amc.killashandra-第20部分

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sort　out　the　sounds　that　reached　her　ears。　Wind　soughing。　Okay。　A　rolling　noise？　Ocean　waves　breaking　on　shore　line　not　far　away。　The　smells　that　accosted　her　nostrils　were　as　varied　as　the　wind　and　wave；　subtle　musty　floral　fragrances；　rotten　vegetation；　dry　sand；　fish；　and　other　smells　which　she'd　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　they'd　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　parison　to　the　other　onlookers。
　Killashandra　looked　around　her　for　any　sign　of　human　habitation；　knowing　that　there　wouldn't　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　Lanzecki's　off…world　assignments！
　Why　hadn't　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　don't　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　e　on　that　bleak　first　day；　she　had　discovered　hatchet；　knife；　hooks；　line；　net；　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　tree's　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　couldn't　even　hazard　a　guess　as　to　how　long　she　had　been　unconscious。　More　than　a　day；　at　the　least。　She　wished　she'd　studied　the　geography　of　Optheria　more　closely；　for　she　couldn't　even　guess　at　the　location　of　her　island　on　the　planet's　surface。　In　her　first　days；　she　had　prowled　the　island's　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　wouldn't　attempt　such　a　delicate　job。　Well；　it　wasn't　that　delicate；　Killashandra　knew；　but　the　crystal　would　prove　difficult　if　not　handled　properly。　So；　grant　that　the　Optherians　would　be　searching　for　her；　would　they　think　to　search　on　the　islands？　Would　the　islanders　be　in　contact　with　the　Ruling　Elders　about　the　terms　of　her　ransom？　If　so；　would　the　extortion　be　successful？
　Probably　not；　Killashandra　thought；　until　the　Ruling　Elders　had　abandoned　any　hope　of　finding　her　within　the　next　two　months。　Of　course；　that　could　throw　their　timetable　off。　It　would　take　nearly　three　months　for　a　replacement　Guild　Member　to　reach　Optheria；　even　if　the　Optherians　admitted　the　loss　of　the　one　already　dispatched　to　them。　On　her　own　part；　she'd　be　stark　raving　lunatic　if　she　was　left　on　this　island　for　several　months。　And　if　the　Optherians　acquired　another　singer　to　install　their　wretched　white　crystal；　that　didn't　mean　that　they'd　continue　their　efforts　to　find　her！
　After　much　deliberation；　silent　as　well　as　vocal；　Killashandra　decided　that　the　smart　thing　to　do　was　rescue　herself。　Her　kidnapper　had　overlooked　a　few　small　points；　the　most　important　of　which　was　that　she　happened　to　be　a　very　strong　swimmer　with　lungs　well　developed　from　singing　opera　and　crystal。　Physically；　too；　she　was　immensely　fit。　She　could　swim　from　island　to　island　until　she　found　one　that　was　inhabited；　one　from　which　she　could　be　rescued。　Unless　all　the　islanders　were　in　on　this　insidious　kidnap　scheme。
　The　hazards　that　she　must　overe　were　only　two：　lack　of　water　was　one；　but　she　felt　that　she　could　refresh　herself　sufficiently　from　the　polly　fruit　…　the　tree　flourished　on　all　the　islands　she　could　see。　Too；　the　larger　denizens　of　the　sea　constituted　a　real　problem。　Some　of　them；　cruising　beyond　her　lagoons；　looked　deadly　dangerous；　with　their　pointed；　toothy　snouts；　or　their　many　wire…fine　tentacles　which　seemed　to　have　an　affinity　for　the　same　yellowback　fish　she　favored。　She　had　spent　enough　time　watching　them　to　know　that　they　generally　fed　at　dawn　and　dusk。　So；　if　she　made　her　crossings　at　midday；　when　they　were　dormant；　she　thought　she　had　a　fairly　good　chance　to　avoid　adding　herself　to　their　diet。
　Three　weeks　on　the　island　was　long　enough！　She　had　a　few　of　the　emergency　food　packets　left　and　they　would　be　unharmed　by　a　long　immersion。
　Following　the　directions　in　her　useful　little　pamphlet；　she　had　made　several　sturdy　lengths　of　rope　from　the　coarse　fiber　of　the　polly　tree；　with　which　she　could　secure　the　hatchet　to　her　body。　Her　original　clothing　was　down　to　shreds　which　she　sewed　with　lengths　of　the　tough　stem　into　a　halter　and　a　loin　cloth。　By　then　she　had　bee　as　tan　as　her　abductor　and　was　forced　to　use　some　of　the　oilier　fishes　to　grease　her　hide　for　protection。　She　would　coat　herself　thoroughly　before　each　leg　of　her　swim　to　freedom。
　Having　made　her　decision；　Killashandra　implemented　it　the　next　day　at　noon；　swimming　to　her　first　destination　in　less　than　an　hour's　time。　She　rested　while　she　made　up　her　mind　which　island　of　the　seven　visible　would　be　next。　She　found　herself　constantly　returning　to　the　one　farthest　north。　Well；　once　there；　none　were　far　away　if　she　decided　she'd　overshot　the　right　line　to　take。
　She　made　that　island　by　mid…afternoon；　dragging　herself　up　onto　the　narrow　shore；　exhausted。　Then　she　discovered　some　of　the　weak　points　in　her　plans：　there　weren't　many　ripe　polly　fruits　on　the　island；　and　fish　wouldn't　bite　on　her　hook　that　evening。
　Because　she　found　too　few　fruits；　she　was　exceedingly　thirsty　by　morning　and　chose　her　next　point　of　call　by　the　polly　population。　The　channel　between　was　dark　blue；　deep　water；　and　twice　she　was　startled　by　dimly　seen　large　shapes　moving　beneath　her。　Both　times　she　floated　face　down；　arms　and　legs　motionless；　until　the　danger　summoned　by　her　flailing　limbs　had　passed。
　She　rested　on　this　fourth　island　all　the　rest　of　that　day　and　the　next　one；　replenishing　her　dehydrated　tissues　and　trying　to　catch　an　oily　fish。　To　her　dismay；　she　could　only　attract　the　yellowbacks。　Eventually　she　had　enough　of　them　to　provide　some　oil　for　her　raddled　skin。
　On　her　voyage　to　the　fifth　island；　a　fair　sized　one；　she　had　her　worst　fright。　Despite　the　sun's　being　at　high　noon；　she　found　herself　i