Killashandra Part 13

As Lars turned her west, away from the settlement, she caught sight of Tanny, watching them. his expression still troubled. The wind was picking up and the water in the harbor agitated. Lars looked to his right, a.s.sessing the situation.

"Been in a bad one yet?" he asked her, an amused and tolerant grin on his face.

"Oh, yes," Killashandra answered fervently. "Not an experience I wish to repeat." How could Lars know how puny an Optherian hurricane would be in comparison to Pa.s.sover Storms on Ballybran. Once again she wanted to discard her borrowed ident.i.ty. There was so much she would like to share with Lars.

"It's waiting out the blow that's hard," Lars said, then grinned down at her. "We won't be bored this time, though. My father said that Theach came with Hauness and Erutown. I wonder how they managed the travel permits?" That caused him to chuckle. "We'll know how the revised master plan is working."

Killashandra was very hard put to refrain from making any remarks but, of a certainty, waiting out this blow would be extremely interesting.

She might not be getting on with the primary task of her visit to Optheria, but she was certainly gaining a lot of experience with dissidents.

His place was on a knoll, above the harbor, in a grove of mature polly trees. It reflected an orderly person who preferred plain and restful colors. He produced several carisaks which had been neatly stored in a cupboard, and together they emptied the chest of his clothes, including several beautifully finished formal garments. He cleared his terminal of any stored information and when Killashandra asked if they shouldn't dismantle the screen, he shrugged.

"Federal issue. I must be one of the few islanders who use the thing." He grinned impiously. "And then not to watch their broadcasts! They can never appreciate that islanders don't need vicarious experiences." He gestured toward the sea. "Not with real live adventures!"

The pillows, hammocks, what kitchen utensils there were, the rugs, curtains, everything compacted into a manageable bundle to which Lars attached the antigrav s traps. the entire process hadn't taken them fifteen minutes.

"We'll just attach this to a train, grab something to eat and then get the Pearl to safety." He gave his effects a gentle shove in the proper direction.

When they returned to the waterfront, Killashandra saw what he meant by train. Numerous personal-effects bundles, all wrapped and weightless, were being attached to a large floater on which families with small children perched. As soon as it had reached capacity, the driver guided it away, along a winding route toward the distant Ridge.

"Catch you next trip, Jorell?" Lars called to the man steering the harbor boat out toward the anch.o.r.ed s.h.i.+ps.

"Gotcha, Lars!"

"There's Keralaw," Killashandra said, pointing to the woman who was ladling hot soup from an immense kettle into bowls.

"You can always count on her hospitality," Lars said and they altered their path to meet her.

"Carrigana!" Keralaw paused in serving a family group and waved one arm energetically to catch their attention. "I'd no idea where you'd -- "

She halted, eyes goggling a bit at the garland about Killashandra's neck, staring at Lars's matching one. Then she smiled. She patted Killashandra's arm approvingly. "Anyway, I put your carisak with mine on the float to the Ridge. Will I see you two there?" Her manner bordered on the coy as she handed them cups from the bag at her side, and poured the hot soup.

"After we've sailed the Pearl to the Back," Lars said, easily but Killashandra thought his expression a trifle smug, as if he liked surprising Keralaw. He blew on his soup, taking a cautious sip. "As good as ever, Keralaw. One day you must pa.s.s on your secret recipe. What'll Angel do in a crisis without you around to sustain us!"

Keralaw made a pleased noise, giving him a dig in the ribs before she sidled up to Killashandra. "You did better on the sh.o.r.e than I did from the s.h.i.+p!" she murmured, winking and giving Killashandra an approving dig in the ribs. "And," she added, her expression altering from bawdy to solemn, "you're what he needs right now."

Before Killashandra could respond to that cryptic comment, Keralaw had moved off to the next group.

"With Keralaw in the know," Lars said between sips, "storm or not, the rest of the island will be informed."

"That you and I have paired off?" Killashandra gave him a long stare, having now decided what the special blue garlands must signify in island custom. It was presumptuous of him, but then, he was also presuming her acquaintance with island ways. The account, when rendered from her side, was going to be heavy. "You're remarkably well organized here . . ."

She let her sentence dangle, implying that she'd been elsewhere to her sorrow.

"Angel's not often in the direct path, and the storm may veer off before it hits, but one doesn't wait until the last moment, not on Angel.

Father doesn't permit inefficiencies. They lose lives and cost credit. Ah, Jorell's back. Hang on to your cup. We'll need them later."

The harbor skip waited for them and its other pa.s.sengers in the choppy waters. Lars bent to rinse out his cup and Killashandra followed suit, before swinging over the gunwales of the water taxi. Willing hands pulled them aboard.

There was a lot of activity on those s.h.i.+ps still left in the harbor, but many had already started for the safety of the protected bay.

Lars chatted amiably with the other pa.s.sengers, naming Killashandra once to everyone. The approaching storm worried them all, despite the well-drilled exodus. It was considered early in the season for such a big blow: odds were being given that it would veer west as so many early storms tended to do: relief was felt that neither of the nearer two moons was at the full, thus affecting the height of the tides. The pessimist on board was sure this was the beginning of a very stormy winter, a comment which caught Killashandra's interest. Winter? As far as she knew, she'd arrived in Optheria in early spring. Had she missed half a year somehow?

Then the taxi pulled alongside a sleek-lined fifteen meter sloop-rigged s.h.i.+p, and Lars was telling her to grab the rope ladder that flopped against its side. She scrambled up, almost falling over the life-railing, which she hadn't expected. Then Lars was beside her, cheerfully shouting their thanks to Jorell as he deftly hauled the ladder inboard and began to stow it away.

"We'll rig the cabin before we sail," Lars said, nodding astern toward the hatch.

Killashandra didn't know much about s.h.i.+ps of this cla.s.s but the cabin looked very orderly to her, arranged as it was for daytime use. She went to the forward cabin, and decided that she had been in the top right-hand bunk. She turned back, to approximate the view she would have had, and decided that the Pearl Fisher had conveyed her to that wretched little island.

"Update!" Lars said as he came down the companionway, talking to the handset. He listened as he did a cursory inspection of the nearest cupboards, smiling as he turned toward her. "Alert me to any changes.

Over."

He put the handset down and, in one unexpected sweep, hauled her tightly into his arms. His very blue eyes gleamed inches above her face.

His face a.s.sumed thc expression of a s.e.x-mad fiend, his eyes wide in exaggerated ferocity, as he bent her backward in one arm his other hand stroking her body urgently. "Alone, at last, m'girl, and who knows when next we have the privacy I need to enjoy you to good advantage."

"Oh, sir, unhand me!" Killashandra fluttered her eye lashes, panting in mock terror. "How can you ravish an innocent maid in this hour of our peril?"

"It seems the right thing to do, somehow," Lars said in a totally different tone, releasing her so abruptly she had to catch herself on the table. "Curb your libido long enough for me to make the bed you're about to be laid in." He flipped the table onto its edge, gestured for her to take the other side of the seat unit which pulled out across the deck.

Simultaneously they fell onto the bed, and Lars began his a.s.sault on her willing person.

The summons of the handset brought them back to reality that had only peripherally impinged on their activities. Lars had to steady himself in the lurching s.h.i.+p to reach the handset. He frowned as he heard the update.

"Well, beloved, I hope you're a good sailor, for it's going to be a rough pa.s.sage around the wing. That storm is hurrying to meet us. Neither a veer nor a pause! Grab the wet weather gear from that cupboard.

Temperature's falling and the rain's going to be cold."

Fortunately Lars gave clear instructions to his novice crew and Killashandra coped with her tasks well enough to gain his nods of approval.

The Pearl Fisher was fitted to be sailed single-handed, with the sheet lines winched to the c.o.c.kpit and other remotes to a.s.sist in the absence of a human crew. Lars beckoned Killashandra to join him in the stern as the anchor was lifted by remote. Another hauled the sloop's mainsail up the mast, Lars's pennon breaking out as the clew of the sail locked home.

The wind took the sail, and the s.h.i.+p, forward, out of the wide mouth of the harbor, which was now clear of all craft. Nor did there seem to have been anyone to notice their delay. The beach was empty of people.

The shuttered shops and houses had an abandoned look to them. The tide was already slopping into the barbecue pits and Killashandra wondered just how much would be left on the waterfront when they sailed back into Wing Harbor.

Killashandra found the speed of the Pearl Fisher incredibly exhilarating. To judge by the rapt expression on his face, so did Lars. The fresh wind drove them across the harbor almost to its mouth, before Lars did a short tack to get beyond the land. Then the Pearl was gunwale deep on a fine slant as she sped on a port tack toward the bulk of the Wing.

It was an endless time, divorced from reality, unlike cutting crystal where time, too, was sometimes suspended for Killashandra. This was a different sort of time, that spent with someone, someone whose proximity was a matter of keen physical delight for her. Their bodies touched, shoulder, hip, thigh, knee, and leg, as the canting of the s.h.i.+p in her forward plunge kept Killashandra tight against Lars. Not a voyage, she realized sadly, that could last forever but a long interval she hoped to remember. There are some moments, Killashandra informed herself, that one does wish to savor.

The sun had been about at the zenith when they had finally tacked out of the Wing Harbor. It was westering as they sailed round the top of the Wing with its lowlands giving way to the great basalt cliffs, straight up from the cras.h.i.+ng sea, a bastion against the rapidly approaching hurricane. And the southern skies were ominous with dark cloud and rain. In the shelter of those cliffs, their headlong speed abated to a more leisurely pace. Lars announced hunger and Killashandra went below to a.s.suage it. Taking into account the rough water, she found some heat packs which she opened, and which they ate in the c.o.c.kpit, companionably close.

Killashandra found it necessary to curb a swell of incipient l.u.s.t as Lars s.h.i.+fted his long body against hers to get a better grip on the tiller.

Then they rounded the cliffs and into the crowded anchorage which sheltered Angel's craft. Lars fired a flare to summon the jitney to them, then he ordered Killashandra forward with the boat hook to catch up the bright-orange eighty-two buoy to starboard. He furled the sail by remote and went on low-power a.s.sist to slow the Pearl and avoid oversailing the buoy.

Buoy eighty-two was in the second rank, between two small ketch-rigged fisherboats, and Killashandra was rather pleased that she snagged the buoy first try. By the time Lars had secured the s.h.i.+p to ride out the blow, the little harbor taxi was alongside, its pilot looking none too pleased to be out in the rough waters.

"What took you so long, Lars?"

"A bit of cross-tide and some rough tacks," Lars said with a cheerful mendacity that caused Killashandra to elbow his ribs hard. He threw his arm about to forestall further a.s.saults. Indeed they both had to hang on to the railings as the little boat slapped and bounced.

For a moment, Killashandra thought the pilot was driving them straight into the cliff. Then she saw the light framing the sea cave. As if the overhang marked the edge of the sea's domination, the jitney was abruptly on calmer waters, making for the interior and the sandy sh.o.r.e.

Killashandra was told to fling the line to the waiting sh.o.r.emen. The little boat was sailed into a cradle and this was drawn up, safely beyond the depredations of storm and sea.

"Last one in again, eh Lars?" he was teased as the entire party made its way out of the dock and started up the long flight of stairs cut in the basalt. It was a long upward haul for Killashandra, unused to stairs in any case and, though pride prevented her from asking for a brief halt, she was completely winded by the time they reached the top and exited onto a windswept terrace. She was relieved to find a floater waiting, for the Backbone towered meters above them and she doubted her ability to climb another step.

Polly and other trees lined the ridge, making a windbreak for the floater as it was buffeted along, ending its journey at a proper stationhouse Killashandra had profited by the brief rest and followed Lars's energetic stride into the main hall of the Backbone shelter.

"Lars," called the man at the entrance, "Olav's in the command post. Can you join him?"

Lars waved a.s.sent and guided Killashandra to an ascending ramp, past a huge common room packed with people. They pa.s.sed an immense garage, where hundreds of packets resembling some strange form of alien avian life dangled weightless from their antigravs.

There was a storm chill in the air and Killashandra was aware of symbiont-generated inner tension as her body sensed the impending arrival of the hurricane.

"The command post is s.h.i.+elded, lover," Lars said, catching her hand in his and stroking it rea.s.suringly. "Storm won't affect you so much there.

I feel it myself," he added when she looked up in surprise at his comment.

"Real weather-sorts, the pair of us!" The affinity pleased him.

They reached the next level, predominantly storage to judge by the signs on the door on either side of the wide corridor. Lars walked straight for the secured portal at the far end, put his thumb on the door lock which then slid open. Instinctively Killashandra flinched, startled by the sight of the storm-lashed trees, and the unexpected panoramas, north and south, of the two harbors. Lars's hand tightened with rea.s.surance. On both sides of the door, the walls were covered by data screens and continuous printout as the satellites fed information to the island's receivers. The other three sides of the command post were open, save for the circular stairs winding down to the floor below.

Olav was on his feet, walking from one display to the next, making his own estimate of the data. He looked up at Lars and Killashandra, noting with the upward lift of one eyebrow the bruised garlands they wore. He indicated the circular stairway and made a gesture which Killashandra read as a promise to join them later.

They crossed the room, Lars pausing to read the displays at the head of the staircase. He made a noncommittal grunt and then indicated that she should precede him. Therefore she was first in the room, grateful that only large windows north and south broke its protection from the elements without, while a fire burned in a wide hearth on the eastern wall. The western wall was broken by four doors, the open one showing a small catering area. But Killashandra's attention was immediately on the occupants of the room, three men and the most beautiful woman Killashandra had ever seen.

"Nahia! How dare you risk yourself!" cried Lars, his face white under his tan as he brushed past Killashandra. To her complete amazement, he dropped on one knee before the woman, and kissed her hand.

Chapter 13.

A startled expression crossed Nahia's perfect features at Lars's obeisance.

She shot a quick look at Killashandra, managing to convey her embarra.s.sment even as she tried to lift Lars from his knee.

"My friend, this will not do," she said kindly, but firmly. "Only think what effect such a gesture could have on an Elder or a Master -- and yes, I do most certainly know your opinion of those worthies. But Lars, such histrionics could damage our goal."

Lars had by now risen to his feet. With a final few pats to his hand, an oblique apology for her public admonition, she withdrew from his grasp, moving past him toward Killashandra. "Whom have you brought with you, Lars?" she asked, smiling tentatively as she extended her slender hand to Killashandra. "Who wears your garland?"

"Carrigana, lately a polly planter," Lars replied, stepping back to Killashandra's side and taking her other hand firmly in his.

It was one way of apologizing for his effusive welcome of another woman but it was Nahia herself who effectively dissolved Killashandra's incipient hostility. The touch of her hand had a soothing effect, not a shock or a jar, but a gentle insinuation of rea.s.surance. Nahia's eyes were troubled as she regarded Killashandra, her lips curving upward in a slight smile which blossomed as she felt Killashandra's resistance to her dissipate. Then a little frown gathered at her brows as she became aware of the lingering crystal resonance within Killashandra. It was the crystal singer's turn to smile rea.s.surance and an acknowledgement of what Nahia was: an empath.

Killashandra had heard of such people but she had never encountered one. The encyclopedia had not hinted the psi talents were an Optherian quality. It could be a wild talent and often was. In Nahia it was combined with unexpected beauty, integrity, and an honesty which few citizens of the Federated Sentient Worlds could project without endangering their sanity.

Lars had been correct in his statement that Nahia's special talents would be a galactic a.s.set. She was Goodness personified.

Nahia looked with gentle inquiry at Killashandra, struggling to identify the elusive contact with crystal. Killashandra smiled and, with a final light pressure on Nahia's fine-boned hand, released her and leaned slightly against Lars.

At this point, the other men stepped forward to greet the newcomers.

"I'm Hauness, Nahia's escort," said the tallest of the three, an attractive man whom Killashandra judged to be in his mid-thirties. His handclasp was strong but not crus.h.i.+ng and he, too, exuded a charm and personality that would have been instantly apparent in any group -- at least any group that did not contain Nahia. Or Lars. "Believe me, Lars, we had no report of such rough weather when we embarked on this journey but -- ".

"There are matters we must discuss with you, no matter what the risk." Erutown was the oldest, and bluntest. His manner suggested that he tended to be a humorless pessimist. He gave Killashandra's hand one brief shake and dropped it. "And there was no risk -- in the weather -- when we started." He hovered, his upper body inclined away from Killashandra even as his feet s.h.i.+fted, as if he wanted to separate Lars from Killashandra and plunge into the "matters to be discussed" as quickly as possible.

"Theach," said the third man, giving Killashandra a brief, self-effacing nod.

He was the sort of nondescript human being, mild mannered, with undistinguished features, who can be encountered almost anywhere in the human population, and promptly forgotten. Only because she had heard of his mathematical abilities from Lars did Killashandra give Theach any sort of an inspection and thus noticed that his eyes were brilliant with intelligence: that he had already a.s.sumed she would discount him, indeed, hoped that she would, and was quite willing to accept the sort of dismissal to which he was clearly accustomed.

So Killashandra gave him a saucy wink. She half expected Theach to retreat in confusion as many shy men would, but, smiling, he winked back at her.

Erutown cleared his throat, indicating that now introductions had been made, he wanted to initiate the discussions they had come for.

"I don't know about you, Lars, but I'm starving," Killashandra said, gesturing toward the catering area. "Is it all right to see what's available?" She turned to the others. "May I fix something for you?"

Lars gave her hand a grateful squeeze before he released it. He told her to find what she fancied and he'd have the same but the others demurred, gesturing toward the low table where the remains of a meal could be seen.

The four conspirators didn't know that Killashandra's symbiont-adapted hearing was uncommonly acute. At that distance they could have whispered and she would have caught what was being said.

"They finally sent the message two days ago, Lars." Erutown's baritone was audible above the noises Killashandra was making in the catering unit.

"Took them long enough," Lars said in a low growl.

"They had to search first. And search they did, uncovering a variety of minor crimes and infringements which, of course slowed them down." Hauness was amused.

"Any one of us caught?"

"Not a one of us," Hauness replied.

"Cleansed us of some very stupid people," Erutown said.

"She is safe, isn't she, Lars?" Nahia asked in gentle anxiety, a graceful gesture of her hand indicating the darkening southern horizon.