Corish wet his mouth in a grim line. “He mentioned them but he could provide me with no proof.”
“Well, I can swear to it, and so can Trag. He disconnected the processor on the Festival Organ yesterday – while we had the chance – and the Conservatory instrument today.” She cast him a snide sideways glance. “Or should we have waited until tomorrow night so you’d have firsthand experience?”
“Of course I trust Trag’s evidence . . . and yours.” He added the last in an afterthought. “How were you able to find the equipment? Wasn’t it well hidden?”
“It was. Shall we say a joint effort – the murdered Comgail, Lars, and Trag. It wasn’t crystal that killed Comgail, and I never could see how it had, but a desparate man. Probably Ampris. There’ll be enough witnesses to testify before the Federation Council. Nahia and Hauness too, if we can get them out.”
“You’ll never get Nahia to leave Optheria,” Corish said, shaking his head sadly. He gestured for them to make a right turn at the next junction. The smell of roasting meats and frying foods greeted their nostrils, not all of it appetizing. But this was clearly a catering area. Open-front stalls served beverages and a pastry-covered roll – with a hot filling to judge by the expression of a man cautiously munching one.
“If we could get anyone out,” Corish said gloomily. “They’re all in jeopardy now.”
“Which is why we want you to contact Olav and get him and . . .”
A change in air pressure against her back gave Killashandra only a second’s warning but she had turned just enough to deflect the long knife descending to her back. Then a second knife caught her shoulder and she tried to roll away from her assailants, hearing Corish’s hoarse cry.
“Lars!” she shouted as she fell, trying to roll away from her attackers. “Lars!” She had become too used to his presence. And where was he when she really needed him? The thought flitted even as she tried to protect herself from the boots kicking her. She tried to curl up, but hard rough hands grabbed at arms and legs. Someone was really attempting to kidnap her, even with Corish beside her. He was no bloody use! She heard him yelling above the unintelligible and malevolent growls of the people beating her. There were so many, men and women, and she knew none of them, their faces disguised by their hatred and the insanity of violence. She saw someone haul back a man with a knife raised to plunge into her, saw a face she knew – that woman from the street. She heard Corish howling with fury and then a boot connected with her temple and she heard nothing else.
Chapter 24
Of the next few days, Killashandra had only disconnected memories. She heard Corish arguing fiercely, then Lars, and under both voices, the rumble of Trag who was, she thought even in her confusion and welter of physical pain, laying down laws. She was aware of someone’s holding her hand so tight it hurt, as if she didn’t have enough wounds, but the grasp was obscurely comforting and she resisted its attempt to release hers. Pain came in waves, her chest hurt viciously with every shallow breath. Her back echoed the discomfort, her head seemed to be vibrating like a drum, having swollen under the skull.
Pain was something not even her symbiont could immediately suppress but she kept urging it to help her. She chanted at it, calling it up from the recesses of her body to restore the cells with its healing miracle, especially the pain. Why didn’t they think about thc pain? There wasn’t a spot on her body that didn’t ache, pound, throb, profest the abuse that she had suffered. Who had attacked her and why?
She cried out in her extremity, called out for Lars, for Trag who would know what to do, wouldn’t he? He’d helped Lanzecki with crystal thrall. Surely he knew what to do now? And where had Lars been when she really needed him? Fine bodyguard he was! Who had it been? Who was the woman who hated her enough to recruit an army to kill her? Why? What had she done to any Optherians?
Someone touched her temples and she cried out – the right one was immeasurably sore. The pain flowed away, like water from a broken vessel, flowed out and down and away, and Killashandra sank into the gorgeous oblivion which swiftly followed painlessness.
“If she had been anyone else, Trag, I wouldn’t permit her to be moved for several weeks, and then only in a protective cocoon,” said a vaguely familiar voice. “In all my years as a physician, I have never seen such healing.”
“Where am I going? I’d prefer the islands,” Killashandra said, rousing enough to have a say in her disposition. She opened her eyes, half-expecting to be in the wretched Conservatory Infirmary and very well satisfied to find that she was in the spacious bed of her quarters.
“Lars!” Hauness called jubilantly. His had been the familiar voice.
The door burst inward as an anxious Lars Dahl rushed to her bedside, followed by his father.
“Killa, if . . . you knew . . .” Tears welling from his eyes, Lars could find no more words and buried his face against the hand she raised to greet him. She stroked his crisp hair with her other hand, soothing, his release from uncertainty.
“Lousy bodyguard, you are . . .” She was unable to say what crowded her throat, hoping that her loving hand conveyed something of her deep feeling for him. “Corish was no use, after all.” Then she frowned. “Was he hurt?”
“Security says,” Hauness replied with a chuckle, “he lifted half a dozen of your assailants and broke three arms, a leg, and two skulls.”
“Who was it? A woman . . .”
Trag moved into her vision, registering with a stolid blink that her hands were busy comforting Lars Dahl. “The search and seize stirred up a great deal of hatred and resentment, Killashandra Ree, and as you were the object of that search, your likeness was well circulated. “Your appearance on the streets made you an obvious target for revenge.”
“We never thought of that, did we?” she said ruefully.
The movement to her right caused her to flinch away and then offer profuse apologies, for Nahia was moving to comfort the distraught Lars.
“So you took the pain away, Nahia? My profound thanks,” Killashandra said. “Even crystal singer’s nerve ends don’t heal as quickly as flesh.”
“So Trag told us. And that crystal singers cannot assimilate many of the pain-relieving drugs. Are you in any pain now?” Nahia’s hands gently rested on Lar’s head in a brief benison, but her beautiful eyes searched Killashandra’s face.
“Not in the flesh,” Killashandra said, dropping her gaze to Lars’s shuddering body.
“It is relief,” Nahia said, “and best expressed.”
Then Killashandra began to chuckle, “Well, we achieved what I set out to do in meeting Corish. Got you all here!”
“Far more than that,” Trag said as the others smiled. “A third attack on you gave me the excuse to call a scout ship to get us off this planet. The Guild contract has been fulfilled and, as I informed the Elder’s Council, we have no wish to cause domestic unrest if the public objects so strongly to the presence of crystal singers.”
“How very tactful of you.” Belatedly remembering caution, Killashandra looked up at the nearest monitor, relieved to find it was a black hole. “Did the jammer survive?”
“No,” Trag said, “but white crystal, in dissonance, distorts sufficiently. They’ve stopped wasting expensive units.”
“And . . .” Killashandra prompted, encouraging Trag since he was being uncharacteristically informative.
He nodded, Olav’s grin broadened, and even Hauness looked pleased. “Those shards provide enough white crystal to get the most vulnerable people past the security curtain. Nahia and Hauness will organize a controlled exodus until the Federated Council can move. Lars and Olav come with us on the scout ship. Brassner, Theach, and Erutown are to be picked up by Tanny in the Pearl Fisher and leave with Corish on the liner – ”