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Regarding him with a coy look, Lindi managed not to smirk. "It's only a temporary disguise, you know it won't last. But I am still here..." her eyes danced. She rode behind the wagon and contemplated his words.

What did he mean? Was he enamored of the Night elf form? Was the way she looked as a Night elf more appealing to him? Confusion warred with an unsettling feeling of resentment. Was her Sindorei form not pleasing to him?

They rode on and she fought the feelings of resentment. She wanted to be useful to him, yes. She wanted him to reward her with gold. He was almost too rough for her tastes. But part of her wanted to be accepted for who and what she was. The scene of him grabbing her arm and threatening her welled up almost forcibly in her mind. She could not risk offending him or making him angry, it would negate all her work so far to get on his good side.

She began to wonder if it was worth it.

She knew it would happen, they were well out of the Hinterlands now and back in Horde territory. Her disguise dissipated and her true Sindorei form was back in place. The wagon rolled inexorably onward, the helpless prisoner in the bottom of the wagon. Boxes over her unconscious body formed a small cubby hole. The night elf could breath, Trent made sure she could. He wanted her alive, though Lindi was not sure why. If he had some sick game in mind to torture and play with her...perhaps she did not want to know.

Keeping a careful eye out for signs of being followed, she hung back behind the wagon. It would not do to be discovered carrying a prisoner before they had reached their destination. Her eyes drifted towards Trent. The rumors she had heard of him were beginning to prove true. He had no heart, she wondered if some warlock had stolen his soul?

It did not matter to her, she was only in it for the gold. Someday she would have power of her own, then she would eliminate all who opposed her. She just needed to accumulate more gold, lots of gold. Enough to buy her a mansion on that hill overlooking the city. Then she would see who would have the last laugh. She pulled the mask back over her face. Time to investigate the back trail.

She slowly wakes up to the sound of rumbling wheels, and the feeling of numbness in her hands and feet. She bites back a groan, and slowly shifts until she can catch a glimpse of where she is. A...wagon? What in Elune's name am I doing in a wagon? She tries to concentrate past the side-effects of the drug that was slipped into her drink, but not much more can be seen past the boxes piled around her. She lets out a silent sigh and slowly starts to twist her wrists in their bonds to try and work some feeling back into her extremities as she waits.

When it rains, it pours...

The Sin'Dorei waited, the lanky and awkward elf drenched in sweat. He was overdue in his return but the messages he bore could not be delivered by just anyone. Inwardly he hoped to spot Lindi, Gatrandas, anyone else would be the better bearer of this news than he, but this was not Dabeth's lucky day. Dressed in the finest livery of his master, Lumeus Sunwarden, his tabard bearing the family's crest, his soft-sold shoes scuffling against the paving stones only echoed his anxiety.

"Send it via the AAMS, they'll be thrilled." One servant echoed.

"He'll be waltzing in here like he owns the place," Another sneered.

An elder servant spoke up, chiding the two younger, "This is the way of things. Bastard or no, Lumeus is neither married, nor has any formal heirs, if the House is to remain in tact, he'll be the one managing it."

Rumors abound throughout the Sunwarden household that the steward had taken a bribe from Trenetir, whether or not this was true, one thing was certain: the sleep that took Lumeus did not kill him, no he lay peacefully slumbering, the poison that took him failed to linger on his lips, or so the investigators told the household.

When Dabeth finally laid eyes upon Trenetir Moradinel, the businessman arrived from within the home, despite Dabeth waiting at the front entrance for what seemed like hours. The look on Trenetir's face drifted between annoyance and satisfaction as he eyed Dabeth. "What does my brother want now?" He barked at the messenger.

Stifling a stammer he thrust the message into Trenetir's outstretched hand. "He s..s..s..ends n.n..n...no...no message for he lingers on death's bed."

Trenetir's eyes lit up as he read the message from the Household's Steward, a satisfied smirk befalling his lips. "How unfortunate," his smile remained. "Return to the Steward and have him bring forth the books, there shall be an accounting of the household before week's end."

Dabeth did not need to be told twice, rumors of more than one messenger gone missing after delivering a message to Moradinel were enough for him to keep his distance. He bowed low, too low nearly toppling over, "Y...y..yes S..s..er... Mi..milord."

Once the messenger was gone, he could not help but recount his good fortune, "Elre is held safe in the dungeons, the Alliance scum will be chasing a false trail..." He poured himself a glass of wine, pausing in his monologue to take a sip, savoring the familiar taste. He moved throughout the house, avoiding his cell like room in favor of a parlor on the second floor, the balcony overlooking the city proper.

"Lumeus' untimely situation is a boon to both business and to my success, I shall have to be sure to share this news with Irilin, perhaps there may be a burst of funding for the arts." His own satisfaction with himself was disgusting. It was well that there were none save a handful of servants around to hear him speak. "Ah yes, there is the matter of Tel'andres, I shall have to send word on that matter."

"Ker'gal." He called, a rather taciturn looking elf entering the room, "Send word to Auraelith, I would be honored to dine with her at her earliest convenience."

It was a smug man who looked out over the city, watching the bazaar, people far too interested in their own lives to ever be bothered to look up ans see that they were the watched.

...and sometimes, that downpour is one of good news.

The first letter was disturbing. Simply stating, "You look good in purple. We should talk soon." and it was signed by Inquisitor Bloodwing. Lindi had kept the letter, intending on burning it. But something about the very idea of someone watching her rankled.

She replied with a note about the advice she had received from Armond Cromwell. "You should not try fishing without bait, all you catch are rags, weeds and an occasional skull." she enclosed a very smelly sickly fish with the mote and sent it off.

The second letter was equally cryptic. "If baited with gold would it have bought your freedom? Baited with blood will you have won your life back? When you are ready. L"

She seriously debated showing the letters to Trenetir. Would he be alarmed? Would he accuse her of being lax in her attention to detail? It was likely he would simply have her disposed of, another liability gotten rid of. He was fickle, his attention divided between several women and at least one male that she knew of.

She knew her risk was greater the longer she delayed. Her mind was torn, she wanted the gold and the power he represented, but was the risk to her life worth it? Either way, if she betrayed him he was likely to send goons after her, if she did not the Inquisitor would be after her.

This was beginning to get a little bit sticky. How easy would it be to disappear with as much gold as she could carry? She needed answers, a heck of a lot of luck, and or a hiding hole where no one would find her!

The latest letter scared the wits right out of her! On her mirror in her room the note simply said, "I will seek you out when the time is right for both of us." her hands trembled as she read the note. Using her last cat's eye elixir she searched the entire house. All she found were mice and a lot of bugs. She stood in her room and tried desperately to calm herself.

Which was the worst of two evils? Meeting with the Inquisitor and gaining Trenetir as enemy? Or showing Trenetir the letters and throwing herself on his mercy? She had doubts either of them had any mercy to give.

The party had been a disaster it seemed, Lindi had gotten very drunk. Passing out behind a hedge. She had been afraid of meeting with the Inquisitor and very reluctant to go to the event with Trenetir. She was not a socialite!

Even in her leathers she was not comfortable. He urged her to have a drink to settle her down. That was her first mistake. Mojitos are GOOD! After five mojitos and finding herself leaning against a very kind Pandaren, Lindi began to think she might need to find a corner to sleep it off. She struggled with a glass and fumbled it, dropping it on the pavement and shattering it all over. Gasping in shock she leaned down to try and brush the broken glass from her new Pandaren friend. That was a bad idea, as she nearly fell facefirst into the ground. She found herself being picked up like a stray kitten and placed gently on the bench.

The announcement of food was something that excited the Pandaren and he literally flew across the courtyard and left her precariously stranded on the bench. Her stomach protested and she thought maybe some food would help. She heard Trenetir say something about leaving and she found herself frowning. Was he upset with her?

Shrugging and finally managing to stagger towards the smell of food, Lindi literally bumped into a very handsome paladin. He was dressed in a tux and she assumed he was a waiter. "Pardon me...good sir...where is the food?" she managed to slur out. To her surprise and numbed mind he escorted her to the buffet table and left her there.

The food smelled good, she tried layering it like she had seen the Pandaren, but it was soon apparent she might not have the dexterity she should have in her inebriated state. Finally a semblance of meat, cheese, and veggies she assumed and some kind of sauce, squishing it together in a tortilla, she took a bite. These things were called burritos...thoughtfully she chewed for a few moments before she realized her mouth was on fire!! Frantically she turned to the nearest shrubbery and promptly fell into it. She lost whatever she had swallowed very quickly and for some Light forsaken reason her mind chose that moment to shut down. She woke up with Fastice trying to get her to drink some water.

Unfortunately it did not take long for the Archivist and her interns to tend to her and get her mouth settled into somewhat better shape. Tea and crackers seemed to help. She mumbled apologies all over the place but they seemed to laugh it off. After about an hour she felt much better and elected to head home, telling the interns she was sorry and to give Benoite her sincerest apology. She slunk off in the direction of the City.

Fading into the shadows she took out a vial of her special potion and swallowed a good swig of it. The label read "instant sober" and it lived up to it's name. Slinking back to the party she hid in the hedges listening for another hour. She only heard a few interesting things. But nothing that would regain her favor with Trenetir. Eventually she headed back to Silvermoon for some real food.

Koudo sat in her small rented cabin aboard The Maiden’s Fancy. The sea air and the familiar rocking helping to sooth her thoughts, across from her chair the dress given to her by Trenetir hung in her open wardrobe. On the table next to her lay the letter he had left with her. The letter expressed his feelings towards her and the deep remorse he felt on sending Kezrin and her to Stormwind. Was it sincere? Was this for real?

Bracing herself she pulled on the hand holds next to her so she could stand, adjusting to the weight of her heavy armor. She slowly walked to the wardrobe, closing and locking it. She left her room and walked out onto the deck. The ship was nearing port. She needed answers. She just needed to talk

A stunning and ruddy scarlet-haired handmaiden stood before Auraelith, her expression stalwart despite the slight trembling of her hands. The rolled parchment held between her curled fingers crunched within her nervous grasp. Her elaborate, flourishing crimson cape billowed around her voluptuous silhouette as the enormous fel iron door slammed shut behind her, trapping her helplessly within the dark Mistress' lair.

“I beg your pardon, my lady, “ she curtsied respectfully before continuing. “This was found outside the Shepherd's Gate. I retrieved the documents from Magistrix Landra Dawnstrider in Fairbreeze Village as well as the barrel of Dalaran Red from Rarthein as requested. It was upon my return from the village that this caught my eye. It looked rather suspicious, so I assumed you would be interested.....for -his- sake.” The maiden's voice cracked faintly.

A fiendish grin snaked it's way across Aura's face, her pale pink lips standing in stark contrast to her ivory skin and platinum hair. Old habits had resumed with feverish eagerness thanks to Sir Moradinel and it had yet again influenced her complexion, draining her features of any semblance of warmth. It was as if those insufferable decades of restraint had never passed at all.

“You have done well, Kirmaeve.....”

Beckoning the bold maiden forward, Aura extended her hands to her, accepting the parchment with one and taking Kirmaeve's hand in the other, weaving her fingers within hers in what seemed like a peculiarly reassuring gesture. The very idea in itself was a gamble, but the handmaiden was no stranger to her Mistress' methods and resigned herself to taking a knee in front of the woman.

Aura's cimmerian eyes met the tattered letter, only a fraction of it decipherable as it seemed to have met an untimely end in the hands of it's original carrier. The look of sick delight upon her acute features only intensified, her head tilting curiously to the side as her gaze fell upon the letter's addressee as well as it's idiosyncratic seal....a Bloodwing.

She continued holding the handmaiden's fingers within her silken grasp as she spoke, her voice streaming sweetly from her lips with all the macabre elegance of black rose petals.

“Kirmaeve, darling. Send word to Sir Moradinel. Tell him that there is a rat to poison.”

The night was young and Lindi felt strangely vulnerable. She knew she had to be walking this fine line. She had to keep her mind straight on what she wanted. The Silvemoon City Inn had too many partiers and she needed quiet and no distractions so she could think.

Trenetir had been nice to her, nicer than she expected. Her mind went to the handsome paladin who had caught her interest. Malvenis was so handsome and his mind was sharp. He encouraged her to stay with Trenetir. He offered to help her get better at what she was doing. She wondered if she could trust him.

For that matter could she trust anyone? Her notes to the Inquisitor had put him off and he had actually refused to meet with her now. She breathed a sigh of relief. She did not want to meet with him. It was much too dangerous. Maybe she would have to show Trenetir the notes Liore had sent her, and reassure him she was not about to betray him.

When she got home she checked her pockets. The note! She found only part of it...but what was missing could be damning to her. The night suddenly got very chilly.

The rain fell down in sheets. This rain, it fell from unseen clouds and landed upon unseen shores, for it fell within the mind of a great volcano, volatile, bubbling, ever waiting to erupt. But there would be no eruption today, no instead there was rain. Rain that turned to steam as it fell to the ground, seared by the heat of the sleeping beast.

A rat to poison.

Lightning lit the sky, thunder rolled on incessantly.

Another rat.

The rain fell upon the ghosts of those dead, the steam barely hinting at their ethereal outlines.

The last rat and all who happened to be caught up in the eruption.

Slumped in a corner of the cell, Lindai was too shook up to cry. How had she ended up here? She knew it...she should have run like the wind to somewhere. Where she did not know...she had done what she thought was right. Told him of the letters and showed him she was not cooperating with Liore. But he did not believe her.

Now she was stuck here and no one knew it. She had no friends, no one would look for her. No one cared. She sank into a deep depression. Maybe Malevis was right. She was not cut out for this. All her skills and she was as good as dead.

Part of her wondered if she should have gone to meet with the Inquisitor? Would he have been nicer? She sighed and sunk deeper into her corner. Hindsight was always better. No she should have run a long time ago. As far away from Silvermoon and its nobles and politics as she could go.

The feeling of dread was soon replaced by one of anger. How could he doubt her? She had done all he asked, she had helped him at every turn, even ignoring his insults and attention to the other women.

Her mind raced...she did have one friend who might seek her out. It was a long shot. The mercenary company she had been with briefly had a warrior who had tried to be her friend. What was her name again? Lindi scratched her chin and wracked her brain. The woman was a hellion with blades, always making sure to defend the other females in the group, and making sure to beat up on any males. Haelya! That's what her name was. The warrior was definitely one who hated men. Lindi assumed she had something in her past that caused that hatred.

It had been only a few days ago the warrior had spotted Lindi on the street and asked about her new job. Bragging to the old friend about her lucrative job had been a shot in the dark. Maybe Haelya would seek employment there herself? Or at least come and seek out Lindi for friendship sake....

News traveled fast in Silvermoon.

And this news was not good for business. Business was picking up. This time of year usually marked an increase in orders, both for personal attire and for physical goods. It brought a smile to Trenetir's face, and anything that made this elf happy was usually a reason for others to worry.

Rats aside, there was much to do. The Emerald Watch, a recently commissioned ship had been a boon to his business. War aside, trade and commerce were on the rise.

He strode with purpose to the nearest mailbox, just outside of the Bazaar. His smile grew to a grin as he moved through the marketplace.The sights and sounds of commerce always had that effect on him. Hard work was rewarded, incompetence wrought failure.

His orders mailed, he retrieved the letters that awaited him. The ball would be wonderful, his eyes alight as he read of the acceptance of his invitation. His smile, his joy, slid from his face like ice cream melting in the summer sun.

Beautiful nose or not they were sticking themselves in places they did not belong. Hastily he scrawled a response. The sooner things were settled the better.

He returned to the shop, waving aside a dressmaker, asking his opinion on a recent fashion trend. He descended into the dungeons, their entrance concealed, the key held by him alone. His gaze lingered upon the two ladies: the Night Elf who had humiliated him, and the secretary he had trusted.

"And how are my two favorite house guests? Comfortable I trust." He surveyed them each with scrutiny. He strolled between them, considering something, "I hope that you have not become fast friends, as you will not be here for long."

The footsteps coming down the steps were familiar. Lindi looked up from her corner as he approached. The auburn hair hung in her eyes, hiding the glint of disgust as he paced back and forth in front of the cell.

"I have done nothing wrong. I have not betrayed your trust. Rats and bugs are still in the office...even if you have not found them yet. Word will travel...time is not on your side." her voice low and unmistakably bitter.

Her arms rested on her knees as she sat in her corner brooding. Her head followed his every move. Something had snapped inside of her last night. She was not a rat...but she could be one of those shadows on the wall, waiting for the right moment to take this one down. To give him what he deserved for his treatment of her. So much for gaining his trust, he had no idea how much she hated him right now. Her hands twitched as she watched him like a caged predator watching a potential meal strut by just out of her reach.

Oh yes, he would pay for this. But she had no notion of killing him, right now she wanted a way to humiliate him and make him realize his mistake in caging her. Outwardly she sat relaxed and calm, inside she seethed with contempt. It was good the shadows of the corner hid her eyes and face from him.

He sneered at her, the contempt audible in his voice, "Oh but you have dear Lindi. You did not come to me the moment you received the first letter. You did not confide in me. In short you did not trust me. If you had, well I expect we'd be having a very different conversation."

A ring tapped the bar, the sound echoing throughout the dark cells, "Alas, you made poor choices, it's always difficult when we must face the repercussions of our actions isn't it?" And with that he left them both.

Several hours passed and Lindi began thinking she was going to rot in this cell. But her anger kept her very warm. When Trenetir finally strolled down the stairs and smirked at her she wanted to smash his face in.

It was a bit of a surprise when he told her he was releasing her. But it was his attitude that nearly got him a dagger in his back. He was giving her over to someone else! "What am I a slave? What if I don't want to go to this Auraelith? Don't I have any choice?"

Trenetir merely opened the cell and pointed to the door. "You have your freedom and a new employer. I don't want to see you here in my business or my home, now get out before I change my mind and kill you instead!"

Lindi did not need encouragement, she literally flew up the stairs and out the door, hearing his laughter behind her. He would pay...oh yes he would pay for her humiliation. Him and that smug Inquisitor!! How dare he lead her on like that and then leave her to be caught by trying to be loyal!! Men!! She hated them all right now...she just wanted to find a way to show them all. She was not a slave, she was not a play toy...she was a rogue and she was going to see them all regret treating her with such callousness.

Her cubbyhole in Nurder Row was still secure. Going inside she locked the door behind her and took off her now smelly dress and took a bath. It felt good to be clean and in clean clothes. Laying on the bed she began scheming as she fell asleep.

Refusing to shed a tear Koudo packed her belongings from her rented room in Silvermoon. She paid the innkeeper, informing her that she would not be returning. Exiting the establishment she looked across the large courtyard, her eyes focused on a particular tailor shop. She could feel the heat rising in her face, but she stubbornly bit back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Taking the reins of her hawkstrider she began to walk towards it.

As planned, it was too early in the morning for anyone to be about. Casually she opened her saddle bag and roughly withdrew a beautiful white and purple dress made of fine silk. Upon entering the storefront she angrily pressed the dress against the wall facing the street. She took a crumpled letter out from her pocket written in his hand. She placed the letter over the top of the dress thrusting a dagger into both, hanging them to the wall. In large red ink across his writing was the word “Liar”.

Without out turning back she mounted her hawkstrider and rode to the front gates. She paused finally looking back at the city wiping one lone tear from her cheek, then coaxed her mount forward for the long trip home.

Time had slipped through her sylphlike fingers as of late.

Within the past few weeks alone the clandestine mistress had acquired multiple allies: a treacherous, bipolar paladin, an impetuous rogue with an M.O that teetered on the tightrope linking courage and suicide, and a zealous young warrior who pledged his very soul to protect her.

Auraelith beamed, marveling within herself at just how effective a few words littered with promises and ample ego-stroking could win a woman anything she desired. Well, almost everything. She had been forced to temporarily dismiss her championed Blood Knight. His Light-blessed conscience seared him when within her presence now, leaving her only the option to call upon him as needed, and come he would, but distance is it's own demon...

...He is blind...you don't need him...

Don't do this. -Not- now.

Old habits die hard, or in her case, take on a consciousness of their own. 'Rehthaed' had not succeeded in commandeering her mind for weeks and that incessant voice which penetrated her very thoughts compelling her to savagely succumb to her scourge-born blood had finally returned to a dull murmur. Yet, for how long? Her arrangement with Trenetir could only last as long as the self-absorbed tyrant remained ahead of the game- a game which only intensified, raising the stakes of each player to precarious levels. Quelling boredom in a vain attempt to satisfy an insatiable soul was like siphoning liquor into a bottomless barrel.

“I suppose I better stand below the barrel.”

The aberrant woman shrugged, her own thoughts worth replying to while she impatiently awaited the return of her handmaidens. An impish grin traced her lips as she lay out-stretched upon a divan of red velvet, swirling thoughtfully the Dalaran Red held within the elaborate goblet between her gossamer fingertips. The ominous glow of candles beset by dancing fel flames cast ghastly shadows across her body, the ebony embersilk robe cascading over expertly sculpted curves like water.

Freedom, power, intrigue, and fortune-they had all been lost and regained over a period of years marked by a potent cocktail of anguish and revelry. Now again, these elusive and noxious delicacies whispered sweet-nothings into her perked ears, seeking only to tempt the rapacious minx. There was but one problem: where to begin.

Aura rose, stretching like a panther post-slumber, her scant clothing clinging desperately with invisible hands onto any skin it found as she made her way to the table carved of ancient stone.

“I'm sure Sir Moradinel would hardly mind a business call...”

The ball was eventful, social events always were. Loose tongues and whispered secrets all under the guise of peace. It was ironic that once a year the factions would stop trying to end each other. If they could for one night then why not forever? But alas, that thought never made it very far.

The dress could be repaired. The knife kept, as a memento, a trophy. The Letter burned, for it was filled with lies after all. He smirked at the idea. Lies to one were truths to another. A grin settled in on his lips. It was not the last time he would speak to Koudo, they were not done yet.

A day dream, a hope, that is what he chased. Trenetir mused aloud, "Am I happy?" He would have legal power over the family estate soon, business was good, his arrangements were fortuitous, by all reason, he ought to be happy.

This moment of doubt was quickly displaced as he recalled a particular nice afternoon by the lake. Happy was an understatement.

To say that his moods were mercurial was a gross understatement. He hated loose ends, and she was one of coming apart at the seams. The trip to Ratchet had not been a complete waste of time, she was suffering, he heard her tears as he walked away, but it was not on his terms. This rankled him.

Trenetir was no stranger to causing pain, but this was different. She didn't know the why, and that he would not settle for. She would be ruined. The trip back to Silvermoon did nothing but give him time to think, to plan, and to brood. Oh how he was good at the latter.

It was only now that he found himself lamenting the firing of Lindi. Upon his return he descended to the dungeons, the dim lighting echoing his current feelings. He paused at Elre's cell, "It will be your time soon enough." There was a sickly sweet tone to his voice. He did not linger, but also checked on Tel'Andres. Captivity did not suit the noble, despite his treatment. The cell was rather cushy compared to Elre's, equipped with fresh sheets, a plush bed, it looked more like a room from one of Silvermoon's better inns, despite the fact that it was walled with bars.

"It may be time to clean house before the move. I don't believe all of us will be making the trip."

He grinned, there was business, his business to attend to. Rectifying this situation would take both time and finesse. It would try his impatience greatly. His bright gaze softened, a picnic and the playwright. The day was young and filled with potential.

The magma simmered beneath the surface.

It was a good thing that Aura did not see Lindi's face when she requested aid for Trenetir. The very name brought bile to her throat. The noble was one of those people who festered in the gut and drew forth the most disturbing of her dark dreams.

He was too powerful for her to take alone however. She would work with Aura, at least the woman seemed to know how to reward loyalty. Lindi looked down at her new set of leather armor. It was sleek, fitting her form like a second skin, hugging every curve in black dyed leather. As she moved through the streets of Silvermoon she could see the hungry stares. It made her smirk beneath her mask. "Look, don't touch..." she whispered, more to herself.

The meeting was a bit of an eye opener to Lindi. Aura had made a deal with Trenetir, she claimed it was strictly business. Though Lindi wondered if it was something more? The task was not an easy one, it would take all of her skill in getting inside the Hall of Records. The paperwork was easy enough to copy and change a few details. As long as she was not caught.

She went first to her secondary wardrobe, the nicer clothing she had purchased from a competitor of Trenetir's out of spite. Professional looking clothing suitable for a secretary. She made out a few reference papers and signed them as she had done for Trenetir. Different people and different names. None traceable to anyone in Silvermoon. She toyed with the idea of making one out and signing it with his name. But that might invite questions she was not sure he would be willing to answer, at least to her advantage.

Casually walking into the Hall of Records she approached the Head Clerk and asked about employment. She was told the positions were all filled, perhaps she could try again sometime. Lindi smiled and offered a well written resume. "Please let me know if you have an opening. I am currently unemployed, so I could start anytime." she smiled and glanced around the room to look for a likely victim. A mousy looking grey haired elf looked about ready to measure for a coffin. Lindi decided to encourage her to retire.

Waiting until business was through for the day, Lindi watched the bustle of Silvermoon pass her by. She was certain at one point she noticed the Inquisitor walk by, but he did not notice her sitting by the fountain. Lindi did not want to call attention to herself, but watched him none the less as she pretended to read a book. She still planned on getting back at him for causing her to lose her job with Trenetir, or setting her up. Whatever he had in his mind, it had nearly cost her more than a few days of sitting in a cell.

A sly grin crossed her face as she sat there thinking of ways to send him into a confused and frustrated state of mind. He was very intelligent, she would have to move very carefully. Like playing a game of chess. She would have to pique his interest first. Something bizarre, mysterious and potentially dangerous. A puzzle that had no solution. She turned the pages of her book,not even registering what was on the pages as she schemed.

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