“Not all of them,” de Marbot said. “There was William Marshal of England. He never switched sides.”
“Didn’t he serve under King John?” Sam said. “He must’ve had a strong stomach to stick with him. Anyway, John has tried once and almost got away with it. What bothers me is, how many other saboteurs has he planted? You see now why I’ve insisted on double guards at every vulnerable point. And four outside the armory and ammunition hold.
“That’s also why I’ve ordered that every man jack aboard, and jill, too, report any suspicious conduct they see. I know it’s made some people jumpy. But I’ve had to be realistic.”
“No vonder you got nightmareth. Me, I don’t vorry about thuch thingth.”
“That’s why I’m captain and you’re only a bodyguard. Say, don’t you worry about protecting me?”
“I chutht do my duty and vorry only about the long time betveen mealth.”
A few minutes later, the chief radio officer reported that she was in contact with the Parseval. By the time Sam was through talking to Gulbirra, he felt as if he were walking through a minefield. Treachery, lies, frustration, uncertainty, confusion, and misdirection were waiting to explode under his feet.
Smoking like a dragon though the cigar tasted bitter, he paced back and forth. So far, there were only two on the boat who shared the secret of X with him-Joe Miller and John Johnston. There were, or had been, eight who to his knowledge knew about the Stranger: Miller, Johnston, himself, Firebrass (now dead), de Bergerac, Odysseus (who’d disappeared long ago), von Richthofen (now dead), and Richard Francis Burton. The being whom Clemens called X or the Mysterious Stranger (when it wasn’t son-of-a-bitch or bastard) had said he’d elected twelve to get to the polar tower. X was supposed to return in a few years and give Sam more information. So far he had not shown.
Perhaps the other Ethicals had finally caught him, and he was- where?
Sam had told Miller and von Richthofen about the Stranger. So that left six of those informed by X unknown to him. Though it was possible that they were all on this boat. Why had X not given each one a sign or a codeword of recognition? Maybe he meant to do so but had been delayed. X’s schedule was about as uncertain as that of a Mexican railroad.
Cyrano had told him about Burton. Sam didn’t know where Burton was, but he knew who he was. The newspapers had been full of his exploits during Sam’s lifetime. And Sam had read his Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to El-Medinah, First Footsteps in East Africa, The Lake Regions of Central Africa, and his translation of the Arabian Nights.
Also, Gwenafra had known him personally, and she had told Sam all she remembered about him. She had been only seven or thereabouts when she had first been resurrected. Richard Burton had taken her under his wing, and she had traveled with him on a boat up-River for a year. Then she had been drowned, but she had never forgotten the fierce, dark man.
Greystock had also been with them. But neither he nor Gwen were aware of the Stranger. Or way Greystock an agent?
That fellow Burton. On Earth he’d led an expedition to find the source of the Nile. Here, he was as passionately involved in getting to the headwaters of the Nile, though for a different reason. De Bergerac had said that the Ethical had told him that, if he found Burton, Burton would pretend to have lost his memory of anything related to the Ethicals. Clemens should tell him that he knew better, and Burton would then explain why he was pretending to have amnesia. Very curious.
Then there were Stern, Obrenova, and Thorn. And Firebrass. Their roles were as clandestine as those of X and his colleagues. On which side were they?
He needed help in untangling the warp and woof of this crazy tapestry. Time for a conference.
Within five minutes, he was closeted in his cabin with Joe and John Johnston. Johnston was a huge man, massively boned and muscled. His face was handsome though craggy; his eyes, a startling blue; his hair, bright red. Though he towered above other humans, he looked small beside the titanthrop.