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job?”
    “Prisoner escort. However, for many of the others at the stationhouse, two points is enough to form a pattern. They told my next partner, during lunch, to be careful, as I was a ‘jinx.’ He laughed, and consequently choked on his meal.”
    Inspector Rainey’s eyes went wide, and her face quavered in that nebulous expression where either laughter or tears could suddenly erupt.
    “And from there it stuck.”
    “Indeed. My last partner was Inspector Kellman, who clearly did not have a fatal accident.”
    “A near fatal one?”
    “We were arresting a group of smugglers when we were ambushed. Badly outnumbered, I . . . resorted to magic.”
    “You’ve said you’re untrained.” Inspector Rainey said it as a statement of fact, with no level of rebuke or confusion.
    Minox lowered his voice to a whisper, involuntarily glancing to either side to see if anyone was listening. His status as a mage was not a secret among the Constabulary, but it wasn’t explicitly spoken of, and it certainly was not something he talked of too openly in public. “My use of magic tends to be instinctual. Raw. In this case I released a wide blast of energy, knocking down everyone else in the room.”
    “Including Kellman.”
    “Who requested a new partner shortly after the incident.” Magic made most people nervous, including Minox himself. He had heard, and even made, arguments against mages like the classic Unseen Knife justification. The apprehension Inspector Kellman displayed was not unexpected. The young horsepatrol officer Minox had been five years ago would have been as troubled by the man he was today.
    Inspector Rainey sat quietly, taking further sips of her tea, her face for the first time completely inscrutable. Finally she said, “How much stock does the captain put in this?”
    “He’s never used the epithet, at least in my hearing. But he cannot ignore the record of my partnerships. And his demeanor was strangely gleeful when he introduced us.”
    Inspector Rainey gave a strangely wry smile. It was all too familiar—the kind his mother or sisters made at him far too often. A mixture of warm affection with mild, teasing condescension. “You clearly have one fan on the inspectors’ floor. I think Miss Pyle might be sweet on you.”
    That was why. It was an obvious conclusion to make based on the short interaction she had witnessed, no doubt. Minox had to give Inspector Rainey that credit. But she missed the important details.
    “Nyla is quite fond of me, as is only proper,” he said. “She is, after all, my cousin.”
    “Oh!” Rainey’s face flushed. Mild embarrassment. “Of course. I know all too well about Constabulary families.” She bit at her lip for a moment. “How much family do you have in Green and Red?”
    “A significant portion,” Minox said. “However, at the Inemar station, there is only Nyla, and my sister Corrie, who is assigned to night shift duties.” He had no urge to further elaborate his family history. It wasn’t relevant to the situation.
    “The rest are . . . all over the city?” A slight line of sweat formed at her brow. Whatever secret she was hiding from the captain, the idea that he had family at other stationhouses made her worry. Why would that trouble her? Unless she didn’t want her duties as an inspector to be common knowledge in other parts of the city.
    Across the river, where her husband had been Inspector. A simple way to test the theory.
    “Mostly Keller Cove or East Maradaine. All south side houses.”
    The muscles in Inspector Rainey’s neck relaxed. Clearly, that had been the issue.
    There was no need to press it further, not at the moment. She was proving astute and intelligent. If Captain Cinellan insisted he have a partner, she was by far the most tolerable option he had had to date.
    Inspector Rainey finished her cresh roll. “Pork sausage is too greasy.”
    “It usually is,” Minox agreed, taking her statement as a cue to change the subject.