The Domino Pattern

murderer?”

“It’s possible,” I said. “He’s got a first-class pass, and those don’t come cheap, which means this guy has some serious financial backing.” I grimaced. “But my gut says no.”

“Then the killer is still at large,” the Modhri said grimly. “And may kill again.”

“Fair chance of that, yes,” I agreed. “Why do you care?”

Again, he hesitated. “Because as he kills those aboard this train, he is also killing me.”

I stared down at the sleeping face. “He’s what?”

“He has killed four and tried to kill two others,” the Modhri said. “Two of the dead were my Eyes.”

I looked over at the server Spider standing behind the counter, out of range of our conversation, my brain swirling as everything about this case tried to realign itself. Could the as-yet-unexplained motive for these murders be something as simple as an attempt to kill off this particular Modhran mind segment? “Which two?” I asked.

“The first and third to die,” he said. “Master Colix and di-Master Strinni.”

“And what makes you think you can trust me?” I asked. “I’m your enemy, remember?”

“But you have destroyed my Eyes and Arms only in battle,” he said. “Never have you engaged in direct murder.” The sleeping Juri’s mouth twitched. “And you have already saved one Eye that would also have been lost without your intervention.”

He was right on that one, anyway. Qiddicoj would almost certainly have died of the same intestinal ravages that had killed Givvrac if I hadn’t come up with the solution. “Of course, I didn’t know Osantra Qiddicoj was a walker at the time,” I reminded him.

“Would that have made a difference?”

I thought it over. The worst thing about fighting the damn Modhri was that most of his pawns were both unwilling and innocent. You couldn’t go around slaughtering them for crimes they didn’t even know they’d committed. You couldn’t stand by and let someone else knock them off, either. “Not really,” I conceded.

“As I thought,” the Modhri said. “At first I feared you might be the person responsible for the deaths. But I’m now convinced otherwise.”

“Glad to hear that,” I said. I was, too. About the only thing that could have made this situation worse would have been to have a paranoid Modhran mind segment also gunning for me. “But just because I’m not going to let people get murdered doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump on board as your ally.”

“Yet I may be of assistance in your investigation,” the Modhri pointed out. “And recall that two others who were not associated with me have also been killed. Do you not seek justice for them?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. After all I’d been through with the Modhri, the thought of cooperating with him had all the skin-crawling unpleasantness of being offered lunch by a high-ranking member of the Inquisition.

And yet, the detached Westali investigator in me could see the possibilities here. One of the most frustrating roadblocks of the investigation so far had been my inability to nail down the last few hours of Master Colix’s life. But if he’d been a Modhran walker, all those details were suddenly available to me, as clear and precise as if his whole life had been copied onto off-site backup. Which, in a sense, it had. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re suggesting that we work together—you and I—to catch the murderer aboard this train.”

“Correct.”

“And afterwards?”

“You will have my thanks,” the Modhri said.

“That’s not what I meant,” I said. “What’s the rest of the Modhri going to say when he finds out you joined forces with someone he’d like to see dead?”

For a moment the Modhri didn’t answer. I looked at the server again, wondering if he was even now informing Bayta that I was having a heart-to-heart with a sleeping passenger. “As with all beings, my first duty is to survive,” the Modhri said at last. “Clearly, this murderer has found a way to bring weapons of death aboard a Quadrail. If he is permitted to escape undetected and unpunished, then none of us will ever be safe. Not you, and not I.”

That was something I’d also thought about lately. I’d thought about it a lot. “Let’s hope the rest of the mind will also see it that way,” I said. “So the plan is that we team up, catch this joker, then go our separate ways?”

“Yes,” he said, and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice. “Thank you.”

“Hang on,” I warned. “Before you go all grateful, there are a few ground rules. First of all, how many walkers do you have aboard?”

“Three remain,” he said.

Three out of an original five, kicking the mind segment down by forty percent. No wonder he was panicked enough to ask me for help. “Their names and species?”

He hesitated. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I need to know who, what, and where you are,” I told him. “Partly for operational purposes; mostly because I don’t like having potential surprises at my back.”

“I have sworn to cooperate with you.”

“And I’m pleased to hear that,” I said. “Their names and species?”

He sighed, exactly the sort of sound a sleeping person might make. “First is Osantra Qiddicoj, the Filiaelian you saved from death,” he said reluctantly. “Second is Prapp, a Tra’ho government oathling. His seat is in the first coach car. This Eye’s name is Krel Vevri. He sits in the second coach car, the one between the dispensary and the entertainment car.”

The same car, I noted, that the rest of Kennrick’s contract-team Fillies were in. That could be useful. “Good,” I said. “Ground rule number one: I call the shots. All of them. You can report to me, and you can recommend action, but nothing happens unless I explicitly sign off on it. Understood?”

“Understood,” he said.

“Ground rule number two: when we do catch him, I’m the one who’ll interrogate him,” I continued. “This guy is smart and well funded, and there will be some fairly ugly layers we’ll need to dig through to get where we’re going. You can sit in on the conversation and offer suggestions, but I’m the one who’ll handle all the actual questioning.”

A shiver ran through the Juri’s body. “I have heard stories of Human interrogations. I will not interfere.”

“Good.” I hadn’t actually been talking about torture, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to let the Modhri think that I had. It probably wouldn’t hurt to remind the killer of humanity’s bloody past, either, when the time came. “Ground rule number three: I decide what to do with him after we’ve finished putting him through the spin cycle. I doubt the Spiders are set up for either executions or long-term prisoner storage, and there are already two different governments that have legitimate claims on his scalp. Depending on who and what he turns out to be, we might end up with three. Based on the interrogation, I’ll make the decision as to who gets him.”

“Agreed,” the Modhri said. “How do we begin?”

I yawned. “With some sleep,” I said. “The rest of the train’s already settled down for the night, so there’s no point trying to find anyone to question. And I’m way too tired to think straight, anyway.” I gestured to him. “Sleeping on the table that way isn’t doing your walker any good, either.”

“Very well,” he said. “Osantra Qiddicoj practices meditation several times a day. During those times, he allows his mind to empty itself.”

I felt my stomach tighten. “And you’re conveniently there to refill it?”

“It will be an opportunity for us to discuss matters and formulate a plan,” the Modhri said. Apparently, he’d missed the irony in my tone.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll have a couple of other things to deal with first tomorrow—mainly following up on tonight’s little adventure—but I should be able to touch base with you by early afternoon at the latest.”

“And if the killer strikes again this night?”

“He’s been lying pretty low since Usantra Givvrac’s death,” I reminded him. “There’s no particular reason for him to come out tonight.”

“No reason that you know of.”

“True,” I conceded. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he’s specifically targeting you.” I stood up. “But I’ve been wrong before. Pleasant dreams.”