“We need to find out who made the motion to have the case against Margot’s attacker remanded to the human Caste Court.” Kaylin’s steps echoed heavily down the Tower stairs; Severn’s, in theory heavier, did not.
“It’s political.”
“Obviously. But we need to follow the money here. And you know as well as I do that remand means ‘dismiss entirely.’ There’s not going to be a lot of justice.”
“Margot is human. If Margot refused to endorse a remand, the request would have gone nowhere.”
“Exactly. We’re going to have a chat with Margot. What? It’s our beat today anyway.”
* * *
Margot was not in her store. She was not one of nature’s early risers, but the meeting with the Hawklord, the subsequent meeting with Marcus and the less-than-gentle aside from Clint, who had abandoned his post at the door to make it, had taken enough time from their daily schedule that Margot should have had more than enough time to put out her shingle.
Her doors were locked.
In and of itself, this wasn’t unusual; if Margot was popular—and she was—she had her share of angry former customers, some of whom wanted more than simple words with her.
But current customers—at least two—were waiting almost forlornly on the doorstep. They gave the Hawks the side-eye, but also gave them room. Margot had not been in yet.
Kaylin generally found Margot a safe target for venting spleen. She was almost certainly bilking the stupid and the hopeful out of their money, and she couldn’t stand Kaylin. She practically wore a target sayingHate Me.
But this?
“She hasn’t been in at all? She’s not in lockup because someone theoretically more important is in there with her?” she demanded of a slender elderly man.
“No, Officer.”
Severn was speaking to the other man, and when he was done, he met Kaylin’s eyes. “She’s not at home.”
“She lives above the store.”
“Yes. And she’s not at home.”
Kaylin didn’t ask him how he knew, because they were pretty much thinking the same thing. Margot had asked that the case be remanded to the human Caste Court; Margot was not at home. The prisoner in the holding cells had asked—or demanded, as it turned out—that his case be remanded to the human Caste Court, as well. They knew where he was.
In theory, he was still alive.
* * *
“You want me to what, exactly?” Teela demanded. Evanton’s mirror was small, and he disliked its use, but Kaylin had convinced Grethan that it was an emergency.
“I want you to go and talk to the prisoner. And I want you to get me permission to break into Margot’s store.”
“You’ve done it without permission before.”
“I didn’tbreak in,” Kaylin pointed out. “The store was open at the time.”
“Ah. Surely that’s just a trifling detail?”
“Caste Court remand, Teela.”
“Fine. What exactly do you want me to say to the prisoner?”
“His guards have beenBarrani. Without exception. But suddenly he’s demanding that his case be tried by the human Caste Court. I want to know who his visitors have been.”
Teela’s eyes were now very, very blue. “He hasn’t had visitors.”
“He must have.”
