Killashandra wondered if the foodstuffs had been minutely measured, for two bites disposed of each of the four small tidbits, five mouthfuls emptied the wine glass. But she was among the lucky minority who had their glasses refilled and were offered additional canapйs.
“This will be over soon,” Ampris murmured to her, his lips barely moving. “A proper meal will be served us when the lesser orders have dutifully taken their sip and sup and toddled back to the comfort of their routines.”
He spoke with neither scorn nor malice: Ampris was stating a fact about the majority of the assembled.
“Having had their rare treats of standing in the same room with a real live breathing Crystal Singer?”
“You are that!” Ampris’s gaze returned hers with no trace of guile or evasion but he had a definite twinkle in his eye. “Three minutes after you reached the infirmary, the news of your regenerative powers had seeped to the basements.”
“Surely you are not housed in a basement?”
Ampris’s bright brown eyes twinkled again. “The seat of all knowledge . . .”
“So you can get to the bottom of things?”
“Of course.”
“And a position of maximum security?” Killashandra taunted him. Why shouldn’t she start at the top with her covert inquiries?
“Security is never a problem on such a well-ordered world as Optheria.” He inclined his head to acknowledge the passing of three of the dignitaries circulating the gathering. “Everyone is secure” – he paused – “on Optheria, each knowing his place and his duties. Security is the foundation of the serenity of spirit which typifies this natural world.”
Killashandra could find no mockery in his words nor any special inflection in his voice. No sparkle of amusement lit his eye, no cynical expression molded his face, yet Killashandra heard the denial as clearly as if he had phrased it.
“Someone must have had a momentarily troubled spirit to launch that little star-knife at me.”
“An island weapon,” Ampris said. “We allowed that settlement too much leeway during the early years on Optheria. Its original colonists were, naturally, of our mind, but before we could reestablish contact with them, they had deviated from the original intent. Optheria was to be an autonomous world: not to consist of autonomous groups.” Ampris’s humorless voice and manner implied the treatment which had undoubtedly been meted out to the dissenters. “The matter of that outrageous attack on your person will be resolved, I can assure you, Guildmember Killashandra.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment.”
Ampris searched her face. “On an ordered planet, the unusual is always remarkable.”
“Ampris, you may not monopolize our distinguished visitor,” said a deep grating voice and Killashandra turned to find herself scrutinized by one of the other male Elders. He had the eyes of a scavenger, bright, dark, piercing. His thin, hooked nose did much to encourage the analogy. His skin had a curious lacquered look, crinkling at the edges of his face from whatever minor shift of expression he permitted. His glance dropped briefly to her left shoulder, as if his gaze could penetrate the silk and examine the healing wound beneath.
“Monopoly has never been my passion, Torkes,” Ampris said. “My associate, Torkes, holds the Communications Seat on Optheria. We work closely together in our adjacent disciplines. He maintains that Music is dependent on Communications, and I, of course, take the position that Music is independent and without it, Communications would have nothing to disseminate!”
“But of course!” Killashandra mustered a broad and giddy smile with which she favored both men impartially. Ampris accepted her evasion with a slight smile while Torkes bowed as if her ambiguous reply awarded him the decision. “What sort of crystal network does your facility use, Elder Torkes?”
“Crystal?” Torkes’s piercing stare was affronted. “We have no funds to waste on that sort of technology. Crystal is reserved for musicians!”
“Really?” And Killashandra caught the barest glimpse of the satisfied reaction from Ampris. Torkes seemed totally oblivious to the implication of his statement. “Even when crystal is a very natural – ”
“Crystal is not natural to Optheria. Not a native product, you understand. And we must maintain the integrity of our Charter.”
“Indeed? Do you not violate that integrity by using alien instrumentation?”
Torkes dismissed her argument with a flick of his bony fingers. “Music is an art form which we were able to bring with us, within the mind. It is intangible – ”
“And what is communication, then? Can it be touched? Smelt? Tasted?”
Torkes stared at her so fiercely that Killashandra was made aware of the fact that not only had she dared to interrupt an Elder but she had argued with him. She sensed rather than saw Ampris’s intense amusement then, in the blink of his eyes, when Torkes was faced with the unpalatable realization that a Heptite Guild-member, an invited specialist urgently required by his planet, held equal status with himself.
“Of course,” Ampris said, breaking the heavy silence that ensued, “the organ was developed by an Optherian for Optherian purposes and is, in fact, unique to our planet.”
“Yes, yes, quite so,” Torkes mumbled just as a mellow chime discreetly ended the reception.
Torkes made an adroit escape.
“So, one does not dispute with you Elders here?” Killashandra asked, watching him move off through the throng.
“It is good for us, I assure you, Ampris replied with a chuckle. “Fortunately Torkes is more flexible than he sounds, for when he changes Seats, he becomes totally committed to his immediate responsibility.” When Killashandra looked quizzical, he added: “We Elders change our duties every four years, so as not to become too narrow in our understanding of the overview.”
“I see.”
“Then you are wiser than your years,” Ampris said, “for I cannot believe that an administrator who is tone deaf can effectively guide Music: or that an Elder who cannot integrate should have charge of the Treasury. However, the governmental mechanism is so weighty that four years of mismanagement generally produce no more than annoying miscalculations and minor blunders easily corrected. The brilliance of the Founding Fathers of Optheria is once more unquestionably elucidated.”
Thyrol appeared, respectfully inclining his upper body at his interruption.
“Elder Ampris, Guildmaster Ree, if you will proceed to the dining chamber?”
The beauty of the hall, the elegantly set table and Elder Ampris’s earlier comment deceived Killashandra into anticipating a far better meal. Although presented in appealing style, the miniscule portions did not appeased Killashandra’s heavy appetite. Nor was she offered enough of any one food to make a positive identification of its constituents or savor its taste. The courses were accompanied by beverages which were so bland that the water had more zest to it – and not a brew or a ferment among them. Killashandra’s exasperated sigh caught the attention of Elder Pentrom, her right-hand dinner partner.
“Something is amiss?” he asked politely and then stared for a brief moment at her clean plate. He was but halfway through the food on his.
“Doesn’t Optheria produce brews. or vintages or something with more taste than these, Elder Pentrom?”
“You mean an alcoholic beverage?” he said, as if she had made a particularly obscene suggestion.
Killashandra favored him with a longer look and decided that with his prim mouth, sharp chin, and tiny eyes, no other reaction could have been expected.
“Indeed I do mean alcoholic beverages.” He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word she said, “Alcohol is essential to the proper metabolic function of a crystal singer.”