She took one and flipped through it, finding nothing of interest. Perhaps Innate had been studying lately. But… why were only the third, fourth, and fifth volumes scuffed? She picked up another and opened it—and here she found the reason. Cut into the center of the pages was a hole containing a key. Innate hadn’t been reading Breeze’s old essays. He had simply forgotten which volume had the key in it.

Marasi held up the key, then glanced at the room’s solitary desk. Dared she?

Of course I dare, she thought, crossing the room with a swish of skirts. Her constable credentials, plus Aradel’s concern about the governor, would give her legal grounds for doing a quick search. She knew the law as well as anyone.

She also knew that the law was subject to interpretation by the city’s judges, most of whom had noble blood and would not take kindly to someone spying on the governor. That was why her fingers were trembling as she quickly tried the key in the desk drawer. It didn’t fit. She paused, then tried a spot on the floor like the one up above, where the governor had gotten out his seal.

Sure enough, there was a hidden safe under the rug. She turned the key in it, and earned a satisfying click. She pulled the safe open and quickly scanned the contents.

A pistol.

Cigars. She didn’t recognize the brand.

A bundle of banknotes tied with string. Enough to buy a house. Marasi’s eyes bulged a little, but she kept searching.

A stack of letters. These she took over to the desk, expecting to find details of an illicit romantic relationship or the like. She skimmed them, then read more deeply, then sank down into the desk’s chair, raising her fingers to her lips.

The letters did detail a relationship—or, rather, many of them. These were private communications with house leaders throughout the city. Although couched in euphemism and circumlocution, to her they clearly spoke of corruption.

Marasi grew cold as she flipped through them, letter by letter. The actual writing was opaque. We agree that certain courtesies will be extended or These are acceptable terms as per our previous arrangement. But they were dated, and her mind quickly related each of them to her notes back at the precinct. This was proof. She flipped through more. Yes, they aligned with her own statistical analysis. These were Innate’s promises of political favors in exchange for bribes.

With the obfuscatory language, it might not be a smoking gun—but it was at least a very warm one. Better, Innate had added notations to most of the letters to remind himself of important points. Here was one probably trading a promise by Innate to push for higher tariffs on refined steel from outside the city in exchange for a favorable deal on a land purchase by one of his family. Another more recent one was about a judge’s seat, when Innate had appointed a Hammondess scion to a recent opening.