"If the Bishop he doth take me,

RCA. They knew, therefore, that I must have been talking direct to Hillcrest. They knew, because I had told them, that the eight-watt radio we had with us had a range of not more than 150 miles under normal conditions, so that the chances were high that Hillcrest was actually speaking from the IGY cabinor a point even nearer. I had also told them that Hillcrest and his four companions wouldn't be returning from their field trip for another two or three weeks, so that this premature return could only be accounted for by some unforeseen and extraordinary event. It wasn't hard to guess what that event must have been. That I should ask Hillcrest to find out the reason for the crash followed inevitably, but what was not inevitable, what pointed most clearly of all to the shrewdness of the killers, was their guess that whoever knew the reason for the crash would be most reluctant to go into specific detail: and they had robbed me of the only clue that might have helped me discover what that detail was and so also, I felt sure, the identity of the killers. But the time was far past now for crying over spilt milk. I pressed the switch to Transmit'. "Thank you. But please radio Uplavnik again, emphasise desperate urgency of finding out crash reasons. . . . How far behind do you estimate you are now? We have made only twenty miles since noon. Cold extreme, bad radiator trouble. Over." "We have made only eight miles since noon. It seems" I threw the switch over. "Eight miles?" I demanded harshly. "Did I hear you say eight miles?" "You heard." Hillcrest's voice was savage. "Remember the missing sugar? Well, it's turned up. Your fine friends dumped the whole bloody lot into the petrol. We're completely immobilised." CHAPTER NINEWednesday 8 P.M.Thursday 4 P.M. We were on our way again just after nine o'clock that night. It had been my original intention, by dreaming up a variety of excuses and even, if necessary, by sabotaging the engine, to stay there for several hours or at least what I reckoned to be the longest possible time before the killers became restive, suspected that I was deliberately stalling, and took over. Or tried to take over. For it had been my further intention that, after an hour or two, Jackstraw should produce his rifleit was strapped to his shoulders night and dayand I digital camera lens distortion problem my automatic, and hold them all at the point of the gun until Hillcrest came up. If all had gone well, he should have been with us by midnight. Our troubles would have been over. But it had not gone well, our troubles were as bad as ever, the Sno-Cat was bogged down and with Mahler now seriously ill and Marie LeGarde frighteningly weak and exhausted, I couldn't remain any longer. Had I been made of tougher stuff, or even had I not been a doctor, I might have brought myself to recognise that both Marie LeGarde and Theodore Mahler were expendable pawns in a game where the stakes, I was now certain, were far greater than just the lives of one or two people. I might have held everybodyor the major suspects, at leastat gunpoint until such time, twenty-four hours if need be, as Hillcrest did come up. But I could not bring myself to regard our sick passengers as expendable pawns. A weakness, no doubt, but one that I was almost proud to share with Jackstraw, who felt exactly as I did. That Hillcrest would come up eventually I felt pretty sure. The dumping of the sugar in the petrolI bit my lips in chagrin whenever I remembered that it had been I who had told them all that Hillcrest was running short of fuelhad been a brilliant move, but nothing more, now, than I had come to expect of men who thought of everything, made every possible provision against future eventualities. Still, even though furiously angry at the delay, Hillcrest had thought he could cope with the situation. The big cabin of the Sno-Cat was equipped with a regular workshop with tools fit to deal with just about every mechanical breakdown, and already his driver-mechanic-1 didn't envy him his murderous task even though he was reportedly working behind heated canvas apronshad stripped down the engine and was cleaning pistons, cylinder walls and valves of the unburnt carbon deposits that had finally ground the big tractor to a halt. A couple of others had rigged up a makeshift distillation unita petrol drum, almost full, with a thin metal tube packed in ice leading from its top to an empty drum. Petrol, Hillcrest had explained, had a lower boiling point than sugar, and when the drum was heated the evaporating gas, which would cool in the ice-packed tube, should emerge as pure petrol. Such, at least, was the theory, although Hillcrest didn't seem absolutely sure of himself. He had asked if we had any suggestion, whether we could help

"We hold it in scorn," then said the forresters,

composers and performers during the course of the assignment, yes, Id be more than willing to volunteer for that facet. Was that why Lanzecki had been against her going? To protect her from the iron idealism of a parochial Optherian Council? But, as a member of the Heptite Guild, which guaranteed her immunity to local law and restrictions, she could not be detained on any charges. She could be disciplined only by her Guild. That any form of artistry might be limited by law was anathema. Thereve been Optherian organs a long time Popular acceptance is the matter under investigation. Trag was not going to be deflected from the official wording of the request. All right, I copy! Youll accept this assignment? Killashandra blinked. Did she imagine the eagerness in Trags voice, the sudden release of tension from his face. Trag, theres something youve not told me about this assignment. I warn you, if this turns out to be like the Trundie Your familiarity with elements of this assignment suggests that you have already done considerable background investigation. I have informed you of the FSC request Why dont you leave it with me for a little while, Trag, she said, studying his face, and Ill consider it. Lanzecki gave me the distinct impression that I shouldnt apply for it. There. She hadnt imagined that reaction. Trag was perturbed. Hed been deliberately tempting her, with as subtle a brand of flattery as shed ever been subjected to. Her respect for the Administration Officer reached a new level for she would never have thought him so devious. He was so completely devoted to Guild and Lanzecki. Youre asking me without Lanzeckis knowledge? She did not miss the sudden flare of Trags nostrils nor the tightening of his jaw muscles. Why, Trag? Your name was first on the list of qualified available singers. Stuff it, Trag. Why me? The interests of the Heptite Guild are best served by your acceptance. A hint of desperation edged Trags voice. You object to the relationship between Lanzecki and me? She had no way of knowing in what way Trag had adapted to Ballybrans symbiont or in what way he expressed thought that such respect required additional outlets. If jealously prompted Trag to olympus digital camera repairs remove a rival No. Trags denial was accompanied by a ripple of his facial muscles. Up till now, he has not allowed personal consideration to interfere with his judgment. How has he done that? Killashandra was genuinely perplexed. Trag was not complaining that Lanzecki had awarded her another valuable assignment. He was perturbed because he hadnt. I dont follow you. Trag stared at her for such a long moment she wondered if the screen had malfunctioned. Even if you just go to Rani, it will not be far enough away or long enough. Lanzecki is long overdue for a field trip, Killashandra Ree. Because of you. Your body is so full of resonance hes been able to delay. But your resonance is not enough. If youre not available, he will be forced to cut crystal again and rejuvenate his body and his symbiont. If you have a real regard for the man, go. Now. Before its too late for him. Killashandra stared back at Trag, trying to absorb the various implications foremost was the realization that Lanzecki was genuinely attached to her. She felt a wave of exultation and tenderness that quite overwhelmed her for a moment. Shed never considered that possibility. Nor its corollary: that Lanzecki would be reluctant to cut crystal because he might forget his attachment. A man whod been in the Guild as long as he had would be subject to considerable memory loss in the Ranges. Had he learned his duties as Guild Master so thoroughly that the knowledge was as ingrained in him as the rules and regulations in a crystal-mad brain like Moksoons? It was not Lanzeckis face that suddenly dominated her thoughts, but the crisscross tracings of old crystal scars on his body, the inexplicable pain that occasionally darkened his eyes. Antonas cryptic admission about singers who could not break crystal thrall echoed in her head. She puzzled at the assortment of impressions and suddenly understood. She sagged against the back and arms of her chair for support. Dully she wondered if Trag and Antona had been in collusion. Would the subject of crystal thrall have come up at that lunch hour even if Rimbol had not arrived? There was little doubt in Killashandras mind that Antona knew of Lanzeckis circumstances. And she did doubt that the woman knew about their relationship. She also doubted that Trag would mention so personal an aspect of the Guild Masters business. Why couldnt Lanzecki have been just another singer, like herself? Why did he have to be

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

had," Jackstraw murmured philosophically, "you'd probably know why it was taken from you." "Butbut what was the point in it?" I asked blankly. "For all they know I might have read it a dozen times." "I think they know you haven't even read it once," Jackstraw said slowly. "If you had, they'd have known it by the fact that you would have said or done something they would have expected you to say or do. But because you haven'twell, they know they're still safe. They must have been desperate to take a chance like this. It is a great pity. I do not think, Dr Mason, that you will ever see that paper again." Five minutes later I had washed and bandaged the cut on my foreheadI'd savagely told an inquiring Zagero that I'd walked into a lamp-post and refused to answer all other questionsand set off with Jackstraw in the strengthening light of the newly-risen moon. We were late for our rendezvous, but when I switched the receiver into the antenna I heard Joss's call-up sign come through straight away. I acknowledged, then asked without preamble: "What news from Uplavnik?" "Two things, Dr Mason." Hillcrest had taken the microphone over from Joss, and, even through the distortion of the speaker, his voice sounded strange, with the flat controlled unemotiona-lism of one speaking through a suppressed anger. "Uplavnik has been in touch with HMS Tritonthe carrier coming up the Davis Strait. Triton is in constant communication with the British Admiralty and the Government. Or so I gather. "The answers to your questions are these. Firstly, the passenger list from BOAC in America is not yet through, but it is known from newspaper reports that the following three people were aboard: Marie LeGarde, the musical comedy star, Senator Hoffman Brewster of the United States and a Mrs Phyllis Dansby-Gregg, who appears to be a very prominent London socialite." I wasn't greatly excited over this item of news. Marie LeGarde had never been a suspect. Mrs Dansby-Greggand, by implication, Helene Fleminghad never had more than a faint question mark against their names, and I had already come to the conclusion that it was long odds against the man who was, or purported to be, Senator Brewster being one of the killers. "The second thing is this. The Admiralty cannot or will not say why the plane has been forced down, but I gather there must have been a most vital reason. Uplavnik suggests, on what basis I cannot say, perhaps it is officially inspired, that some person aboard the plane must have been in possession of finepix a345 digital camera fugi something of the utmost importance, so important that complete secrecy was vital. Don't ask me what it was. A microfilm, a formula, something, perhaps, only committed to memoryit sounds fanciful, but that's all we can guess at. It does seem likely that Colonel Harrison was in possession of it." I looked at Jackstraw, and he at me. The man who had so recently knocked me out had been desperate all right. I knew then what I had subconsciously known all along, that I was dealing blindfolded against a manor menfar cleverer than myself. They knew that Joss couldn't possibly have hoped to repair the RCA. They knew, therefore, that I must have been talking direct to Hillcrest. They knew, because I had told them, that the eight-watt radio we had with us had a range of not more than 150 miles under normal conditions, so that the chances were high that Hillcrest was actually speaking from the IGY cabinor a point even nearer. I had also told them that Hillcrest and his four companions wouldn't be returning from their field trip for another two or three weeks, so that this premature return could only be accounted for by some unforeseen and extraordinary event. It wasn't hard to guess what that event must have been. That I should ask Hillcrest to find out the reason for the crash followed inevitably, but what was not inevitable, what pointed most clearly of all to the shrewdness of the killers, was their guess that whoever knew the reason for the crash would be most reluctant to go into specific detail: and they had robbed me of the only clue that might have helped me discover what that detail was and so also, I felt sure, the identity of the killers. But the time was far past now for crying over spilt milk. I pressed the switch to Transmit'. "Thank you. But please radio Uplavnik again, emphasise desperate urgency of finding out crash reasons. . . . How far behind do you estimate you are now? We have made only twenty miles since noon. Cold extreme, bad radiator trouble. Over." "We have made only eight miles since noon. It seems" I threw the switch over. "Eight miles?" I demanded harshly. "Did I hear you say eight miles?" "You heard." Hillcrest's voice was savage. "Remember the missing sugar? Well, it's turned up. Your fine friends dumped the whole bloody

God send every gentleman

his rounds, a slight smile curving his perfect lips, well aware that he had only to nod to capture whichever girl, or girls, he fancied. Lanzecki might not have been handsome in the currently fashionable form but his face was carved by character and he exuded a magnetism that was lacking in the glorious young man. Nevertheless, Killashandra toyed with the idea of luring the perfect young man to her side; rejection might improve his character no end. But to achieve that end she would have had to discard her shy student role. She discovered an unforgivable lack in the Athenas appointments the first time she dialed for Yarran beer. It was not available, although nine other brews were. In an attempt to find a palatable substitute, she was trying the third, watching the energetic perform a square dance, when she realized someone was standing at her table. May I join you? The man held up beakers of beer, each a different shade. I noticed that you were sampling the brews. Shall we combine our efforts? He had a pleasant voice, his ship-suit was well cut to a tall lean frame, his features were regular but without a distinguished imperfection; his medium length dark hair complimented a space tan. There was, however, something about his eyes and a subtle strength to his chin that arrested Killashandras attention. Im not a joiner myself, he said, pointing one beaker at the gyrating dancers, and I noticed that you arent, so I thought we might keep each other company. Killashandra indicated the chair opposite her. My name is Corish von Mittelstern. He put his beers down nearer hers as he repositioned the chair to permit him to watch the dancers. Killashandra turned ever slightly away from him, not all that confident of the remission of resonance in her body, though why she made the instinctive adjustment she didnt know. I hail from Rheingarten in the Beta Jungische system. Im bound for Optheria. Why, so am I! She raised her beer in token of a hand clasp. Killashandra Ree of Fuerte. Im Im a music student. The Summer Festival. Then a puzzled expression crossed Corishs face. But they have a Fuertan brew Oh, that old stuff. I might have to travel off-season and economy to get to Optheria but Im certainly not going to waste the opportunities of trying everything new on the Athena. Corish smiled urbanely. Is this your first interstellar trip? Oh, yes. But I know a lot about traveling. My brother is a supercargo. On the best childrens digital camera Blue Swan Delta. And when Mother told him that I was making the voyage, he sent me all kinds of advice and Killashandra managed a tinkling giggle and warnings. Corish smiled perfunctorily. Dont ignore that sort of advice. Fuerte, huh? Thats a long way to come. I think Ive spent half my life traveling already, Killashandra said expansively while she tried to compute how long she ought to have been traveling if her port of embarkation had been Fuerte. She hadnt done enough homework. Though she couldnt imagine that Corish would know if she erred. She took a long sip of her beer. This is a Bellemere, but its too sour for me. The best beer in the galaxy is a Yarran brew. Yarran? She regarded Corish with keener interest. If Corish came from Beta Jungische, he was a long way from a regular supply of Yarran beer. Killashandras curiosity rustled awake. The Yarran brewmasters have no peers. Surely your brother has mentioned Yarran beer? Well, now, its possible that he has, Killashandra said slowly, as if searching her memory. But then, he told me so much that I cant remember half. She was about to giggle again and then decided that, not only did her giggle nauseate herself but it might repel Corish and she wanted to satisfy this flicker of curiosity about him. Why are you traveling to Optheria? Family business, sort of. An uncle of mine went for a visit and decided to become a citizen. We need his signature on some family papers. Weve written several times and had no reply. Now, he could be dead but I have to have the proper certification if he is, and his print and fist on the documents if he isnt. And you have to come all the way from Beta Jungische for that? Well, theres a lot of credit involved and this isnt a bad way to go. He enscribed a half circle with his beaker, including the ship as well as the dancers, and smiled at Killashandra over the rim as he sipped. This Pilsners not all that bad, really. What have you there? She went along with Corishs adroit change of subject and with the beer sampling. Although singing crystal brought with it an inexhaustible ability to metabolize alcohol without noticeable affect, she feigned the symptoms of intoxication as she confided her fake history to the Jungian, whenever necessary embellishing her actual experiences at the Arts Complex. Thus Corish learned that she was

Which caused the blood to appear;

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they Then Robin, enrag'd, more fiercely engag'd, imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

Long time the manxome foe he sought -

in the icy draught, filled every corner of the cave with dark and flickering shadows from its erratic flame. The candle itself was almost gone, the dripping wick bending over tiredly till it touched the rock, and Louki, snow-suit cast aside, was lighting another stump of candle from the dying flame. For a moment, both candles flared up together, and Mallory saw Louki clearly for the first timea small, compact figure in a dark-blue jacket black-braided at the seams and flamboyantly frogged at the breast, the jacket tightly bound to his body by the crimson tsanta or cummerbund, and, above, the swarthy, smiling face, the magnificent moustache that he flaunted like a banner. A Laughing Cavalier of a man, a miniature d'Artagnan splendidly behung with weapons. And then Mallory's gaze travelled up to the lined, liquid eyes, eyes dark and sad and permanent ly tired, and his shock, a slow, uncomprehending shock, had barely time to register before the stub of the candle had flared up and died and Louki had sunk back into the shadows. Stevens was stretched in a sleeping-bag, his breathing harsh and shallow and quick. He had been awake when they had arrived but had refused all food and drink, and turned away and drifted off into an uneasy jerky sleep. He seemed to be suffering no pain at all now: a bad sign, Mallory thought bleakly, the worst possible. He wished Miller would return. . . . Casey Brown washed down the last few crumbs of bread with a mouthful of wine, rose stiffly to his feet, pulled the screen aside and peered out mournfully at the falling snow. He shuddered, let the canvas fall, lifted up his transmitter and shrugged into the shoulder straps, gathered up a coil of nope, a torch and a groundsheet. Mallory looked at his watch: it was fifteen minutes to midnight. The routine call from Cairo was ahnost due. "Going to have another go, Casey? I wouldn't send a dog out on a night like this." "Neither would I," Brown said morosely. "But I think I'd better, sir. Reception is far better at night and I'm going to climb uphill a bit to get a clearance from that damned mountain there; I'd be spotted right away if I tried to do that in daylight." "Right you are, Casey. You know best." Mallory looked at him curiously. "What's all the extra gear for?" "Putting the set under the groundsheet, then getting below it myself with the torch," Brown explained. "And I'm pegging the rope here, going to pay it out on my way up. I'd like to be able to get back some time." "Good enough," Mallory approved. "Just mp megapixel digital cameras buy com watch it a bit higher up. This gully narrows and deepens into a regular ravine." "Don't you worry about me, sir." Brown said firmly. "Nothing's going to happen to Casey BrOwn." A snow-laden gust of wind, the flap of the canvas and Brown was gone. "Well, if Brown can do it . . ." Mallory was on his feet now, pulling his snow-smock over his head. "Fuel, gentlemenold Leri's hut. Who's for a midnight stroll?" Andrea and Louki were on their feet together, but Mallory shook his head. "One's enough. I think someone should stay to look after Stevens." "He's sound asleep," Andrea murmured. "He can come to no harm in the short time we are away." "I wasn't thinking of that. It's just that we can't take the chance of him falling into German hands. They'd make him talk, one way or another. It would be no fault of hisbut they'd make him talk. It's too much of a risk." "Pouf!" Louki snapped his fingers. "You worry about nothing, Major. There isn't a German within miles of here. You have my word." Mallory hesitated, then grinned. "You're right. I'm getting the jumps." He bent over Stevens, shook him gently. The boy stirred and moaned, opened his eyes slowly. "We're going out for some firewood," Mallory said. "Back in a few minutes. You be O.K.?" "Of course, sir. What can happen? Just leave a gun by my sideand blow out the candle." He smiled. "Be sure to call out before you come in!" Mallory stooped, blew out the candle. For an instant the flame flared then died and every feature, every per-V son in the cave was swallowed up in the thick darkness of a winter midnight. Abruptly Mallory turned on his heel and pushed out through the canvas into the drifting, wind-blown snow already filling up the floor of the gully, Andrea and Louki close behind. It took them ten minutes to find the ruined hut of the old goatherd, another five for Andrea to wrench the door off its shattered hinges and smash it up to manageable lengths, along with the wood from the bunk and table, another ten to carry back with them to the rockshelter as much wood as they could conveniently rope together and carry. The wind, blowing straight north off Kostos, was in their faces nowfaces numbed with the chill, wet lash of the driving snow, and blowing almost at gale force: they were not sorry to reach the gully again, drop down gratefully between the sheltering walls. Mallory called softly at the

And his broad arrows all amain,

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. Id 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 couldnt pass over the reef. But, as you can see, gentlemen, I could not even have swum to an occupied island for help! One of Torkess officers noted the longitude and latitude 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 its 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 assure you that this is the only way into the living section of the Residence. This will be guarded well tonight. He peremptorily gestured for the 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 Torkess arm and began to lead him back to the reception room. Olav bowed over Killashandras 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 sony canon digital camcorder camera 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 were safe! You blew the monitors? And his ships systems. Fathers 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. Im 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 didnt miss a trick last night, did he? Hes still playing them this morning. Teradia smiled faintly. May I compliment you on last nights performance, Killashandra? You were spectacular. I dont think anyone on Torkess staff had ever witnessed its like. I was consumed with righteous wrath, Killashandra replied. Imagine, someone pointing a weapon at me! A crystal singer! Lars soothingly stroked her arm and poured out the steaming morning beverage. Whats Olav up to today then? Teradia seated herself on the edge of the wide bed, folding her hands together in her lap, the faint smile still tilting the corners of her

The words we '11 transpose, so where-ever he goes,

Tell me, are the smaller organs amplified in this fashion? The two-manual organs are. We have five of them, the rest are all single manual with relatively primitive synthesizer attentuator and excitor capability. Remarkable. Truly remarkable. Thyrol was not blind to the implied compliment and looked about to smile as the outside door opened to admit the work party. Behind them came three more men, their stance and costume identifying them as security. The work party stopped along the wall while the security trio tramped stolidly down to where Thyrol and Killashandra stood by the sensory feedback transponder. Elder Thyrol, Security Leader Blaz needs to know what disposition is to be made of the debris. He saluted, ignoring Killashandras presence. Bury it deep. Preferably encapsulated in some permaform. Sea trench would be ideal, Killashandra answered and was ignored by the security leader, who continued to look for an answer from Thyrol. Abruptly Killashandras captious temper erupted. She slammed her right hand into the leaders shoulder, forcefully turning toward her. Alternatively, insert it in your anal orifice, she said, her voice reasonable and pleasant. With a wave of astounded gasps sounding in her ear, she made her exit. Chapter 7 As Killashandra started across the stage to retrace her steps to the Complex, she decided that that was the last place she wanted to go in her state of mind After all, Trag had chosen her because she could be more diplomatic than Borella. Not that Borella mightnt have handled that security fardle-face with more tact, or effectiveness. However, the Optherians were stuck with her and she with them, and just then she didnt wish to see one more sanctimonious, self-righteous, smug Optherian face. She strode to the edge of the stage, peered over at the ten-foot drop to the ground, saw the heavy doors at each end of that level and made her decision. She lay at the edge, swung her legs down, gripping the overhang, and let go. Her knees took the jar and she leaned against the wall for a moment just as she heard the men emerge from the organ room. Shell have gone back to the Complex, Thyrol said, breathless with anger. He hurried across the stage, followed by the others. Simcon, if you have offended the Guildmember, you may have jeopardized far more than you have fuji digital camera 7 pixels protected The heavy door closed off the rest of his reprimand. Somewhat mollified by Thyrols attitude and pleased with her timely evasion, Killashandra dusted off her hands and moved toward the clearly marked exit door at the outer edge of the amphitheater. Even the soft sound of the brushing was echoed by the fine acoustics. Grimacing, Killashandra stepped as cautiously and as silently as she could toward the exit. The heavy door had the usual push-bar on the inside, which she depressed, holding her breath lest it be locked from a control point. The bar swung easily out. She opened it only wide enough to permit her egress and it closed with a thunk behind her. Its exterior was without handle or knob for reentry and a flange protected it from being forced open if such a circumstance ever arose on perfect Optheria. Killashandra now found herself on a long ledge which led to one of the switchback paths she had seen yesterday, though this one was at the rear of the Complex. From that height she had a view of an unpretentious area of the City, to judge by the narrow streets and the small single-story buildings crowded together. Between it and the Complex heights lay a stretch of cultivated plots, each planted with bushy climbing plants and fenced off from its neighbors, and most of them neat. In several, people were busily watering and hoeing in the early morning sunlight. A rural scene served as a restorative to Killashandras exacerbated nerves. She began her descent. As she reached the valley floor, her nose was assailed by the unmistakable aroma of fermenting brew. Delighted, Killashandra followed the odor, squeezing past an old shed, traversing the narrow path between allotments, nodding polite greetings to the gardeners who paused in their labors to regard her with astonishment. Well, she was wearing a costume which marked her as alien to Optheria, but surely these people had encountered aliens before. The aroma lured her on. If it tasted half as good as it smelled, it would be an improvement on the Bascum brew. Of course it could be Bascum, for breweries were often situated in suburbs where the fumes would not irritate the fastidious. She reached the dirt road that served as main artery for the settlement, deserted at that morning hour except for some small, peculiar-looking animals basking in the sun. She was aware of being watched,

The arrow within the hart would not abide,

if an inch, that gun was the biggest thing he had ever seen. Big? Heavens above, it was gigantic! The fools, the blind, crazy fools who had sent the Sybaris out against these . . . The train of thought was lost, abruptly. Mallory stood quite still, one hand resting against the massive gun carrIage, and tried to recall the sound that had jerked him back to the present. Immobile, he listened for it again, eyes closed the better to hear, but the sound did not come again, and suddenly he knew that it was no sound at all but the absence of sound that had cut through his thoughts, triggered off some unconscious warning bell. The night was suddenly very silent, very stifi: down in the heart of the town the guns had stopped firing. Mallory swore softly to himself. He had already spent far too much time daydreaming, and time was running short. It must be running shortAndrea had withdrawn, it was only a matter of time until the Germans discovered that they had been duped. And then they would come runningand there was no doubt where they would come. Swiftly Mallory shrugged out of his rucksack, pulled out the hundred-foot wire-cored rope coiled inside. Their emergency escape routewhatever else he did he must make sure of that. The rope looped round his arm, he moved forward cautiously, seeking a belay but had only taken three steps when his right knee-cap struck something hard and unyielding. He checked the exclamation of pain, investigated the obstacle with his free hand, realised immediately what it wasan iron railing stretched waist-high across the mouth of the cave. Of course! There had been bound to be something like this, some barrier to prevent people from falling over the edge, especially in the darkness of the night. He hadn't been able to pick it up with the binoculars from the carob grove that afternoon close though it was to the entrance, it had been concealed in the gloom of the cave. But he should have thought of it. Quickly Mallory felt his way along to the left, to the very end of the railing, crossed it, tied the rope securely to the base of the vertical stanchion next to the wall, paid out the rope as he moved gingerly to the lip of the cave mouth. And then, almost at once, he was there and there was nothing below his probing foot but a hundred and twenty feet of sheer drop to the land-locked harbour of Navarone. Away to his right was a dark, formless blur lying on the water, a blur that might have been Cape Demirci: straight ahead, across the darkly velvet sheen of the Maidos Straits, camera digital ei pentax he could see the twinkle of far-away lightsit was a measure of the enemy's confidence that they permitted these lights at all, or, more likely, these fisher cottages were useful as a bearing marker for the guns at night: and to the left, surprisingly near, barely thirty feet away in a horizontal plane, but far below the level where he was standing, he could see the jutting end of the outside wall of the fortress where it abutted on the cliff, the roofs of the houses on the west side of the square beyond that, and, beyond that again, the town itself curving sharply downwards and outwards, to the south first, then to the west, close-girdling and matching the curve of the crescent harbour. Above-but there was nothing to be seen above, that fantastic overhang above blotted out more than half the sky; and below, the darkness was equally impenetrable, the surface of the harbour inky and black as night. There were vessels down there, he knew, Grecian caiques and German launches, but they might have been a thousand miles away for any sign he could see of them. The brief, all encompassing glance had taken barely ten seconds, but Mallory waited no longer. Swiftly he bent down, tied a double bowline in the end of the rope and left it lying on the edge. In an emergency they could kick it out into the darkness. It would be thirty feet short of the water, he estimatedenough to clear any launch or masted caique that might be moving about the harbour. They could drop the rest of the way, maybe a bone-breaking fall on to the deck of a ship, but they would have to risk it. Mallory took one last look down into the Stygian blackness and shivered; he hoped to God that he and Miller wouldn't have to take that way out. Dusty Miller was kneeling on the duckboards by the top of the ladder leading down to the magazine as Mallory came running back up the tunnel, his hands busy with wires, fuses, detonators and explosives. He straightened up as Mallory approached. "I reckon this stuff should keep 'em happy, boss." He set the hands of the clockwork fuse, listened appreciatively to the barely audible hum, then eased himself down the ladder. "In here among the top two rows of cartridges, I thought." "Wherever you say," Mallory acquiesced. "Only don't make it too obviousor too difficult to find. Sure there's no chance of them suspecting that we knew the clock and fuses were dud?" "None in the world," Miller said confidently. "When they find

Would be wasting our breath."

words. "They wouldn't dare," he said slowly. "They'd kill the girl too." "You fool!" I said contemptuously. "Not only doesn't human life matter a damn to either side compared to the recovery of the mechanismyou should know that better than anyone, Small-woodbut these planes have been told to watch out for and kill two people going down the glacier. Wrapped in these clothes, Miss Ross is indistinguishable from a manespecially from the air. They'll think it's you and Corazzini and they'll blast you both off the face of the glacier." I knew Smallwood believed me, believed me absolutely, this was so exactly the way his own killer's mind would have worked in its utterly callous indifference to human life that conviction could not be stayed. But he had courage, I'll grant him that, and that first-class brain of his never stopped working. "There's no hurry," he said comfortably. He was back on balance again. "They can circle there as long as they like, they can send out relief planes to take over, it doesn't matter. As long as I'm with you here, they won't touch me. And in just over an hour or so it will be dark again, after which I can leave. Meantime, stay close to me, gentlemen: I don't think you would so willingly sacrifice Miss Ross's life." "Don't listen to him," Margaret said desperately. Her voice was almost a sob, her face twisted in pain. "Go away, please, all of you, go away. I know he's going to kill me in the end anyway. It may as well be now." She buried her face in her hands. "I don't care any more, I don't, I don't!" "But I care," I said angrily. Soft words, sympathetic words were useless here. "We all care. Don't be such a little fool. Everything will be all right, you'll see." "Spoken like a man," said Smallwood approvingly. "Only, my dear, I wouldn't pay much attention to the last pan of his speech." "Why don't you give up, Smallwood?" I asked him quietly. I had neither hope nor intention of persuading this fanatic, I was only talking for time, for I had seen something that had made my heart leap: moving quietly out over the right-hand side of the glacier, from the self-same spot where we had lain in ambush, was a file of about a dozen men. "Bombers have already taken off from the carrier, and, believe me, they're carrying bombs. Bombs and incendiaries. And do you know why, Smallwood?" They were dressed in khaki, this landing party from the Wykenham, not navy blue. Marines, almost certainly, unless they had been carrying soldiers on some combined manoeuvres. They covert digital lighter camera were heavily armed, and had that indefinable but unmistakable look of men who knew exactly what they were about. Their leader, I noticed, wasn't fooling around with the usual pistol a naval officer in charge of a landing party traditionally carried: he had a sub-machine-gun under his arm, the barrel gripped in his left hand. Three others had similar weapons, the rest rifles. "Because they're going to make good and sure you're never going to get off this glacier alive, Smallwood," I went on. "At least, not out of the fjord alive. Neither you nor any of your friends coming to meet younor any of the men waiting aboard that trawler down there." God, how slowly they were coming! Why didn't one of their marksmen with a rifle shoot Smallwood there and thenat that moment, the thought that a rifle bullet would have gone clear though Smallwood and killed the girl held so tightly in front of him never occurred to me. But if I could hold his attention another thirty seconds, if none of the others standing by my side betrayed by the slightest flicker of expression "They're going to destroy that trawler, Smallwood," I rushed on quickly. The men advancing up from the foot of the glacier were waving their arms furiously now, shouting wildly in warning, and even at over three-quarters of a mile their voices were carrying clearly. I had to try to drown their voices, to make sure that Smallwood kept his eyes fixed only on me. "They're going to blow it out of the water, it and you and that damned missile mechanism. What's the use of" But it was too late. Smallwood had heard the shouts even as I had begun to speak, twisted his head to look down the valley, saw the direction of the pointing arms, glanced briefly over his shoulder, then turned to face me again, his face twisted in a bestial snarl, that monolithic calm shattered at last: "Who are they?" he demanded viciously. "What are they doing? Quickor the girl gets it!" "It's a landing party from the destroyer in the next bay," I said steadily. "This is the end, Smallwood. Maybe you'll stand trial yet." "I'll kill the girl!" he whispered savagely. "They'll kill you. They've been ordered to recover that mechanism at all costs. Nobody's playing any more, Smallwood. Give up your gun." He swore, vilely, blasphemously, the first time I had ever heard such words from him, and leapt for the driving cabin of the tractor, pushing the girl

For thame nevir mair wul I see O.

visions of Torkes and an improbably robust Pentrom urging the faithful onto the path to victory and planetarianism, defending the credo of Optheria to the death. An audible sigh of relief? preceded the applause this selection engendered. So the audience was being soothed to trust, encouraged to resist subversive philosophies: now what, Killashandra wondered? An alarmingly thin and earnest young man, swallowing his Adams 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 Killashandras 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 titillation failed to achieve its full effect. Larss continual tapping was he succumbing 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 Mirbethans 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? Killashandras 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 digital still camera registry 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 Trags flushed face, his bright eyes, and noticed that a smile had reshaped his lips. Killashandra grabbed at Larss 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. Dont 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 Larss direction. Trags coming. Dont you understand? No one here composed that music. It was all stolen! I know, I know. Yours wasnt stolen. It was original. The only bloody original music Ive heard on this fardling mudball! Shush now, Killa. Only one more corridor and were 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 shed 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 its 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, didnt you know that was why she was included in your welcoming committee? Shes bi What? Killashandra