The next loud blast that he did give,

Corazzini until'we dropped in our tracks. And the truth was that we couldn't have gone any other way even had we wished to. When Smallwood had dropped us off we had been fairly into the steadily deepening depression in the ice-cap that wound down to the Kangalak glacier and it was a perfect drainage channel for the katabatic wind that was pouring down off the plateau. Although powerful enough already when we had been abandoned, that wind was now blowing with the force of a full gale, and for the first time on the Greenland ice-plateaualthough we were now, admittedly, down to a level of 1500 feet -1 heard a wind where the deep ululating moaning was completely absent. It howled, instead, howled and shrieked like a hurricane in the upper works and rigging of a ship, and it carried with it a numbing bruising flying wall of snow and ice against which progress would have been utterly impossible. So we went the only way we could, with the lash of the storm ever on our bent and aching backs. And ache our backs did. Only three peopleZagero, Jackstraw and myselfwere able to carry anything more than their own weight: and we had among us three people completely unable to walk. Mahler was still unconscious, still in coma, but I didn't think we would have him with us very much longer: Zagero carried him for hour after endless hour through that white nightmare and for his self-sacrifice he paid the cruellest price of all for when, some hours later, I examined the frozen, useless appendages that had once been his hands, I knew that Johnny Zagero would never step into a boxing ring again. Marie LeGarde had lost consciousness too, and as I staggered along with her in my arms I felt it to be no more than a wasted token gesture: without shelter, and shelter soon, she would never see this night out. Helene, too, had collapsed within an hour of the tractor's disappearance, her slender strength had just given out, and Jackstraw had her over his shoulder. How all three of us, exhausted, starved, numbed almost to death as we were, managed to carry them for so long, even though with so many halts, is beyond my understanding: but Zagero had his strength, Jackstraw his superb fitness and I still the sense of responsibility that carried me on long hours after my legs and arms had given out. Behind us Senator Brewster blundered along in a blind world all of his own, stumbling often, falling occasionally but always pushing himself up and staggering gamely on. And in those few hours Hoffman Brewster, for me, ceased to be a digital camera with waterproof housing senator and became again my earliest conception of the old Dixie Colonel, not the proud, rather overbearing aristocrat but the embodiment of a bygone southern chivalry, when courtesy and a splendid gallantry in the greatest perils and hardships were so routine as to excite no comment. Time and time again during that .bitter night be insisted, forcibly insisted, on relieving one of the three of us of our burdens and would stagger along under the load until he reached the point of collapse. Despite his age, he was a powerful man: but he had no longer the heart and the lungs and the circulation to match his muscles, and his distress, as the night wore on, became pitiful to see. The bloodshot eyes were almost closed in exhaustion, his face deep-etched in grey suffering and his breath coming in painful whooping gasps that reached me clearly even above the thin high shriek of the wind. No doubt but that Small wood and Corazzini had left us to die, but they had made one mistake: they had forgotten Balto. Balto; as always, had been running loose when they had left us, and they had either failed to see him or forgotten all about him. But Balto hadn't forgotten us, he must have known something was far wrong, for all the hours we had been prisoners on the tractor sled he had never come within a quarter-mile of us. But as soon as the tractor had dumped and left us, he had come loping in out of the driving snow and settled to the task of leading us down towards the glacier. At least, we hoped he was doing that. Jackstraw declared that he was following the crimp marks of the Citroen's caterpillars, now deep buried under the flying drift and new-fallen snow. Zagero wasn't so sure. Once, twice, a dozen times that night, I heard him muttering the same words: "I hope to hell that hound knows where it's goinV But Balto knew where he was going. Sometime during the nightit might have been any time between midnight and three o'clock in the morninghe stopped suddenly, stretched out his neck and gave his long eerie wolf call. He seemed to listen for an answer, and if he heard anything it was beyond our range: but he seemed satisfied, for he suddenly changed direction and angled off to the left into the blizzard. At Jackstraw's nod, we followed. Three minutes later we came upon the dog-sledge, with two of the dogs curled up beside it, their backs to the wind, their muzzles to their bellies and long brushes of tails over their faces, the

Thou shalt have my livery strait.

of the credit outlet on Angel. This could be very interesting! She must have dozed off, for the couch had been comfortable, the days unusual exercise exhausting, and watching the weather screen soporific. It was the lack of storm noise that woke her. And a curious singing in her body which was her symbionts reaction to drastic weather changes. A quick glance at the screen showed her that the eye of the storm was presently over Angel Island. She rubbed at her arms and legs, sure that the vibration she felt might be discernible. However, Nahia had curled up on the end of the long couch, Hauness, one arm across her shoulders, was also asleep, head back against the cushions. Theach was still diddling, but Erutown and Lars were absent. She heard voices and steps on the circular stair and made a dash for the toilet. She distinguished Larss distinctive laugh, a bass rumble from his father, and a grunt that could be Erutown, and some other voices. Until the eye had passed and the symbiont had quieted, Killashandra wanted to avoid everyone, especially Lars. Carrigana? Lars called. Then she heard him approach the toilet and rap on the door. Carrigana? Would you mind fixing 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 thompson digital camera lens 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? 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

"What news? what news, thou silly old woman?

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they What news hast thou for me?" Said she, imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

And bards burn what they call their 'midnight taper',

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they To have, when the original is dust, imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

That merchants climb and fall again as fast,

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they That roisters brag above their betters' room, imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

As if they had been threshing of corn.

him. "Just as soon as we fire and they find out where we are." "Gawd help us," Miller muttered. "Fragmentation bombs, you said!" He lapsed into gloomy silence. "Any second now," Mallory said softly. "I only hope that our friend Turzig isn't among this lot." He reached out for his field-glasses but stopped in surprise as Andrea leaned across Louki and caught him by the wrist before he could lift the binoculars. "What!s the matter, Andrea?" "I would not be using these, my Captain. They have betrayed us once already. I have been thinking, and it can be nothing else. The sunlight reflecting from the lenses . . ." Mallory stared at him, slowly released his grip on the glasses, nodded several times in succession. "Of course, of course! I had been wondering. . . Someone has been careless. There was no other way, there could have been no other way. It would only require a single flash to tip them off." He paused, remembering, then grinned wryly. "It could have been myself. All this started just after I had been on watchand Panayis didn't have the glasses." He shook his head in mortification. "It must have been me, Andrea." "I do not believe it," Andrea said flatly. "You couldn't make a mistake like that, my Captain." "Not only could, but did, I'm afraid. But we'll worry about that afterwards." The middle of the ragged line of advancing soldiers, slipping and stumbling on the treacherous scree, had almost reached the lower limits of the blackened, stunted remains of the copse. "They've come far enough. I'll take the white helmet in the middle, Louki." Even as he spoke he could hear the soft scrape as the three others slid their automatic barrels across and between the protective rocks in front of them, could feel the wave of revulsion that washed through his mind. But his voice was steady enough as he spoke, relaxed and almost casual. "Right. Let them have it now!" His last words were caught up and drowned in the tearing, rapid-fire crash of the automatic carbines. With four machine-guns in their handstwo Brens and two 9 mm. Schmeissersit was no war, as he had said, but sheer, pitiful massacre, with the defenceless figures on the slope below, figures still stunned and uncomprehending, jerking, spinning round and collapsing like marionettes in the hands of a mad puppeteer, some to lie where they fell, others to roll down the steep slope, legs and arms flailing in the grotesque disjointedness of death. Only a couple stood still where they had been hit, vacant surprise mirrored in their lifeless what is digital elph camera faces, then slipped down tiredly to the stony ground at their feet. Almost three seconds had passed before the handful of those who still livedabout a quarter of the way in from either end of the line where converging streams of fire had not yet metrealised what was happening and flung themselves desperately to the ground in search of the cover that didn't exist. The frenetic stammering of the machine-guns stopped abruptly and in unison, the sound sheared off as by a guillotine. The sudden silence was curiously oppressive, louder, more obtrusive than the clamour that had gone before. The gravelly earth beneath his elbows grated harshly as Mallory shifted his weight slightly, looked at the two men to his right, Andrea with his impassive face empty of all expression, Louki with the sheen of tears in his eyes. Then he became aware of the low murmuring to his left, shifted round again. Bitter-mouthed, savage, the American was swearing softly and continuously, oblivious to the pain as he pounded his fist time and again into the sharp-edged gravel before him. "Just one more, Gawd." The quiet voice was almost a prayer. "That's all I ask. Just one more." Mallory touched his arm. "What is it, Dusty?" Miller looked round at him, eyes cold and still and empty of all recognition, then he blinked several times and grinned, a cut and bruised hand automatically reaching for his cigarettes. "Jus' daydreamin', boss" he said easily. "Jus' daydreamin'." He shook out his pack of cigarettes. "Have one?" "That inhuman bastard that sent these poor devils up that hill," Mallory said quietly. "Make a wonderful pietare seen over the sights of your rifle, wouldn't he?" Abruptly Miller's smile vanished and he nodded. "It would be all of that." He risked a quick peep round one of the boulders, eased himself back again. "Eight, mebbe ten of them still down there, boss," he reported. "The poor bastards are like ostrichestrying to take cover behind stones the size of an orange. . . . We leave them be?" "We leave them be!" Mallory echoed emphaticaliy. The thought of any more slaughter made him feel almost physically sick. "They won't try again." He broke off suddenly, flattened himself in reflex instinct as a burst of machine-gun bullets struck the steep-walled rock above their beads and whined up the gorge in vicious ricochet. "Won't try again,

That's not able to draw one string."

in complete privacy, but not so far as to lose sight of the yellow glow from our skylightstwice lost in the one night was twice too many. He heard me out in silence, and at the end he said: "What are we going to do, Dr Mason?" "Depends. Spoken to Joss recently?" "Fifteen minutes ago. In the tunnel." "How about the radio?" "I'm afraid not, Dr Mason. He's missing some condensers and spare valves. He's looked for them, everywheresays they've been stolen." "Maybe they'll turn up?" I didn't believe it myself. "Two of the valves already have. Crushed little bits of glass lying in the bottom of the snow tunnel." "Our little friends think of everything.1'! swore softly. "That settles it, Jackstraw. We can't wait any longer, we'll leave as soon as possible. But first a night's sleepthat we must have." "Uplavnik?" That was our expedition base, near the mouth of the Stromsund glacier. "Do you think we will ever get there?" He wasn't thinking, just as I wasn't, about the rigours and dangers of arctic winter travel, daunting enough though these were when they had to be faced with a superannuated tractor like the Citroen, but of the company we would be keeping en route. If any fact was ever so glaringly obvious that it didn't need mention, it was that the killers, whoever they were, could only escape justice, or, at least, the mass arrest and interrogation of all the passengers, by ensuring that they were the only ones to emerge alive from the ice-cap. "I wouldn't like to bet on it," I said dryly. "But I'd bet even less on our chances if we stay here. Death by starvation is kind of final." "Yes, indeed." He paused for a moment, then switched to a fresh line of thought. "You say they tried to kill you tonight. Is that not surprising? I would have thought that you and I would have been very safe, for a few days at least." I knew what he meant. Apart from Jackstraw and myself, there probably wasn't a handful of people in all Greenland who could start that damned Citroen, far less drive it, only Jackstraw could handle the dogs, and it was long odds indeed against any of the passengers knowing anything at all about astral or magnetic compass navigationthe latter very tricky indeed in these high latitudes. These special skills should have been guarantee enough of our immediate survival. "True enough," I agreed. digital cameras vs film part "But I suspect they haven't given any thought to these things simply because they haven't realised the importance of them. We'll make it our business to point out that importance very plainly. Then we're both insured. Meantime, we'll have one last effort to clear this business up before we get started. It's not going to make us very popular, but we can't help that." I explained what I had in mind, and he nodded thoughtful agreement. After he had gone below, I waited a couple of minutes and then followed him. All nine of the passengers were sitting in the cabin noweight, rather, watching Marie LeGarde presiding over a soup panand I took a long, long look at all of them. It was the first time I had ever examined a group of my fellow-men with the object of trying to decide which among them were murderers, and found it a strange and unsettling experience. In the first place, every one of them looked to me like a potential or actual murdereror murderessbut even with that thought came the realisation that this was purely because I associated murder with abnormality, and in these wildly unlikely surroundings, clad in the layered bulkiness of these wildly unlikely clothes, every one of them seemed far removed from normality. But on a second and closer look, when one ignored the irrelevancies of surroundings and clothes, there remained only a group of shivering, feet-stamping, miserable and very ordinary people indeed. Or were they so ordinary? Zagero, for instance, was he ordinary? He had the build, the strength and, no doubt, also the speed and temperament for a top-ranking heavyweight, but he was the most unlikely looking boxer I had ever seen. It wasn't just that he was obviously a well-educated and cultured manthere had been such boxers before: it was chiefly because his face was absolutely unmarked, without even that almost invariable thickening of skin above the eyes. Moreover, I had never heard of him, although that, admittedly, didn't go for much: as a doctor, I took a poor view of homo sapiens wreaking gratuitous physical and mental injury on homo sapiens, and took little interest in the sport. Or take his manager, Solly Levin, or, for that matter, the Rev. Joseph Small wood. Solly wasn't a New York boxing manager, he was a caricature of all I had ever heard or read about these Runyonesque characters, and he was just too good to be true: so, also, was the Rev. Small wood, who was so exactly the meek, mild, slightly nervous,

The charms of maid, wife, and still less widow,

protectively along the back. She began with her arrival on the Athena and her suspicions about Corish. Nor was she any less than candid about the fit of pique with Optherian bureaucracy which had led her to leave the Conservatory grounds, her subsequent kidnapping, escape, and her second meeting with the young islander. She was as forthright about Larss effect on her sexuality as she was about the impact Nahia. Hauness, and Theach had had on her sympathies. Crystal singing tended to peel off unnecessary veneers and conditioned attitudes, not that she had been afflicted by many, having been raised on Fuerte. During her recitation, Trag had sipped his drink, any reaction hidden by his hooded eyes. He finished the last of the polly liqueur which Lars had elected to serve him as she concluded the summary and he gestured politely to Lars for a refill. They are clever, those old men, but they have not dealt with crystal singers before, Trag said. They have outsmarted themselves this time. Whom the Gods would destroy, they first make mad. Killashandra regarded Trag in mild astonishment and then Lars, wondering if his habit was contagious. But Trags adage was eminently applicable. Or think themselves impervious to the slings and arrows of outraged fortune, Lars said with a mischievous grin. Killashandra groaned in protest. Tomorrow I shall offer to realign the Conservatory instrument. Trag said. I distinctly heard a burr the first sign of a souring crystal. Will they permit you? Killashandra asked. They are greedy. And they have no qualified crystal tuner until we have trained some. I have already resolved the point that the Guild contracted to supply the crystals and technical assistance, without reference to the number of appropriate technicians supplied. Therefore no further sum is to be paid by them. Until they received that reassurance from me, they were trying to make out that you were in breach of contract In breach? Me? When they placed me in jeopardy? First by hiring an assailant to prove my Heptite origination? Then they hinder me in the execution of my assignment? And they malign my competence? Killashandra quickly switched to malicious amusement. Not that they will really appreciate the level of competence we have exhibited! Nor the caliber of the technical assistance theyve bought! She grinned at Trag. So, what other knotty problems did you solve at dinner? Your incorruptible dedication to your canon a1 digital camera repair Guild. What! Killashandras irritation rekindled. Of all the Trag held up his hand, a gleam in his eye that suggested to Killashandra that he was enjoying her discomfiture. Firmly she controlled herself. It didnt help to notice, out of the corner of her eye, that Lars was struggling to suppress his own amusement. Coming as I do from Guildmaster Lanzeckis office, I am, Trag paused unexpectedly, shooting a glance at Killashandra which she could only interpret as sly, above reproach. I am also male. Apparently the Elders trust few women in any but the most traditional or subordinate capacities. I assured them that not only were you Guildmaster Lanzeckis first choice for such a delicate and crucial installation, but you were mine as well. Killashandra sniffed but gave him a long hard look, to remind him exactly why Killashandra Ree had been Trags first choice. Your praise, Guildmember, is only surpassed by your concern for the welfare of the Guild, she said demurely. In a matter affecting the Guild reputation, I am, too? incorruptible, Trag replied, neatly parrying her thrust. So tomorrow are Lars and I permitted to continue with the Festival organ? Trag nodded. And you will reorganize the second instrument? In the best interests of the guiding precepts of the Federated Sentient Planets Council, yes, I certainly shall. Otherwise I assure you that these Elders would not receive unreimbursed and gratuitous services from the Heptite Guild. Bravo! Lars called. Their greed blinds them, Trag said. So, following a recent example, we shall take the opportunity that is presented, he added, nodding toward Lars who returned the compliment. Basically they have trite minds. Security, pride, and sex! Imagine! Inflicting such prurience on tonights audience. Killashandra regarded Trag with mild astonishment. The man was positively garrulous, volunteering comments not to mention uncontracted services. Or was he simply responding to the backlash of that maladroit rendition of the Bolero? Shed have thought Trag made of sterner stuff, especially since hed been forewarned of the subliminals. Oh, thats a common diet for the Conservatory, Lars said. For the masses, they have other themes, sometimes so indigestible I wonder how they can be swallowed, even conditionally. Mainlanders are often subjected to a spectrum ranging

Are in that word - Farewell! - farewell!

did not go off. Yet you say that it goes off whenever the mineral residue is detected. Crystal resonance might mask or confuse the detector, Trag remarked, choosing his words slowly. For the same thing occurred, and with Thyrol beside me, when I exited the port. Why dont we just boldly go under the fardling arc then? Both of us with Lars between. You no longer resonate, Killashandra, Trag said. Besides, that only helps me, Killa. I wont leave the others vulnerable to the Elders reprisals. Impasse! Killashandra threw her hands out in disgust but she had to admire Larss stand. Wait a minute. I may not resonate, but white crystal does. Trag, they blow out the monitors at the sound of an A. Wont crystal resonance affect other piezoelectrical equipment? I know itd be folly to try to blow out the shuttleport detector Thats been tried, too, Killa. Lars interrupted her with a rueful grin. Trag? If crystal resonance provides a mask I should not like to put it to the test and fail. Killashandra turned to Lars. You said something about your father being able to detect Council agents. Does he have a unit? A small one. If we had it, we could test crystal resonance with it. Weve got all those crystal shards, Trag, and you know how interactive white is. First we have to contact my father, Lars said with an ironic laugh, then get him and the device here. Oh, its not large but certainly not something you carry bare-faced through City streets. But, even as Lars spoke in pessimistic terms, it was clear to Killashandra that she had revived his hopes. All the more reason, Trag, for, you to get to Ironwood and make contact with Nahia and Hauness. Theyve got the oceanjet. They could discreetly bring Father and the device as far as Ironwood. There are no other embarkation clearances at the shuttleport? Trag asked. Lars shook his head slowly. No other beside the security curtain has ever been needed. You forget, Trag, that loyal, happy, natural Optherians have no desire to leave their planet. Only tourists, who can buy tickets anywhere, so long as theyve enough credit. Then, and Trag got to his feet, carefully putting the glass down on the nearest surface, patently I must oblige both you and the greedy Elders. Good night. Killashandra watched, wondering if the polly kids digital cameras crayola had got to the impervious Trag but his step was as firm and unswerving as ever. She saw that Lars was watching his progress, a very thoughtful expression on his face. If this idea works, Killa, he said, taking her in his arms, his eyes on that distant prospect, is there enough crystal to get six or seven people off Optheria? Dont hope too hard, Lars! she cautioned him, her head against his shoulder, her arms about him. Nor can we schedule a mass exodus on the next liner without giving the whole scheme away. But if crystal resonance fools the scanner, the most vulnerable people will get free. The Festival season hasnt even started. When it does, a few one-way passengers could go out on each flight. She looked up and caught the bleak look on his face. Lars, dance with me? To a distant drum? he asked with a rueful grin, but he shortly sloughed off depression. The next morning Killashandra woke to the second chimes and to an interesting idea. Lars, Lars, wake up. Why? and he attempted to pull her back down on the bed, murmuring suggestions. No, Im serious. We responded to the subliminals last night, didnt we? How long are they supposed to be effective? Huh? I dunno. Ive never Oh, I see what you mean! And he sat up, linking his arms about his raised knees and considering the implications. We never took last nights performance into our deliberations, did we? He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then grinned at her. Id say we could work this to our advantage. Security, pride, and sex, huh! Lars began to laugh, a mirth which developed into such a paroxysm that he fell back on the bed and hauled his knees up to his chin to relieve the muscular cramp of uncontrollable laughter. Trag appeared in the doorway, pointed to the ceiling monitor and, when Killashandra pointed to the jammer on the table, he came in and shut the door, regarding Lars expressionlessly. We got conditioned last night, Trag, Killashandra said by way of explanation as she hauled her coverall on. I dont think I should overdo it, but if Lars wants to act disaffected with me, it will lull Ampris and Torkes into thinking their programmings effective. Even on a crystal singer. Trag, I could even stay on here not want to leave Optheria. Im a musician. If last night is the best they can do, just lead me to a keyboard! Ill show em some sensory music thatll

And needed not a foil of contraries

salty, but firm, parting hers as he settled his mouth against her, and once again the shock of their contact was almost like crystal. Hungrily Killashandra surrendered to his deft kiss, trying to meld her body against the strong, lean length of him. She altered her arms, stroking the silky skin of his hard-muscled back, all her senses involved in this simple act. They parted slightly, his hands still caressing her, one hand on the bare skin beneath her shirt as she gently stroked his shoulders, breathless and unable to leave his supporting arms. If his embrace had begun as perfunctory, it wasnt now. There was about his grasp a sense of astonishment, wonder, and discovery. I must know your name, he said softly, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes. Carrigana, she managed to remember to say. Why have I never seen you before? You have, she said with a rich, suggestive chuckle, amused by her own presumption, but you are always too busy with deep thoughts to see what you look at. I am all eyes now Carrigana. A slight tremor in his soft tone sent one through her body, as his hands renewed their grip, encouraging her body to conform to his. Part of her mind recognized the sincerity in his voice while another section wondered how she could make the most of this encounter. All of her didnt care what else happened to either of them if they could just enjoy this one evening. She was so hungry it had been months since shed made love. Not yet, sweet Sunny, not yet, he said determinedly but gently disengaging himself. Weve the whole night before us, and his low voice lilted with promise. Youll know I cannot absent myself so soon. And well both be the stronger after a good meal his laughter rippled with sensuality for our dalliance. She let herself be swung again to his side, his arm tucking hers against his ribs, his warm hand stroking hers as he guided her to the barbecue pits. She had no argument against his so firm decision. Although she murmured understanding, she seethed with abruptly interrupted sensations, forcing herself to an outward amity. Perhaps it was as well, she told herself, as they collected platters from one of the long tables and joined those awaiting slices of roasted meat. Shed need time to recover and buffer herself against the charisma of the man. He was as potent as Lanzecki. And that was the first time shed thought of the Guildmaster in a sony digital camera products while! What did Lars mean in saying shed know why he couldnt absent himself so soon? How important was he within the island society, aside from being its first citizen to get into the Conservatory? Then they were in the midst of the eager diners, with Lars exchanging laughing comments, teasing acquaintances, his rich lilting laughter rising above theirs. Yet he kept a firm grip on Killashandra and she tried to compose her expression against the surprise in the womens faces and the curiosity of the men. Who was this Lars Dahl when he wasnt kidnapping crystal singers? Once thin slices of the juicy meat had been served them, Lars Dahl escorted her back to the table and they sank to the sand. Lars kept his left hand lightly on her thigh as he filled their plates from the foods displayed in the center of the table: breaded fried fish bits, steaming whiteroots, chopped raw vegetable, large yellow tubers which had been baked in polly leaves and exuded a pungent spiciness. He snagged a jug as it was being passed and filled their cups, deftly pouring without losing so much as a drop. Killashandra was aware of furtive glances the length of the table for Lars Dahls partner. She looked for Keralaw for her support but there was no sign of her friend. Nor could she discern any animosity in the scrutinies. Curiosity, yes, and envy. Eat. I guarantee youll need your strength Carrigana. Though she gave him a gleaming smile, she wondered why he had hesitated with the name, as if he was savoring the sound of it, the way he had rolled the rs and lengthened the final two as. Was he dissembling? Had he recognized her? He knew shed been injured by that island star-knife She almost pulled away from him, startled by a sudden knowledge that he had thrown that vicious starblade at her. She shook her head, smiling to answer his sudden quizzical look, and applied herself to the heaped food. His hand soothed her thigh, the fingers light and caressing. You sure can pick em, Killashandra, she thought, pulled by intense and conflicting emotions. She couldnt wait to roll with him, somewhere in the warm and fragrant plantation, with the surf pounding in rhythm with her blood. She wanted to solve the conundrums he represented, and she was determined to resolve each one to her advantage and furious that he didnt even recognize the woman he had first injured and then abducted. Yet, with all

Until that heart shall cease to beat.

battledress into a tight ball and heaved it regretfully over the side. Weighted by the heavy stone he had carried aboard, it was gone from sight in a second. Morosely he surveyed himself in the mirror propped up against the for'ard end of the wheelhouse. Apart from a deep violet sash wrapped round his lean middle and a fancifully embroidered waistcoat with its former glory mercifully faded, be was dressed entirely in black. Black lacing jackboots, black baggy trousers, black shirt and black jacket: even his sandy hair had been dyed to the same colour. He shuddered and turned away. "Thank Gawd the boys back home can't see me now!" he said feelingly. He looked critically at the others, dressed, with some minor variations, like himself. "Waal, mebbe I ain't quite so bad after all. . . . Just what is all this quick-change business for, boss?" "They tell me you've been behind the German lines twice, once as a peasant, once as a mechanic." Mallory heaved his own ballasted uniform over the side. "Well, now you see what the well-dressed Navaronian wears." "The double change, I meant Once in the plane, and now." "Oh, I see. Army khaki and naval whites in Alex., blue battledress in Casteirosso and now Greek clothes? Could have beenalmost certainly weresnoopers in Alex. or Casteirosso or Major Rutledge's island. And we've changed from launch to plane to M.T.B. to caique. Covering our tracks, Corporal. We just can't take any chances." Miller nodded, looked down at the clothes sack at his feet, wrinkled his brows in puzzlement, stooped and dragged out the white clothing that had caught his eye. He held up the long, voluminous clothes for inspection. "To be used when passing through the local cemeteries, I suppose." He was heavily ironic. "Disguised as ghosts." "Camouflage," Mallory explained succinctly. "Snowsmocks." "What!" "Snow. That white stuff. There are some pretty high mountains in Navarone, and we may have to take to them. Sosnowsmocks." Miller looked stunned. Wordlessly he stretched his length on the deck, pillowed his head and closed his eyes. Mallory grinned at Andrea. "Picture of a man getting his full quota of sunshine before battling with the Arctic wastes. . . . Not a bad idea. Maybe you should get some sleep, too. I'll keep watch for a couple of hours." For five hours the caique continued on its course parallel to the Turkish coast, slightly west of north and rarely more replacement chargers for digital camera than two miles off-shore. Relaxed and warm in the still kindly November sun, Mallory sat wedged between the bulwarks of the blunt bows, his eyes ceaselessly quartering sky and horizon. Amidships, Andrea and Miller lay asleep. Casey Brown still defied all attempts to remove him from the engine-room. Occasionally very occasionallyhe came up for a breath of fresh air, but the intervals between his appearances steadily lengthened as he concentrated more and more on the aged Kelvin engine, regulating the erratic drip-fed lubrication, constantly adjusting the air intake: an engineer to his finger-tips, he was unhappy about that engine: he was drowsy, too, and headachythe narrow hatchway gave hardly any ventilation at all. Alone in the wheelhousean unusual feature in so tiny a caiqueLieutenant Andy Stevens watched the Turkish coast slide slowly by. Like Mallory's, his eyes moved ceaselessly, but not with the same controlled wandering. They shifted from the coast to the chart: from the chart to the islands up ahead off the port bow, islands whose position and relation to each other changed continually and deceptively, islands gradually lifting from the sea and hardening in definition through the haze of blue refraction: from the islands to the old alcohol compass swinging almost imperceptibly on rusted gimbals, and from the compass back to the coast again. Occasionally, he peered up into the sky, or swung a quick glance through a 180-degree sweep of the horizon. But one thing his eyes avoided all the time. The chipped, fly-blown mirror had been hung up in the wheelhouse again, but it was as if his eyes and the mirror were of opposite magnetic poles: he could not bring himself to look at it. His forearms ached. He had been spelled at the wheel twice, but still they ached, abominably: his lean, tanned hands were ivory-knuckled on the cracked wheel. Repeatedly, consciously, he tried to relax, to ease the tension that was bunching up the muscles of his arms; but always, as if possessed of independent volition, his hands tightened their grip again. There was a funny taste in his mouth, too, a sour and salty taste in a dry, parched mouth, and no matter how often he swallowed, or drank from the sun-warmed pitcher at his side, the taste and the dryness remained. He could no more exorcise them than he could that twisting, cramping ball that was knotting up his insides, just above the solar plexus, or the queer,

"Now this being done, away he did run

look embarrassed. Then she gave Lars a penetrating look which he returned with an impudent wink. And Im hungry. We didnt eat any lunch in order to get the installation completed. Mirbethan was full of apologies and, when both Trag and Lars said they were sure the Infirmary was of the same high standard as the rest of the premises, she led them back to their quarters. Once inside, Lars ostentatiously activated the jammer and Killashandra heaved a sigh of relief. She hadnt realized how tense shed become. Im hungry, thats all, Im hungry, she told herself as she made her way to the caterer. Where did you find the subliminal unit, Trag? Lars asked, pausing at the drinks cabinet. Under the stage, but keyed by the same motif. For clever men, the Elders can be repetitive. Killashandra gave a contemptuous snort. Probably cant remember anything more complicated at their advanced ages. Dont make the mistake of underestimating them, Killashandra, Trag said solemnly as he poured himself a blew. Let them have that privilege, Lars added. Sententious bastards. Were down to Bascum, Killa. Well, that goes well with the fish, which seems the only thing left on todays menu. Lars guffawed. It always is. Take the soup instead, he said in a tone that suggested dire experience. And dont, Killa, play my music again in the Conservatory, he added, waggling a finger at her. Balderol heard me practice often enough. I won t say Im sorry, Killashandra replied. It just happened to develop from the previous chord. Its probably the most original music ever played on that organ if what we heard last night is standard. They dont want originality, Killa, Lars said with a twist to his smile. They want more of the same that they can orchestrate to mind-penetration. Trag, what did Ampris say about your doing the provincial organs? I havent suggested it. Yet. There has been no opportunity. Lars looked anxious. Im the one whos greedy now. Disabling their program in the City is a big step forward because so many provincials make the trek here in order to say theyve heard the Festival Organ. But theyre not the ones whod be recruited to Ampriss punitive force. So theyre the ones we want to keep unaffected this year. Who else has access to the organ lofts? Trag asked. Only Ah! Larss expressive face altered to triumph. Comgail never got the chance to make his annual inspection of the other philips key chain digital camera facilities. And maintenance is Ampriss responsibility, not Torkes. Hell have to use you and Killa, Trag. He hasnt anyone else. And he certainly wouldnt entrust maintenance to the puff heads youre supposed to initiate into the art of crystal tuning. Especially not you, Lars, said Killashandra with a laugh. Lets not continue that part of the farce. Killa, Lars said. Why not? asked Trag. I think you must realize that we will not leave you on this planet, no matter how cleverly you could hide yourself amid your islands, Lars Dahl. Crystal tuning is a universal skill. So is sailing, Trag. But let us continue as we have started. Farce or not, it keeps you in our company and safe. Trag, are you recruiting? Even to herself, Killashandra sounded unnecessarily sharp. Trag turned his head slowly to look at her, his heavy features expressionless. Recruiting is not permitted by the FSP, Killashandra Ree. She snorted, Neither is subliminal conditioning, Trag Morfane! Lars looked from one to the other, grinning at this evidence of unexpected discord. Here, here, whats this? An old controversy, Killashandra replied quickly. If all the provincial organs need at least basic maintenance, then you and I, Trag, are the only qualified technicians on Optheria. Ampris will have to ask you, for I cant see him asking me, and that solves that problem, doesnt it? It should, Lars replied, grinning at her for her change of subject and the facile solution. We shall see. Trag added, rising to refill his glass. I need a bath, Killashandra said, rising. After a morning spent with Ampris, I feel unclean! Now that you mention it, Lars murmured and followed her. A stolid security man drove the small ground vehicle that evening. Its plasglas canopy gave her an unobstructed view of the City in its tortured sprawl as she was driven sedately down from the Conservatory prominence. The spring evening was mild and the sky cloudless. Quite likely, Killashandra thought, she was seeing the City at its best, for spring growth hazed most of the vegetation with a delicate green, gold, or fawn brown, providing some charm to the otherwise sterile

Our argument's whole drift we shall forget;

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they Who's right, who's wrong, 'twill be all one to us; imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

And there he met a silly old woman,

certain to come hot-footing out here. Work it out for yourself. They're probably half-way here already, and if they do come . . ." He broke off, stared at the smashed generator and the ruins of Casey Brown's transmitter set lying in one corner of the entrance hail. "Done a pretty good job on these, haven't they?" he said bitterly. "Thank the Lord," Miller said piously. "All the less to tote around, is what I say. If you could only see the state of my back with that damned generator" "Sir!" Brown had caught Mallory's arm, an action so foreign to the usually punctilious petty officer that Mallory halted in surprise. "Sir, it's terribly importantthe report, I mean. You must listen, sir!" The action, the deadly earnestness, caught and held Mallory's fully attention. He turned to face Brown with a smile. "O.K., Casey, let's have it," he said quietly. Things can't possibly be any worse than they are now." "They can, sir." There was something tired, defeated about Casey Brown, and the great, stone hail seemed strangely chill. "I'm afraid they can, sir. I got through to-night. First-class reception. Captain Jensen himself, and he was hopping mad. Been waiting all day fbr us to come on the air. Asked how things were, and I told him that you were outside the fortress just then, and hoped to be inside the magazine in an hour or so." "Go on." "He said that was the best news he'd ever had. He said his information had been wrong, he'd been fooled, that the invasion fleet didn't hold up overnight in the Cyclades, that they had come straight through under the heaviest air and E-boat escort ever seen in the Med., and are due to hit the beaches on Kheros some time before dawn to-morrow. He said our destroyers had been waiting to the south all day, moved up at dusk and were waiting word from him to see whether they would attempt the passage of the Maidos Straits. I told him maybe something could go wrong, but he said not with Captain Mallory and Miller inside and besides he wasn'the couldn't risk the lives of twelve hundred men on Kheros just on the off chance that he might be wrong." Brown broke off suddenly and looked down miserably at his feet. No one else in the hail moved or made any sound at all. "Go on." Mallory repeated in a whisper. His face was very pale. "That's all, sir. That's all there is.. The destroyers are coming through the Straits at midnight." Brown looked down at his luminous watch. "Midnight. Four hours to go." "Oh, God! Midnight!" Mallory was stricken, lexar digital camera memory card his eyes for the moment unseeing, ivory-knuckled hands clenched in futility and despair. "They're coming through at midnight! God help them! God help them all now!" CHAPTER 15 2000-2115 Eight-thirty, his watch said. Eight-thirty. Exactly half an hour to curfew. Mallory flattened himself on the roof, pressed himself as closely as possible against the low retaining wall that almost touched the great, sheering sides of the fortress, swore softly to himself. It only required one man with a torch in his hand to look over the top of the fortress walla catwalk ran the whole length of the inside of the wall, four feet from the topand it would be the end of them alL The wandering beam of a torch and they were bound to be seen, it was impossible not to be seen: he and Dusty Millerthe American was stretched out behind him and clutching the big truck battery in his armswere wide open to the view of anyone who happened to glance down that way. Perhaps they should have stayed with the others a couple of roofs away, with Casey and Louki, the one busy tying spaced knots in a rope, the other busy splicing a bent wire hook on to a long bamboo they had torn from a bamboo hedge just outside the town, where they had hurriedly taken shelter as a convoy of three trucks had roared past them heading for the castle Vygos. Eight thirty-two. What the devil was Andrea doing down there, Mallory wondered irritably and at once regretted his irritation. Andrea wouldn't waste an unnecessary second. Speed was vital, haste fatal. It seemed unlikely that there would be any officers insidefrom what they had seen, practically half the garrison were combing either the town or the countryside out in the direction of Vygosbut if there were and even one gave a cry it would be the end. Mallory stared down at the burn on the back of his hand, thought of the truck they had set on fire and grinned wryly to himself. Setting the truck on fire had been his only contribution to the night's performance so far. All the other credit went to either Andrea or Miller. It was Andrea who had seen in this house on the west side of the squareone of several adjoining houses used as officers' billetsthe only possible answer to their problem. It was Miller, now lacking all time-fuses, clockwork, generator and every other source of electric power who had suddenly stated that he must have a battery, and again it was Andrea, hearing the distant approach

"Some suits I'll give to thee;

cruisers or liners. Shed logged five weeks of interstellar travel and must somehow endure another five before she reached the Optherian system. Could Trag have done a subtle job recruiting her because no other singer would consider the assignment? No, the fee was too good besides. Borella, Concera, and Gobbain had been trying for it. In the orbital position of a small moon, the Transfer Satellite inscribed a graceful forty-eight-hour path about the brilliant blue-and-green jewel of a planet. The satellite was a marvel of modern engineering, with docking and repair facilities capable of handling FSC cruisers and the compound ships of the Exploration and Evaluation Corps, felicitously sited at the intersection of nine major space routes. Fresh fruit and vegetables were grown in its extensive gardens, and high quality protein was manufactured in its catering division: sufficient in quantity and diversity to please the most exacting clients. Stores of the basic nutrients were available for five other star-roving species. Additional nodules accommodated small industries and a thriving medical research laboratory and hospital. In the transient quadrant, there were playing fields, free-ball and free-fall courts, spacious gardens, and a zoo housing a selection of the smaller life forms from nine nearby star systems. As Killashandra perused the directory in her room, she noted with considerable delight that a radiant fluid tank was one of the amenities in the gymnasium arc. Although she was certain that there had been some decrease of the resonance in her body, she ached for the total relief provided by an hour or so in the radiant fluid. She booked the room and, fed up with the reaction of ordinary people to her proximity, took the service route to it. She had also decided that she was not going to spend the five weeks on the cruise ship enhancing crystal singer myths. Just then her bruised and aching heart had no room for affection, much less passion. And crystal neutralized passing fancy or pure lust. If she could reduce the hair-standing phenomenon to a minimum, she intended to adopt a new personality: that of an aspiring young musician traveling to Optherias Summer Festival, and required by economics to travel off-season and on the cheaper freight lines. She had spent long hours preparing the right make-up for the part, affecting the demeanor of the very young, inexperienced adult and recalling the vocabulary and idiom of her student days. So much had transpired since that carefree time that it a95 camera cannon digital power shot was like studying for an historic role. In such rehearsals, Killashandra found that time passed quickly. Now if her wretched body would co-operate After nine hours of immersions over the course of three days, Killashandra achieved her goal. She acquired a suitable modest wardrobe. On the fifth day on the Bernards World Transfer Station, in wide-eyed and breathless obedience to the boarding call, she presented her ticket to the purser of the FSPS Liner Athena, and was assigned a seat on the second of the two shuttles leaving the station to catch the liner on its parabolic route through the star system. The shuttle trip was short and its single forward viewscreen was dominated by the massive orange hulk of the Athena. Most of the passengers were awed by the spectacle, babbling about their expectations of the voyage, the hardships they had endured to save for the experience, their hopes for their destinations, anxieties about home-bound relatives. Their chatter irritated Killashandra and she began to wish she had not posed as a student. As the respected member of a prestigious Guild, she would have been assigned to the star-class shuttle. However, shed made the choice and was stuck with it, so she grimly disembarked onto the economy level of the Athena and located her single cabin in the warren. This room was the same size as her Fuertan student apartment but, she told herself philosophically, she wouldnt be so likely to step out of character. Anyway, only the catering and lounge facilities differed with the price of the ticket: the leisure decks were unrestricted. The Athena, a new addition to the far-flung cruise line Galactica, Federated, was on the final leg of its first sweep round this portion of the Galaxy. Some of the ohs and ahs that Killashandra breathed were quite genuine as she and other economy class passengers were escorted on the grand tour of the liner. A self-study complex included not only the schoolroom for transient minors but small rehearsal rooms where a broad range of musical instruments could be rented with the notable exceptions of a portable Optherian organ a miniature theater, and several large workshops for handicrafters. To her astonishment, the gymnasium complex boasted three small radiant fluid tanks. Their guide explained that this amenity eased aching muscles, overcame space nausea, and was an economical substitute for a water bath since the fluid could be purified after every use.

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at

Each lucid interval of thought

been used in the Antarctic a quarter century previously but, as far as I knew, had not been improved upon yet. With Jackstraw established on the sledge, I walked back to the tractor and pushed aside the canvas screen at the back of the wooden body. What with the faces of the passengers, drawn and pinched and weirdly pale in the light of the tiny overhead bulb, the constant shivering, the chattering of teeth and the frozen breath drifting upwards to condense and freeze on the wooden roof, it was a picture of utter and abject misery: but I was in no mood to be moved at that moment. "Sorry for the delay," I said. "Just off again now. But I want one of you for a lookout." Both Zagero and Corazzini volunteered almost in the same breath, but I shook my head. "You two get what sleep or rest you canI'm liable to need you very much later on. Perhaps you, Mr Mahler?" He looked pale and ill, but he nodded silently, and Zagero said in a quiet voice: "Corazzini and myself too high up on the list of suspects, huh?" "I wouldn't put either of you at the very foot," I said shortly. I waited till Mahler had climbed down then dropped the canvas and walked round to the driver's seat. Theodore Mahler, strangely enough, proved only too anxious to talkand keep on talking. It was so completely out of keeping with the idea I had formed of his character that I was more than surprised. Loneliness, perhaps, I thought, or trying to forget the situation, or trying to divert my thoughts and suspicions: how wrong I was on all three counts I wasn't to find out until later. "Well, Mr Mahler, it looks as if the itinerary of your European trip is going to be upset a bit." I had almost to shout to make my words heard above the roar of the tractor. "Not Europe, Dr Mason." I could hear the machine-gun-like chatter of his teeth. "Israel." "You live there?" "Never been there in my life.1 There was a pause, and when his voice came again it was all but drowned in the sound of the engine. I thought I caught the words 'My home'. "Youyou're going to start a new life there, Mr Mahler?" Tm sixty-ninetomorrow," he answered obliquely. "A new life? Let's say, rather, that I'm going to end an old one." "And you're going to live there, make your home thereafter sixty-nine years in another country?" "Millions of us Jews have done just that, in the past ten years. Not that I've lived in fuji finepix 50fd digital camera America all my life. . . . " And then he told me his storya story of refugee oppression that I'd heard a hundred times, with a hundred variations. He was a Russian Jew, he said, one of the millions of the largest Jewry in the world that had been 'frozen' for over a century in the notorious Pale of Settlement, and in 1905 had been forced to flee with his fatherleaving mother and two brothers behindto escape the ruthless massacres carried out by the 'Black Hundreds' at the behest of the last of the Romanoff Tzars who was seeking scapegoats for his crushing defeat by the Japanese. His mother, he learned later, had just disappeared, while his two brothers had survived only to die in agony long years afterwards, one in the rising in the Bialystok ghetto, the other in the Treblinka gas chambers. He himself had found work in the clothing industry in New York, studied in night school, worked for an oil company, married and with the death of his wife that spring had set about fulfilling the agelong ambition of his race, the return to their holy land. It was a touching story, pathetic and deeply moving, and I didn't believe a word of it. Every twenty minutes I changed position with Jackstraw and so the long hours of the night dragged by as the cold deepened and the stars and the moon wheeled across the black vault of the sky. And then came moonset, the blackness of the arctic night rushed across the ice-cap, I slowed the Citroen gratefully to a stop and the silence, breathless and hushed and infinitely sweet, came flooding in to take the place of the nightlong clamour of the deafening roar of the big engine, the metallic clanking of the treads. Over our black sugarless coffee and biscuits I told our passengers that this would be only a brief three-hour halt, that they should try to get what sleep they could: most of them, myself included, were already red-eyed and drooping from exhaustion. Three hours, no more: not often did Greenland offer travel weather like this, and the chance was not to be missed. Beside me, as I drank my coffee, was Theodore Mahler. He was for some reason restless, ill at ease, jerky and nervous, and his eyes and attention both wandered so much that it was easy enough for me to find out what I wanted. When my cup was empty, I whispered in Mahler's ear that there was a little matter that I wished to discuss privately with him. He looked at me in surprise, hesitated, then nodded in