Homespun, dyed butternut's dark gold colour.

some hungry storm watchers more of those excellent sandwiches? Under ordinary circumstances, Killashandra would have had a tart rejoinder but catering would solve the more immediate problem. Just a moment. She splashed water on her face, smoothed back her hair, and regarded the blossoms about her neck. Strangely enough they were not dead, their petals were still fresh despite the creasing. Their fragrance scented her fingers as she opened the crushed flowers and spread them back into their original shapes. When she opened the door, Nahia and Hauness were making their way toward the catering area. They only want to talk weather, Nahia said with a smile. Well help you. The others did talk weather, but on the comunits to other islands, checking on storm damages and injuries, finding out what supplies would be required, and which island could best supply the needs. The three caterers served soup, a basic stew, and high-protein biscuits. In the company of Nahia and Hauness, the work was more pleasant than Killashandra would have believed. She had never met their likes before and realized that she probably never would again. The respite at the storms eye was all too brief, and soon the hurricane was more frightening in its renewed violence. Though it was a zephyr in comparison to Ballybran turbulence, Killashandra rated it a respectable storm, and slept through the rest of it. A touch on her shoulder woke her, a light touch that was then repeated and her shoulder held in a brief clasp. That was enough to bring Killashandra to full awareness and she looked up at Nahias perplexed expression. Killashandra smiled reassuringly, attempting to pass off the storm resonance still coursing through her body. As Lars was draped against her, she moved cautiously to a sitting position and took the steaming cup from Nahia with quiet thanks. Killashandra wondered how the man had been able to sleep with her body buzzing. Other storm watchers had disposed themselves for sleep about the room. Outside a hard rain was falling and a stout wind agitated the rain forest but the blow had become a shadow of its hurricane strength. We had orders to wake people as soon as the wind died to force five, Nahia said and extended a second hot cup to Killashandra for Lars. Has there been much damage? Many injuries? Sufficient. The hurricane was unseasonably early and caught some communities unprepared. Olav is preparing emergency schedules for us. Us? digital camera accessories photoshop Killashandra stared at Nahia in surprise. Surely youre not going to risk being seen and identified here? These are my own people, Carrigana. I am safest in the islands. Serenely confident, the beauty returned to the catering area. Lars had awakened during that brief interchange although he hadnt changed his position. His very blue eyes were watching her closely, no expression gave her a hint of his mood. Lazily he caressed her leg. Gradually his lips began to curve in a smile. What he might have said, what thoughts he held behind those keen eyes he did not share with her. Then he touched the garland she still wore, carefully unfolding a crushed petal. Will you be crew for me? We wont have much time together southbound. Tanny, Theach, and Erutown sail with us, and well be dropping off supplies here and there Of course Ill come, Killashandra said eagerly. She wouldnt miss the trip for the world. Only how would Lars take her deception? Would she lose him? Well, she didnt have to admit that she was the crystal singer they had incarcerated on the island! The winds out of the Back Harbor were brisk enough to be dangerous, but the well laden Pearl settled down to her task like the splendid craft she was. Erutown was the nonsailor among them and took to a bunk in the forward cabin until the motion sickness medication had taken effect. Theach had appropriated the small terminal, smiling with absentminded good humor at his shipmates, before he resumed his programming. Now that Tanny was on his way, he was as cheerful a companion as one could wish. Nor was he impatient with Killashandra as a crewmember. They had set sail once the winds had dropped to force three, one of the first of the larger sailing vessels to leave haven. Others were being loaded and crewed for their relief voyages. After the enforced idleness of the storm, it was good to be physically active. Killashandra didnt mind the wet weather nor the tussle with wind as she and Tanny made periodic checks of the deck cargo. Fresh water and food were unloaded at the first stop, and some emergency medical supplies. The Pearl had carefully motored past the debris floating in the small harbor: roofs, the sides of dwellings, innumerable polly trees, fruit bobbing about like so many bald heads. That sight had startled Killashandra and she had nearly exposed her ignorance of island phenomena to Tanny. The inhabitants had taken refuge on the one highland of the island, but they were already

While bishops have ought in their purse.

screen was active, showing a satellite picture of the growing storm swirling in from the south. Estimated times of arrival of the first heavy winds, high tide, the eye, and the counter winds were all listed in the upper left hand corner. Other cryptic information, displayed in a band across the top of the screen, did not mean much to her but evidently conveyed intelligence to the people in the bar. Including Lars. Lars, Olavs on line for you, called the tallest of the men behind the bar, and he jerked his head toward a side door. The fellow paused in his dispensations, and Killashandra was aware of his scrutiny as she followed Lars to the room indicated. However rustic the tavern looked from the outside, this room was crammed with sophisticated equipment, a good deal of it meteorological, though not as complex as instrumentation in the Weather Room of the Heptite Guild. And all of it printing out or displaying rapidly changing information. Lars? A young man turned from the scanner in front of him and, screwing his face in an anxious expression almost pounced on the new arrival What are you going to do Lars held up his hand, cutting off the rest of that sentence, and the young man noticed the garland. He threw an almost panic stricken look at Killashandra. Tanny, this is Carrigana. And theres nothing I can do with this storm blowing up. Lars was scrutinizing the duplicate vdr satellite picture as he spoke. The worst of it will pass due east. Dont worry about the things you cant change! He gave Tanny a clout on the shoulder but the worried expression did not entirely alter. Killashandra kept the silly social smile on her face as Tanny accorded her the briefest of nods. She had a very good idea what, or rather whom, they were discussing so obliquely. Her. Still trapped, they thought, on that chip of an island. Tannys my partner, Carrigana, and one of the best sailors on Angel, Lars added, though his attention was still claimed by the swirling cloud mass. What if the direction changes, Lars? Tanny refused to be reassured. You know what the southern blows are like He made an exaggerated gesture with both arms, nearly socking a passing islander, who ducked in time. Tanny, there is nothing we can do. Theres a great big polly on the island thats survived hurricanes and high tides since man took the archipelago. Well go have a look as soon as the blows gone. All right? Lars didnt wait for Tannys agreement, guiding Killashandra back into the main room. He paused at the counter, waiting his turn, digital cameras best prices and receiving a small handset. A light one will do me fine, Bart, he added and Bart set a small antigrav unit on the counter. Most of what I own is either on the Pearl or on its way back to me from the City. Grab a couple of those ration packs, will you, Carrigana, he added as they walked out on the broad verandah where additional emergency supplies were being passed out. Might not need them but its less for them to pack to the Ridge. As Lars turned her west, away from the settlement, she caught sight of Tanny, watching them, his expression still troubled. The wind was picking up and the water in the harbor agitated. Lars looked to his right, assessing the situation. Been in a bad one yet? he asked her, an amused and tolerant grin on his face. Oh, yes, Killashandra answered fervently. Not an experience I wish to repeat. How could Lars know how puny an Optherian hurricane would be in comparison to Passover Storms on Ballybran. Once again she wanted to discard her borrowed identity. There was so much she would like to share with Lars. Its waiting out the blow thats hard, Lars said, then grinned down at her. We wont be bored this time, though. My father said that Theach came with Hauness and Erutown. I wonder how they managed the travel permits? That caused him to chuckle. Well know how the revised master plan is working. Killashandra was very hard put to refrain from making any remarks but, of a certainty, waiting out this blow would be extremely interesting. She might not be getting on with the primary task of her visit to Optheria, but she was certainly gaining a lot of experience with dissidents. His place was on a knoll, above the harbor, in a grove of mature polly trees. It reflected an orderly person who preferred plain and restful colors. He produced several carisaks which had been neatly stored in a cupboard, and together they emptied the chest of his clothes, including several beautifully finished formal garments. He cleared his terminal of any stored information and when Killashandra asked if they shouldnt dismantle the screen, he shrugged. Federal issue. I must be one of the few islanders who use the thing. He grinned impiously. And then not to watch their broadcasts! They can never appreciate that islanders dont need vicarious experiences. He gestured toward the sea. Not with real live adventures! The pillows, hammocks, what kitchen utensils there were, the rugs, curtains, everything compacted into a

"I love him the better therefor."

again; it's a chance I have to take. But that little ledge, remote and just inaccessible, was fate's last refinement of cruelty, the salt in the wound of extinction, and he knew in his heart of hearts that it wasn't a chance at all, but just a suicidal gesture. And then Andrea had heaved the last of the fendersworn truck tyresout board, and was towering above him, grinning down hugely into his face: and suddenly Mallory wasn't so sure any more. "The ledge?" Andrea's vast, reassuring hand was on his shoulder. Mallory nodded, knees bent in readiness, feet braced on the plunging, slippery deck. "Jump for it," Andrea boomed. "Then keep your legs stiff." There was no time for any more. The caique was swinging in broadside to, teetering on the crest of a wave, as high up the cliff as she would ever be, and Mallory knew it was now or never. His hands swung back behind his body, his knees bent farther, and then, in one convulsive leap he had flung himself upwards, fingers scrabbling on the wet rock of the cliff, then hooking over the rim of the ledge. For an instant he hung there at the length of his arms, unable to move, wincing as he heard the foremast crash against the ledge and snap in two, then his fingers left the ledge without their own volition, and he was almost half-way over, propelled by one gigantic heave from below. He was not up yet. He was held only by the buckle of his belt, caught on the edge of the rock, a buckle now dragged up to his breastbone by the weight of his body. But he did not paw frantically for a handhold, or wriggle his body or flail his legs in the airand any of these actions would have sent him crashing down again. At last, and once again, he was a man utterly at home in his own element. The greatest rock climber of his time, men called him, and this was what he had been born for. Slowly, methodically, he felt the surface of the ledge, and almost at once he discovered a crack running back from the face. It would have been better had it been parallel to the faceand more than the width of a matchstick. But it was enough for Mallory. With infinite care he eased the hammer and a couple of spikes from his belt, worked a spike into the crack to obtain a minimal purchase, slid the other in some inches nearer, hooked his left wrist round the first, held the second spike with the fingers of the same hand and brought up the hammer in his free hand. Fifteen seconds later he was standing on the ledge. Working quickly and surely, memory card readers for digital cameras catlike in his balance on the slippery, shelving rock, he hammered a spike into the face of the cliff, securely and at a downward angle, about three feet above the ledge, dropped a clove hitch over the top and kicked the rest of the coil over the ledge. Then, and only then, he turned round and looked below him. Less than a minute had passed since the caique had struck, but already she was a broken-masted, splintered shambles, sides caving in and visibly disintegrating as he watched. Every seven or eight seconds a giant comber would pick her up and fling her bodily against the cliff, the heavy truck tyres taking up only a fraction of the impact that followed, the sickening, rending crash that reduced the gunwales to matchwood, holed and split the sides and cracked the oaken timber: and then she would roll clear, port side showing, the hungry sea pouring in through the torn and ruptured planking. Three men were standing by what was left of the wheelhouse. Three mensuddenly, he realised that Casey Brown was missing, realised, too, that the engine was still running, its clamour rising and falling then rising again, at irregular intervals. Brown was edging the caique backwards and forwards along the cliff, keeping her as nearly as humanly possible in the same position, for he knew their lives depended on Malloryand on himself. "The fool!" Mallory swore. "The crazy fool!" The caique surged back in a receding trough, steadied, then swept in against the cliff again, heeling over so wildly that the roof of the wheelhouse smashed and telescoped against the wall of the cliff. The impact was so fierce, the shock so sudden, that Stevens lost both hand-grip and footing and was catapulted into the rock face, upflung arms raised for protection. For a moment he hung there, as if pinned against the wall, then fell back into the sea, limbs and head relaxed, lifeless in his limp quiescence. He should have died then, drowned under the hammer-blows of the sea or crushed by the next battering-ram collision of caique and cliff. He should have died and he would have died but for the great arm that hooked down and plucked him out of the water like a limp and sodden rag doll and heaved him inboard a bare second before the next bludgeoning impact of the boat against the rock would have crushed the life out of him. "Come on, for God's sake!" Mallory shouted desperately. "Shell be gone in a minute! The ropeuse the rope!" He saw Andrea and