"Ye-es," Numair said slowly. He flicked his index finger over his shoulder at the picture window; the curtains promptly slid shut over it on their own, muting the bright morning light. He continued, somewhat suspiciously, "Specifically, what you said was..."

"Don't worry, there waren't cops or nothin'." Hawk sagged easily against the door frame in the night, as Numair held his bandaged fist gently with both hands. "We jus' got jumped is all."

"Which was true," Numair added, resting his chin on one hand as Hawk took a drink and avoided his eyes. "According to you..."

"It is true, just that ain't all of it," Hawk said, squeezing his left eye shut in a wince. "I think we got jumped by the same people who've been leavin' that graffiti you told me not to worry about. They tried to cut Teige's head off, Mari. They only got a chunk of his ear, but..."

Numair stared at Hawk, a look of wholly unpleasant surprise chasing away whatever else had been in his expression. For a long silent moment he sat, linking his fingers together, eyes lowered but not really looking at anything on his desk. Hawk watched him without speaking.

Finally he picked up one of the many files that were stacked on the desk: a small sheaf with a dark cover, held together at the top by a clip. He folded the cover back over it to expose the first page.

"Hawk, last night there was a murder in Escalus," he said, and passed the sheaf to Hawk, who took it with surprise. "The report came to me this morning. Their head was left on the rim of the fountain, under Escala's statue. The victim was a fuzhu. As you can see," he added, uncomfortably, "their head looks rather a lot like a laar's."

The first page of the report was accompanied by a small portrait that was tucked under the cover's top edge. It featured a white deer-like face with four horns.