Caberel nodded placidly, though she gave Marasi a roll of the eyes as she walked up. Aradel did tend to micromanage, but at least he was earnest. In Marasi’s experience, they were almost all fond of him, eyerolls notwithstanding.
She plucked a cup of tea off the plate of a passing corporal, who was delivering them to the desks. He quickly moved on, eyes forward, but she could almost feel him glaring at her. Well, it wasn’t her fault she’d landed this position, and the rank of lieutenant, without ever having to deliver tea.
All right, she admitted to herself, sipping the tea and stepping up beside Aradel. Maybe there is a bit of competition around here.
“You’ll see this done, then?” Aradel asked.
“Of course, sir,” Caberel said. She was one of the few in the place who treated Marasi with any measure of respect. Perhaps it was because they were both women.
There were fewer women in the constabulary than among the solicitors. One might have guessed that the reason for this was that ladies weren’t interested in the violence—but having done both jobs, Marasi felt she knew which profession was bloodier. And it wasn’t the one where people carried guns.
“Good, good,” Aradel said. “I have a debriefing with Captain Reddi in…” He patted at his pocket.
Marasi held out his watch, which he grabbed and checked for the time.
“… fifteen minutes. Huh. More time than I expected. Where’d you get that tea, Colms?”
“Want me to have someone fetch you some?” she asked.
“No, no. I can do it.” He bustled off, and Marasi nodded to Caberel, then hurried after him.
“Sir,” she said, “have you seen the afternoon broadsheets?”
He held out his hand, which she filled with paper. He held up the stack of broadsheets, and almost ran over three different constables on his way to the stove and the tea. “Bad,” he muttered. “I’d hoped they’d spin this against us.”
“Us, sir?” Marasi asked, surprised.
“Sure,” he said. “Nobleman dead, constables not giving the press details. This reads like they started to pin the death on the constables, but then changed their minds. By the end, the tone is far more outraged against Winsting than us.”
“And that’s worse than outrage at us for a cover-up?”
“Far worse, Lieutenant,” he said with a grimace, reaching for a cup. “People are used to hating conners. We’re a magnet for it, a lightning rod. Better us than the governor.”
“Unless the governor deserves it, sir.”
“Dangerous words, Lieutenant,” Aradel said, filling his cup with steaming tea from the large urn kept warm atop the coal stove. “And likely inappropriate.”
“You know there are rumors that he’s corrupt,” Marasi said softly.
“What I know is that we are civil servants,” Aradel said. “There are enough people out there with the mindset and the moral position to monitor the government. Our job is to keep the peace.”
Marasi frowned, but said nothing. Governor Innate was corrupt, she was almost sure of it. There were too many coincidences, too many small oddities in his policy decisions. It wasn’t by any means obvious, but trends were Marasi’s specialty, and her passion.
It wasn’t as if she’d wanted to discover that the leader of Elendel was trading favors with the city’s elite, but once she’d spotted the signs, she’d felt compelled to dig in. On her desk, carefully hidden under a stack of ordinary reports, was a ledger in which she’d assembled all the information. Nothing concrete, but the picture it drew was clear to her—even though she understood that it would look innocent to anyone else.
Aradel studied her. “You disagree with my opinion, Lieutenant?”
“One doesn’t change the world by avoiding the hard questions, sir.”
“Feel free to ask them, then. In your head, Lieutenant, and not out loud—particularly not to people outside the precinct. We can’t have the men we work for thinking we are trying to undermine them.”
“Funny, sir,” Marasi said. “I thought we worked for the people of the city, not their leaders.”
Aradel stopped, cup of steaming tea halfway to his lips. “Suppose I deserved that,” he said, then took a gulp, shaking his head. He didn’t flinch at the heat. People in the office figured he’d seared his taste buds off years ago. “Let’s go.”
They wove through the room toward Aradel’s office, passing Captain Reddi at his desk. The lanky man rose, but Aradel waved him down, pulling out his watch. “I still have … five minutes until I have to deal with you, Reddi.”
Marasi shot the captain an apologetic smile. She got a scowl in return.
“Someday,” she noted, “I’m going to figure out why that man hates me.”
“Hmmm?” Aradel said. “Oh, you stole his job.”
Marasi missed a step, stumbling into Lieutenant Ahlstrom’s desk. “What?” she demanded, hurrying after Aradel. “Sir?”
“Reddi was going to be my assistant,” Aradel said as they reached his office. “Had a damn fine bid for the job; I was all but priced into hiring him, until I got your application.”