"I'm still weighing my options."

Hawk rubbed his eye, muttering, "Jeez."

"Well, you ran into the likely culprits last night, what do you remember?" Numair wanted to know. "Anything specific?"

"Uh..." The memory came back slowly, blurrily, in streaks of color. "They were wearin' hoods an' masks...the kind I see people come in off the plains with. And..."

A sharp glint of light off a blade--

"A machete," Hawk finished, and looked at Numair. "Like the one cops carry. One of 'em dropped it--"

"They left it behind??" Numair asked immediately. "Do you know where it is now? Investigators have spells that can track items like that back to their owners, under the right circumstances..."

He broke off quizzically, because Hawk was grimacing at him.

"Okay, but what if the owner is an investigator? An' don't say it ain't possible," Hawk added before Numair could respond. "I've heard some shit."

Numair sat back, frowning. "No, it's certainly possible," he muttered. He crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Perhaps if we got the weapon directly to the Treiha..."

"Who?"

"The Treiha...like, er, a public prosecutor," Numair explained, though he seemed distracted by his own train of thought. "We'd be going over the investigators' heads. The current Treiha has a good track record, but..." he paused, putting his head to one side. "I've never been able to get a clear read on them."