not be manipulated . . ." and the last word she roared in the privacy of their suite. She was hauling the Beluga spidersilk kaftan over her head as she reached the bathroom door and, flipping on the cold water, stood in its frigid torrent until she could feel her flesh shriveling. Lars pulled her out, handing her a towel as he took her place.

"I think it's a shame to waste all their hard work and effort -- "

"Did you want to go to bed with an image of Ampris?" she demanded at the top of her voice.

"Oh, I saw Mirbethan," Lars said ingenuously, toweling himself dry.

"Mirbethan?"

"Yes, didn't you know that was why she was included in your welcoming committee? She's bi -- "

"What?" Killashandra screeched that at the top of her lungs.

"Compose yourself, Killashandra Ree," said the cool voice of Trag from the doorway. "You and Lars Dahl are in every bit as much danger as you thought. We must talk."

Chapter 22.

"First," Trag said as Killashandra and Lars joined him in the main room, and he pointed to the monitors. Lars held up the jammer. "Very good.

Secondly, I need to hear an account of your adventures here, Killashandra.

Then I can separate the fact from the fiction presented by Ampris and Torkes. Both are clever men."

"A drink, Killa?" Lars asked and his voice was rough with either anger or anxiety.

"I would appreciate something stronger than that tasteless beer, please, Lars Dahl," Trag said "My pleasure. Trag."

Killashandra could feel the tension release in her belly and she let out a lungful of air as Trag's courteous request gave her a rea.s.suring measure of his att.i.tude. She took a quick pull at the polly liqueur which Lars handed her before he sat on the couch, not touching her but with one arm protectively along the back. She began with her arrival on the Athena and her suspicions about Corish. Nor was she any less than candid about the fit of pique with Optherian bureaucracy which had led her to leave the Conservatory grounds, her subsequent kidnapping, escape, and her second meeting with the young islander. She was as forthright about Lars's effect on her s.e.xuality as she was about the impact Nahia. Hauness, and Theach had had on her sympathies. Crystal singing tended to peel off unnecessary veneers and conditioned att.i.tudes, not that she had been afflicted by many, having been raised on Fuerte.

During her recitation, Trag had sipped his drink, any reaction hidden by his hooded eyes. He finished the last of the polly liqueur which Lars had elected to serve him as she concluded the summary and he gestured politely to Lars for a refill.

"They are clever, those old men, but they have not dealt with crystal singers before," Trag said. "They have outsmarted themselves this time. Whom the G.o.ds would destroy, they first make mad."

Killashandra regarded Trag in mild astonishment and then Lars, wondering if his habit was contagious. But Trag's adage was eminently applicable.

Or think themselves impervious to the slings and arrows of outraged fortune," Lars said with a mischievous grin. Killashandra groaned in protest.

"Tomorrow I shall offer to realign the Conservatory instrument."

Trag said. "I distinctly heard a burr -- the first sign of a souring crystal."

"Will they permit you?" Killashandra asked.

"They are greedy. And they have no qualified crystal tuner until we have trained some. I have already resolved the point that the Guild contracted to supply the crystals and technical a.s.sistance, without reference to the number of appropriate technicians supplied. Therefore no further sum is to be paid by them. Until they received that rea.s.surance from me, they were trying to make out that you were in breach of contract -- ".

"In breach? Me? When they placed me in jeopardy? First by hiring an a.s.sailant to prove my Hept.i.te origination? Then they hinder me in the execution of my a.s.signment? And they malign my competence?" Killashandra quickly switched to malicious amus.e.m.e.nt. "Not that they will really appreciate the level of competence we have exhibited! Nor the caliber of the technical a.s.sistance they've bought!" She grinned at Trag. "So, what other knotty problems did you solve at dinner?"

"Your incorruptible dedication to your Guild."

"What!" Killashandra's irritation rekindled. "Of all the -- "

Trag held up his hand, a gleam in his eye that suggested to Killashandra that he was enjoying her discomfiture. Firmly she controlled herself. It didn't help to notice, out of the corner of her eye, that Lars was struggling to suppress his own amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Coming as I do from Guildmaster Lanzecki's office, I am," Trag paused unexpectedly, shooting a glance at Killashandra which she could only interpret as sly, "above reproach. I am also male. Apparently the Elders trust few women in any but the most traditional or subordinate capacities.

I a.s.sured them that not only were you Guildmaster Lanzecki's first choice for such a delicate and crucial installation, but you were mine as well."

Killashandra sniffed but gave him a long hard look, to remind him exactly why Killashandra Ree had been Trag's first choice.

"Your praise, Guildmember, is only surpa.s.sed by your concern for the welfare of the Guild," she said demurely.

"In a matter affecting the Guild reputation, I am, too?

incorruptible," Trag replied, neatly parrying her thrust.

"So tomorrow are Lars and I permitted to continue with the Festival organ?" Trag nodded. "And you will reorganize the second instrument?"

"In the best interests of the guiding precepts of the Federated Sentient Planets Council, yes, I certainly shall. Otherwise I a.s.sure you that these Elders would not receive unreimbursed and gratuitous services from the Hept.i.te Guild."

"Bravo!" Lars called.

"Their greed blinds them," Trag said. "So, following a recent example, we shall take the opportunity that is presented," he added, nodding toward Lars who returned the compliment. "Basically they have trite minds. Security, pride, and s.e.x! Imagine! Inflicting such prurience on tonight's audience."

Killashandra regarded Trag with mild astonishment. The man was positively garrulous, volunteering comments not to mention uncontracted services. Or was he simply responding to the backlash of that maladroit rendition of the Bolero? She'd have thought Trag made of sterner stuff, especially since he'd been forewarned of the subliminals.

"Oh, that's a common diet for the Conservatory," Lars said. "For the ma.s.ses, they have other themes, sometimes so indigestible I wonder how they can be swallowed, even conditionally. Mainlanders are often subjected to a spectrum ranging from xenophobia," Lars began ticking the subjects off on his fingers, "a fear of races in their own territories, to claustrophobia to nip any budding interest in s.p.a.ce-faring, to fear of disobedience, fear and disgust of acts that are 'unnatural,' fear of committing an illegal action, rational or not. They've even constructed a negative-feedback loop to inhibit thinking along lines the Elders have suddenly decided are subversive. A dislike of the color red was achieved a year or so ago.

"Then," and Lars was really warming to his subject, "the tourists get a different menu: love of the simple life, very little eroticism -- which would follow, wouldn't it? All sorts of nebulous goodnesses to be obtained by staying on here. Immense credit balances are constantly flashed luringly at the most bizarre moments. Naturally the disadvantages aren't mentioned at all."

"No lecture on Full Disclosure?" Killashandra shot Trag a glance but he ignored her.

"Have you a reliable contact in the Conservatory, Lars?" Trag asked him.

"I wouldn't dare contact any of them after tonight's subliminal messages. I could try the marketplace -- "

Trag shook his head. "It was politic to agree with Ampris and Torkes that you, Killashandra, have undoubtedly fallen under this young man's insidious spell." He raised his hand at Killashandra's guffaw.

"Neither of you are to be allowed to leave the Conservatory without escort.

For your safety, of course, Killashandra."

"Of course!"

"What works in your favor, though, in this infatuation -- "

"Trag!"

"I'm not Ballyblind, Killashandra," Trag said in a stern voice, "and, if the Elders consider you two self-absorbed to the exclusion of other, more treacherous activities, it is a safeguard, however tenuous. At least while we are still on Optheria." Trag turned to Lars. "Once we leave, Lars Dahl, you are in grave jeopardy."

Lars nodded and, when Killashandra closed her fingers about his, he smiled down at her. "All I need is a half-day's start on any pursuit; no one will ever find me in the islands."

Trag managed to look skeptical without changing a muscle in his face. "Not this time, I think. This time the islanders are to be disciplined to a final and total obedience to the Optherian Council."

"They have to catch us first," Lars said calmly, although anger flared in his eyes and his fingers tightened on Killashandra's. In an abrupt change he shrugged. "The threat of wholesale reprisal is scarcely new."

"Trag has that warrant . . ." Killashandra suggested but caught the obstinate set of Lars's face.

"May I remind you, Killashandra," Trag said, "that a Federated Council warrant is not a writ one exercises with impunity. If I am forced to use it, Lars, and whoever else it includes, would be charged with your abduction and subject to the authority of the FSP Council."

"If I don't press charges, once they're off Optheria -- "

"If you perjure yourself in a Council Court, Killashandra Ree, not even the Hept.i.te Guild can rescue you from the consequences."

"I repeat, and listen to me this time." Lars interrupted firmly, jiggling Killashandra's arm for her attention, "I only need a head start and there isn't a captain on this planet who could catch me. Look, Trag, it's not your affair, but if you're willing to disorganize the Conservatory projector, would you consider doing others? There are quite a few two-manual organs on the Mainland. To have two sabotaged will already be a considerable boon, but the more Mainlanders who are freed from subliminal manipulation, the more chance we'd all have of surviving until the Federated Council moves.

"The Elders can blandly puff on about disciplining islanders, but first they have to j.i.z.z enough Mainlanders up to the point of a punitive action. Mainlanders are a pa.s.sive bunch, after so many years of the pap they've been subjected to." He grinned maliciously. "You saw last night which of the three pressures the audience responded to the most -- Not the martial pride! So, psyching a punitive force up would take time, a clever program, and sufficient audience saturation. The smaller the net the subliminals cast, the longer it will take the Elders to mount any sort of expedition to the islands.

"Now," and Lars leaned forward urgently, "you and Killa have to make a report to the Federated Council? Well, I would find it hard to believe that any Council acts fast. Right?"

Trag nodded. "Speed is determined by the physical threat to the planet involved."

"Not to the population?" Killashandra asked, surprised at Trag's emphasis.

Trag shook his heavy head. "Populations are easy to produce, but habitable planets are relatively scarce." He indicated that Lars should continue.

"So, your report will be considered, deliberated upon, and then?"

"It may indeed take time, Lars Dahl, but the Federated Council has outlawed the use of subliminal conditioning. There is absolutely no question in my mind that action will be taken against the Optherian Elders.

A government which must resort to such means to maintain domestic satisfaction has lost the right to govern. Its Charter will be revoked."

"There's no danger that you and Killashandra will be restrained from leaving?" Lars asked abruptly.

"Why should we be? Can they have any suspicion that someone knows that they maintain control by illicit means?"

"Comgail did," Killashandra said, "even if he was killed before he could pa.s.s on the information. Whoever killed the man must wonder if Comgail had accomplices."

Lars shook his head positively. "Comgail's only contact was Hauness and Hauness didn't reveal that until after Comgail's death. I knew that some drastic measure was planned. Not what it was."

"Tell me, Lars," Trag asked, "does any one suspect that you are aware of the subliminals?"

Lars shook his head vigorously. "How? I always pretended the correct responses after concerts. Father didn't warn me until I was sent to the Mainland for my education. His warning was accompanied by a description of the retribution I would suffer, from him as well as the Council, if I ever revealed my knowledge unnecessarily." Lars grinned. "You may be sure I told no one"

"Besides your father, who knows?" Trag asked. "Or don't you know that?"

Lars nodded. "Hauness and his intimates. As a trained hypnotherapist, he caught on to the subliminals but had the sense to keep silent. It is quite possible that others in his profession know it, but if they do, they don't broadcast it either. What could they do? Especially when I doubt that many Optherians know that subliminals are against Federated Law!" The last was spoken in a bitter tone. "Who would suspect that music, the Ultimate Career on Optheria, can be perverted to ensure the perpetuation of a stagnant government? Then there was the almost insoluble problem of trying to get word off Optheria, to someone with sufficient status to get Council attention. Complaint from people who could be considered a few maladjusted citizens -- and every society has some -- carries little weight.

"It was Hauness who devised a way to get messages off Optheria for us. Post hypnotic requests -- yes, yes, I know, and don't think it was an easy matter for him to violate his ethics as a physician-healer, but we were getting desperate. A suggestion to receive and later mail a letter from the nearest transfer point seemed a minor infraction. I am certain that Hauness only capitulated because Nahia was suffering so much distress.

She had to cope with such a devastating increase of suicide potentials.