rather than backing out? You know they weren’t just talking about possibilities?”
“We’ve got good cases, holy immortal,” Aradel said. “Lieutenant Colms has done her research. We’re pretty sure this is all correct.”
“Then convince the judge and jury,” MeLaan said with a shrug. “We don’t do things like this. People have to be able to trust the law; I’m a lot of things, but I’m not going to be the one who sets the precedent that the kandra can lie in order to get someone convicted, even if you’re ‘pretty sure’ you’ve got the right evidence.”
Marasi folded her arms, grinding her teeth. Aradel glanced at her, questioning.
“Without her, they’ll wiggle out of it,” Marasi said. “We won’t be able to keep them in jail. They’ll be loose upon the city again.” She sighed. “But … Blast. She’s probably right, sir. I’d have hit on it if I’d thought about it long enough. We can’t falsify evidence, however right our cause.”
He nodded. “We weren’t going to keep them in prison anyway, Colms. They have too much power, even now. They’d find a way to escape conviction, pinning the charges on subordinates.” He sat back in his chair. “They’ll have the governor’s seat again, unless someone does something about it. Damn it. I really have to do this, don’t I?”
“Sorry, sir,” Marasi said.
“Well, at least I can get my desk clear of paperwork first,” he said, leaning forward in determination. “Suggestions for my replacement as constable-general?”
“Reddi,” Marasi said.
“He hates you.”
“Doesn’t make him a bad conner, sir,” Marasi said. “So long as someone keeps an eye on him, as you put it. I can do that. I think he’ll rise to the challenge.”
Aradel nodded, then held up a hand to MeLaan. She tossed him the belt, and he tied it in a loop.
“This part around your neck, holy one,” he said. “Make your skin bruise so it looks right, a V shape. You know how to make someone look like they died of strangling?”
“Yeah,” MeLaan said. “Unfortunately.”
“I’ll come cut you down in fifteen minutes,” Aradel said. “You’ll need to fool the coroner.”
“No problem,” MeLaan said. “I can breathe through a tracheal system instead of lungs. Arrange to have the body cremated, give me a window, and I’ll slip out and leave the bones, which you can burn. Nice and neat.”
“Fine,” Aradel said, looking sick.
MeLaan bade him farewell, wandering back toward the cells. Marasi joined her after giving Aradel a salute he didn’t see.
“How did you get out, anyway?” Marasi asked, catching up to MeLaan.
“Stuck my finger in the lock,” MeLaan said, “and melted my skin, shoving a bit in. It’s amazing what you can do when you aren’t constrained to normal body shapes.”
They walked together to the entrance of the jail part of the building. Marasi wasn’t going to ask how MeLaan had avoided the guards. Hopefully the two hadn’t been hurt.
“Harmony knows, right?” Marasi asked as MeLaan lingered at the door. “If these people are guilty or not?”
“He does.”
“So you could simply ask Him if it’s just to imprison them. If He says yes, we could go through with it. I’d accept God’s word on the matter to satisfy my conscience.”
“Still breaks our rules,” MeLaan said. “And Harmony probably wouldn’t talk.”
“Why not?” Marasi said. “You realize what all this has done to Waxillium, right?”
“He’ll weather it.”
“He shouldn’t have to.”
“And what would you have Harmony do, woman? Give us all the answers? Lead us by the noses, like Paalm swore that He did? Turn us all into pieces on a board for His amusement?”
Marasi stepped back. She’d never heard such a tone from MeLaan.
“Or maybe you want it the other way?” MeLaan snapped. “Leave us alone completely? Not intervene at all?”
“No, I—”
“Can you imagine what it must be like? Knowing that any action you take is going to help some, but hurt others? Save a man’s life now, let him spread a disease that kills a child later in his life. Harmony does the best He can—the best possible, by the very definition. Yes, He hurt Wax. He hurt him badly. But He put the pain where He knew it could be borne.”
Marasi blushed, then—annoyed at herself—dug in her purse and brought out the strange spike. “And this?”
“It’s not a metal we know.”
“That’s what TenSoon said. But Harmony—”
“It’s not a metal Harmony knows,” MeLaan said.
Marasi felt a chill. “Then … it’s not His? Not from His form, like the old stories of atium and lerasium?”
“No,” MeLaan said. “It’s from somewhere else. She used these