In an inexplicable way, Juwi Mesrani, Deputy Hunter (East Ibanborah Division), reminded Ruban of Simani. The two looked nothing alike, of course. Simani was a native northerner – light-skinned, dark-eyed – with an ectomorphic body-type that would not have been poorly represented by a stick figure. Juwi, by contrast, was built like a baby bull, wide-set jade eyes stark against her dark-brown face.

Her mouth set in a grim line, shoulders taut with tension, Juwi paced the atrium of the Hunter Quarters like a caged lion waiting to spring. Her movements were so reminiscent of Simani that Ruban could have sworn he was watching his partner in another body. She looked like she was about to punch something.

“Forensics found sif particles in the wound, can you believe it?” she growled, her pace quickening. “Bloody sif in the stab wound and they say the case is closed. Orders from Ragah my foot. They’re knee-deep in the black market, man, everyone from the DSP upward. That’s why they’re all trying to push this thing under the rug.”

“So you don’t think this is a normal gang job?”

“Gang job?” Juwi laughed. “I grew up in this town, Kinoh. I know what gang violence looks like, and this ain’t it. Acid in the eyes? Sure. That isn’t exactly uncommon around here, despite what the tourism ads will have you believe. But gangsters don’t go around stabbing their victims. Not if they’re human, anyway. Why go through all the trouble of up-close-and-personal when a simple bullet from half a mile away would do the job, and better? A knife might have been used in a bar brawl gone wrong, which is what they initially thought it was. But then again, drunk tourists don’t usually pour acid into their victims’ eyes after offing them.

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“This thing is all over the place, almost as if someone was trying to make it look like something it’s not. And all of that I could ignore, but you can’t argue with the forensic evidence. Sif particles in the wound – that could only mean one thing. And anyone who says otherwise is wearing a blindfold made of blood money.”

Ruban sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “That’s pretty much what I thought. You’re sure this has something to do with the feather trade?”

“What else could it be? Wasn’t a Hunter that did this.”

“And you are positive it was an Aeriel that died?”

“Have you ever heard of a man being murdered with a sifblade?”

“Touché,” Ruban conceded. “Still, would’ve been helpful to have a proper autopsy.”

“You think? I wanted to wring the Chief’s neck, I did. ‘Orders from Ragah,’ horse’s balls! It’s a cover-up if ever I’ve seen one. They’re all dirty, right up to the goddamn IAW.”

Ruban rose to his feet, holding his hand out to the young Hunter. “Well, thanks for your cooperation, Mesrani. I really appreciate it. I’ll see what I can do from here.”

“You really plan to look into it then?” she said, her smaller hand wrapping around his in a firm grip. “Do you have clearance?”

Ruban raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

Juwi grunted. “I s’pose not. What’s the worst that could happen? We’d just be discharged. I’ve always secretly wanted to work private security anyway.”

Despite himself, Ruban laughed. “I’ll keep your name out of it, Deputy. If it comes to it, they’ll never know we spoke about this case at all. Not from me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need your protection, Kinoh. Didn’t join the Corps for the job security. Just give me a call if you need anything. I want to get to the bottom of this mess as much as you do. I feel like I’m being played, and I don’t like the feeling.”

Ruban nodded, his voice grave. “I will. And thank you.”