Lars began to chuckle, rubbing his chin as if he was visualizing those moments of triumph.

“If you can be trusted not to overact” – he ducked as she shook her fist at him – “you know, it might work.”

“Of course it will work! I was able to gauge audience reactions to a pico. And more than just give you a well-deserved return for their meanness and chicanery to you, I’ll pretend that I’m so very nervous about a repetition of assault and battery that I’ll need you by my side all the time.”

“I think,” Lars began, slowly, thoughtfully, “Father and the others will like this plan.”

“Oh?”

Lars gave a rueful snort. “I got rather soundly told off for acting in a unilateral fashion when I abducted you, you know. My father is a mild mannered man most of the time – ”

“Then let us by all means present this idea to him – them. And by the way, speaking of mild-mannered men, what do you know about Corish von Mittelstern?”

“The man looking for his uncle?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, he’s not an Optherian agent if that’s what you’re worried about. We checked him for residue.”

“Checked him for what?”

“D’you recall the arc at the shuttleport? That’s to prevent Optherians from leaving the planet. The arc is set to detect a mineral residue that is present in our bone marrow. There’s absolutely no argument with the port guards if you try to enter the shuttleport. They just shoot.”

“And that’s activated by any Optherian passing the sensors?”

“Even visitors who’ve stayed long enough to absorb sufficient trace to be detected.” Lars’s expression was sour. “Like my father.”

Killashandra half heard that comment, as she was thinking back to her exit from the port. Thyrol had been right beside her and the alarm hadn’t gone off for them, though it had when the rest of the Optherian quartette had passed.

“Strange, that,” she said half to herself. “No. Corish isn’t Optherian. He came out on the Athena with me. But I’ve a very good notion that he’s an FSP agent of some sort. I mean, what good is just one impartial observer if the object is to change the status quo of an entire planet? Even if I am a crystal singer.”

“Did Corish know that?”

“No.” Killashandra chuckled. “To Citizen von Mittelstern I was a brash and impulsive music student traveling cheap to the Summer Festival!” When Lars gave her a puzzled look, she laughed. “Being a crystal singer entails some rather curious disadvantages which are not relevant to the more important discussion at hand.”

“I don’t know much about crystal singers – ”

“What you don’t know won’t hurt you,” she said, waggling a finger under his nose. “But I’d very much like to know more about Corish, and if there is a missing uncle.”

“Why didn’t Corish recognize you on the beach?”

“The same reason you didn’t. And he didn’t know me all that well,” she added, a bit amused by Lars’s reaction. “He rather obviously, at least to me, cultivated the company of an innocuous and silly young music student. And one or two other anomalies alerted me.”

“I’d encountered a few of those creatures recently myself,” Lars remarked in a reproving drawl.

“I did the best I could with the background material I had.”

Lars pulled her as close to him as the tiller allowed. “Your only mistake, now that I think back on it, were your comments about singing. Everyone in the islands sings. But voice is not an instrument for real music . . . according to the Masters.”

Killashandra began to sputter indignantly. “That in itself proves how stupid they all are!”

Lars laughed in delight at her reaction and then drew his feet up as the water began slopping up their calves.

“Tanny!” he shouted. “On the deck, on the double.”

The hatch was opened so quickly in response to his call that Killashandra wondered how long the young man had had his ear to the wooden panels.

“Haven’t you found us something to eat yet? About time.” For Tanny held up two heavy soup mugs. “Give it over and start bailing.”

It took quite a bit of persuading on Killashandra’s part to reassure Tanny that she intended no reprisals against him for his very minor part in her abduction. Lars explained that he had managed to sneak her on board the ocean jet with the help of another friend who merely thought Lars’s latest girl friend had had a shade too much new brew.

“One for the girls, are you, m’bucko?” Killashandra had asked in an arch tone.

Lars nodded at her garland. “Not any more, Sunny! I’ve made an honest woman of you!”

That exchange did more to reassure Tanny than any other argument Killashandra had presented. That and the fact that she was perfectly willing to help bail out the cockpit.

Bar Island was reached just before sunset, with enough time to unload the emergency supplies. The Bar Islanders had been directly in the hurricane’s path and suffered more damage than any of the other islands on their sweep. Two men, a woman and a young child had internal injuries which the medical facilities of the smaller settlement could not treat adequately. Lars immediately offered them passage on the Pearl Fisher, giving Killashandra a guarded and rueful grin of regret. Nor did they have a chance to be private that night. Everyone pitched in to finish constructing temporary communal shelters, and Killashandra found herself once again plaiting polly fronds, pleased that her deftness caused no questions. When a halt was called at midnight, Killashandra was far too tired to do more than curl up gratefully against Lars on the sand, her head pillowed on his arm, and fall asleep.

At first light of a sullen day, the injured were floated on bladder rafts to the Pearl, carefully hoisted aboard, then secured in the cabin bunks. Killashandra was given instructions by the medic for the administration of necessary drugs and care. The patients had been sedated for the voyage, so he expected no problems.

As soon as she could, Killashandra went up on deck. She found care of the sick and injured a distasteful necessity and the faint odor of antiseptics and medicine made her slightly nauseous. She said nothing about her disinclination, uncharacteristically wanting to sustain Lars’s good opinion of her. He was bent over the chart display on the small navigational terminal, plotting the most direct course for Angel Island’s North Harbor where the main medical facility was situated.

“Tide and wind are in our favor this morning, Killa,” he said, reaching his arm about her waist and drawing her in to him without taking his eyes from the display. He tapped for an overlay of the route he had chosen and she could see how it made use of the swift channels between the islands and the fuller morning tide. “We’ll be in North before we know it.” He made a Final correction and laid in the course. Now the display cleared to show him the compass headings and the minimum required tacking to slip into the swift current just beyond Bar Island’s western reef. “Is the spinnaker set, Tanny?”

“Aye, aye skipper,” the young man called from the bow as Killashandra watched the vivid red and orange sail bellying out briefly over the bowsprit before the wind caught it.

There’s an exhilaration to sailing a fast, trim ship, with a following wind and a current to assist smooth passage. The Pearl slipped into the flow as effortlessly as a slide down a greased pole. The sea was almost calm, and gunmetal green-gray, not quite the same color as the gray sky.

“Lucky it’s today instead of yesterday,” Killashandra said, settling herself in the cockpit beside Lars. He had the tiller on its upper setting so that he could see forward without the cabin blocking him.

“They’re all secure below?”

“Secure and asleep! I’ll check on the half hour.”

They sat together enjoying wind, sea, and sail while Tanny coiled lines and set all fair. Then he joined them in the cockpit, maintaining the companionable silence.