The Domino Pattern

“Except that he wouldn’t have had a built-in perpetrator to take the blame, the way he would have if Logra Emikai had killed you,” Bayta pointed out.

“Right, but why would he care?” I countered. “It would have cost him at most one more walker, whichever one he picked to take the fall. After killing off two other walkers, that hardly seems like a consideration.”

“Perhaps,” Bayta said. She still didn’t seem convinced, but with her professional mask back up I couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling. “Are we starting with him, then?”

“Actually, I was thinking we’d start with Dr. Aronobal,” I said. “She’s had plenty of time now to wonder where her pal Emikai’s gotten to. Worried people often blurt out things they would keep to themselves if they were calmer.”

“That seems reasonable.” She took a final bite of her breakfast, her other hand reaching under the table. “Here—you should probably carry this.”

I reached under the table, and she pressed the kwi into my hand. “Thanks,” I said, slipping it into my pocket. “And thanks for the assist last night, too, when Emikai was making a run for it. You were right on top of things.”

She nodded, thanks or simple acknowledgment, I couldn’t tell which. “You ready?” she asked.

I sighed to myself. This was going to be a very long day. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”

We left the dining car and headed once again on the long walk toward the rear of the train. As usual, Asantra Muzzfor nodded politely as we passed the apparently eternal card game he had going with his two contract-team companions, while the other two Fillies, also as usual, ignored us completely. I looked around at the other passengers as we walked through that car, wondering which of them was Prapp, the Tra’ho government oathling the Modhri had named last night as being the third of his walkers. Both Tra’ho’seej in evidence, unfortunately, had the distinctive oathling half-shaved heads and flowing topcuts, which I’d counted on identifying him with. Neither Tra’ho gave us a significant look as we passed, either, which was the other way I might have recognized him.

Osantra Qiddicoj was similarly preoccupied with other matters as we passed him three cars later. Apparently, the Modhri was keeping to himself this morning. Maybe he was ashamed of his unwitting part in the murder attempt against me last night.

Maybe he was just sulking because it hadn’t worked.

Aronobal’s seat was in the first third-class coach. We reached her car, to find the doctor herself was nowhere to be seen. She was probably farther back in the train, in the dining car having breakfast, or possibly sneaking back to our makeshift brig for a hurried conference with Logra Emikai. That would be the most interesting possibility of all. Passing her seat, we continued on.

We were just entering Emikai’s assigned car, two back from Aronobal’s, when I began to notice a change in the atmosphere around us.

At first it was nothing I could put my finger on. The passengers seemed quieter than they’d been in either first or second, but not quiet in the sense of peace or comfort. This was the quiet of fresh tension simmering beneath the surface.

Behind Emikai’s car was the third-class dining car. Bayta and I took a quick look inside, confirmed that Aronobal wasn’t there, and kept going toward the entertainment car.

As we did so, I could feel the quiet tension continuing to grow. More and more, the passengers’ eyes turned toward us as we came into sight, and continued to follow us as we passed.

And the expressions on their faces were running the unpleasant gamut from neutral to suspicious to downright hostile.

Bayta noticed it, too. “Something’s not right here,” she murmured as we passed through the shower car.

“And whatever it is, we seem to be getting the blame for it,” I murmured back. “Is anything happening with Emikai?”

“The twitters say he hasn’t had any visitors since you left, and that he’s still secured,” she said. “The conductors aren’t reporting anything odd with the rest of the train, either.”

“So it apparently is just us,” I concluded.

“Do you think we should turn back?”

It was a tempting idea. But we had a job to do, and somehow I doubted the passengers were going to get any less hostile as the day wore on. “Let’s at least go as far as the entertainment car,” I said. “If we haven’t located Aronobal by then, we’ll backtrack and wait for her at her seat.”

Actually, I wasn’t expecting we’d have to go that far back. Just behind the shower car was Terese German’s car, and if Emikai, Aronobal, and Terese were in cahoots, there was a fair chance we’d find the latter two members of the troika in urgent consultation together.

For once, I was right. As we exited the vestibule into the car, I saw a small group of passengers gathered around Terese’s row, their heads hunched forward the way people do when having intense, semi-private conversations. Two of the group were Halkas, one was a Juri, and the fourth was Dr. Aronobal.

“There she is,” Bayta said.

“I see her,” I said, the back of my neck starting to tingle. The conversationalists had turned to face us, and their expressions weren’t even bothering with the neutral or suspicious areas of today’s third-class mood scale. All four were deeply into the hostile end of the spectrum, and every cubic centimeter of that hostility was aimed at Bayta and me. “Maybe you ought to hang back a bit while I go talk to them,” I said quietly.

Bayta reached over and got a grip on my left arm. “No,” she said in a voice that left no room for argument.

“Stay a step behind me, then,” I told her, gently disengaging her grip. “You might want to fire up the kwi, just in case.”

I started forward again, the kwi in my pocket tingling as Bayta activated it. “Good afternoon,” I said, nodding to the group as I got within polite conversational range. “Dr. Aronobal, I wonder if I might have a few minutes of your time.”

To my surprise, Terese bounded up from her seat, planting herself squarely between me and the rest of them. “What do you want her for?” she demanded, her face dark with emotion.

“I just want to ask her a few questions,” I said soothingly.

“And then, what, make her disappear, too?” Terese shot back.

I took another look at the group standing silently behind her. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“She speaks of Logra Emikai,” Aronobal said grimly. “He’s disappeared, and no one can find him.” She drew herself up. “We’ve heard reports that you were the one responsible.”

“Reports,” I said, letting my tone go flat. “You mean rumors.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought you’d say,” Terese said scornfully.

“You protest too glibly,” the Juri agreed in a precise, clipped voice. “Rumors always have a basis in fact, a touchpoint with reality. The reality here is that Logra Emikai has indeed vanished.”

I really wanted to ask him how he could possibly know that, given that he and his fellow worriers were all confined back here in third class while their buddy Emikai had a pass that let him roam the entire train at will. But I kept my mouth shut. Those who didn’t already know that almost certainly wouldn’t believe it anyway. “Maybe he’s taking a long shower,” I suggested instead. “Maybe the Spiders asked him up to first or second for some kind of consultation.”

“Oh, right,” Terese bit out. “Far as I can see, the only people consulting with the Spiders are you two.”

“Let us also not forget that di-Master Strinni’s final act was to form his hands into the sign-language symbols of your initials,” Aronobal added.

I had forgotten about that, actually, and I made a mental note to hit up the Modhri later and find out what the hell he’d thought he was doing with that.

Assuming there was a later. Most of the nearby passengers were listening intently to the conversation, and their expressions reminded me of sharks at feeding time. They were scared, they were frustrated, and, worse, after nearly four weeks on the road they were bored. If there was no justice in me getting my ears pounded, there might at least be some entertainment.

I came to a sudden decision. Aronobal wasn’t going to talk now anyway, not surrounded by indignant