The day was fine, the sun high, the air bright and bracing. Sheather filled his lungs appreciatively as he moved down the soft strip of concrete toward the living-place of Angela Lizardi, Senior Commander Retired, Lunatic Unit Inactive.
The T'carais, his brother Edger, did not accompany him on this mission. They had reasoned that two of the Clutch, walking together in an area where non-humans were not often found, would excite comment among the local population. Worse, the novelty of the sighting would doubtless sharpen memories. Dull remembrance was in the best interest of Clutch and human-kin, should one such as Herbert Alan Costello, the Juntavas buyer of secrets, find this place and begin his askings.
So did Sheather come alone to Angela Lizardi's home-place, bearing a message from T'carais to Elder and another, which was to be said to Miri Robertson and Val Con yos'Phelium, should the Elder deem it fitting that Sheather see and speak with those valued persons.
The numbers on the door-fronts counted this way: 352, 354, 356. The door that adorned the number named 358 was heavier than those other doors adorning other digits. This door was hewn of wood, not formed of plastic. This door was scarred and gnarled, beaten by weather. It stood before him with the aloof impartiality of an Elder, minding such duty as was its own, and which was far beyond the ken of a mere Seventh Shell.
Halted by the door, Sheather stood, great eyes dreaming on the scarred wood, accepting the awful dignity of the barrier. After a time, when it seemed right to do so, he lifted his hand and pressed a finger very gently against the glowing white button set in the portal's frame.
Beyond the scarred elder wood, music chimed, high and brief. Sheather waited.
After a while, it seemed right to press the button once more. Again, the music sounded.
The day was noticeably less bright when Sheather assayed the button for the third time. Music sounded, distant behind the door. Closer to hand, another music spoke.
"The lady gone away."
Carefully, for he was well aware of the fragility of even full-grown humans, Sheather turned. Carefully, he looked down.
A human eggling stood by his knee, face uptilted like a flower, brown eyes opened wide.
Humans thought Clutch big-voiced. Sheather made what effort he could, to shape his voice smaller.
"I am looking for Angela Lizardi, pretty eggling. Do you say she has left her home-place?"
The petal-pink skin rumpled as feathery brown eyebrows contracted.
"Lizzie-lady gone," she stated emphatically. "Momma say. I like Lizzie-lady."
"Your regard does you honor," Sheather said solemnly. "Do you know when Lizzie-lady left this place?"
The face puckered again, eyes misting in thought. Sheather stood respectfully, awaiting the outcome of thought.
"Dilly!" That voice was older, sharper. Sheather took his attention from the eggling and discovered a woman bearing down upon him, the child, and the door.
Straight to the eggling rushed the woman, bending to snatch her hand, then snapping upright with such force the child was jerked an inch or two off the soft concrete.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to talk to strangers?" the woman asked the child, her irritation and anger plain to Sheather's ears.
"The eggling did me a service," he said. The woman's eyes flicked to him and she went back a step, taking the child with her. "I am in possession of a message for Angela Lizardi and the eggling tells me she is away from home. Might you know the day upon which she is expected to return?"
The woman blinked, jerking the child close to her side. "Liz left sudden a couple days ago. Sent me a note to keep an eye on the place. We used to watch each other's places, back when I first come onto this street. Liz traveled more back then. Where she went this time or when she's coming back. . ." The woman shook her head, backing away another step. "She didn't say. None of my business. All she asked was to keep an eye on the place."
"I understand," Sheather stated, remembering to moderate his voice. "It is not my intention to call you from your duty. I am . . . sorry . . . not to have met Angela Lizardi at home. Perhaps I shall find her at home another day."
The woman frowned, thrusting the eggling as far behind her as possible while still maintaining a firm grip on her hand. "If I was you and I wanted to get a message to Liz, I'd go to Soldier's Hall and leave word there. Chances are she'll have given them someplace to find her."
"Thank you," said Sheather, inclining his head. "Your suggestion has merit."
"Glad I could help," the woman said and abruptly spun, snatched the eggling into her arms and dashed hastily down the walk.
Sheather paused to review his actions, but could identify nothing in his conversation or stance that might have suggested danger to the woman. Still, he conceded, where the safety of an eggling was the stake, it behooved an adult to be seven-times prudent.
Soldier's Hall, now. He felt he understood the location of that building, on the other side of the city. He would first go to his brother Edger and report these happenings outside the home-place of Angela Lizardi. Most especially would he report the Elder Door and the wise eggling. And then the two of them might walk out into the coolth of Lufkit's evening and seek Soldier's Hall together.