"Don't keep reminding me of that." Killa heard the edge on her voice, but she was too keyed up by failure to control the reaction.

"Habits are ingrained . . ."

"I've never been a creature of habit," Killa protested, trying to inject a little humor into the tensions that crackled about them all.

"But," he said, turning to her, "protecting your site locations has played a dominant role in your subconscious. I mean, I've sat in on Donalla's sessions with some of the inactive singers"—Killa approved of his euphemism—"and often it's sounded to me as if they were keeping the information from themselves: the subconscious refusing to permit access of knowledge to the conscious."

"Ha!" Killa folded her arms across her chest. "I go to sleep telling myself to remember. To dredge up the necessary referents, I dream of fardling spires and ranges and canyons and ravines. I dream of the act of cutting; I dream of crystal until I wake myself up thinking I'm asleep on a bed of the fardling shards!"

"Like a mystic?" Donalla tried to cover up the giggle that had slipped out.

Presnol looked shocked, but Killa grinned. "I know the sort you mean—total disregard of the purely physical. Mind over matter! Oh, Muhlah, if I only could . . ." And she groaned, covering her face with her hands.

"Wait a minute," Donalla said, drawing herself erect at a sudden inspiration. "You get thralled, don't you? By crystal?"

"It can happen to any singer," Killa said guardedly.

"Yes, but thrall's a form of hypnosis, isn't it? I mean, the crystal triggers the mesmerism, doesn't it?"

"Indeed it does."

Presnol caught the significance of their exchange. "But that would mean you'd have to go into the Ranges."

"What's wrong with that, Presnol?" Killashandra asked, slapping her hands to her knees. "I'd be doing something constructive at the same time, instead of sitting on my buns here accomplishing nothing. Sorry, Donalla. You've tried. I just can't comply! Maybe, in the Ranges, and in thrall, you can get through."

"But—but—" Presnol floundered.

"But you've never been out, have you?"

"Only to rescue singers." And a convulsive spasm shook the medic's frame.

"Well, it's about time you saw the Ranges at their best," Killa said, amused.

Presnol gulped.

"No, I'll go," Donalla said, giving her lover a reassuring smile. "I'm—supposedly—the hypnotist. And I'm not afraid of the Ranges."

"I'm not, either," Presnol protested, but both women exchanged knowing glances. "I'm not, truly."

"Donalla's presence is sufficient, I'd say," Killa said.

"One of us should remain here, Pres," Donalla said, "and you could continue the hypnotics with—" She hesitated, glancing at Killashandra—"another patient."

"Yes, I could," Presnol said, beginning to relax. He was not as adept at the process as Donalla, but he had been successful with two of the inactive singers. "That would be a much more useful disposition of my time right now. Ah, when will you be going?" he asked, turning back at the door.

Killa and Donalla exchanged looks. Killa shrugged. "We'll check with Lars . . ."

But when they explained their plan to Lars Dahl, Killa could see plainly his resistance to the idea of her going out into the Ranges without him. She herself had had to override her own reluctance to go out in the company of a nonsinger, however dispassionately involved with the singing of crystal.

"There's been no tradition of nonsingers—" Lars began.

"Ha! Since you've been demolishing tradition all over the place, why cavil at this one? The results could be exactly what's needed. At least with me," Killa said. "As you point out, I'm one of the oldest still active singers . . ."

"Killa!" His tone held a warning not to try his patience just then.

"Look, we can rig lots of safeguards. Weather's behaving itself right now, so we can cancel that worry. Donalla can wear a combutton direct to your console, so if you have to do a rescue flit, you'll be the first to hear," Killa went on, perversely determined to undermine any argument he might voice. "Donalla's stronger than she looks, if it comes to her having to break thrall." She grinned. "Know any good throws?" she asked Donalla, who dismissed the question. "So, teach her your special techniques, up to and including setting my cutter sour. Muhlah knows that the reward could be worth the price of a cutter."

"Don't let Clarend hear you say that," Lars remarked with a good attempt at genuine humor.

"Hmmm, too right," Killa grinned back at him. Over the decades they had both taken plenty of abuse from the cutter.

"You'll lend us the double sled then?" Killa asked. She looked out of the broad window, beyond the Hangar. "Hell, it's only midday. We could be deep in the Ranges and cutting in a couple of hours." She leaned across the desk toward him, daring him, silently urging him to agree. "Of course, if you happened to have some black-crystal coordinates handy, I could be productive on several levels."

"Killa, you do know what you're doing, don't you?"

"No, but Donalla thinks that thrall will help her get past the barriers I can't seem to lower."

He sighed deeply and threw his hands out in capitulation. "If you could come back with some black . . ." He set his lips firmly, hearing the desperation in his own voice.

He propelled himself out of his chair, and while Killashandra contacted the Hangar and arranged for his sled to be readied and stocked, he demonstrated to Donalla the various ways in which thrall could be broken.

"I didn't realize thrall was that dangerous," Donalla said, her eyes wide with the newly acquired information. "And you let Killashandra stay thralled to green . . ."

"That was a most unusual situation. Killa needed the overdose of crystal to counteract deprivation. I would never have permitted her to thrall to black—it's far harder to break out of. And that's why I don't like just the pair of you going."

"Well, if you want another singer along to see where we've cut black . . ." Killa teased.

"There isn't another singer in or you can believe I'd send someone."

"Who's that dork at Trag's desk then?"

"Certainly not yet a singer," Lars said sarcastically, "but she does have business management experience and she's capable of organizing pencil files and auditing accounts."

Killa smiled, relieved by his disparagement of the very pretty girl's abilities.

"Now, if you can't break thrall by any of the methods I've demonstrated, you club her behind the ear and haul her bodily out of the Ranges. You are checked out on sleds, aren't you?"

"You know we all are, Lars," Donalla said, giving him an almost condescending smile. "I've even driven some of the worksleds when there was excessive storm damage to patch up." Lars nodded acceptance of her competence. "But I'm not charmed by the idea of bludgeoning Killashandra Ree into submission. I'll bring along something soothing."

"You have to be careful, though." Lars held up a warning hand. "A singer in thrall can become violent. Strap her down in the sled if it comes to that."

"Now that you've given her the worst-case scenario, how else can you scare her out of this attempt?" Killa asked in some disgust. She turned to Donalla. "Anyone would think he didn't want this to succeed. I've never slugged him yet. Though I might start . . ." And she lifted her fist in mock anger.

He raised both arms and pretended to cringe from her blow. "Just in case," he added, his manner lighter and a sparkle in his blue eyes, "have you any idea where you're going?"

She grinned at him. "You need black. So, since you have already bared the location of your latest black site to Donalla, I thought you wouldn't mind entrusting it to me, your partner."