The Domino Pattern by Timothy Zahn Page A

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