hallway. To her surprise, the door to Nissa and Lani’s room remained closed, but the door to her own room stood ajar.
Okay. I bet Nissa locked the door and Lani decided to leave through my room.
Brenda closed the door to the classroom and moved with quick purpose toward her open bedroom door. If she handled this right, she could catch Lani and shush her before she disturbed Nissa.
She slid the door open only wide enough for her to get in, her mouth already shaping words. Then she stopped in astonishment. The person in her room wasn’t Lani.
It was Honey Dream.
VI
Two new members of the public, an older man and woman, slid into chairs in the back as the meeting of the Rock Dove Society was getting under way.
Sitting side by side, they listened with perfect attentiveness to an interesting and informative lecture by a Shakespeare professor from Fordham University, the campus of which was located across the street from the Botanical Garden, about the introduction of numerous invasive bird species into the United States by a well-meaning but ecologically underinformed devotee of the Bard’s plays.
If the pair didn’t take notes, or if their gazes seemed to travel restlessly over the assembly, observing who was there with at least as much interest as they watched the brightly colored slides, well, newcomers to an established group are often that way.
After the lecture ended, that same older man and woman were among those who chose to skip fruit punch and cookies in order to go for an undirected tour of the patch of virgin forest that was the Botanical Garden’s heart. Those two were among the first to walk up to—and then directly
into
—a large glacial boulder that was situated a few steps off the trail.
Passing through solid stone was momentarily disconcerting, but then they found themselves in a large round room that was almost prosaic—if one could ignore the fact that the lighting was indirect and appeared to come directly from the stone itself. The room also appeared to be empty.
“I remember when there was a rather lovely Eye of Horus out there,” Pearl said, “painted on the rock to mark the door.”
Shen chuckled dryly. “I suppose someone thought the Eye qualified as graffiti. Or maybe that it attracted a little too much attention to this spot.”
“Maybe,” Pearl agreed, “but I still liked it.”
“So did I,” came a new voice from the apparent emptiness.
Conversation halted in midbreath as a woman emerged from shadows they hadn’t noticed until that moment. She appeared to be somewhere in her late forties. She was clad in neat khaki slacks, a pink polo shirt, and walking shoes.
“I am Billi Rockshaper,” the woman said, extending her right hand. “One of the custodians of this particular warren. You are the first to arrive. Welcome.”
No one would call Billi Rockshaper pretty or even handsome. Her nose was too strong, her upper lip too thin, her lower lip very full. Heavy, coarse, brown hair hung from a straight center part, not so much framing her face as defining it. However, her expression as she came to meet them was pleasant, giving credence to her words of welcome.
“I remember you,” Pearl said, meeting the handclasp. “You ran the slide projector.”
“Digital,” Billi said with a laugh. “I remember when a major feature of running one of those things was fixing them when they jammed. Make yourself comfortable. The others should be along soon. They take care not to leave the meeting all at once.”
“Wise,” Shen said. “It might be noticed.”
A few folding chairs—the expensive type with padded seats—had already been set up. Shen moved to open another, and seated himself with a slight sigh. Pearl was again reminded that although they both had aged, her role as the Tiger had encouraged her to remain far more physically fit than the sedentary Dragon.
Billi moved to continue setting up the chairs, arraying them in a crescent several rows deep. Pearl went to
Okay. I bet Nissa locked the door and Lani decided to leave through my room.
Brenda closed the door to the classroom and moved with quick purpose toward her open bedroom door. If she handled this right, she could catch Lani and shush her before she disturbed Nissa.
She slid the door open only wide enough for her to get in, her mouth already shaping words. Then she stopped in astonishment. The person in her room wasn’t Lani.
It was Honey Dream.
VI
Two new members of the public, an older man and woman, slid into chairs in the back as the meeting of the Rock Dove Society was getting under way.
Sitting side by side, they listened with perfect attentiveness to an interesting and informative lecture by a Shakespeare professor from Fordham University, the campus of which was located across the street from the Botanical Garden, about the introduction of numerous invasive bird species into the United States by a well-meaning but ecologically underinformed devotee of the Bard’s plays.
If the pair didn’t take notes, or if their gazes seemed to travel restlessly over the assembly, observing who was there with at least as much interest as they watched the brightly colored slides, well, newcomers to an established group are often that way.
After the lecture ended, that same older man and woman were among those who chose to skip fruit punch and cookies in order to go for an undirected tour of the patch of virgin forest that was the Botanical Garden’s heart. Those two were among the first to walk up to—and then directly
into
—a large glacial boulder that was situated a few steps off the trail.
Passing through solid stone was momentarily disconcerting, but then they found themselves in a large round room that was almost prosaic—if one could ignore the fact that the lighting was indirect and appeared to come directly from the stone itself. The room also appeared to be empty.
“I remember when there was a rather lovely Eye of Horus out there,” Pearl said, “painted on the rock to mark the door.”
Shen chuckled dryly. “I suppose someone thought the Eye qualified as graffiti. Or maybe that it attracted a little too much attention to this spot.”
“Maybe,” Pearl agreed, “but I still liked it.”
“So did I,” came a new voice from the apparent emptiness.
Conversation halted in midbreath as a woman emerged from shadows they hadn’t noticed until that moment. She appeared to be somewhere in her late forties. She was clad in neat khaki slacks, a pink polo shirt, and walking shoes.
“I am Billi Rockshaper,” the woman said, extending her right hand. “One of the custodians of this particular warren. You are the first to arrive. Welcome.”
No one would call Billi Rockshaper pretty or even handsome. Her nose was too strong, her upper lip too thin, her lower lip very full. Heavy, coarse, brown hair hung from a straight center part, not so much framing her face as defining it. However, her expression as she came to meet them was pleasant, giving credence to her words of welcome.
“I remember you,” Pearl said, meeting the handclasp. “You ran the slide projector.”
“Digital,” Billi said with a laugh. “I remember when a major feature of running one of those things was fixing them when they jammed. Make yourself comfortable. The others should be along soon. They take care not to leave the meeting all at once.”
“Wise,” Shen said. “It might be noticed.”
A few folding chairs—the expensive type with padded seats—had already been set up. Shen moved to open another, and seated himself with a slight sigh. Pearl was again reminded that although they both had aged, her role as the Tiger had encouraged her to remain far more physically fit than the sedentary Dragon.
Billi moved to continue setting up the chairs, arraying them in a crescent several rows deep. Pearl went to
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