by P. S. Power
Bethany looked at her and actually went white lipped.
"We aren't allowed to talk about that." She had to hiss this from between her teeth, clearly very distressed.
"Right, sorry Beth. But, you see Martin, the Westmorlands, they aren't the pampered elite. They're your slaves. The slaves of the Western Kingdom, left nearly without rights and privileges. If you got that word out correctly, and got your people to see it and move for them to have rights, everyone else in the Kingdom would find things changing pretty fast. When the least entitled group is raised up, everyone else will float upward with them. I've seen it happen. It takes time, but it's real, and it works."
For some strange reason, Cordell didn't call her stupid, suggest she was lying, or even that she was just befuddled from licking her Westmorland masters under-parts. He just settled back and took several slightly distressed breaths of his own, nearly matching Beth.
"That... It isn't what we've been told. It's all about training and..." She could see the wheels clicking in his head. "Their... special training. We just always assumed that it was some kind of rare privilege. No one told us anything about that. Is it really that bad?"
Next to her, Bethany was looking nearly ready to pass out, having gone completely white now, with deep sweat stains blooming from the armpits of her blue uniform.
Gwen looked at her friend, feeling bad for putting her in that kind of a state. She was in pain, but this was, Gwen figured, about the most important thing she could do for Beth. Maybe ever.
"It's worse than what I said. I don't know all of it. I can't tell you about that, but I'm almost certain that if you, Martin Cordell, famous hater of Westmorlands and all they stand for, could see what was done to them in your name, you'd stand outside the gates of the King's new palace and demand they be set free." She looked at the man, forcing herself to ignore the soft gasps from the other two women who were straining to hear her. She wasn't being quiet, so it wasn't exactly their fault, was it? "The big problem there is that for most of them it's already too late, and they'll remain as they are until they die. The best you can hope for is making their lives a little less miserable now."
She waited for him to do something. Possibly involving yelling, trying to hit her, or even derisive laughter.
Instead he shocked the hell out of her.
"I know. I mean, we were never, ever told that and always led to believe that they were given the very best of everything, so there's no blaming us for thinking that now, but... I always knew inside that it wasn't true. You can't hug and cosset a person into rifting, can you? It had to be something unheard of. What you're suggesting is-" He stopped and gave her a bleak stare that showed a deep tremble starting. It seemed to come all the way from inside his soul.
Considering she hadn't known he even had one, that was impressive.
"Yeah. I think the word you're looking for is evil, Mr. Cordell. Now you've had a glimpse of it in the mirror. If you're willing, I can help you find out more, first hand. It won't be easy, but all that's needed for evil to prosper is for good men to stand by and do nothing."
Across from her the guy blinked, but then drew himself up straight.
"And you think that I'm a good enough man to go against everything that I've said for the last fifteen years, my entire life's work, based on your say so?"
"Yes, I really do."
Chapter eight
They all ended up just sitting there, even though Gwen had sort of thought she'd been promised a bed. Worse, it was pretty clear that everyone else was just going to sit and occupy themselves with some other activity, being on relatively normal schedules. It wasn't assured that falling asleep would be rude, not as far as she could tell, but she wasn't going to fall asleep on duty, if it wasn't allowed either. What if something happened, and Beth needed her?
So she fought for alertness, reminding herself that being up for over a day was a thing that a lot of people did regularly. Not her, overly, since she'd lived most of her life knowing with great assurance that nothing she was going to do would be any better than sleep. That didn't matter though. The job was to find murderers and all of the people with them, including Martin, were headed to the right area for another such thing to take place.
That meant, to her mind, which had been honed by years of television watching to suspect everyone, no matter how unlikely, that the whole train might just be guilty of something. Given that they had magic, it might even literally be the train.
Except of course that the events had all happened on the same stretch of rail, but on different vehicles each time. That didn't mean that the darned things might not be in collusion, did it? She let a soft smile come to her lips, but didn't know if it would be enough to show to the outside world really. She doubted it, but would need a mirror to check.
Instead of needlepoint, like the other women were doing, she pulled out her other notebook, the one with the story about Bethany and her in it, and started writing away. It was more interesting than watching Cordell sit in front of her and stew. After a while at least. For a few minutes it had actually been kind of interesting, seeing the man try to process all that she'd said, and he kept looking at her, and then Beth, with his eyes going dark and occasionally broody.
That part just made sense though. After all, Gwen had done the equivalent of telling the Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan that he was well and truly wrong, and worse, had offered to prove it to him. Cordell was sitting there now, probably working out what the heck he was going to do with the rest of his life, if he couldn't make a living peddling hate. The obvious answer was that he needed to sell some different brand of hate, but she didn't mention that. After all, he might also consider going into something else, like being a school teacher, or factory worker.
She wasn't really certain they had those however. Factories. She knew they had school teachers, since she'd actually managed to meet some of them.
The story about Beth kind of flowed, since it wasn't that hard to make up a story that was nearly true, just adding in a few extra kind or heroic moments for her friend and letting herself seem a bit weaker and even more clueless than she felt most of the time. On the good side, that probably worked out pretty well, since she sort of figured that she really seemed like that to most of the people here. Lost and like she might just be a little airheaded.
Working longhand wasn't perfect, but they didn't have computers, so her other choice would have been hiring someone to do the scribing for her, which wouldn't have worked in the moment. Her penmanship had never been that great, but hopefully it would work well enough for this. Back home her right arm had been her strong side, but the way her body leaned it still had thrown off how she'd carried herself. That lifetime of bad habit and imprinting showed in her work now. It was legible, but not pretty at all. Most of the people here, at least the ones that she'd seen write anything, either printed very proficiently, or used calligraphy like professionals. What she had going was more of a sloppy half printed, half cursive thing.
Bethany could read it though, even upside down, and snorted at her, pausing at her needlework, which was in a nice wooden circle.
"I'm almost certain that I never told Erin Debussey that her desire to rule the world was due to her feelings of inadequacy. For one thing, I'm not totally certain I even know what that means. One of those points of psychology that you've mentioned?"
Gwen nodded and got out the small gum eraser that she had with her, taking the words away pretty well, leaving only the faintest of smears on the paper. The rubber, as they called it here. She didn't let that make her laugh, since she wasn't a thirteen year old boy, but it was kind of funny, she had to admit.
Without comment she rewrote the line, making it sound a little more heroic, rather than intellectual. The problem there was that Bethany was really smart, but Gwen had no clue how to say the right things to make her seem that way for this world. She kept trying to put in her own version of what made a person clever and smart, and that ended up seeming out of
balance.
She struggled for a bit, but then decided that simply saying that she was being clever, might well be enough. Especially if she had the Gwen in the story saying it. It was a cop out, since you were supposed to show and not tell, but it also worked pretty well, and she was pretty certain that people that read books like this here were used to a rather more dry and boring story than she was going to put forward.
That was the goal at least.
Beth didn't correct her constantly, but she did keep peeking at the pad and grinning every now and then, as if it were all a wonderful lark. It became so obvious that Martin looked up, saw what Beth was doing and started reading her work too.
Because that wasn't going to make her self-conscious at all?
"All right you two, the game is over. I'm putting it away now." She sounded grumpy and wanted to, since she wasn't comfortable being observed too closely. It put her in a combative mood, which she was hiding rather well, given everything. She pulled out the other notepad instead and stood up, which got Beth to do the same thing, except that her needlework went back into her pack first. Then, carrying everything, Gwen led them over to the other two women on the train, which got Clara the bitch to glare at them. Especially Beth. Gwen waved a little, feeling like she was going to fall down, and made eye contact with the smart one, who was looking at them with curiosity, not anger or resentment.
"Ladies. We need to ask you a few questions. This is part of a real investigation, so you're required by law to answer as honestly as you possibly can. If you refuse, we'll be required to take the information directly from your minds." She was flat out making that up. If anything they had full right of refusal here. On the good side, however, they didn't have television programs to teach them that, and no one else jumped up to fill the two women in, as to the real law.
The smart one went wide eyed and nodded, and Clara the evil hater scowled and looked like she was going to fight about it. If so, Gwen was going to punch her in the throat. She turned her pencil around in her hand, so that the stabbing motion would only cripple the woman, instead of kill her. It was hard to question a corpse after all. Not impossible here, but they didn't have the tools for that. Not with them.
The smart one saw all of this and put a hand out, toward her friend.
"We'll help you, ma'am. What do you need to know?" She sounded nervous, but that was just to be expected, talking to authority figures in uniform. Even if they were Bethany and herself.
"Names, ages, reason for traveling right now. Where you were during several specific dates. That kind of thing. Let's have the names first?"
Smarty smiled.
"I'm Sally Kiers, age twenty-eight, and this is Clara Samberg. Age... What is that again Clara? Thirty?"
The woman glared at Gwen and then sighed, looking away.
"Thirty-four, but that better not get around. It will hurt business."
Gwen made her notes, and then tapped the pencil on the pad.
"Reason for traveling?"
It was the thin one that spoke again. Thinner. Neither was fat, but Clara was rather busty, once Gwen paid attention to that.
Sally was clearly the mouthpiece of the two however. "Oh, we're traveling to our new house, ma'am. We move every three months or so, to keep the clients from getting bored with us." Then, clearly getting that Gwen wasn't going to work out what that all meant, she leaned in and winked. It was flirty and a bit saucy really. Especially given that this was an official interview. "We're whores. Clara specializes in backdoor work, and I do oral and whatever the client wants. I do women too. If you're interested? Later I mean. I can cut you a special deal."
Beth went slightly wide eyed, since that statement was clearly meant to be shocking, but Gwen just didn't bother responding at all, just making notes of what was said, in case it was important later.
"And, where were you on the seventh of last month?"
That, it turned out, was at their last house, which had been in Clinton, a few towns over from the train station they'd left from. There was no fast way to check that information out however. Really, the women could have been lying about being whores at all. It would have been a great cover, since she really doubted that most of the other people here would have questioned such a thing, would they? Really, it was brilliant, and she decided to remember that if she ever had to avoid questioning.
It might have been her splitting skull, or it could have been the fatigue, but Gwen reached into her pocket and pulled a ten met bill out, handing it to Sally.
"Is this sufficient for payment? If I'm getting a special rate?"
Instead of blanching or acting awkward the woman winked again. "That it is. Do you want me to do you here? Or we could get a sleeping chamber? You'll have to pay for it, so I can grab hold of all of this though."
Gwen got out another bill, a single, guessing that it would be hugely over paying and handed it to her.
"See that University boy? Go and offer to suck him off. Make it loud enough that I can hear you from here, please."
There was no hesitation at all, and when the woman got there she practically sat on the kid's lap, giggling.
"Say, do you want to go and get a suck job? Free and clear?"
There was mumbling and blushing then, from the boy, but after a minute and only a little more encouragement, he got up and moved forward, his gaze kept down the whole time. She wasn't that surprised, since he was a man and while it may be hard for him to feel good about, given their social rules, it was the sort of thing he probably wasn't going to say no to. Which had been her point.
She made a note and then looked at Clara.
"So, backdoor work. That means anal, right? That sort of thing?"
Beth cleared her throat, watching the other woman look scandalized, and like she wanted to fight again.
"Um, no dear, I believe it means that she goes to the dwelling of the men in question, rather than working strictly from her house." Beth actually looked a little embarrassed, which was probably for her. She just took note of that, and nodded. She also noticed that Clara flashed Beth a slightly... Grateful, expression? It was hard to tell, because it just looked a bit angry to her. A lot of things did though.
"Good to know."
Then she got up and walked over to the salesman, which had Beth following along as if she weren't in charge of everything. That was silly, since Gwen was clearly the side-kick here. It was in all the books, or would be anyway, as soon as she wrote them. When she got to the man with his rather grand mustache, she started to sit, only to have Martin Cordell rush over and take the seat directly next to the other man. Protectively.
In case, Gwen was certain, the man was a masher or miscreant. That the hate leader was taking that role seriously was a good indication that he might be a slightly different kind of person than she'd thought before. Beth nodded at him, as if indicating he was being totally proper about the whole thing and the salesman just smiled. Getting it all no doubt.
Gwen started to write his name.
"Eugene Hadley?" Glancing up at him she saw a large and pleasant nod. It was a bit too smooth, but the man agreed with her without hesitation.
"That's me. I heard your questions earlier. So, age fifty-two, traveling salesman and inventor. I focus mainly on radiatives for the home, as well as clever little gadgets and the occasional trinket. Would you ladies like to see my wares?"
Beth looked at the man frankly and smiled.
"We would, but for the moment, if you'd be willing to answer some questions? During the recent murders, were you near the events at all? In the same County, perhaps?"
He flipped his palms up and grimaced. "County? I was on the same train each time. I've been rousted and questioned by no less than three different legal organizations already. The north line is my route however, and I spend half my time riding it, so it isn't that strange, I don't think. Perhaps that I was there for all of them, but I assure you, I didn't harm those women." He seemed troubled, but went on. "I wasn't even o
n the same portion of the train car at the time. Those murders all took place at the back of the trains, in the last sleeping compartment each time. I like to be near the front, so that I can meet people as they pass. Sales is a people friendly occupation, so meeting new customers has to be done at every possible point."
That made sense, but was also very suspicious. He was either the murderer, or had seen whoever had done it. The problem there is that he might not know he had. Gwen could have insisted on beating the man while Bethany read his mind, or even just having her do that while questions were asked, but she was really too tired to do a good job of it at the moment. Instead she just took note.
"I see. Well, we can clear you, later, if you have an interest in that?" She regarded the man coolly, but he smiled.
It was professional however, not happy. Gwen wanted to cheer, since she knew she was actually right about that.
"I would like nothing better. In fact, we can do that right now, if you wish?"
Bethany was smart, and realized why things were being put off, so handled that part for her.
"Not at this exact moment. We have several days to get to it, and my colleague and I wish to do the preliminary questioning first. We need to wait for the young man to come back with his new friend."
That got the older man to clear his throat.
"I rather noticed that. She was talking to both of you, and then walked right up to him and asked if he, um, yes, rather, I suspect you heard that?"
