Jallaian had been one of Halbrechta's most prominent policy-setting Venerables. Now she was just a corpse.
She had no marks on her skin. Her clothing was neat, without any rips or tears, and her silver hair remained securely fastened in its knot at the back of her neck.
“Poison, I'm guessing,” the coroner said, lifting an eyelid and examining the lifeless gaze. “She was too healthy to die without external causes.”
Alinda Joren frowned and strode around the table to have a look from the other side. “Are you sure it wasn't just old age? It's highly unlikely anyone could have slipped her poison without her knowing.”
The coroner raised her eyebrows. “She had precognition, then?”
“No. Telepathy. And telekinesis, and a reputation for using both with unsettling accuracy.” Alinda had done a brief bit of bleary-eyed research on the victim on her way to the station. “Early onset, too – forty-one or forty-two, I believe. Jallaian had plenty of time to hone her abilities.”
Alinda made a note in her logbook. “Any other theories, Miry?” She could have added, Any other reasons for summoning the Senior Inspector from her warm bed just before dawn?
“Not upon a quick initial look like this, Inspector. I'll let you know what further examinations reveal.”
“Good.” Alinda started for the door, then turned. “Oh, and I assume you realize - since it concerns a Venerable, it's better if we downplay the murder possibility until we have concrete evidence. I hope I can trust you to keep quiet."