Just before noon, sailing smartly on the same westerly current that had nearly defeated Killashandra, they rounded the Toe and tacked eastward to sail right up to the large North Harbor pier at the elbow of the Angel. When Lars had been able to estimate his time of arrival, he had called it in, so medics and grav units were waiting for the injured. Killashandra, dutifully checking every half hour, had had no problems with her patients but it was an immense relief to turn them over to trained medical technicians.

“Father wants a word with us,” Lars said quietly in Killashandra’s ear as they watched their passengers being trundled away. “Tanny, anchor the Pearl at buoy twenty-seven, will you? And keep her ready. Don’t know where we’ll have to go next. Stay on the page, okay?”

Tanny nodded, his expression rather strained, as if he was relieved to stay on the Pearl, whose eccentricities he could cope with and understand.

If the Wing Harbor on the south side of Angel Island had appeared rustic and homely to Killashandra’s eyes, North Harbor was the antithesis: that is, within the framework of the Charter’s prohibition against raping “a natural world.” The colorful buildings set up above the harbor behind sturdy sea walls utilized manmade materials and modernistic surfaces in some sort of tough, textured plastic and a good deal of plasglas so no vista would be hidden from the occupiers. If the architecture lacked warmth or grace, it was also practical in a zone where wind speeds could make a dangerous missile out of a polly branch.

Lars guided Killashandra up a ramp that climbed to the top of the Elbow, where a dormered structure commanded views of the main harbor as well as the smaller curved bay that featured the old stratovolcano that was the Angel’s Head. A small sailing craft was tacking cautiously through the Fingerbone reefs at the end of the Hand. From the different colors in the sea, Killashandra could distinguish the safer, deeper channel, but she didn’t think she’d like to sail that in a ship as large as the Pearl.

To her surprise, the first person they saw as they entered the Harbor Master’s office was Nahia. She had been using the terminal and upon their entry she half rose, her expression eager for Lars’s news of the stranded crystal singer.

We needn’t have worried ourselves for a moment about out captive, Nahia.” Lars strode up to the empath and, before she could protest, kissed her hand.

“Lars, you simply must stop that,” Nahia protested, giving Killashandra a worried glance.

“Why? I only do you a courtesy you fully deserve!”

Would Nahia comfort Lars, Killashandra wondered, after she had departed Optheria?

“The woman is all right, isn’t she, Carrigana?” Nahia was by no means reassured by Lars’s droll comment

“Never better,” Killashandra replied affably. She wondered why Lars was drawing the game out when he had specifically said he didn’t wish to deceive Nahia. She gave him a sharp glance.

“Where’s father!”

“I’m here, Lars, and there’s trouble on its way,” the Harbor Master said, appearing from the front office. “I’m only grateful we had the hurricane, for it slowed down the official transport. There’s to be a full search of the Islands. Torkes leads it so it’d be the height of folly to protest or interfere.”

“Then isn’t it fortunate that the crystal singer has been rescued,” Killashandra said.

“She has?” Olav Dahl looked about, even to peering outside, seeking the woman.

Unerringly now, Nahia turned her worried face toward Killashandra, her eyes widening.

“And, Olav Dahl, by your courageous son, who found her abandoned on an island while he was on a hurricane rescue mission in the vicinity.”

“Young woman, I – ” Olav Dahl began, frowning at her light tone.

“You are Killashandra Ree?” Nahia asked, her beautiful eyes intent on Killashandra’s face.

“Indeed. And so grateful to the loyal upright Optherian citizen Lars Dahl that this much-abused crystal singer feels secure only in his presence.” Killashandra beamed fatuously at Lars.

Nahia’s slender hands went to her mouth to suppress her laughter.

“I presume that in your official capacity you can inform the official vehicle of the felicitous news?” Killashandra asked Olav Dahl, smiling encouragingly at him to coax a less reproving response.

Olav Dahl regarded Killashandra with an expression that became more and more severe, as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing, didn’t condone her levity, and quite possibly would not accept her assistance. Slowly he sank onto the nearest desk for support, staring at her with amazement. Killashandra wondered that this man could be Lars’s father until suddenly a smile of great charm and pure mischief lightened his countenance. He got to his feet, one hand outstretched to her, radiating relief.

“My dear Guildmember, may I say how pleased I am that you have been delivered from your ordeal? Have you any idea at all who perpetrated this outrage on a member of the most respected guild in the galaxy?”

“None under the sun,” Killashandra relied, the epitome of innocent bewilderment. “I left the organ loft, rather precipitously, I hasten to add, because of a distressing incident with an officious security captain. I hoped that a stroll in the fresh air might compose my agitated spirits. When all of a sudden – ” She brought her hands together. “I think I must have been drugged for a long time. When I finally regained consciousness. I was on this island, from which your son fortuitously rescued me only this morning!” Killashandra turned, fluttering her eyelashes at Lars in a parody of gratitude.

“I find that absolutely fascinating, Killashandra Ree,” said a totally unexpected newcomer. Lars half crouched as he whirled toward the doorway framing Corish von Mittelstern. “Evidently your credentials were far more impressive than you led me to expect. So you’re the crystal singer who was dispatched?”

“Oh, and have you found your dear uncle?”

“Actually, I have.” Corish, his lips twitching with the first real amusement she had seen him exhibit, gestured toward Olav Dahl.

Lars was not the only one who stared at his father. Nahia gave a silvery laugh.

“It was too amusing, the confrontation, Lars,” Nahia said, chuckling. “They were circling the truth like two hemlin cocks. It was all I could do to retain my composure, for, of course, Hauness and I have known Olav’s history. It didn’t take me very long to perceive that Corish was not looking for the man in the hologram.”

“I could hardly brandish Dahl’s real likeness in case I jeopardized him. I’d memorized his facial characteristics so I thought I’d recognize him once I did see him.” Then Corish turned to Killashandra. “He hadn’t altered as much as you had. I didn’t recognize you at all, with your hair and eyebrows bleached and a good few kilos lighter. If it matters,” and Corish gestured at the matched garlands, “this is an improvement over the mawkish music student.”

“So are you Council or Evaluation?” Killashandra shot a triumphant glance at Lars. “Olav’s no more your uncle than I am. That inheritance business was very thin.”

“For you, perhaps,” and Corish inclined his body toward her, and his manner turned starchy at her criticism, “but you’d be surprised at how effective it was. Especially with Optherian officials who might get their percentage out of it.” Corish made an age-old gesture with his thumb and forefinger. “Since all off-planet mail is censored, and not always delivered to the addressee, such a problem is peculiarly applicable to Optheria.”

“I withdraw my comment.” Killashandra nodded graciously and then seated herself in the nearest chair. “Do I also assume that Olav has been a – misplaced – agent?”

“Inadvertently detained,” Olav replied on his own behalf, with a nod to Corish. “My briefing was at fault, on a point no one had considered at headquarters. To whit, the mineral residue, which is what trapped me here. And which provides the Optherians with such simple means of preventing unauthorized departure from this planet. The exile has not been without profit to me,” and he smiled warmly at his son, “though my time was not spent in activities of which the Council wholeheartedly approve. ‘If you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em’ is useful advice.” He winked at Killashandra, who gave a crow of laughter. “However, you appear to be remarkably tolerant of the abuse you have suffered at my son’s hands.”