“And, what, he committed all the murders, too?” I asked. “Two of the victims being his own walkers? Why would he do that?”
“To get us killed,” Bayta said quietly. “To get you killed. Maybe the reason he volunteered to help us was to set you up for a thought virus that would make sure you went back to the baggage car after he freed Logra Emikai.”
I grimaced. There was some sense in that theory, I had to admit. More sense than I liked. Especially when you tossed in Bayta’s speculation earlier in the trip that the Modhri might slowly be going crazy. “If that’s the case, his reaction tomorrow when I turn up alive ought to be interesting,” I said. “His explanation for what happened tonight ought to be interesting, too.”
Bayta seemed to draw back. “You’re not going to go on with this whole thing, are you?”
“I don’t see that I have a choice,” I said. “No matter who’s behind the murders, the Modhri or someone else, the fact remains that someone has figured out a way to get poison aboard a Quadrail. If it wasn’t the Modhri, he may be able to help us figure out how it was done. If it was the Modhri, he might let something slip while he’s pretending to assist us. Either way, I have to play it out.”
Bayta’s throat worked. “I suppose you’re right,” she said reluctantly. “You won’t do anything more until morning, though, will you?”
I thought about pointing out that, technically, it was morning. But she didn’t seem in the mood for that sort of whimsy. “No,” I promised. “No matter who comes scratching on my door.”
“And we’ll be going together?”
I winced. She hadn’t added this time to her question, but I could hear it anyway. “Of course,” I assured her.
“All right.” She took a deep breath. “Then we should probably get some sleep now.”
Apparently, the conversation was over. “Agreed,” I said, standing up and stepping past the folded-up divider into my own compartment. “I’ll see you in the morning.” I reached for the divider control.
“Maybe you should leave it partly open tonight,” she said.
So that we could be better able to protect each other? Or so that I would have a harder time running off somewhere without her again?
Or had this whole thing so spooked her that she just wanted the sense of a little company close at hand?
“Sure,” I said. Touching the control, I let the divider close to about half a meter, then tapped the control again to stop it. “Pleasant dreams,” I called through the opening.
“Good night, Frank,” she called back.
SEVENTEEN
I woke up seven hours later, still tired, and with an aching throat where Emikai had delivered his object lesson. The elusive thought that had been nagging at my brain after my first midnight conversation with the Modhri still eluded me, but on the plus side the possibility that our new ally was trying to kill me was looking considerably less likely here in the light of day.
“I don’t think the Modhri is the killer,” I told Bayta over breakfast. “If he’d wanted me dead, he could have done it when he took me out after all the Fillies started coming down with digestive trouble. As you yourself pointed out, he had Witherspoon’s medical bag right there, with hypos and any number of potential overdoses to choose from.”
“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.”