With a link a down and a down,

nostrils were as varied as the wind and wave, subtle musty floral fragrances, rotten vegetation, dry sand, fish, and other smells which shed identify later. Of human noises or presences she had no input. She opened her eyes a fraction and it was dark. Encouraged, she widened her vision. She was lying on her back on a woven mat. Sand had blown onto it, gritty against her bare skin, under her head. Overhead, trees bent their fronds, one sweeping against her shoulder in a gentle caress. Cautiously she lifted her torso, propping herself up on one elbow. She was no more than ten meters from the ocean, but the high-tide mark was safely between her and the sea, to judge by the debris pushed into an uneven line along the sand. Islanders? What had Ampris said about the islanders. That theyd had to be disciplined out of autonomous notions? And the young man of the corridor who had assailed her. He had been suntanned. That was why his skin was so dark in comparison to the other onlookers. Killashandra looked around her for any sign of human habitation, knowing that there wouldnt be any. She had been abandoned on the island. Kidnapped and abandoned. She got up, absently brushing the sand off her as she swung about, fighting her conflicting emotions. Kidnapped and abandoned! So much for the prestige of the Heptite Guild on these backward planets. So much for another of Lanzeckis off-world assignments! Why hadnt she left a message for Corish? Chapter 8 Killashandra grimaced as she crossed off yet another week on the immense tree under which she had erected her shelter. She sheathed the knife again and involuntarily scanned the horizon in all directions, for her polly tree dominated the one elevation on the island. Once again she saw distant sails to the northeast, the orange of the triangles brilliant against the sky. May their masts snap in a squall and their bodies rot in the briny deep! she muttered and then kicked at the thick trunk of the tree. Why dont you ever fish in my lagoon? Morning and night she threw in her hook and line and was rewarded by wriggling fish. Some she had learned to throw back, for their flesh was either inedibly tough or tasteless. The small yellowbacks were the sweetest and seemed to throw themselves with selfless sacrifice on her hook. The bronzed young man had not stranded her without equipment. When dawn had come on that bleak first day, she had discovered hatchet, knife, hooks, line, net, best movies with digital camera emergency rations in vacuum pack, and an illustrated pamphlet on the resources of the ubiquitous polly tree. She had cast that contemptuously to one side until boredom set in three days later. For someone who had been as active as Killashandra, enforced idleness was almost a crippling punishment. To pass the time she had retrieved the pamphlet and read it through, then decided to see if she could make something out of this so-universal plant. She had already noticed that many of the trees multiple trunks had had satellite trunks removed at an early age. Her manual said that these were cut for the tender heart or the soft pith, both nutritious. Was the locals interference with nature one of the reasons for their discipline by the mainland? And how far away was the mainland? She couldnt even hazard a guess as to how long she had been unconscious. More than a day, at the least. She wished shed studied the geography of Optheria more closely, for she couldnt even guess at the location of her island on the planets surface. In her first days, she had prowled the islands perimeter ceaselessly, for there were neighboring ones tantalizingly visible even though they were also small. Hers at least boasted a bubbling spring that flowed from its rocky source mid-island into the lagoon. And, if she could trust her judgment, hers was the largest in the cluster. Before she immersed herself in polly tree studies, she had swum to the nearest of the group. Plenty of polly trees but no water. And beyond that islet more were scattered in careless abundance across the clear aquamarine sea some large enough to support only a single tuft of polly trees so she had returned to her island, the best of a bad lot. Working with her hands and for a varied diet did not prevent Killashandra from endless speculations about her situation. She had been kidnapped for a purpose to force an investigation of Optherian restrictions. The FSP, much less her own Guild, would not tolerate such an outrage. If and here her brief knowledge of the Optherians let her down the Optherians admitted to FSP and the Heptite Guild that she had been abducted. Still, the Elders needed an operative organ by the time of the Summer Festival, and to do that they needed a crystal singer to make the installation. The crystal they had, but surely they wouldnt attempt such a delicate job. Well, it wasnt that delicate, Killashandra knew, but the crystal would prove difficult