The lift stopped one floor below us. I heard the bell, watched the attendant slide a red board across the gate, and looked at the appointment time in my hand.
"How long?"
"Until the crew releases it."
That answered a different question. I stepped nearer the bars. Below them, the top of the carriage stood level with a service opening. Someone had laid a tool roll along the stone edge.
Two covered carts waited behind me. The nearer one carried the Healing Hall's mark. A woman in a flour-dusted apron stood beside the other, holding a basket against her hip.
"You rang early," she told the attendant.
"The brake did."
She looked down the shaft and moved her cart back from the gate.
I had been sent for another check of the shoulder and hand after yesterday's assessment. A short appointment, followed by the movement period I had managed to book in the common hall. Both depended on reaching the lower passage before the evening maintenance closure.
