Yoorae and Kyungsoo were both up before daybreak.  Yoorae was normally a bit of an early bird, but she hated it in winter because it meant she was up before the sun had risen, and it was always depressing.  Kyungsoo was somehow just always awake and sprightly no matter what hour he forced himself out of bed.

A thick mist hung over the capital city as they wound their way through the streets, punctuated every so often by the low-burning lamps.  The mist clung to the cobbles, making them slippery, and Yoorae grabbed at Kyungsoo’s elbow more than once to stop herself from going sprawling.

The docks were bustling with life by the time that they reached them.  As far as Yoorae knew, there were always people here there and everywhere at all hours of day and night when it came to the docks, though darkness did seem to thin the numbers quite substantially.  The tide was, however, going out, and lots of ships were prepping to set sail imminently.  Kyungsoo linked his arm through hers so that he wouldn’t lose her in the chaos, which Yoorae was grateful for as most of the sailors were significantly bigger than she was and a lot of them were carrying crates in their arms that prevented them from seeing where they were going.

There was a strange atmosphere as they entered the prison on Tarimay Wharf.    At first, Yoorae put it down to the knowledge that she really shouldn’t be there, especially not to talk to somebody on the morning of the day she was due to pass judgement on him, because that was malpractice whether or not anybody found out about it (and if they did, her position as magistrata could be in jeopardy), but various of the Name-Seekers had deemed it important to glean what was possible from the Nuisance about his encounter with magic.  It was not something Yoorae could grill him about in the courtroom without incurring a lot of suspicion, but, if he did start talking, Yoorae would be able to place a temporary stay of up to a week on his trial and then she and the others could question him at their leisure rather than having to get Yongguk to sneak them into the various prisons for interviews if the evidence suggested that was where Yoorae should put him, or it would save her from having to track him down again if the evidence suggested there was not enough to put him behind bars.

The jailer looked in equal measure relieved and alarmed to see her.

“Magistrata!” he gasped out as he sprinted up to them from the other end of the corridor.  “I’ve just sent for the city watch – there’s been a murder!”

Yoorae exchanged glances with Kyungsoo, but they both hurried after the jailer as he whipped back around and all but ran back to the cells.  Yoorae’s heart sank when he stopped in front of the one she had been into the night before, fumbling with the keys.  The inmates in the various other cells were all awake and as close to the passage as they could get, watching with interest.

The Nuisance was lying on the floor.  He looked peaceful, hands folded over his stomach, legs straight, eyes closed, seeming for all the world to be asleep – except for the neatly slit throat and the blood staining the straw.  Kyungsoo’s eyes were scanning the room immediately as he fished out a roll of parchment from his satchel and a piece of charcoal and started to sketch the scene in swift, sure .  Yoorae kept back so that she wouldn’t be in his way, gesturing for the jailer to do the same.

“When did this happen?” she asked.

The jailer shrugged helplessly.

“I was out most of the night,” he confessed.  “Only woke up a short while ago.”

Yoorae frowned.  “Weren’t you on night duty?”

“There was nothing I could do, magistrata.  I’ve never conked out on the job like this.  I didn’t eat nor drink anything, and I’m fit as a flea.  But nothing.  And it wasn’t just me, neither.  I remember you visiting, and after you another gentleman came in, and then after that, nothing until I woke up sitting in my chair by the door.  None of the inmates saw anything.”  He paused.  “And my keys weren’t taken and the cell was locked.”

Yoorae couldn’t help another glance at Kyungsoo.  He was finishing up his sketch intently, charcoal flying over the parchment.

“Whoever murdered this man could have taken your keys and put them back, if you truly remember nothing,” Yoorae murmured.  “And locks can be opened with magic, anyway.”

“You should check the lock for sigil markings,” Kyungsoo pointed out, having now moved from his sketch onto notes about the situation.  Yoorae crossed to the barred door and took out her stylus, carefully selecting the most useful sigils from her memory.  If sigil magic was used, it was sometimes possible to cast a small spell, provided it was in the precise area the original ones had been drawn, to see which sigils had been in play.  It did have to be done within a few hours of the original ones being drawn, and she wondered if perhaps they were too distant timewise for it to work, but she swipe her personal sigil across the ones she’d drawn nonetheless.

Nothing.  Which was predictable.  The jailer continued to prattle anxiously while Yoorae and Kyungsoo inspected the body.

“There’s no sign of a struggle,” Kyungsoo observed in a murmur, his eyes darting around at the straw.  “Looks like he was lying down when his throat was cut, too, otherwise the blood would have spattered, not pooled.  And his neck has been cleaned.  That’s weird.”

“It wouldn’t have taken him too long to bleed out,” Yoorae pointed out.  “And I’m willing to bet the killer took the time to put him in this position.”

“He was lying down,” Kyungsoo repeated.  “I wouldn’t bet too much.”

“Why, though?” Yoorae wondered.  “What reason was there to kill him?”

When questioned, the rest of the inmates all had the same story as the jailer.  There had been various visits to the prison the previou