Chapter Twenty-Four
That night, Kriss took up the touchlyre for the first time since leaving Farr’s World.
He pulled it from its case and let it float freely, turning slowly, in the centre of his cabin, watching the light play across each surface, subtly shading the black wood, burning in the burnished copper plates, glinting and glittering across the silver strings. Finally, hesitantly, he gathered it in, tensing, ready to fling it away if the immaterial fingers from the alien device hidden inside reached into his mind and tried to turn his anger at Rigel into a weapon. He wanted—needed—to play it, but whatever Rigel did to him, he would not allow the touchlyre to hurt him, or anyone else in the Family. He had felt no threat of that when he had played for Tevera just before leaving Farr
