Killashandra (28 page)

“Please accept my apologies, Elder Torkes, but that ridiculous weapon was the last straw.” Her voice died away but she managed to sound reasonably sincere. Then she smiled weakly at the nonplussed Elder, and fluttered her eyelashes at his attendants. They seemed afflicted by some sort of paralysis. It afforded Killashandra considerable satisfaction that she had managed to confound an entire Optherian crew. They had stood in great need of such a lesson. She relaxed into the cushioned back of the chair.

“There isn’t an islander in this Archipelago who would do you any injury, Guildmember,” Olav continued, now offering her a finely stitched handerkerchief. “Especially after the news of your devoted nursing of the Bar Island injured. When I consider how unselfishly you volunteered to assist, and you only an hour away from being rescued, why, we are all in your debt.”

Shielding her face from Torkes with the handerkerchief, Killashandra looked up at Olav. She blotted the last of the tears she could manage to squeeze out. She had received his message. She gave a sniff, then exhaled in a huge sigh.

“What else could I do? Their need was far greater than mine for I had suffered no real physical injury. It was excellent therapy,” and she managed that on a rush of breath, “for me to tend those less fortunate than I. And I do feel safe with you, Harbor Master, and with Captin Dahl!” She touched each man on the arm, favoring them with a tremulous smile. Lars managed to give her shoulder an admonitory pinch which, she felt, indicated that she had milked this scene for all it was worth. “I hope you didn’t encounter that ferocious storm on your way here, Elder Torkes?”

“Not at all, Guildmember. In fact,” Torkes cleared
his throat nervously, “we didn’t set out until sure that the hurricane had dwindled. I ought to have listened to Mirbethan’s representations, Captain”—he turned to the senior officer behind him—“for she offered to accompany us, Guildmember, on the slim chance that we would discover you here.”

“How very kind of her.”

“She would have been an ideal companion to settle your nerves, Guildmember.”

“Yes, she was most considerate but, though I appreciate her willingness, I now insist on someone …” she waved a negligent hand in Lars’s direction, “who is capable of managing himself in difficulties. I have seen Captian Dahl in action, fighting to bring his ship close enough to take me off that island, and in dealing with high seas, and injured people.” And that should be the end of that notion. Had it been Mirbethan’s? Or Ampris’s? From whichever source, she’d not spend credit on it.

“If I may suggest it, Guildmember, would you be feeling recovered enough to dine now?” Olav asked, deftly changing the subject. “Or should Captain Dahl escort you to the quarters prepared for you here in the residence?”

“Why, yes,” Killashandra said, extending her hand to Lars and smiling graciously at Olav, “I think that perhaps hunger is at the root of my deplorable temper. I’m not usually so easily upset, citizens.” Now that the scene had been played, she
was
ravenous and hoped that Olav’s hospitality would be to the standard she expected. It was, and she was seated on Olav’s right at the beautifully appointed banquet table. Torkes was opposite her, Teradia appearing at his right hand. Evidently she had merely had to change her gown. Killashandra did wonder how she had arrived so promptly. Other charmingly dressed ladies partnered the officers
of Torkes’s retinue and from some discreet corner delicate music wafted to the diners’ ears.

The food was sumptuous, a feat, considering the island had so recently been in the throes of a hurricane. As Killashandra sampled the many dishes presented, she realized that the components were not as varied as the manner in which they had been prepared. Polly—fruit, pulp, and heart—was the basis of nine dishes. Smacker was served as a chowder, boiled, broiled, fried in a delicious light batter and in a rich piquant sauce. The largest yellowbacks she had yet seen had been lightly broiled with slivered nuts. A succulent mollusc was offered, grilled with a dollop of some flavor enhancer. There were salads of greens, moulded salads of some jellied vegetable, fruit, and fish.

From the way in which Torkes’s officers filled their plates, and refilled them when the dishes were presented a second time, they weren’t used to eating. Torkes was abstemious by comparison although a fair trencherman away from Elder Pentrom’s dietary regimen. He did not refuse the wine, either, though his two senior captains did.

When the first hunger was appeased, Torkes addressed Lars, his expression far too bland to be as affable as he sounded.

“Just where did you discover the Guildmember, Captain Dahl?”

“On a polly islet slightly east of Bar Island. I don’t normally pass by for it’s a bit off the regular trade route, but with the higher tides to give me clearance over the reef in that area, I could take a bit of a short cut to Bar, which I aimed to reach before sunset.”

“Do you have this islet marked on your charts?”

“Of course, Elder Torkes. I will show you its location immediately after dinner.” Lars had one hand on her thigh under the table and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Had his father tipped him off as he had her? “As well as the entry in my log which verifies the position.”

“You keep a log?”

“Of a certainty, Elder Torkes. The Harbor Master is most insistent on such details which are, in my view, an integral part of responsible seamanship.”

Farther down the table, an officer nodded his head in agreement. Torkes returned to his meal.

“What is this delicious fish, Harbor Master?” Killashandra asked, indicating the smacker.

“Ah, that is one of the island delicacies, Guildmember,” and Olav launched into an amusing description of the habits of the tropical behemoth and the dangers of capturing it. In his tale he managed to touch on the strength and bravery of smacker fishermen and their dedication to an unenviable task. Much of the smacker catch went to feed the Mainland.

With such innocuous tidbits and discourse, the meal finished. Immediately upon rising from the table, Elder Torkes told Lars Dahl that now was the time to show him the islet.

“We can call up the information right here,” Olav said, going to the elaborate sideboard of the dining room. One section of its flat surface immediately transformed to display a terminal while the island seascape above slid to one side exposing a large screen.

Killashandra, watching Torkes obliquely, saw him stiffen until Olav merely gestured for Lars Dahl to retrieve what documents he needed. Within a moment, a small-scale chart of the entire Archipelago dominated the screen. Lars tapped keys and the chart dissolved to a larger-scale one of Angel Island, then flowed left toward Bar Island, slightly 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 Guildmember. 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.

“I’d 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 couldn’t pass over the reef. But, as you can see, gentlemen, I could not even have swum to an occupied island for help!”

One of Torkes’s 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 be 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 it’s 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 Torkes’s arm and began to lead him back to the reception room.

Olav bowed over Killashandra’s 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 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 we’re safe!”

“You blew the monitors?”

“And his ship’s systems. Father’s 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. “I’m about to have my way with you.”

Which, of course, was exactly what Killashandra had been hoping for.

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 didn’t miss a trick last night, did he?”

“He’s still playing them this morning.” Teradia smiled faintly. “May I compliment you on last night’s performance, Killashandra? You were spectacular. I don’t think anyone on Torkes’s 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. “What’s 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 full lips. “As you surmised, the power failure effectively crippled the cruiser, since Olav had so courteously suggested that they hook up to the land facilities and spare the cruiser’s batteries. When it went, Torkes was quite upset, worrying about you, Guildmember, and thinking this was another attempt on your safety. Of course, the lift wouldn’t operate, and an inspection party quickly discovered that this apartment cannot easily be scaled from the ground, so they posted guards on the waterfront. That’s why your sleep was undisturbed.” She lowered her eyes briefly. “Olav worked with the cruiser’s engineers all night, to discover the trouble in our generators which, as you might suspect, had suffered previously undetected damage from the hurricane. All is now restored, except, of course, the units which were overloaded!” She pointed out the several char marks where walls met the ceiling. “And, of course, the blown chip was discovered to be water damaged. Your father has a genius in that area. But I think you had both better put in appearances shortly. There are suitable garments for you both in the dressingroom and I have been requested to deliver necessities for you to the cruiser, Killashandra.”

Teradia rose in one lithe movement, hesitated, and then moved to Killashandra’s side. “You can have no idea how I enjoyed seeing an Elder rendered speechless. An excellent strategy on your part. Keep them off balance and guessing. They don’t have any experience with that!” Then Teradia laid her soft, fragrant cheek against Killashandra’s and before the crystal singer could react, had glided out of the room and closed the door.

“You
have
made an impression,” Lars said. “I’ll tell you about Teradia’s experience with the Council and you’ll understand what she meant. I never would have thought of complaining about that sentry nonsense,” and Lars gave an exasperated sigh, “but then, I’m used to it. It must be …” He searched for the appropriate word, shrugged when he couldn’t find it. “How remarkable not to need weapons or guards, Is it the case in Ballybran, or did that felicitous state exist on your Fuerte, too?”