Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle;

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 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 horizontal lines from digital camera 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 apparent complaisance, she sat, smiled, and laughed at his rather clever comments. Lars Dahl seemed to miss nothing that went on about him, and ate hugely. A beaming plump man wearing half a dozen garlands passed about a platter of the black flesh of the smacker fish, nudging Lars Dahl with a lewd whisper for his ear only, while Lars was lightly kneading her thigh, and then the plump man winked broadly at her, dumping a second slice of the fish onto her plate. She was indeed grateful for the second slice of the smacker for it was succulent and highly unusual in taste, having nothing oily or fishy about it. The fermented polly juice was more subtle than the overripe fruit she had eaten on the island. Lars kept her cup filled, though she noticed that he only sipped at his while appearing to imbibe more freely than the level in his cup suggested. When she admitted that she could eat no more of the cooked foods, he carefully picked one of the large, dark red melons, and, with one hand someone called aloud with a quick guess as to where his other hand was he split it with his knife, glancing expectantly at her. Out of the corner of her eye she had seen another woman so served scoop the seeds from her halved melon. Laughingly she did the same service, settling Lars half in his plate before taking her own. Then, before she could lift her spoon, he had made a thin slice which he lifted to her lips. The flesh of the melon was the sweetest she had ever tasted, velvety, dripping with juice once the flesh was pierced. He took his first bite on top of hers, his even, strong teeth leaving a neat semi-circle all the way to the rind. It was not the first time eating had been part of her love-making, but never before so many, even if all the pairings were performing much the same ritual. Or was that why the air was electric with sensuality? A song, Lars. A song while you can still stand on your feet. Suddenly there was the loud roll of drums and tambourine, and applause, while half a dozen stringed instruments strummed vigorously to presage the advent of evening entertainment. Then the applause settled into a rhythmic beat and the feasters began to chant. Lars Dahl, Lars