The apartment was in an upscale Vel establishment. A large central courtyard complete with synchronized fountains and ornamental trees was surrounded by three levels of private dwellings. Basher easily guessed that the apartment they wanted was the one with two Tergre constables outside the door.

There appeared to have been no serious conflict in the front room. There were five dead bodies, however, and the smell was not good. They’d probably been dead at least forty-eight hours, though Basher would need more evidence to pin it down. He wasn’t a medical examiner, and he didn’t often deal with murder, so he’d have to ask the embassy physician to help him out. Three of the Rik were slumped in chairs, two seemed to have fallen off stools onto the floor.

“Poison?” Sam said. “It’s a Rik specialty.”

“Probably, but we’ll need to examine the bodies to find out.” Basher wrinkled his nose. There was a strong smell of old blood that didn’t seem entirely explained by the scene in front of him. He went on into the next room, and found the reason. Three more Rik lay dead in this room, and it clearly wasn’t poison. There were pools of dried blood underneath them, stab wounds, and clear signs of struggle.

Sam had followed him and he winced. He started to walk into the room, but Basher stopped him. “Hang on a second.”

Basher mentally cataloged the scene while taking pictures with his tablet, appreciating again that Sam was willing to do as he asked with a good attitude. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find that Sam consistently deferred to Basher’s judgment, even when it wasn’t a big deal.

“Thanks,” Basher said when he was done. “Let’s go on in, but try not to step on the blood, even where it’s dry - there may be hairs, footprints, or other evidence in it.”

Sam had a grim look on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“I met these people on the space station. Nat and I spent several days negotiating with them. Well, technically Senator Fontley was doing the negotiation, but he hates aliens so it was mostly us. It’s... stressful how the people I meet keep dying lately.” Sam gave a harsh laugh. “And I know that’s an incredibly self-centered way to look at it. But I do feel responsible, as I’m the one who made the treaty with the Rik in the first place.”

Basher grunted. “You can’t compare their deaths to your friends who died on Earth. These are just Rik.”

“Yeah, but to the rest of the galaxy we’re just humans.”

“But we didn’t kill anyone to be human.”

Sam nodded, but Basher wondered if he really grasped it. “Anyway, the deal you just negotiated with these people, does it still stand if the negotiators are all dead?”

Sam touched his glasses, indicating that Akemi was talking to him. “Akemi says yes. Our agreement about the moon colony has already been ratified by the Rik government. That’s good news, I suppose.”

Basher stared at him. “Do you still want to have a treaty with the Rik? I understand why you did it to begin with, but now? This violence would indicate that they were somehow involved in the sabotage that could’ve killed you.”

Sam grimaced. “The fact that they’re dead doesn’t prove they did the sabotage.”

“It doesn’t make them look strikingly innocent either.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But even if a few Rik did do this, that doesn’t mean the whole species is responsible.”

Basher shook his head. He and Sam weren’t going to agree on that any time soon.

“Defensive wounds on his hands,” Basher said, pointing to one of the men who was further in the room. “I think this other guy was killed first, the stab wound is in his back. Then the other two... they’re not positioned like they fought each other. And usually in a knife fight somebody gets away. It’s not like a shoot out where everyone could die.”

“But we’re only looking for eight Rik,” Sam said. “I mean, all the Rik who were on the space station are here. Are we looking for a ninth person?”

“We’ll ask the neighbors if they heard or saw anything...” Basher trailed off. The neighbors here would most likely tell him nothing. There were so many influential people on Selta it was safer to keep your mouth (or beak) shut. Basher himself had a somewhat unsavory reputation on Selta, and that wouldn’t help either. Maybe he would send Sam.

Basher conferred with the constables about where the bodies would be taken. He would prefer to take them back to the embassy to examine, but they didn’t have the room. Or the cold storage. Seltan law was pretty strict about dead bodies in their pristine closed environment.

Shara arrived soon after, and if Basher had expected the sight of eight dead Rik to subdue her he was disappointed.

“Ew,” she said. “That’s nasty.”

“Thank you for the critical analysis.”

“Well, it IS nasty. And I wasn’t chosen to be a Rik assassin for my compassion, so if you expect me to cry over people I never met then that’s silly.”

“Clearly.”

“Would you like me better if I cried? I can.” She focused intently on her own nose, and her eyes filled until two tears ran down her cheeks. “See?”

Basher turned away without replying, vaguely disgusted. He began to go through the contents of the small locker in the bathroom.

“Fine, be that way.” She went back to the front room.

There was nothing personal in the locker. He went through their pockets and the other cabinets in the main room. If these people had anything with them besides extra clothes, it had been taken.

“Definitely sasoikeo,” Shara called from the front room. “I can smell it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” She joined him again. “I’m an assassin. Do you even know what that means?”

“It means you should be in prison.”

“It means...” she lifted the fingers of the man who’d been stabbed in the back. “It means I can tell you that this guy administered the poison to the others. He’d had on rubber gloves to avoid getting it on his skin. That means the poison was probably in liquid form and administered in a drink. The solid and aerosol forms are safe to touch. I can smell the latex and there’s a bit of that powdery residue on his skin.”

Basher sat back on his heels. “Alright, what about the stabbing?”

“I’m not as sure about that part. We are usually trained in all types of weapons though I wouldn’t consider knives a Rik favorite. I would guess...” she looked around the room. “I would guess that there was a fourth person here who stabbed this guy when he got back from poisoning the others, and then killed the other two. But that’s just a guess, I really don’t know.”

Her admitted ignorance made Basher give more credit to her other surmises. It was the mark of a professional to know where the line lay between deduction and guesswork and not to pretend to know more than they did. It didn’t lessen his dislike for her, however.

He was going to ask her something else when he heard the front door to the apartment open again.

“Sam, is that you?” he called. Sam had gone out to see if he could coax information out of the neighbors with his ‘cajoling ways,’ as Shara said.

“It is Faal of Merith II.”

Shara’s eyes opened wide, and Basher jumped to his feet. He’d not seen Faal since the day he arrested Claire.

“Faal,” Basher said, nodding to him and his five bodyguards. They’d already come into the room and Faal was leaning over one of the Rik.

Basher gestured to the door. “If you could please step outside, I would rather not have the scene... exposed to so many people.”

Faal limped out ahead of him. “I have not heard from you concerning the thief and my property. Have you not educated yourself on the diplomatic law that governs this situation?”

Basher had not told Faal that he’d discovered Claire was human, or that she had escaped. However, he knew there were rumors about an escape from the embassy, and he suspected that Faal already knew. Even if he did not, there was no point in keeping it from him, it was not going to remain a secret.

“I apologize for not contacting you,” Basher said formally. “My time has been quite full of late. I should inform you that there was a regrettable lapse in security and several Rik escaped from the embassy.”

Faal nodded. “Well for you that you did not lie; you are forthright for a human. Have they left Selta?”

Basher wasn’t sure what game Faal was playing. Had he known Claire was human all along, or did he truly still believe she was Rik? He noticed also that Faal didn’t even mention the animal that Claire had stolen. He seemed to have lost interest in it if Claire wasn’t involved. Or perhaps he assumed Claire had taken it with her.

“No. We have reason to believe they are still here.”

“Ah. Do you? Lower Selta then.”

“I didn’t say - ”

“No, of course not. But if they have not escaped the planet, the only logical refuge is Lower Selta. You should have told me sooner. I have several excellent contacts there. I am in a much better to position to discover them than you are.”

Basher felt cold. “And of course you will inform us of their location, should you discover it?”

Faal gave him an amused glance, as if he knew exactly what Basher was thinking. “Of course. Meanwhile, I was informed that these Rik from the space station were found. What is the situation?”

Basher gave him the bare basics as he didn’t see any purpose in subterfuge. “Do you have any thoughts on this?”

Faal bristled. “You do not ask a Merith if they have any thoughts. It is akin to asking if you have any brains.”

“I apologize. I meant, do you have any useful suggestions?” So far, despite his grand words, Faal had done nothing to further their investigation. Basher wondered if Faal’s ‘help’ was only a cover to try and regain Claire, but that seemed like overkill.

“I believe I may have a few suggestions, but I must ponder. I will call on you at the embassy to discuss this further.”

Basher didn’t like the idea of letting Faal into the embassy. It was the only conceivable place he might gain a clue to Claire’s location, though admittedly it would have to be a clue that eluded Basher. But could he afford to alienate Faal by refusing his help? Basher didn’t trust him, but he undoubtedly had excellent connections and for some reason he wanted to work with them. Whatever his plans were, perhaps it would be better to keep him close.

“Please visit us as soon as you can,” Basher said. “By the way, concerning your Rik thief: how long was she your guest? I believe you told me but I can’t remember.”

“I never said she was Rik.”

Basher nearly gaped with shock. “You admit she is human?”

“Yes. I referred to her as a fake, and she is, though not as you assumed. She is also a criminal and a fugitive.” Faal gave him another amused look. It conveyed a great deal to Basher, who was rapidly revising his view of Faal. Clearly Faal had guessed that Basher would figure out that Claire was human, and he didn’t care. He was still confident in his right and ability to make her pay for her crimes, regardless of Basher’s interference. What’s more, Faal knew that he was better positioned to find Claire and the other Rik than Basher was. He knew that Basher would continue to work with him as long as there was any chance that Basher might protect Claire from him.

Faal also had enormous political clout, and Basher knew it would be idiotic to antagonize someone whose planetary militia could beat humanity single-handedly.

Why did he bother with me? Basher wondered. Faal was playing some kind of game, and he didn’t care that Basher knew it, because he held all the cards.

Basher nodded, acknowledging Faal’s superior position.

“Don’t despair,” Faal said. “I have every intention of helping you find the answer to the sabotage.”

Basher bit his lip and then repeated his question. ”How long was Claire your guest?”

The amused expression disappeared. “Long enough that her sudden and inexplicable betrayal is one of the greater insults I have received.” Faal fingered a silk cord tied around his robe. It was intricately knotted into a loose chain. “Indeed, I have seldom been more shocked and disgusted by the behavior of a sentient being.”

Faal’s inner eyelid was half closed and for a moment his hand clenched in a fist around the cord. Basher felt a sense of urgency on the edge of panic, even as Faal regained his calm and took his leave. Basher had to find Claire before Faal did.