"What concerns me," Lars said, his eyes clouded with anxiety, "is why he's getting in touch with you right now. He must have come back to the City from Ironwood -- and Nahia and Hauness. Maybe they're in Jeopardy. So many people were picked up on the search and seize . . ."

Killashandra put a rea.s.suring hand on Lars's arm. "I think somehow Corish would have managed to intimate that."

"I think he did by not admitting to finding his uncle."

"If he admitted to having found his uncle," Trag said, unexpectedly joining forces with Killashandra to rea.s.sure Lars, "he would no longer have any need to use that travel pa.s.s, and if he's as good a Council agent as he seems to be, he wouldn't surrender that option."

Lars accepted that interpretation with a nod of his head and pretended to be rea.s.sured.

"We'll know soon enough," Killashandra said kindly.

"Well, when you meet Corish this evening," Lars said, "walk to whichever restaurant he's been recommended. That way you have some chance of open talk. The Piper is certain to recommend The Berry Bush or Frenshaw's. Neither are far from the Piper, but both restaurants are run by Optherians, loyal and true to the Elders, so you'll be under observation.

The food's pretty good." Lars gave her an encouraging grin.

"Then I'm taking the jammer, too. Got to keep them thinking it's me that causes the static. Well, they should have had enough time to digest Corish's innocuous conversation." So Killashandra tapped out a sequence on the comunit. "Mirbethan, is there a concert tonight? I shouldn't want to miss any but von Mittelstern has invited me to dinner tonight, and I've accepted. I don't want him to come charging up here and discover I'm more than the simple music student he thinks me, so I'll settle his doubts."

Whatever Mirbethan thought was disguised by her rea.s.surances that no concert was scheduled.

"Then please arrange transport for me this evening. By the way, when is the next concert? I'm fascinated by the organ effects. Fabulous concert last night. The most unusual one I've ever attended."

"Tomorrow evening, Guildmember." Mirbethan's reply was gracious, but Killashandra noticed the slightly smug turn to the woman's faint smile.

"Good." Killashandra broke the connection. "Offense is the best defense, Guildmember," she added, turning to Trag. "You didn't have to promise the Elders that you'd discipline me for my emotional aberration, did you? Well, then, it's business as usual for me in a normal fashion which means I come and go, whether they trail me or not. Right? And since I'm disaffected with you," and Killashandra kissed Lars's cheek, "I'll go alone. Unless, Trag, you want to come and meet Corish."

"I might, at that," Trag said, half-closing his eyes a moment.

"That gives me the chance to moon after Mirbethan," Lars said slyly.

Killashandra guffawed and wished him luck.

"Now let us attend our duties," Trag said, gesturing for Killashandra to precede them to the door.

When they reached the Festival Auditorium, a large contingent of security men was loosely scattered about the stage, concentrated near the organ console, which was open. Two men were fussing about the keyboard but Killashandra couldn't tell whether they were dusting or adjusting the keys.

Suddenly Elder Ampris detached himself from the gaggle and took a few steps forward to meet them.

"Don't overdo it, Killa," Lars murmured at her, aiming a slightly fatuous grin at the Elder.

"After last night, Elder Ampris, I wonder at my audacity in suggesting that I play on any Optherian organ," she said, and felt Lars's admonitory pinch on the tender inside flesh of her arm. Unnecessary, she felt, since she had forced herself to employ a meek and sincere tone of voice.

"You enjoyed the concert?"

"I have never heard anything like it," she said, which was no more than the truth. "Truly an experience. Mirbethan tells me there'll be another one tomorrow evening. I do hope that we'll be invited?"

"Of course you are, my dear Killashandra," Elder Ampris replied, his eyes glittering almost benignly at her.

She limited herself to a happy smile and continued on to the organ loft door.

"A word with you, Elder Ampris," Trag began, his anxious frown attracting the Elder's instant attention.

Killashandra and Lars continued into the organ loft.

"You pinched far too hard!"

"You wouldn't fool me, Killa!"

"Well, I did fool him," and hiding her gesture from observation, she pointed to the hairless corner of the manual cabinet.

"Jammer on?" she asked.

"The moment I finished pinching."

"Brackets, please!"

They had already positioned the first of the final slender crystals when Trag and Elder Ampris entered.

"Only five more crystals and this installation is complete." Trag was saying to Ampris. "I know that Killashandra is well aware that these upper register notes require the finest tuning." Killashandra nodded, receiving his tacit message. "I will check the brackets on that sour crystal in the Conservatory organ and be back here in time for the tune-up."

Killashandra was hoping that Elder Ampris would leave them to the task but he elected to remain, observing every movement. Killashandra hated to be overseen under any circ.u.mstances, and to have Ampris's gimlet eyes on her made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She was annoyed, too, because Ampris's presence put the damper on any conversation between herself and Lars. She had enjoyed the bantering exchanges which relieved the tedium and tension of this highly precise work. So she felt doubly aggrieved to be denied a morning of matching wits with Lars Dahl. They would have so little time left to enjoy each other's company.

Therefore, it gave her a great deal of vicarious pleasure to spin out the last final bracketings, giving Trag ample time to make his alterations on the Conservatory program. And deliberately irritating Elder Ampris with her persnickety manipulations. He was in a state of nervous twitch when she and Lars tightened the last bracket.

"There!" she said on a note of intense satisfaction. "All right and tight!" She picked up the hammer and, seized by a malicious whimsy, struck the first note of the Beethoven motif. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ampris start forward, one hand raised in protest, his face drained of all color. She went up the scale, and then, positioning the hammer on the side of the crystal shafts, descended the 44 notes in a glissando. "Clear as the proverbial bell and not a vibration off the tune. A good installation, if I say so myself."

Killashandra slid the hammer into its s.p.a.ce in the tool-box and brushed her fingertips lightly together. She released the damper on the striking base of the crystals and replaced the top. "I don't think we'll fasten it just yet. Now, Elder Ampris, the moment of truth!"

"I would prefer that Guildmember Trag -- "

"He can't play! Doesn't even read music," Killashandra said, deliberately misinterpreting Elder Ampris. Lars pinched her left flank, his strong fingers nipping into the soft flesh of her waistline. She would have kicked back at him if she could have done so un.o.bserved. "But I suppose you would feel more secure if he was to vet the completed installation," she added, giving Ampris a timorous smile more consonant to someone in the thrall of subliminal conditioning than her previous declaration.

Trag's reappearance was fortuitous.

"Just as I suspected, Elder Ampris, a loose bracket on the middle G. I checked both manuals thoroughly."

Ampris regarded Trag with a moment's keen suspicion. "You don't play," he said.

"No."

"Then how can you tune crystal?"

Killashandra laughed aloud. "Elder Ampris, every would-be crystal singer has perfect and absolute pitch or they can't get into the Hept.i.te Guild. Guildmember Trag doesn't need to be a trained musician. Guildmaster Lanzecki isn't either. One of the reasons I was chosen for this a.s.signment is because I am -- and trained in keyboard music. Now, Trag, if you will inspect the installation?" She and Lars lifted off the cover.

Trag was not above giving Ampris a second fright for he tapped out three of the Beethoven notes in the soprano register before altering the sequence to random notes. Then he did each note in turn, listening until the exquisite sound completely died before hitting the next crystal.

"Absolutely perfect," he said, handing her the hammer.

"Now, with your permission, Elder Ampris," Killashandra began, "I would like to use the organ keyboard." When she saw his brief hesitancy, she added. "It would be such an honor for me and it would only be the sonics. After last night's performance, I would be brash indeed to attempt any embellishments."

Bowing stiffly to the inevitable, Elder Ampris gestured for her to proceed from the loft. Not that she could have done anything to damage the actual organ keyboard, and live, with so many security guards millimeters from her. As she took her seat, pretending to ignore the battery of eyes and sour expressions, she decided against any of the Beethoven pieces she remembered from her Fuertan days. That would be risking more than her personal satisfaction was worth. She began to power up the various systems of the organ, allowing the electronic circuits to warm up and stabilize.

She also discarded a whimsical notion to use one of Lars's themes. She

flexed her fingers, pulled out the appropriate stops, and did a rapid dance on the foot pedals to test their reactions.

Diplomatically she began with the opening chords of a Fuertan love song, reminiscent of one of the folk tunes that she'd heard that first magical night on the beach with Lars. The keyboard had an exquisitely light touch and, knowing herself to be rather heavy handed, she tried to find the right balance, before she began the lilting melody. Even playing softly and delicately, she felt, rather than heard, the sound returning from the perfect acoustics of the auditorium. The phase shield around the organ protected her from the full response.

Playing this Festival organ was an incredible, purely musical experience as she switched to lowest manual for the ba.s.s line. For her as a singer, keyboards had been essential only as accompaniment, tolerated in place of orchestra and choral augmentation. She might have been supercilious about the Optherian contention that an organ was the ultimate instrument, but she was willing to revise her opinion of it upward. Even the simple folk song, embellished with color, scent and "the joy of spring," she thought sardonically, was doubly effective as a mood setter when played on the Optherian organ. She was sorely tempted to reach up and pull Out a few of the stops that ringed the console.

Abruptly she changed to a dominant key and a martial air, lots of the ba.s.s notes in a st.u.r.dy thumpy-thump, but half-way through she tired of that mood, and found herself involved in the accompaniment to a favorite aria. Not wishing to spoil the rich music by singing, she transferred the melodic line to the manual she had just repaired, taking the orchestra part in the second manual and the pedal ba.s.s. The tenor's reprise naturally followed, on the third manual, mellower than the soprano range. From that final chord, she found herself playing a tune, filling in with a chorded ba.s.s, and not quite certain what tune it was when she felt someone pinch her hip. Her fingers jerked down the keys just as she realized that it was Lars's melody she was rehearsing. She made the slip of her fingers into the first music that came to mind, an ancient anthem with distinct religious overtones. She ended that in a flourish of keyboard embellishments and, with considerable reluctance, lifted her hands and feet from the organ, swiveling around on the seat.

Lars, being nearest, took her hand to ease her to the ground from the high organ perch. The pressure of his fingers was complimentary, if the arch of his eyebrows chided her for that slip. It was the surprise on Elder Ampris's face that pleased her the most.

"My dear Killashandra, I had no idea you were so accomplished," he said with renewed affability.

"Woefully out of practice," she said demurely, though she knew that she had struck few wrong notes and her sense of tempo had always been excellent. "Almost a travesty for someone like me to play on that superb organ, but I shall remember the honor for the rest of my life." She meant it.

There was a general sort of highly audible reshuffling as the security men permitted a handful of hesitant new arrivals closer to the console. Some nervous clearings of throats and foot scufflings also echoed faithfully about the auditorium.

"Balderol's students," Elder Ampris murmured by way of explanation.

"To practice for the concerts now the organ is repaired."

At a glance, Killashandra decided there must be nine security men for each student. She smiled kindly, then noticed out of the corner of her eye that a solid line of the biggest security men stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the door to the organ loft. Were they glued to their posts?

"Well, let's leave them to it," she said brightly. "Don't you have some students for Trag and myself? To learn crystal tuning? They must have perfect and absolute pitch, you know," she reminded Elder Ampris as they left the stage. Her voice sounded dead as her final words were spoken in less resonant surroundings.

"That is not scheduled until tomorrow, Killashandra," Ampris said, mildly surprised. "I had thought that you and Guildmember Trag should take this opportunity to see the rest of the Conservatory."

That was not high on Killashandra's list of priorities but since she was momentarily in Ampris's good graces, she should make an effort to stay there. She was not best pleased when Ampris turned the projected tour over to Mirbelhan, excusing himself on the grounds of urgent administrative duties. Instead of proving to Ampris that sublimation worked on crystal singers, she had to watch Lars proving it to Mirbethan while she tried to attach herself to Trag. At first Trag remained his inscrutable self but suddenly altered. attentive to her explanations of this cla.s.sroom, that theory processor, when the small theater had been added, and which distinguished composer had initiated what ramification on the Festival Organ. Had Lars brazenly pinched the impervious Trag? As she trailed behind the trio, now inspecting the cheerless and sterilely neat dormitories, she would have been glad enough to receive Lars's pinch.

If she had herself been more receptive, she would have been impressed by the physical advantages of the Conservatory for it was exceedingly well organized and equipped in terms of practice and cla.s.srooms, library facilities, processing terminals. There was even a library of books, donated by the original settlers and subsequent visitors.

The actual Conservatory had been designed as a complete unit and built at one time, only the Festival Auditorium added on at a later date although included in the original plans. In design it was a complex far superior to Fuerte's Music Center, which had sprawled in extensions and annexes with no basic concept. There was, however, more charm in a corner of Fuerte's Music Center than in any of the more elaborate and pretentious chambers of Optheria's Conservatory.

"The Infirmary is this way." Mirbethan's unctuous voice broke through Killashandra's sour reflections.

"I've been there," she said in a dry and caustic tone and Mirbethan had the grace to look embarra.s.sed. Then she gave Lars a penetrating look which he returned with an impudent wink. "And I'm hungry. We didn't eat any lunch in order to get the installation completed."

Mirbethan was full of apologies and, when both Trag and Lars said they were sure the Infirmary was of the same high standard as the rest of the premises, she led them back to their quarters.

Once inside, Lars ostentatiously activated the jammer and Killashandra heaved a sigh of relief. She hadn't realized how tense she'd become.

"I'm hungry, that's all, I'm hungry," she told herself as she made her way to the caterer.

"Where did you find the subliminal unit, Trag?" Lars asked, pausing at the drinks cabinet.

"Under the stage, but keyed by the same motif. For clever men, the Elders can be repet.i.tive."

Killashandra gave a contemptuous snort. "Probably can't remember anything more complicated at their advanced ages."

"Don't make the mistake of underestimating them, Killashandra,"

Trag said solemnly as he poured himself a blew.

"Let them have that privilege," Lars added. "Sententious b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

We're down to Basc.u.m, Killa."

"Well, that goes well with the fish, which seems the only thing left on today's menu."

Lars guffawed. "It always is. Take the soup instead," he said in a tone that suggested dire experience. "And don't, Killa, play my music again in the Conservatory," he added, waggling a finger at her. "Balderol heard me practice often enough."

"I won t say I'm sorry,' Killashandra replied. "It just happened to develop from the previous chord. It's probably the most original music ever played on that organ if what we heard last night is standard."

"They don't want originality, Killa," Lars said with a twist to his smile. "They want more of the same that they can orchestrate to mind-penetration. Trag, what did Ampris say about your doing the provincial organs?"

"I haven't suggested it. Yet. There has been no opportunity."

Lars looked anxious. "I'm the one who's greedy now. Disabling their program in the City is a big step forward because so many provincials make the trek here in order to say they've heard the Festival Organ, But they're not the ones who'd be recruited to Ampris's punitive force. So they're the ones we want to keep unaffected this year."

"Who else has access to the organ lofts?" Trag asked.

"Only . . . Ah!" Lars's expressive face altered to triumph.

"Comgail never got the chance to make his annual inspection of the other facilities. And maintenance is Ampris's responsibility, not Torkes. He'll have to use you and Killa, Trag. He hasn't anyone else. And he certainly wouldn't entrust maintenance to the puff heads you're supposed to initiate into the art of crystal tuning."

"Especially not you, Lars," said Killashandra with a laugh.

"Let's not continue that part of the farce. Killa," Lars said.

"Why not?" asked Trag. "I think you must realize that we will not leave you on this planet, no matter how cleverly you could hide yourself amid your islands, Lars Dahl. Crystal tuning is a universal skill."

"So is sailing, Trag."

"But let us continue as we have started. Farce or not, it keeps you in our company and safe."

"Trag, are you recruiting?" Even to herself, Killashandra sounded unnecessarily sharp.

Trag turned his head slowly to look at her, his heavy features expressionless. "Recruiting is not permitted by the FSP, Killashandra Ree."

She snorted, "Neither is subliminal conditioning, Trag Morfane!"

Lars looked from one to the other, grinning at this evidence of unexpected discord. "Here, here, what's this?"

"An old controversy," Killashandra replied quickly. "If all the provincial organs need at least basic maintenance, then you and I, Trag, are the only qualified technicians on Optheria. Ampris will have to ask you, for I can't see him asking me, and that solves that problem, doesn't it?"