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deal more about island life, and had tremendous respect for it. The easygoing gentleness of the style would be abhorrent to the persnickety mainlanders. In the early days of their subjugation of the islanders, the mainlanders had even tried to prohibit the use of the polly tree in their strict adherence to the letter of their Charter. The polly tree itself worked against the restriction, for it grew with such rapidity and profusion that pruning back the plantations was absolutely essential. The casual islander habit of cutting as needed to provide the essentials for daily life prevented overgrowth. The vigorous polly tree would take root on even a square meter of soil, which accounted for its proliferation in the islands. Killashandra had been hard pressed to cut and strip enough polly fronds to keep up with Keralaws agile weaving but the crystal singer learned as she watched and, to support her adopted identity, wove a few baskets herself. The manufacture, which seemed to be easy when one watched an adept, took considerable manual strength and dexterity, which, fortunately, Killashandra possessed. Seeing the clever way in which Keralaw finished off her mats and baskets taught Killashandra the necessary final touches that spoke of long practice. As they passed a small freshwater lake on their way back, Keralaw suddenly dropped her burden, shucked her clothing, and dashed into the water. Killashandra was quick to follow. Nudity was not, then, a problem. And the soft water was refreshing after the concentrated work of the day. The tantalizing aroma of roasting meat reached them as they neared Keralaws dwelling. She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips appreciatively. Mandolls the cook! Keralaw said with satisfaction. I can smell his seasoning anywhere in the islands. Porson sure had better catch him a smacker to go with it. Nothing better than long beef and smacker. Oho, but we eat good tonight! She rolled her eyes again in anticipation. Well drop these off, and she swung the tangle of baskets on their string, and then we get us pretty. A barbecue nights a good night for Angel Island! And she winked broadly at Killashandra, who laughed. Two barbecue pits had been dug on the beach front. In one a very long animal carcass was slowly turning over the sizzling coals. Four men were good-naturedly attempting to raise a massive fish onto the spit braces, urging each other to greater effort while the onlooking women taunted them for weakness. Prominently centered on the beach was a long low table, digital microscope camera contacts lens already being laid with garlands of flowers, baskets of fruit and other delicacies which Killashandra couldnt identify. An immensely plump woman, with a most luxurious growth of hair spilling down to her knees, greeted Keralaw with delight, chattering about the quantity and quality of the baskets and plates, and then fell silent, cocking her head inquiringly at Killashandra. Here is Carrigana, Ballala, Keralaw said, taking Killashandras arm. In from the outer islands. She wove with me. You picked the right time to come, Ballala said approvingly. We have some good barbecue tonight. Long beef and a smacker! Suddenly a siren split the air with a hoot that occasioned loud cheers from everyone on the beach. Schooners on the last tack: Be here right quick, Keralaw said and then began smoothing her arm in an absent minded way. Killashandra cast it a quick look all the fine hair was standing up. Killashandra rubbed her own brown arms to deflect comment. But Keralaw apparently did not notice the phenomenon. Come, Carrigana, we must get pretty now. Getting pretty meant decorating their hair with the scented flowers that grew on the low bushes under ancient polly trees. There seemed to be a community of possessions on Angel Island, for Keralaw visited several back gardens to find the colors she wanted for her own long tresses. And she had decided that only the tiny cream flowers would do as a garland for Killashandras head, since Killas hair was not long enough to braid. Keralaw offered to trim the dried ends, tutting over the exigencies that had deprived Killashandra of so many amenities on her distant island. Then Keralaw decided that theyd have time to make some wreaths of the fragrant blossoms. Fortunately Killashandra was able to delay starting a wreath until she saw how Keralaw began hers and then the two twisted and tucked the stems in comfortable silence. Eventually, festive sounds drifted back to their ears from the beach and then cheering broke out. Schooners in. Keralaw cried, jumping to her feet, her braids bouncing their floral tips against her waist. She grabbed Killashandras hand, jerking her up. Pick yourself a handsome one, Carrigana. Of course, theyre all handsome on the schooner, she said with an earthy giggle. And away in the morning with no harm done, coming or going. Killashandra followed willingly, clutching her wreaths in her hand, hoping her