I looked back at him. I sensed he was testing me again. On what, I couldn’t guess. And it didn’t matter. Jones wanted answers. If I wanted to be a Senator, I needed to ingratiate myself—just one more time. “Tell me,” I said.

“Okay, but let’s hurry. I don’t want to be late.”

He took the lead and gestured for me to walk behind him.

* * *

“The rumors started a month before I came to Cobane,” he began.

“Talk of a fever sweeping through the Kongo. The symptoms were similar to a fever that plagued the Vine last quarter. I wanted more information. So, I went to Point Landing.”

“Was it the same sickness?” I asked.

“It was—only worse. At the Vine, the medicine man refers people to me. At Point Landing, he was still in charge, dosing with salt and liquor. He’d even turned the nursery into a hash tent, so the smoke could heal the children. By the time I got there, over a hundred people had fallen ill.”

I inhaled. “That many?”

He nodded. “Production shut down once the northern diplomats became aware of the problem. The house fell into disarray. They failed even to designate a hospital. So, the sick and healthy were still sleeping and eating together.”

“Why didn’t the Overseer notify the Assembly?”

“Fear. When it comes to the Kongo, the Assembly cares about one thing—the quota. The North is overcrowded. Food storage hasn’t kept pace with population growth. They have enough to sustain them for six months to a year, tops. After that, if the Kongo doesn’t send food, thousands will starve. A wise Overseer never admits that the quota is in danger. If he did, the Assembly would give his post to another diplomat, eager to take his place. The Overseers have it good here in the Kongo. Our territory is bigger than the two northern territories put together. So here, they have space.”

“Well, considering the death toll, doing nothing about the fever makes even less sense than informing the Assembly,” I said.

“I agree. I think his hope was that the fever would die out quickly. Like I said, the same fever plagued the Vine last quarter. It ran its course in a month. The Overseer there was able to get back on schedule before anyone noticed a problem. We lost nearly fifty workers, but he worked the remainder hard in the aftermath and made up for lost time.”

I grimaced. “Did any of the Overseer’s men fall ill?”

“No, not at the Vine. When I arrived at Point Landing, the Overseer and his men were barricaded in the big house—with their Kongo house staff, of course.”

I hid my distaste for their cowardice. “How does the fever spread?” I asked.