I’d seen Fillies hundreds of times before, in person, in holos, or in recordings. And yet, suddenly I felt as if I was seeing them for the very first time. There were at least two hundred of them in the dome, dressed in brightly colored clothing, walking stolidly among the dome’s structures. At first glance it looked like just random pedestrian milling, but as I studied it I saw that the crowd was divided into linear groups, rather like hands-free conga lines. Each line was making its own version of a solemn procession across the dome floor, curving and weaving like a Chinese New Year dragon, each group moving in a different direction and with a different flow pattern. As two lines met they might combine, or pass through one another, or simultaneously veer off in brand-new directions. It was like a huge field-show marching squad pageant, mixed with a dit-rec costume drama of an eighteenth-century royal ball, with a bit of Japanese kabuki tossed in. Another couple of hundred Fillies were standing around the dome’s perimeter watching the performance, most of them in pairs or small clumps set in between the six corridors leading into the dome.
And the whole group of them were doing everything in perfect silence. “Tech Yleli’s funeral service?” I murmured.
“His remembrance processional, yes,” Emikai answered. “I believe the movements are designed to represent various aspects of his journey, as well as the people whose lives he touched. This particular cultural form is one I am not very familiar with.” He paused, and I could feel his eyes on me. “You probably find it quaint.”
With a supreme effort, I forced back the chilling alienness of the scene. “Not at all,” I assured him. “I’ve just never seen anything like this before. From Filiaelians or anyone else.”
“Our private cultural lives are not to be set out for strangers to witness,” Emikai said grimly. “My error. I should have called before we came.”
“If it helps any, I promise not to tell anyone about it,” I offered. “Actually, I doubt I could do it proper justice even if I wanted to.”
“Thank you,” he said. “That would be appreciated.”
I nodded, a tightness forming in the pit of my stomach. Cops were supposed to try to put aside any emotions they might feel for the victims in their investigations. But nevertheless I could feel anger-tinged sadness as I gazed at the spectacle before me. From the number of people who’d showed up to act out his life, it was clear that he’d been a well-liked member of his community.
And yet, someone had killed him. Possibly because of Terese, and whatever the hell the Shonkla-raa wanted with her and her baby.
Or maybe he’d been murdered because of me.
“They have noticed us,” Emikai murmured.
I snapped out of my gloomy thoughts. Sure enough, a handful of the spectators, mostly the ones nearest us, had turned in our direction and were staring at us, still in eerie silence. “We should go,” Emikai continued, taking a tentative step backward. “We can come back later and ask the necessary questions.”
I was opening my mouth to agree when one of the Fillies who had spotted us turned and sidled casually to the next corridor clockwise from us around the dome’s perimeter. As he reached it, he threw one last look at us and disappeared around the corner.
And though I couldn’t be positive at that distance, it had sure looked like he had an enlarged throat. The kind favored by professional singers and Shonkla-raa.
“Better idea,” I murmured to Emikai, taking a couple of backward steps of my own. “I’ll go. You can stay until the end of the performance and then talk to them about Tech Yleli.”
He frowned at me. “Are you certain?”
“Absolutely,” I assured him, backing up a couple more steps and then turning around and heading at a fast walk down the corridor. “I’ll talk to you later,” I added over my shoulder.
The corridors in this particular part of Proteus had a slight bend to them, and by the time I was halfway to the next major intersection the dome itself was no longer visible around the curve. Now that I was out of view, I picked up my pace. The whole area seemed to be deserted, with everyone in the neighborhood apparently in the dome at Yleli’s funeral performance.
The silent part of the proceedings had apparently ended. Wafting down the corridor from behind me was the sound of someone giving a speech or eulogy or something of the sort, his voice rising and falling in an odd singsong pattern. I wondered if it was their particular cultural form, or something out of the Slisst Protocols, or neither.
The next major intersection was two more corridors away. I reached it and tapped the green emblem on the wall. “Neighborhood map,” I ordered.
The wall lit up with a map, complete with a helpful mark showing my current location. Unlike the more prosaic rectangular pattern around Terese’s dome, this part of Proteus was arranged like a wheel, with the six curved corridors I’d already noted radiating outward from the community center and all the cross-corridors arranged in concentric circles centered on the dome. The corridor the Filly had taken had also already passed two other intersections, but assuming he was still on that path, the cross-corridor I was currently standing beside ought to give me a fair chance of cutting him off. Taking one final look at the map, making quick note of the various public places the Filly might have ducked into if he wasn’t still in his original corridor, I headed out.
The cross-corridor was just as deserted as the previous one had been, and I took advantage of the lack of obstacles to break into a fast jog. Fortunately, Doug didn’t jump to the wrong conclusion, like that I might be trying to ditch him, but merely trotted along beside me, with no indication that he thought a nice afternoon run was anything out of the ordinary. Probably he was enjoying the exercise. I reached the end of the curved corridor and turned into the main radial one.
I’d been wrong earlier about everyone in the neighborhood being at the funeral. There were three of them waiting twenty meters down the radial corridor from my intersection: big, strong males, all of them dressed in the same style as those I’d seen in the dome. Apparently, they’d been at the funeral and had decided to duck out of the proceedings early. They were clustered together in the middle of the corridor, glowering at me as I came skidding around the corner. Directly behind them was an apartment door decorated with an archway made of pieces of colored paper, in the same color gradation from bottom to top that I’d noticed with the floating balloons in the dome.
{You desecrate Yleli’s former place of life,} the Filly in the center of the group said, his thin nose blaze darkening with anger, his voice just loud enough to be audible above the eulogy still going on down in the dome. {You will leave here at once.}
“Hello there,” I said cheerfully, slowing to a casual walk and continuing toward them. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Doug suddenly turn his head to look behind us. “Any of you speak English?”
The three Fillies exchanged quick and slightly confused glances. Apparently, my presumed lack of understanding of their challenge was something they hadn’t expected. {You desecrate Yleli’s former place of life,} Thin Blaze tried again, his voice still angry but now with a tinge of uncertainty. {You must leave at once.}
“Did you see one of your fellows come this way?” I asked, picking up my pace a little. Walking up to three angry Fillies, all of whom were bigger than I was, was not my first choice on how best to spend a quiet morning. But Doug’s over-the-shoulder look a moment ago strongly implied there was a fourth member of the group back there, and stopping or slowing would just give him time to catch up and jump me from behind. Better to play the ignorant tourist as long as I could and hope for a decent opening before I reached the point of no return.
I made it three more steps, and was just starting to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all, when I got my break. Stepping away from his fellows, Thin Blaze started toward me. {You will leave at once!} he snarled, bunching his hands into fists.