Page 185 of Just One Little Bargain

Tavrik sees her coming and reaches for the little sliding panel in the glass. He gets it halfway closed. My mother catches the edge with two fingers.

“No.”

He pauses. Neither of them moves. Then all six of his eyes narrow. “Ma’am, I need you to let go.”

“I’m here to collect Zavian Mal’Kethros Vaelthur. His hearing has been moved up.”

“Wonderful. Take a number.”

He reaches for the dispenser beneath the desk. My mother slides the partition open even further. Tavrik stares at her hand.

“Please refrain from interfering with the hatch.” His upper-left eye twitches.

“Then stop closing it while I’m speaking.”

“I close it because that is what the hatch is for.”

“Not anymore.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Tavrik exhales through his nose and sits back in his chair. “Fine. State your business before I develop a medical condition.”

“My son’s case has been escalated to priority review, and I’m taking him upstairs now.”

“You can’t just walk in here and remove someone from the queue.”

“I’m not removing him. You are.” She leans closer. “Cross him off your list. His hearing begins in fifteen minutes.”

“Everyone in this room has somewhere they believe they need to be.”

“You can either check the priority list now,” she says, “or explain to the tribunal why their scheduled defendant missed the opening of his own hearing because you refused to release him.”

With profound resentment, Tavrik drags a thicker ledger out from beneath the desk. He flips through several glowing pages, muttering under his breath until one claw halts halfway down a column. All six eyes narrow.

My mother waits.

“Fine. Priority transfer approved.” He drags his pen through my case number so hard that the nib catches in the paper. “He’s released pending tribunal review.”

My mother almost smiles. “See? Much easier.”

“For you.”

“For everyone.”

He mutters something I don’t catch and reaches for a stamp, slamming it down and jolting the coffee cup by his elbow. He nods past my shoulder.

“Should I wake your associate?”

My mother turns toward Krell. The look she gives him is the same one she once gave a dead rat discovered beneath the pantry stairs.

“Leave him.” She shrugs. “Something tells me his case file is sitting at the very bottom of the priority list. He’ll be here a very long time.”

She turns and walks toward the corridor without waiting to see if I’m following.

I catch up to her in three strides. The main hall branches into multiple passages, each one identical to the last: black stone walls, flickering torches, the distant sound of chains and muted screaming.

My mother moves through it all with her usual measured composure. I expected anger. At the very least, disappointment. Instead, her expression is smooth, her pace unhurried, not a single sharp movement betraying what she might be thinking.