boots in several days, Omar sat up to stretch and yawn. He glanced at Kosoko and said, “Are you excited about seeing my little island at the top of the world, or is it just another island for you?”
The cartographer didn’t answer. He simply went on staring across the cabin at the far wall. He didn’t blink.
Oh God, not again.
Omar touched the man’s neck.
No pulse.
He grabbed the hilt of his seireiken. He muttered, “Doctor? I need your help again.”
The dim shade of the Indian healer appeared in the center of the cabin, his legs partially obscured by the small barrel of cheeses in the middle of the floor. After squinting at Kosoko, the physician shrugged and said, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing to be done. He’s been dead for quite a while now. It’s the same as that other man from before. Heart failure. But at least this gentleman was older. He seemed like a nice man. And the healer vanished.
Omar grimaced.
No, not now!
He exhaled slowly.
No, it’s all right. The captain didn’t turn back when Garai died, so she won’t turn back now. It’s all right.
“Captain?” he called out. “Can you come back here, please?”
Riuza thumped back to him with one hand on the overhead rail for balance. “What is it?”
Omar gestured to the cartographer. “It would seem our friend Kosoko is no longer with us.”
“What?” Riuza grabbed the dead man’s wrist, and then his neck. “Damn it. What the hell is going on here? Did he say anything?”
“No, nothing. He looked a bit queasy, but he’s looked queasy since we left Tingis. And now he looks the same as Garai did. See the discoloration around the eyes and mouth?”
“Hey, what’s going on back here?” Morayo poked her head over the captain’s shoulder.
Omar leaned over to peer at the cockpit and saw a thin metal bar propped up against the pilot’s controls. The handle wiggled, but stayed upright.
“Kosoko’s dead,” Riuza said.
“Him too? How?” The young engineer took a quick step back from the corpse.
“The doc here says it was his heart, just like Garai.”
“Well, what are the odds of that?” Morayo’s frown shifted quickly into gaping, wide-eyed fear. “What if our food’s been poisoned? What if we’re all going to die?”
“We’re not going to die, lieutenant, settle down.” Riuza turned to Omar. “But it can’t be a coincidence that they’re both dead. What about you, how do you feel?”
“Fine,” Omar said. “I had a little indigestion once, but that was days ago.”
“Captain,” Morayo whispered. “What if he did it?”
“Don’t be stupid, lieutenant. Get back to your station.” But Riuza kept her gaze on her one remaining passenger.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Omar said, raising his empty hands. “I didn’t even know these gentlemen before you introduced me to them. Why would I kill them?”
“So you could get to your damn island,” Morayo said, her face darkening. “With Garai dead, we spent almost no time on the ground looking at the plants and things. It sped up the flight for you, didn’t it?”
Omar shrugged. “Maybe. But why would I kill Kosoko? He stopped his map-work hours ago. He wasn’t holding me up.”
“Maybe not now, but this morning he sure was. Maybe you poisoned him then and he only just now died of it. You’ve had your hands in the food the whole time. And you cooked for us right before Garai died. You could have poisoned his food then,” the engineer said. “What do you think, captain?”
Riuza frowned. “I think we need to stop making wild accusations and start being sensible. We’re a long way from home and this is not the time or place for a grand jury. The chart says we’re nearly at this island of yours, Mister Bakhoum. If we find it, we’ll set down there for the rest of the night and let off Mister Abassi. We’ll refill the boiler and head home in the morning and let the authorities sort this all out then. In the meantime, you’ll be shackled. Your sword, please.” She held out her hand.
Omar winced as he rested his hand on his weapon. “Is that absolutely necessary? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe Garai and Kosoko just happened to die on the same trip for the same reason. Maybe it was just a bad piece of fish. And maybe you killed them both. I don’t know, and right now I don’t care. I just need to get my ship home in one piece, so I’m asking you for that sword. It’s not like you need it right now, do you?”
“The sword!” Morayo’s eyes widened. “Remember how it burned that big beastie’s skin so it didn’t bleed when he killed it? Maybe he stabbed Garai and Kosoko somewhere we wouldn’t see, like in their mouths, or up their backsides!”
Riuza grimaced and shook her head. “Maybe. Like I said, I don’t care. Let’s just focus on getting home. We’re six days out at least, and that’s a long time to be stuck together, so let’s all just keep our heads. Mister Bakhoum?”
With a sigh, Omar tugged his seireiken free of his belt and placed the short sword in the captain’s hand. “Please be very careful with it. Whatever you do, don’t touch the blade. In fact, you shouldn’t draw it at all.”
Behind the two women, he caught sight of the shade of Ito Daisuke staring down at the little engineer. Slowly the samurai looked up at Omar and said, She never spoke to the dead men, did she?
But when Omar let go of the sword, the ghost vanished and he was left to wonder what the dead warrior had meant.
Riuza frowned, then handed the weapon to Morayo so she could pulled a length of twine from the overhead bins. “Your hands, Mister Bakhoum.”
“This really isn’t necessary,” he said as he held up his wrists together for her to bind.
The dim cabin brightened suddenly as though the sun had risen in the center of the gondola and Riuza turned to see Morayo holding the naked sword in her hand, its sun-steel blade shining like the full moon.
Omar felt every muscle in his back tense at the sight of his ancient and deadly weapon in the young woman’s hand. And then he realized what the samurai had meant. “You never spoke to them.”
“What?” Riuza said.
“Never once. Not even when we were working together to tie up the ship. Not even to pass the salt at supper.” Omar glanced up at the captain. “In the last seven days, I’ve never once heard your lieutenant talk to Garai or Kosoko.”
“So what? It’s not a crime to ignore someone.”
“No,” Omar said slowly. “She didn’t ignore them. She shunned them. Except when she gave us the ginger as we were leaving Tingis. But even then, she only looked at me, and never at them.”
“Huh.” Riuza looked back at her engineer. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall you ever really talking to them on any of our expeditions. Not even to give them a hard time. And you give everyone a hard time.”
Morayo glared at them, her face nearly chalk-white from the blazing light of the seireiken. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Tell me about your family,” Omar said. “Do they live in the south, near the Songhai border? A man in Tingis told me that last summer the Songhai raiders came over the border and killed the homesteaders up in the hills, but there was no retribution because the Mazigh queen refuses to declare war on the Empire.”
“Lieutenant?” Riuza stepped closer to the engineer. “Put down that sword and answer the man’s question. Was your family involved in the attacks last summer?”
“Yes,” the young woman whispered. The bright sword in her hand crackled with electric arcs and the air around it began to warble and ripple like a mirage on the desert sand. “They killed my parents, and my little sister. They even killed my dog. Burned the house to the ground. Burned the orchard to the ground. They left nothing alive.” Morayo face twisted with rage. “And what did the queen do? Nothing. She’s too damned scared to defend her own people, so while she’s safe up in her palace in the sky, we’re the ones dying. We’re dying, captain!”
“So you killed Garai and Kosoko?” Riuza asked softly. “Because they’re Songhai?”
