Killashandra Part 23

"It is to me, Lars. Be of good cheer. The bracketing will be relatively easy and you can help me do that."

Despite her protests, Lars carried her out of the organ loft just before midnight. When they reached her suite, she insisted that they had better have a good soak, to be sure none of the crystal dust had penetrated their clothing. In the bath, he had to hold her head above water, for she kept falling asleep.

It took nearly four days to ensure that no speck of crystal dust remained in the case. By the time they arrived each morning, new monitor buds had been installed. So the first thing that Killashandra did on entering the organ loft was to hum a happy tune, charging the white crystal shards to do their duty and blast the fragile sensors.

On the third day, the new brackets were delivered and Killashandra set Lars Dahl to checking each one under a microscope. Fourteen were rejected for minor flaws. After the visit of Elder Ampris, they had no visitors. Thyrol would conduct them every morning to the loft, unlocking it and inquiring after their needs. Excellent meals were delivered at the appropriate hours. a.s.sured of uninterrupted privacy, with easily disabled monitors, Lars had the freedom to undertake a very patient examination of the room, searching for the location of the subliminal equipment.

On the fourth morning, as Thyrol led them across the stage, Killashandra noted a curious discrepancy. The loft room did not extend the entire length of the stage behind the organ console. She silently counted her paces to the door. When Thyrol had closed the panel and Lars had activated the jammer, she paced out the width of the room.

"In-ter-est-ing," she said, her nose against the far wall. "This room is only half the length of the stage, Lars. Does that suggest anything to you?"

"It does, but there is no corresponding door on the other side of the console!" He joined her in her scrutiny of the blameless wall. "The subliminals have to be linked to the main frame data bases. I wonder . . ."

She followed his inspection of the cables that festooned the ceiling, pausing where they ran alongside the wall.

"Just a little minute," he said, his eyes wide with discovery, and he spun one of the impervo tubs to position just under the cables.

He had to crane his neck, half stooped against the ceiling, but he gave a low and triumphant whistle. When he jumped down, he gathered Killashandra in his arms and whirled her about, crowing with exultation.

"The wall drops -- how I don't know, but there is just the slightest gap at the top, where no one would think to look for it. And three very heavy cables go through the wall."

Lars replaced the tub before he began to inspect the corner joint.

Once again he gave an exultant yip.

"The whole wall must move, Killa -- but how?"

That large a ma.s.s sinking into the floor might be a touch noisy."

"If we knew the mechanism . . ." He felt along the corner, then the floor, pressing and tapping.

"That's far too obvious, Lars. Stupid they are but never obvious.

Try for an extrusion on one of the units, underneath 'em, inside . . ." She ran searching fingers under the one nearest her, finding nothing but a rough edge on one corner which produced a gouged finger. "Ach, I haven't the patience for this sort of nonsense right now. You go ahead. I'll finish this last bit of cleaning."

By the time their lunch was brought in, Lars had found nothing more. The units that could be opened had been opened with no result. Lars stewed and fussed all through the meal at his inability to resolve the problem.

"What sort of form do the security measures generally take on Optheria? Bureaucracies tend to find a reliable mechanism and stick with it," Killashandra suggested, with only half her attention on that part of the problem since she was so close to clearing the manual case for the next task.

"I can find out. Would you mind being left alone this evening?" He grinned at her, stroking her arm gently. "You'd be a mite conspicuous where I want to go."

"And where would that be?" she asked with an arch glance of mock disgust.

"I've got to acquire a few more clothes," and he twitched the fabric of his s.h.i.+rt, not as gaudy as that of most island designs but certainly noticeable amid the drab garb of the city dwellers. "Talk to a few people. Lucky for us, it's nearing the time of year when the subliminals wear off and normal student appet.i.tes revive. I might he late, Killa," -- he made a grimace of regret -- "We don't have as much time together . . ."

She kissed the pulse in his throat. "Whenever you return then. That is, of course," and she had to add a light touch to relieve the tension in her throat, "if the guards pa.s.s you in."

Chapter 20.

And?" Killashandra prompted Lars the next morning as they breakfasted.

Despite a valiant effort to stay awake, she had been asleep when he returned and he was showering when she was awakened by the distant chimes.

"I got clothing, all right enough," Lars admitted with a frustrated sigh. "The Elders' search and seizure for you was far more comprehensive than our visitors," and despite the jammer he was taking no chances, "had led us to believe. Or perhaps knew. Anyone -- anyone who has been booked even for a pedestrian offense -- was drawn. Half a dozen students were sent on to rehab without benefit of Inquiry."

"Olver?"

Lars ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his head vigorously as if to erase his despondency. "How he escaped I don't know and neither, I gather, does he. We didn't exchange more than a few signs." Lars propelled himself from his chair, pacing, head down. "It could very well be that the Elders have marked him and are playing a waiting game."

"Are Nahia and Hauness safe?"

Lars gave her a quick and grateful smile for that concern. "They were holding clinics in Ironwood," he waved his hand to the north, "at the time of your disappearance. The City, Gartertown, and the Port took the brunt of search and seizure. And Security then used your disappearance as an excuse to take known dissidents in protective custody.

"How many are?"

"In protective custody? My dear Guildmember, such figures are never made public."

"An informed guess? Suicide is one form of social protest, the size of the p.c. population another one."

Lars shook his head. "Hauness might be able to find out," and Lars resumed his head shaking, "but I wouldn't risk getting in touch with him right now."

Killashandra stared at Lars Dahl for a lone moment, a sinking sensation that had nothing to do with hunger cramping her guts.

"And I have made you as vulnerable as any of those already in p.c., haven't I?"

Lars shrugged and grinned. "If you hadn't named me your rescuer, I'd be tucked away in a rehab cubicle right now spinning out my brains."

"After I've gone?"

Lars shrugged again, then gave her an impudent wink. "All I need is a half-day's start on 'em. And once I've made the islands, there isn't an S & S team that can find me if I don't wish to be found."

He sounded so confident that, for a moment, Killashandra almost believed him. As if he sensed her doubt, he leaned over her in the chair, his eyes more brilliantly blue than ever, his lips upturned in a provocative half smile.

"Beloved Sunny, if it wouldn't sound mawkish, I'd say that meeting you has been the high point of my life so far. And confounding Elders Torkes and Ampris are adventures to lighten my darkest hour -- "

"Which might yet be in a rehab booth!"

"I know the risk, and it's been worth it, Killa!" He kissed her then, a light brief touch of his lips to hers but it set her blood ringing as quickly as crystal.

"Speaking of Elders," she began in an attempt to shake off her anxiety, "we begin to bracket crystal today." She rose from the chair with a determined effort, then saw his expression. "All right -- I grant you, learning to bracket and tune crystal won't advance you in the Elders'

files, but those are useful skills anywhere else in the FSP."

Lars laughed. "Had we but worlds enough and time -- "

Killashandra let out a great guffaw. "Malaprop!" But outrageous humor made a better start to a tricky day than gloom.

Lars was every bit as quick to learn and adept in the use of his strong hands as Killashandra had thought he'd be. To set the white crystal in the brackets, she asked Thyrol the height of the stroke of the padded hammers. They already had six in place by the time Elder Ampris appeared in the loft, Thyrol hovering anxiously behind him in the open door.

Killashandra noticed, first, the breath of sweet fresh air and she flicked a quick glance at the intruders as they stood there. Lars was holding the crystal dead still.

"You'll feel just the slightest surface tension and a slippery, almost electric, tension when the clamps are tight enough. Tell me when you do."

She tightened the brackets, keeping both little fingers under the crystal so that she could sense that surface tension.

"Now!" Lars said.

"Right on!" She struck the crystal with the tone hammer, and the rich deep note spun through the air, drifting out and causing the two door guards to risk a quick peer into the loft. A muted and discordant response came from the covered tubs of crystal shard. Then she straightened up and turned to the observers. "And that's how it's done, Elder Ampris."

Ampris's bright brown eyes glittered as he arranged his mouth in a smile which she took to mean approbation.

"The lower octave is always easier, for some reason, to set and pitch," Killashandra went on affably. "We're making excellent progress."

"And?"

Killashandra heard a curious vibration in that single word. Elder Ampris was overly eager to have this installation completed and it could not be simply to allow performers practice time. He also exhibited an uncharacteristic nervousness; his fingers rubbed against his thumb.

"I think we'll have the entire manual finished by tomorrow evening.

Set the next pair of brackets, will you, Lars Dahl, while I watch."

Killashandra stepped away from the cabinet, stood next to Elder Ampris.

"He's quick and deft and once I'm sure he's doing it right, we'll work both ends against the middle."

Ampris regarded her with a blink, his mind evidently jumping to another application of that phrase. His stiff and pleased smile forewarned her. "You will then perhaps be delighted to have trained a.s.sistance."

"Trained?" Killashandra glanced at Lars who had also suspended motion, catching the smugness in Ampris's dry tone.

"When we could not find you anywhere in the City, Guildmember, we apprised your Guild of your disappearance. And requested a . . ." Ampris's smile took on a faintly apologetic twist, "replacement. Our need, as I'm sure you appreciate, is urgent."

"It takes nearly ten weeks to get from the Scoria system to the Ophiuchian."

"Not by FSP courier s.h.i.+p." Ampris inclined his head briefly. "Your Guild values you highly, Killashandra Ree . . . ."

"Surely you've communicated news of my rescue?"

Ampris spread his hands deferentially. "But of course. But we did not then know how promptly the Hept.i.te Guild would respond. The courier s.h.i.+p has entered our atmosphere and at this very moment is landing at the shuttleport."

"Trag!" And there was no doubt at all in Killashandra's mind that that was who had been dispatched.

"I beg your pardon."

"Lanzecki would have sent Trag here."

"This man is capable?"

"Eminently. However, the more we can do now, the sooner Trag and I will finish. If you'll excuse me, Elder Ampris?" And Killashandra signaled Lars to continue. "Our last request to you, Ampris," -- although Ampris had not yet stirred from his vantage point -- "those tubs of crystal shard could now be removed to wherever I -- or Trag -- will be instructing the trainees. Some of the larger pieces can be useful but they are a considerable nuisance sounding off in here."

"Yes, we should want to restore the monitors within this room, Guildmember, now that the organ is nearly repaired." Ampris flicked his hand at Thyrol who then issued the appropriate order to the guards.

Killashandra did not dare glance in Lars's direction.

"Don't bounce the tubs about," Killashandra warned, as the guards shuffled out with the first one.

"There now," Killashandra said when the door had slid shut leaving them alone, "the shards'll be more accessible to us now. We can purloin the ones we want. Can you get your hands on a small plasfoam pouch?"

"Yes. Who's this Trag?"

"The best person they could possibly have sent. Lanzecki's Administration Officer." Killashandra chuckled. "I'd rather him than an army, and certainly I'd rather him than any other singer they could have chosen. And a courier s.h.i.+p. I am flattered."

"Somehow Ampris is too pleased with this development."

"Yes, and fretting with impatience. Killashandra mimicked his hand gesture and Lars nodded grimly. "Is it just that he wants the organ done?

Or us out of the loft for good?" She swiveled slightly so that she was facing the wall they could not s.h.i.+ft. "Why?" She bit one corner of her lip, trying to solve its mystery. Then, with an exclamation, she ran her hands around the casing of the manual, picked up the lid and examined it closely.

"What are you looking for, Killa?"

"Blood! Did you see any discoloration on the shards you handled?"

"No -- If Camgail was killed by," and he gestured at the newly placed crystal spires, "there would have been blood somewhere here!"

"Was there only the official version of Comgail's end?"

"No. I had a chance to speak with one of the infirmary attendants and she said that he was covered in blood, crystal fragments had pierced eyes, face, and chest."

"With a little help, perhaps? But do you know for certain that it was Comgail who shattered the manual?"

Lars nodded slowly, his eyes gray and bleak, his face expressionless.

"And he had mentioned earlier that he knew the access to the subliminal units was through the organ loft?"

Again Lars nodded and both stared at the wall.

"Comgail did all the maintenance on the Festival organ?" At Lars's impa.s.sive nod, Killashandra scrubbed at her face with one hand. "Did Ampris ever compose or perform?" she asked in angry exasperation.

The look of total surprise on Lars's face gave her the answer.

"No wonder he's been bouncing about here," Lars cried, seizing Killashandra and hugging her with the excess of his jubilation. "No wonder he's been so eager to get the manual repaired. He can't get to the subliminal units until it is. He can't alter the subliminals for this year's concerts. Oh, Killa! You've done it."