With both hands, he laid the heavy jewel on the scale plate, running two fingers over his lips as he watched the configurations change and settle.

“I thought you said there was a surplus of rose crystal . . .”

"Not of this weight, color, or octagonal," he said, his fingers tapping out a sequence. "I happen to have heard" and Enthor lowered his voice – " that someone very highly placed in the Federated Planets is looking for large pieces this hue." He lifted the octagon to the coating rack where the deep pink was swiftly cocooned from sight with plastic webbing, and at a touch of his finger on the terminal, an identifying code was stippled along the hardening surface.

At the close of the first day of sorting, Killashandra felt as tired as she had after unloading in the gale. She said as much as Shillawn and Rimbol joined her in a weary trudge to their lounge.

“We're getting paid for our efforts,” Shillawn said by way of cheering them.

“Yesterday we got a danger bonus as well,” Killashandra said, not to be outdone.

“Making use of the data banks, are you?” Rimbol asked, grinning at her with some malice. Killashandra hadn't admitted to him that she'd taken a skimmer out the evening before the storm, but he'd known.

“Told we were. Available to us is the data.” Killashandra so aptly mimicked Tukolom's ponderous tones that she had the other two laughing. “I'm going for a shower. See you in the lounge later?”

Rimbol nodded, and so did Shillawn.

In the catering slot by her bed was another beaker of the lemon liquid. She drank it and had her shower, by the end of which she felt sufficiently revived to enjoy a quiet evening at dice with Rimbol and Shillawn.

Though no more peevish crystal cutters added excitement to the sorting routine during the next three days, Killashandra did have an unusual slice of luck. Halfway through the second day, Lanzecki and the handsome woman Killashandra guessed must be the chief marketing officer walked swiftly into the sorting room and marched right up to Enthor.

“Gorren's conscious. Muttering about black crystal. Have any of his cartons been released to you yet?”

“By my bones, no!” Enthor was shocked and amazed. Shocked, he later confided to Killashandra, that Gorren's cuttings had been stored separately and amazed because he hadn't known that Gorren had returned. He'd half expected to hear, Enthor continued solemnly, that Gorren had been one of the Singers trapped in the ranges by the storm. Gorren's black crystals were always entrusted to Enthor for evaluation.

A work force was hastily assembled in the sorting room, checking the labels of the many boxes still waiting evaluation. The group that had unloaded Gorren's ship – his had been the one to overturn – were identified and summoned. Fortunately, the handlers were regular hangar personnel, and since they had known the cartons were Gorren's and valuable, they had placed them on a top layer, fifth stack, with buffering layers on either side.

Reverently, the eleven valuable cartons were handed down. Since it had been impressed constantly on Killashandra that very little could damage these specially constructed boxes or their contents, and she'd seen some of these same men indifferently lobbing cartons through the air to one another, she reflected that the presence of Lanzecki and Chief Marketing Officer Heglana had a salutary effect.

She was more surprised to see the two officials each take up a carton and was delighted when Enthor, his expression severe, pressed one firmly into her body, waiting until she had grasped the handles tightly.

Killashandra was elated by Enthor's confidence in her and walked the short distance back to the sorting room with the black crystal crammed against her breasts. Unaccountably, she was trembling with tension when she deposited her burden safely beside the others.

Later, she remembered that Enthor had moved with his normal dispatch to unpack: it was probably just because so many important people were watching and she herself caught their suppressed excitement that Enthor appeared to be dawdling. Tension can be transferred, and the sorting room was certainly crackling despite the hush. Those at nearby sorting tables had managed to be in positions to observe the unpacking, while those not directly in the Guild Master's view had suspended work completely, watching.

As Enthor lifted the first black crystal from its protecting foam, a sigh rippled through the watchers.

“Flipped right over, didn't he?” Heglana remarked, and made a clicking sound in her throat. Lanzecki nodded, his eyes on Enthor's hands.

The second black was larger, and to Killashandra's surprise, Enthor did not place it safely apart from the first but against the first where it seemed to fit securely. She felt a tingle at the very base of her head that spread upward across her skull. She shook her head, and the sensation dissipated. Not for long. A third, the largest crystal, fit against the second, a fourth and a fifth. The tingle in her head became a tightening of the scalp. Or was it her head bones pressing out hard against her skin, stretching it?

“Five matched crystals. Gorren hadn't imagined it.”

Lanzecki's voice was level, but Killashandra sensed his satisfaction with such a cut. “Quality?”

“High, Lanzecki,” Enthor replied calmly. “Not his best cut, but I dare say the flaws, minute as they are, will not impair the function if the units are not too far separated.”

“Five is a respectable link,” Heglana said, “for an interplanetary network.”

“Where are the flaws? In the king crystal?”

«No, Lanzecki» – Enthor's fingers caressed the largest of the five as if reassuring it – «in the first and fifth of the cut.» He gestured to either side. «Marginal.» He deftly transferred the interlocking quintet to the scales and ordered his sequence. The display rested at a figure that would have made Killashandra exclaim aloud had she not been in such company.

Whoever Gorren was, he had just made a fortune. She mentally deducted the requisite 30 percent tithe. So Gorren had a small fortune, and there were ten more cartons to unpack.

Enthor removed the contents of three containers while Lanzecki and Heglana observed. Killashandra was somewhat disappointed by these, though the two watching nodded in satisfaction. The smaller units were not as impressive, though one set contained twelve interlocking pieces, the “king” crystal no longer than her hand at octave stretch and no thicker than her finger.

“He may be down to the base of this cutting,” Lanzecki said as the fourth container was emptied. “Proceed, Enthor, but transfer the total to my office for immediate display, will you?” With an inclination of his head to Enthor, he and Heglana swiftly left the sorting room.

A universal sigh ran about the room and activity picked up on all the other tables.

“I don't think we've come to the prize yet, Killashandra,” Enthor said, frowning. “The hairs on the crest of m'neckio . . .”

“The what?” Killashandra stared at him, for he was describing exactly her sensation.

Enthor shot her a surprised glance. “Scalp itch! Spasm at the back of your head?”

“Am I coming down with symbiont fever?”

“How long have you been here?”

“Five days.”

He shook his head. “No! No! Too soon for fever.” He narrowed his eyes again, turning his head to one side as he squinted at her. Then he pointed to the seven remaining containers.

“Pick the next one.”

“Me?”

"Why not? You might as well get used to handling – he paused, scrubbed at his close cropped hair – "crystal. Myself, I don't agree with Master Lanzecki. I don't think Gorren has come to the end of the black face he's been cutting. Gorren's clever. Just enough substantial stuff to get off-planet, and slivers now and then. That way he's got Lanzecki in a bind and a route off-planet any time he chooses. Pick a carton, girl."