The Domino Pattern

you remember what you all ate at sundown?” I asked.

[The common dish was po krem,] he said. [It’s a shred, a mixture of meat and fruits.]

“Yes, I’ve heard of it,” I said. “What reaches did all of you use?”

For the first time since I’d sat down he turned his face toward me. [My apologies, Mr. Compton.] he said, eyeing me curiously. [I took you to be as other Humans, ignorant of Shorshic custom and honor nodes. For that unspoken slight, I ask your forgiveness.]

“Freely and openly granted,” I assured him, giving silent thanks that I’d had the sense to sacrifice an hour of sleep last night in favor of a crash course in Shorshic social customs and terminology.

[Thank you,] he said. [My reach was galla bread. Master Colix and Master Bofiv used baked prinn scoops.]

So the two dead Shorshians had eaten from the common bowl with the same type of edible scoops, while the Shorshian alive and breathing had used something else. I made a mental note to check with the server Spiders to see if those choices were standard for the three of them, or whether they’d been unique to the fatal evening. “And your individuals?”

[All different,] he said. [Birrsh for Master Colix, valarrki for Master Bofiv. sorvidae for me.] His eyes flicked briefly past my shoulder. [Yet the Spiders said the death was not in the food. Do you believe otherwise?]

“I don’t believe there was any death in the food when it was served to you,” I told him. “But possibly something happened after that. Do you remember anyone approaching your table while you ate? Perhaps to ask a question, or to engage one of you in conversation?”

Tririn cocked his head in thought. I watched him closely, wondering if he was searching his memory or just trying to think up a good lie. [I don’t believe so,] he said at last. [There were servers, of course, but no one else approached.]

“Did you happen to notice who was sitting at the nearby tables?” I asked.

Tririn’s brow wrinkled. [We sat at a corner table,] he said. [There was only one table near us. Unfortunately, my back was to the occupants.]

I grimaced. “I see,” I said. “Well, then—”

“I saw them.” the Nemut on my other side volunteered.

I turned to him in surprise. “You saw them?”

“They were Humans,” he told me. “One female, one male.”

One female …“Was it by any chance that female up there?” I asked, pointing two rows ahead toward Terese.

Or rather, toward Terese’s empty seat. Terese herself had vanished.

So had Bayta.

“Kennrick?” I demanded, standing up for a better look. Neither of the women was anywhere to be seen.

“Take it easy—they’re in the restroom,” Kennrick said, nodding toward the front of the car. “The German girl headed off—kind of fast, actually—and your friend followed.”

“Ah.” I said, frowning as I sat back down. That was at least twice now that Terese had suddenly been taken ill. “Let me rephrase the question.” I said to the Nemut. “Was the woman you saw the same one who usually sits there?”

“I believe so,” he said. “Though Humans are difficult to distinguish between.”

“I understand,” I said. “Can you remember anything about the male Human?”

The Nemut’s angled shoulder muscles quivered briefly in one of their equivalents of a shrug. “His hair was white,” he said. “That is all I remember.”

“That’s fine—you’ve been very helpful,” I assured him. “Thank you.” I turned back to Tririn. “My apologies.” I said. “For the interruption in our talk, I ask your forgiveness.”

[Freely and openly granted,] he assured me. [Do you believe the death was in these Humans?]

“I don’t know yet,” I said. “Two further questions, if I may. First, do you know whether either Master Colix or Master Bofiv had a private food supply? Something they brought aboard, as opposed to something supplied by the servers aboard the train?”

[Master Bofiv had no such supply,] Tririn said. [I would surely have seen if he had.]

“And Master Colix?”

[I don’t know,] Tririn said. [You would need to inquire of one of his seatmates.]

“I’ll do that,” I promised. “Final question, then. Whose idea was it for Master Colix to sit away from you and Master Bofiv?”

[It was Master Colix’s choice,] Tririn said. [He asked specifically for that seat.]

Which was more or less what Terese had implied earlier. “Was there some trouble between the three of you?” I asked.

[Not at all,] Tririn said. [Master Colix prided himself on his knowledge of alien languages. He hoped that seated between a Human and Juri he would have the opportunity to practice and improve his skill at both languages.]

“Really,” I said. “I was under the impression that Shorshic vocal apparatus couldn’t handle either of them.”

Tririn seemed to draw back, as if suddenly realizing he had strayed onto forbidden territory. [There are ways,] he said, his tone guarded.

“Ah “ I said, keeping my expression neutral. According to my reader’s data files, that was an outright lie. Shorshians were completely incapable of speaking anything but Shishish and a smattering of Fili unless they’d had what was rather sarcastically referred to as the Gibber Operation.

Had Colix gone under the knife? I couldn’t tell—Tririn’s phrasing had left that ambiguous, possibly deliberately so. It was clear, though, that he didn’t want to discuss it further.

But there were other ways to get the answer to that one. If Master Colix had been able to speak English or Juric, one of his seatmates would surely know it. “I thank you for your time and patience, Master Tririn,” I said. “Especially on this day of sadness. I hope you’ll be equally gracious should I need to discuss the matter with you further.”

[I will be most pleased to do so, Mr. Compton,] he said. His eyes flicked to Kennrick. [You are welcome to approach at any time.]

“Thank you,” I said. “Good day, Master Tririn.”

I sidled past the Nemut with a nod of thanks, brushed by Kennrick, and headed up the aisle toward the front of the car. I was passing Terese’s empty seat when Kennrick caught up with me. “Wait a minute,” he said in a low voice. “Damn it, Compton—wait.”

“Problem?” I asked, not breaking stride.

“Yes, problem,” he gritted out. “You may be the hotshot detective, but even I know that basic investigative technique includes double-checking everyone’s story.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I told him. “Or had you forgotten that Ms. German is up here in the restroom?”

“I was thinking about the Juri in the other seat,” he growled, jerking a thumb back at Terese’s row. “The one Master Tririn claims Master Colix was speaking Juric to.”

“And you think I should question the Juri about that?” I asked mildly.

“Absolutely,” Kennrick said. “You were right—Shorshic vocal apparatus—”

“You think I should question the Juri about it while Master Tririn is within earshot of the conversation?”

“It wouldn’t be—” We broke off. “Oh. Right. That wouldn’t be very politic, would it?”

“Hardly politic at all,” I agreed. “But it you want to try it, be my guest.”

Kennrick grimaced. “I guess you’ve noticed that Master Tririn and I don’t get along very well.”

“It’s a little hard to miss,” I agreed. “What’s the problem?”

“I just can’t connect with him,” he said. “I really don’t know why.”

“Did you have the same problem when you were on Earth?”

“If we did, I didn’t notice it,” he said. “It was only after we came aboard the Quadrail at Terra Station that things started to go downhill.” He shrugged. “Of course, it could just be that he was on his best behavior during the discussions at Pellorian. Maybe even back then he didn’t really like me. Or the