Free Mirror Sight by Kristen Britain

meant she could poke around without her watchdog pouncing on her the moment she stepped out of her room.

MOTIVES
    K arigan snuck out into the empty hallway. She had no illusions about getting very far before someone caught her, since it was full day and everyone was up and about, but her chances of success were better with Mirriam absent.
    She was deciding how to proceed when she heard voices once again coming from the foyer, so she crept down the hallway to the top of the staircase and crouched, hiding behind the newel post and balusters. A man in a red uniform stood just inside the doorway, peaked cap on his head and, girded around his waist, a black belt that held stubby tools or weapons of some sort. Behind him, through the open door, an object like a large metallic ball, glinted in the sun, but she could not discern it clearly. It made her inexplicably nervous. She sensed a roving eye watching, judging, seeking. Seeking what? Or who?
    The professor strode into the foyer. “Inspector Gant,” he said with great ebullience. “How kind of you to stop by. What a surprise to see you! May I offer you a brandy?”
    “No thank you, Professor Josston.” The Inspector had the squared shoulders and crisp demeanor of a soldier. “I’m on duty and here on official business. There has been word you’re sheltering an undocumented person in your house.”
    “Undocumented? That’s not very likely now, is it? The emperor knows I respect his laws to the utmost.”
    The Inspector proffered a slight bow of acknowledgment. “Even so, I am required to check. You did take in a young woman recently, did you not?”
    Karigan stiffened, but the professor laughed. “My dear Gant, I’ve made no secret of it. Indeed I have taken in a young woman—my poor niece—so she may live in better circumstances than she left.”
    “I understand,” the Inspector said, clearly unmoved, “but all the same, I must see her documents.”
    “Documents. Of course.” The professor cast about himself as if they’d appear out of thin air. “One moment, please, Inspector, while I return to my office to retrieve them.” And he strode out of view.
    The Inspector remained where he stood with hands clasped behind his back. There was a querying chirp from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Yes,” he said.
    This was followed by several more chirps and hoots. They did not sound like anything Karigan had heard before—not at all like birds. Sharper, more tinny. Not at all like any living creature she knew of.
    “Of course,” the Inspector replied to the chirps. “He is highly favored and has a habit of taking in strays.”
    There was a soft whistle and Karigan had an impression of the whatever-it-was expressing doubt.
    “He bought that slave’s freedom, legal and documented. He does not have a history of harboring runaways. Now, silence.”
    There was a rude
blatt
from behind, and the Inspector raised an eyebrow.
    The professor emerged into the foyer with a sheaf of papers in his hand, which he passed immediately to the Inspector. The Inspector scrutinized the papers, taking time with each page.
    “So you say she is your niece,” the Inspector murmured. “Several Goodgraves have married into your family as I recall.”
    “Indeed,” the professor replied. “Historically and currently. A bit too much intermarrying with that branch if you know what I mean. Some ill-conceived notions of pure bloodlines and the like, leading, shall we say, to unfortunate frailties in the offspring.” He tapped his temple in emphasis.
    “Yes, I see you had your niece released from an asylum in the northeast.”
    “They left her to rot in terrible conditions,” the professor said full of indignation, “and it’s not her fault she’s a bit touched. They are very uncivilized in that region. Mender Samuels can attest to her condition, mental and physical.”
    “I’ve heard that asylum has an unsavory reputation,” the Inspector said. “There has