Taen could have been happier. 'He should have gotten rid of him, should have had him killed. Saelin has never been prone to sentiment, surely he wasn't regretting the arrest of a 'comrade'. Taen did his best not to roll his eyes while making his way to the temple of the Starwatchers, and at that much at least, he was successful.

It helped his mood somewhat to be in Pas'en, a busy city full of life, he felt at home being unremarkable, unremarked upon, and unknown to all. With so many people, it was inevitable that he'd be forgotten even if he hadn't had the unusual ability to simply 'disappear' from living memory.

He checked the sun overhead, there was still time, as long as Saelin had done his work, and as long as the priests kept to their routine. He stopped at a small outdoor restaurant near the temple exit that he needed. The temple opened out into a grand square that allowed vast numbers to scatter to the winds as soon as they exited the place of worship, however… that door was uninteresting.

The interesting door was the one through which suspected heretics and blasphemers would pass, and the open exit made it possible for all to see the face of the one who challenged the dominion of the stars over the lives of mortals.

Taen took out a few bronze coins and set them with a small clatter onto the outdoor countertop. The seat and the counter were both carved out of stone and faced a half octagon which jutted out of the corner of a building. In an ideal location, it took foot traffic from the temple and two major side streets, as such, it was busy.

Behind the counter stood a trio of almost identical looking humans, each of them had fire red hair, freckles, and slender builds. The reason why was behind them. The patriarch of the family, an older man, and the matriarch of the family, an older woman, were similar in appearance save for white hair, and they were going in and out of the building bringing food out to be cooked.

In front of each seat sat a hole suitable for the bowls to hang in, and some simple, cheap wooden spoons and a bowl of fresh bread that even looked like it would crackle when you broke off a piece, sat waiting to be used. Behind the counter the trio of siblings were busy boiling noodles and preparing balls of meat and sauce, of all the places in Pas'en… this was one of Taen's favorites.

People were seated at every spot available, and nobody needed to order anything. There was only one thing to have. "Hey, you wanna more bread there?!" A barrel like booming voice came from the young man behind the counter when Taen unconsciously reached for another piece and found none.

He stopped and stared, "What the… oh!" He laughed sheepishly and put his hand behind his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize…"

The youth had a big toothy grin on his face and shook his head, "Nah nah! It's your first time yeah, well we're famous for our bread here, all over the city!" His chest puffed out with pride as he informed Taen for the first time in his mind, and the thousandth time in Taen's.

"You don't pay for the bread! Just for this!" he ladled some red sauce and dropped some balls of meat into the simple steel bowl and slid it over the counter with a smooth sound drowned out by the passing feet and chattering customers, and it landed right in the hole.

A tiny clink hit as the ends caught, and Taen dug into the meal with ravenous gusto. The scent of garlic and basil was thick in his nose, as was the smell of fresh baked bread that kept a constant line of people standing at his back eager for a seat themselves.

The young man crossed his arms in front of himself and held a red sauce covered spoon against his bicep as if he were in some modified version of a military pose, and waited.

"Hey you say nothin, you don't like?!" He shouted the question, but Taen's obvious relish meant the face of the youth was full of enthusiasm. It was obviously enjoyed.

"Couldn't ask for a better meal in any of the great cities!" Taen shouted and slapped the wooden spoon into the bowl.

"Then you pay up eh! Hurry! Hurry, we got more people to serve!" The young man held out his hand and closed his fingers over his palm several times.

"I'll be back again! I promise!" Taen declared and slapped the coppers into the open palm. The young man turned behind him and slammed the coins into a large bronze jug with a loud clatter and turned to the next person that had taken Taen's seat.

Within a minute or two while he was preparing the next helping, he asked the slender young woman in front of him, "Hey why you wait so long to sit, were you not hungry?"

She looked briefly confused and scratched her blonde head, "I… I don't know. I'm definitely starving, so hurry up already would you!" She grinned and licked her lips, "I must have been crazy to wait on no one, now fill me up or do you not know how to cook anymore!"

The parlay went on for some time as her meal was ready, but before the third exchange, they'd forgotten the man who'd been there not but three minutes earlier.

Taen wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and waited, he took out a water skin and removed the cap. The sound of water sloshing within was audible, and then with the greatest of care, he took out a small brown pouch from his pocket and poured some of the contents into the skin. It was odorless, tasteless, and would blend into water like a melted ice cube.

So little time had passed while waiting near the exit that the rich taste was still on his tongue when, predictably, the exit used to shame heretics, opened up. Taen then began the slow lurching walk of a drunkard, holding the open skin looped across the front of his body, with his hand underneath the base.

A half elf with a face black and blue from beatings, barely able to walk, and with numerous cuts and other terrible marks over his naked body, was being dragged out into full view by the priests. Such was the severity of the beating that, though conscious, the half-elf could barely do more than groan, and the tops of his feet were dragged scraping over the rough cobblestone.

Taen came closer.

Staggering along while people stared, booed, or threw rotted food toward the accused, that splattered and smelled foul as the bodily fluids that stained the agonized body of the 'heretic', nobody really paid much mind to a drunk.

Bobbing and weaving over the public area Taen paced his breathing and tensed his fingers, 'The stupid arrogant half elf probably knows nothing… but the dead know even less. It's a damn shame to waste him after all this time but… oh well. The replaceable gets replaced, and that's just how things go.' Taen reasoned as he was within a half a dozen steps of the miserable accused.

'Five.' Taen began to count the steps.

'Four.'

'Two.'

'Now!' He appeared to trip while crossing in front of them and squeezed his tense fingers over the bottom of the skin, water spouted out of the top and splashed over the center of the half elf's chest, while Taen went down hard onto the stone, protecting his face by throwing his free arm in front at the last moment.

It still hurt. 'Gah… fucking knees… that's why I hate that routine.' He cursed himself and lay groaning for a moment, the priests stopped and stared at him. They lifted up the heavy white robes with one hand each, pausing to bunch it up so they wouldn't get any 'drunkard' on their clean cloth, holding them like a woman would a long skirt to avoid the mud.

They then stepped over him, dragging the now dripping accused away, a small number of passersby waited long enough to spit on the bloody and generally busted body who barely registered anything, but nobody barred the way.

Taen waited, moments passed, a minute or two, then he got up. He carefully avoided any of the splashed spots that briefly darkened the grey stone, and rose to his feet.

When he was on his feet again, he stretched and looked around.

Everybody had moved on about their business, even if he couldn't be forgotten, there was nobody around who would think it odd how he simply walked away like nothing was wrong.

"A good meal and a job well done." He muttered under his breath and headed down the street to 'The Dark Side' where Saelin was no doubt waiting.

In the carriage meant to take the accused back to a dank, dreary prison cell, or, if he had a strong enough constitution, once in the cell itself, one very unfortunate half elf bandit would start to convulse, foam at the mouth, jacknife, spasm, and then die. 'Ideally, he'll die alone in his cell. Then they'll just assume the beating and interrogation went too far. But either way is fine.' Taen contemplated, and whistled a happy tune, all the way to the whore house.

Rasgen hadn't been to the prison since the death of his father, but with the grave expression on Freyjin's face, the tight lips, the drawn expression, the shifting gaze, and the way she rubbed her fingers together in a constant nervous gesture, it all said volumes about her concern.

"It's still hard to believe." Rasgen said as casually as he could, unsure if he could really believe the bold statement she'd made.

"Master… I can only think that the sheer impossibility of it is part of why the person got away with it for so long. I have heard of invisibility spells, I have heard of spells that diminished the way someone would register to the senses… I have even heard of a spell that made people indifferent to the caster's presence. I have never heard of someone who could be completely forgotten. I have nothing of worth, master, nothing at all. But if I'm wrong, I'll beg for a hundred lashes to punish my rash claim to the husband of my mistress."

Rasgen's brow furrowed, "Why so urgent, even if you're right?"

"Because, master, he's here. He's here and I know he's a threat to my mistress, which means he's a threat to her house, which means he's a threat to my children. If anything happens to her…" Freyjin's eyes welled up and she vigorously wiped them.

Rasgen's jaw clenched. "You're worried about being sold and separated from them, aren't you, slave?"

She gave a tiny nod, "Wouldn't you be, master? They're mine, but outside her will, I have no right to them, even Sobella's reforms didn't go that far, my birth daughter is free, but that just means some hellish orphanage or going to the temples where she'll wait to serve or be a sacrifice for someone who wants to buy a substitute… you… saw the other two, master, do you remember?"

"I did…?" Rasgen rubbed his chin, "Yes, the white haired girls, the twins, I believe I saw them, but if I didn't, well I know of them. They're the recovered pair."

"Yes, master… they endured horrible abuse… they'll die if they're separated… my lady can be… terrifying, but she's not overtly cruel. She protects us, if she dies without an heir…" Freyjin gave the Prince a sad little smile, "You know what happens under your own laws, I'm sure. With good rule, it keeps you very secure."

Rasgen wasn't sure if he was being criticized or not, but he chose not to take it that way. "Yes… it does. I suppose it does." He answered as the carriage stopped and they pulled up to the prison.

Freyjin didn't waste a moment, her slender hand darted for the handle and she yanked herself out as she pushed the door open without waiting for the coachman and jumped down to the ground. In front of their carriage was one that could, in her mind, only have belonged to the temples. A pure white carriage, and her elven ears perked up at the sounds of chaos within.

Rasgen followed, ignoring the hand of the coachman as he followed and saw that Freyjin was rushing over to the sound of thrashing and cursing. "Guards!" Rasgen shouted to the soldiers who stood at the large double door.

The door was large, made of obviously thick wood and then banded in places with orichalcum for additional security, hearing the commotion at the carriage that had pulled around to the front changed nothing for them. Not until the booming voice of the prince himself called them from their posts. Half-plate armor clattered and resounded as they rushed down the stone steps and over the stone walkway, over to where the carriages had been parked.

Freyjin waited for neither the guards nor the prince, her hand went to the handle and without a word she flung it open, every instinct in her body was screaming at her that an opportunity was being torn away. 'I know it. I don't know how I know it, but I know it, damn my luck, can I just once have some bit of luck in my accursed life?!' She howled to the stars she despised and ripped the door from its hinges, casting it back with a crash to break over the stone, within she found a pair of white clad priests struggling against a spasming naked half-elf.

His body was slick with blood which smeared on the robes of those who struggled to hold him down. The slipperiness did them no favors and their grasping hands lost their grips over and over.

"Get out of the way!" Freyjin shouted and thrust her hand in to grab him by the ankle, she yanked, knocking both priests back into their seats and dragging the spasming prisoner out, she took him by he wrist and lay him down, her blue eyes wide with horror as she looked at the mass of bruised flesh that probably hid numerous broken ribs.

'Interrogated but… that's not the problem. If this were the problem he would have died some time ago…' She flung herself over his body, straddling him and holding him down at the biceps.

"Healer! Get a healer!" She shouted the order as authoritatively as she could, her bronze collar didn't earn her shouts of dismissal, but nobody did as she said either.

"Now!" Rasgen roared, and one of the guards who had made his way over rushed back the way he'd come, flinging the door open and shouting the Prince's order down the long empty chamber.

Rasgen watched while the frantic longhaired elf woman's eyes darted over his body.

'Two possible ways… just two…' She looked up at the confused veiled priests, "Did you give him anything to eat or drink?!"

"No." They answered with indifferent shrugs now that the prisoner was no longer making a mess of their robes in the confined carriage.

"A rag! Give me a rag! A cloth!" She shouted and held him down as hard as she could, her eyes darted around to all of them, and after a moment the Prince took out a cloth from his pocket and held it out to her.

Freyjin snatched it away and looked over his body as fast as her eyes could move.

'A guess, then, damn fools made it really hard to tell.' She swore and began to wipe desperately and roughly over the smooth chest. "Where's the damn healer?!"

'Seconds, maybe a minute even if I'm right.' Her heart raced and pulse pounded like she was in the middle of a fight, the thrashing was getting worse, 'He must have been a tough one.' She pondered, and the magic caster came rushing out the door and down the steps.

"Cast cure poison! Now! Don't worry about the other wounds!" She bellowed the order loud enough to almost knock the slender youth in caster's robes back on his heel.

Still, he did what she said, targeting the spasming half elf and the glowing light of the spell swept over his body. The spasming began to slow, then stop. The half elf didn't wake up, but his breathing became normal.

"Cast it on me too, and them!" Freyjin snapped out the order and pointed to the two white robed priests whose hands had become fists of outrage at the way they were spoken to, and of… until she ordered cure poison used on them.

The caster, who Freyjin now saw had blonde hair falling down the front of his body, and whose ears poked at the hood over his face in such a way that she was sure it was another elf beneath the covering, did as she said.

The glow went over the priests as the spell was cast, and the two priests looked at one another, the veils did nothing to hide their confusion at what had just taken place, nor were they alone.

Freyjin's entire body started shaking, and slowly stood, moving off of the body of the unconscious half elf, she stepped back, then went to her knees and prostrated herself. No golden glow of magic passed over her body.

"Me too… please… sir." She begged of the caster who stood a few feet away.

"What was that…?" Prince Rasgen demanded and put his hands on his hips and stared from her to the priests.

The priests went down to one knee and bowed their heads to the Prince. "He just started spasming, seizing up just as we were pulling up here, we thought he was just being, I don't know. But then she…" The elder of the pair pointed to the prostrate Freyjin.

"Freyjin?" Rasgen asked.

She looked over her shoulder at the priest. "Please, sir… your spell… hurry!"

The priest looked flummoxed.

"Freyjin?" Rasgen asked… "Why do you need that spell…?"

"Master… I was on top of the prisoner… it's possible that some of the poison got on my skin even with my gloves and pants… I… I don't want to die… please… master… don't let me die… make him cast his spell!" Freyjin begged and her heart began to race all over again.

"Poison?" The Prince exclaimed.

"A powerful one… I've seen it before. Please! It absorbs through skin and kills in minutes, if even a little got on me it's only a matter of time!" Freyjin exclaimed and became more frantic.

"Well, you heard her, cast it!" The prince snapped at the caster.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish, "I, sire, I don't have enough mana… I only have enough to cast it three times, and I used it on them…"

"Then go get another caster, idiot!" The Prince commanded and the caster hung his head.

"Sire, we have none, I'm the only one working here…" The caster stammered and dropped frantically to one knee.

"You! You're priests, you can use healing magic, can't you?" The Prince demanded, thrusting his finger out to them almost accusingly.

"Sire, ah, no, we're Questioners, not that kind of priest…" They replied.

Rasgen thrust his damning finger toward the guard, "You have potions don't you?"

"Yes!" One of them snapped back to reality, shocked out of his stupor, he turned and rushed back into the prison, dropping his weapon with a clatter to the stone as he sprinted as fast as he could.

Freyjin almost sobbed with relief. "Forgive my disrespect… it was urgent… masters." She didn't raise her head, instead she chose to go on and explain.

"I used to be an investigator… I was pretty good at it too. I once had an instance where a woman was about to marry her fifth husband in ten years, people die, it happens, but the fifth one found out about her other four from other cities by chance. He had us investigate, he took her out on a day trip and let us search the home. We checked everything, and tried out each substance on some rats, everything was fine until we found a little red vial hidden in the corner of a wardrobe. We put a few drops on a rat, and it did…" She raised up enough to point to the unconscious half-elf, "what he did."

"Get up, Freyjin." Rasgen ordered, "You don't have anything to apologize for, that was very quick thinking."

She blushed a little as she stood up, "Thank you, master."

"How did you…?" Rasgen began, and stopped when the smile lit up her face.

"It was simple, master, it has to be ingested or absorbed, if he wasn't given food or water here, then it had to be absorbed, and it's a lot faster when it is consumed. But on the skin, well it could have been earlier. It doesn't take long at all, but… they didn't kill him, someone else tried. The person who did it probably hoped it would be assumed that he died of his wounds in his cell, and a few minutes later, he would have. As to the chest, I guessed. If it had been on the man's arms, then the priests who were grabbing that should have started spasming."

"Whoever did this, wanted him quiet, who knows what he knew, maybe it was just a loose end, but…" Freyjin scratched her head, "I don't doubt it's about all those bodies, or that it's the same people who were behind Priceless's kidnapping. They used the priests to get him taken out," Freyjin said and pointed at the unconscious half-elf, "then used their knowledge of the Starwatcher routines of humiliation to get him in the open…" She snapped her fingers, "and… it was that simple. Now please… please hurry…"

"Oh goddess… mercy…" Freyjin began to pray as the moment stretched out.

"Where's that potion?!" Rasgen snapped, looking toward the entrance.