The Agent Gambit
dropped out with him.
    In the next few minutes, the situation in the lobby had grown noisier and more confused. Cops and firefighters were everywhere, yelling and pushing people around. Miri caught sight of two rescue workers shoving Peter Smith toward the door, and grinned.
    "Tough Guy?"
    "Hmm?" A gaggle of turtles had wandered into the lobby and he was staring at them, brows pulled together in a half-frown.
    "Do you know Terrence O'Grady?"
    The green eyes flicked to her face, his frown smoothing away to that look of bland politeness. Miri braced herself for a lie.
    One of his eyebrows slid slightly askew and he took a deliberate breath, then released it.
    "I don't know Terrence O'Grady," he said slowly. "But, for a few days, I was Terrence O'Grady."
    The truth, after all. Miri blinked.
    "I was afraid of that." She jerked her head toward the aliens in the lobby. "Friends of yours?"
    He returned to his study. "It is difficult to be certain at this distance. They may actually be-kin."
    She looked at him blankly and saw his face go from intent concentration to extreme pleasure as one of the Clutch began expounding incomprehensibly in its foghorn voice.
    "That's Edger."
    "It's what?" she demanded, dropping a wary hand to his arm.
    "Edger," he repeated. "The big one in the middle is my brother Edger."
    "Oh." She frowned at the group, and then at him. Maybe he's flipped, Robertson, she thought nervously. Don't look it, though.
    The Clutch members were standing together, three of them waiting with visible patience, looking at nothing in particular, while the fourth-the loud one who stood a large head taller than his fellows-was in an attitude of animated attention. Edger, Miri reminded herself.
    "Okay," she said, going with the gag for the moment. "What's he doing here?"
    "I think . . . ." He paused, eyes on the four aliens. "I think that he must be listening to the music."
    Miri grabbed at the ragged edge of her patience. "What music?"
    Her partner waved a slim hand, encompassing the pandemonium within and without. "Edger is a connoisseur of music. I met him when I was training as First-In Scout. I had a portable 'chora with me . . . ." He shook his head, eyes still on the Clutch members, face relaxed, lips half-smiling.
    "He enjoyed my playing. After I-got to know him, he offered me a place in his household, as Clan musician." The half-smile became a full smile briefly. "He also offered to import a lifemate for me, or a series of pleasure-loves, so I wouldn't sicken for my own kind."
    Miri was staring at him. "First-In Scout?" she repeated, in whispering awe.
    His face closed like a trap, skin pulling tight over his cheekbones and tiny muscles tensing around the eyes; the smile was gone as if it had never been.
    Damn your tongue, Robertson! "What's next, boss?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice matter-of-fact.
    He was already out of the tiny jungle. "Let us talk with Edger."
    They moved quickly across the lobby, dodging firefighters and crowds of tenants being rescued. Val Con stopped before the largest of the Clutch people, Miri at his shoulder.
    Slowly, hands hanging loose, he performed the bow of youth to age, as was proper when one who was yet shell-less would address the magnificence of one whose twelfth shell has set. He bent with the suppleness of a dancer until his forehead brushed his knee, then unbent as slowly and stood waiting to be acknowledged.
    The measured pace of the bow, delivered with correct timing and in counterpoint to the frenziedness of the performance all about, drew Edger's eye. He studied the small figures before him: the brightly furred one standing in motionless respect, and the one who had performed the bow which had drawn the eye bearing a distinct resemblance to-
    "By the first Egg of the first Clutch!" he boomed in joyful Trade. "It is my brother the musician! The dragonslayer! The stranger who teaches! Ahh, I had had suspicions, I will allow, but now they become certainties! Tell me, brother,"

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