Joe found his rolled-up gambeson made for a very comfortable pillow. He had picked the bench under the window and stretched out on it. Looking up through the bars, he could see the first signs that the afternoon was approaching evening.

“So, how bad is this Hawking?”

Please phrase your question in a manner that I can answer, Joe.

“That’s right only systems and basic world questions. Fine. What can you tell me about Edict a Deo?”

It is a common practice in Illuminaria. Judgments are typically made by pairs of judges, though courts of four do exist, as you have seen. The judges are tasked with finding common ground between them in order to impose verdicts and penalties.

When cases do not have clear answers, the verdict by quest system allows the accused a chance to show their character and prove their innocence.

“Are the quests all doable? I mean, some of those I got seemed impossible?”

Only in cases where the accused is unquestionably guilty, but Edict a Deo is still invoked would a quest be impossible. In such cases, the quests will be designed to serve as sentencing, not a determination of innocence. All the quests you were given could potentially have been completed in varying degrees of difficulty.

Joe stared up at the strips of blue sky he could see. “You’re saying that there is some way I can find this unfindable killer, in this pretty huge city. A killer, mind you, that for months has eluded the city guards and any previous adventurers, champions, whatever, that has been trying to find it.”

Correct

“And I get no hints?”

“Hawking?”

“Damn it.”

Joe draped his arm over his eyes and tried to think of any way he could get through this. How was he going to break a case that no one else was able to? He thought about how he had solved mysteries in the games he played on Earth. Joe has always been a fan of magic and spells. More often than not, those had been his go-to tools. Speak with Spirits to get clues from the departed. Divination powers like Psychometry to read objects. Even good old Augury to ask for simple answers to simple questions.

He had none of those here. The only information-gathering spell he had was Assess Wounds and that was a common skill. Even though tiny Crowfield and the Tide Dancer had not had healers, Joe was pretty sure his class wasn’t all that uncommon. The likelihood that no other healer had looked at the corpses seemed pretty unlikely. Still, as the only lead he could think of so far, Joe guessed the morgue would be where he started tomorrow. Maybe he would see something the others had missed.

The only thing he had that seemed truly unique was the Mark. Since that is what had spooked the nobles, maybe it was the key to this puzzle.

“Hey, Hawking. What are Prophetic Marks?”

Prophetic Quests are given out to those who perform actions that have relevance to the legends of the World. The questers who fulfill the required conditions are given a choice between a tangible Boon or an ambiguous Mark. The Boons bequeath strong bonuses. Occasionally even these significant gifts are turned down for the nebulous promise of a Prophetic Mark.

Only one person at a time can bear a specific Prophetic Mark. Only you, and you alone, at this point in time, bear the Death Mark. It has been noted that those who select the Marks over the Boons typically are individuals who have the potential to lead extraordinary lives in Illuminaria.

“‘Has everyone who has chosen a Mark turned out to be extraordinary?”

Negative. There have been several cases where an individual received a Prophetic Mark and did not distinguish themselves to any significant degree. It is worth noting that bearing a Prophetic Mark does not assist one in becoming remarkable, merely that those who do bear one have the tendency to be extraordinary in some manner or another.

“If my mark is the mark of change, what sort of things can I change with it?”

That is something you will have to discover for yourself.

“Is there … ” The rest of Joe’s question was interrupted by a loud voice coming from the front office of the jail through the small barred window in the door.

“Hello. Hello. Hello. Gendia! Why I do love your hair like that. I’ll bet you have Pallsen just drooling over you with that look.”

A male voice barked in a friendly manner. “Be good, Jink. Don’t embarrass Gen.”

“I’m not embarrassed, Pall. And don’t think I have noticed you sneaking looks at me all day,” a woman quipped back. “Thank you, Jink. Now what did you do this time?”

“It was completely not my fault. Undersecretary Humgins practically begged me to show him the flaws in his security plan.”

A new rumbling voice spoke up. “He lifted the payroll for the Clerkship of Mirqantyl’s auction house.”

“HOLY HELL! JINK!” Gendia shouted. “How is he not in the stocks or the Hole?”

“Cause he left the loot in the pockets of the High Clerk’s coat, with a note. They didn’t even know they had been robbed until the official went to head home for the day”

“I don’t see why they are making such a big deal of this,” the light quirky voice of Jink complained. “If you are going to leave large pouches of precious stones completely unguarded, then you have to expect this sort of thing. I was just trying to do my civic duty and show them the error of their ways.”

“It wasn’t unguarded,” said the guard, who sounded like he might be one of the catfolk races. “It was in a safe. In Undersecretary Humgins’ office.”

“I’m not sure you could really qualify that rinky-dink box as a safe. Took me less than ten seconds …”

“Let it go, Jink. You have been insulting the man’s safe the whole way over here,” the feline-sounding guard interrupted. “The Clerkship is too embarrassed to make a big deal out of this, but they want this idiot under lock and key until they figure out if they're gonna charge him with anything.”

“We got him. Jink is one of our regulars,” Pallsen replied. A moment later, the door between the two rooms opened, and Joe got a good look at the cast of characters. He was right about the new guard. The figure by the front door was a large leonine soldier who towered over everyone else.

Pallsen and Gendia had been around when Newver and Osko had locked him in, so Joe focused his attention on the outlandish Jink. The elf was dressed in a short purple coat, with pants of the same hue but a darker shade. A black vest somewhat contained his ruffed shirt. The outfit was enhanced by black thigh-high pirate boots, a waist sash, and a ridiculously large wide-brimmed hat, sporting a long golden feather.

Ginnkellaselos es’Rueothilalliean: River Elf: Bard/Envoy/Connoisseur 33

He moved much like Hah’roo did, gliding along on inherently graceful steps. Yet he lacked the rope-dancer's sense of wary athleticism. Jink beamed smiles at the guards around him. It wasn't until he stood in the cell that he turned his bright eyes to Joe.

“Ah. New faces. Even better. The Can can be awful drab when one is alone or immured with a bevy of booze-besotten boors. Well, my good man, let me introduce myself. Jink is the name.” With a grand gesture, the elf swept his huge hat from his head, before folding himself in a ridiculously deep bow. A second later, he snapped back up before adding, “And who might you be? No, no, don’t tell me yet. I love a good mystery. And you are as good as a Winterswane gift.”

Jink stepped closer but not so much so that he encroached on Joe’s bench.

“I must say I am completely intrigued. My powers of perception are held in the widest of regard and yet here you sit. A complete enigma. You do not feel like a threat, just a perfectly blank slate. A smooth wall. One that bears naught but the simple appellation of ‘Joe.’ Nothing more. How is this possible?”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Joe considered the question and decided to play along with his gregarious cellmate.

“If you had the ability to confound the perceptions of someone whose skills are as honed as you claim yours be, what is the likelihood you would blurt out your secrets to the first stranger who asked for them?”

Jink clapped his hand and waggled a finger at Joe.

“Well played, my good man. Well played,” he crooned with a wide smile.

“So, what kind of name is Jink?” Joe asked, swinging the conversation away from himself. “It does not seem like your typical elvish name.”

“Quite right. Well, as your assessment saw … ”

“You caught that?” Joe blurted embarrassedly.

“Exceptional. Perception. Remember?” The elf replied, tapping his temple. “No worries, good sir. No offense was taken. Your brush of an assessment was applied with a perfectly polite peek.”

Jink adjusted his vest and continued. “As I was saying, you saw the verbal expanse of my twelve-syllable moniker. It means ‘Ripples on the Still Waters of Fate.’ Very poetic, but it is quite a mouthful, even for one as eloquent as I. Hence the nom de plume. I was going to go with ‘Jinx’ to play towards that whole unexpected aspect of eddies on the smooth Great Loch of Destiny, but, alas, there is a stripper on Bennacy Row who already went by that sobriquet. While the confusion it caused was quite amusing for a short time, the constant expectations from salacious customers became difficult to divert on far too many occasions to justify the ensuing entertainment. So now Peregrine Bay has a burlesque beauty named Jinx and a jaunty gentleman known as just Jink. To this flock of Jays, we now add the mysterious man known only as Joe.”

“Who can, in no way, match that flood of alliteration.”

“No need. But what can you tell me, Joe? How about what brings you to my home away from home here in the Can?”

“Just how much time do you spend in jail here?”

‘Oh, on a good week, no more than three nights,” the elf replied with a wink. “But you are stalling. Or are you truly going to remain a mystery?”

“Where to start?’ Joe breathed as he leaned back against the wall. “Well, I think I may have managed the best time from inception to heretic in the history of the world.”

“Ooh. I do love a good heretic. Let me guess. I’m thinking Puritti or Phealti.”

“The second.”

“Hmmm,” Jink said, sweeping off his hat and placing it on a nearby bench. “With your level of obfuscation, I’m betting you got labeled ‘anathema’ by those stiff-sided lunatics.”

“You are two for two,” Joe answered, holding up a pair of fingers.

“Well, don’t let it get you too far down. Most of the best people I know run afoul of those two churches sooner or later. When is your trial?”

“It came and went this morning.”

“Really? Curious and curiouser. That begs the question, then, why are you here in this cell? No, wait, don't tell me.” Jink exclaimed holding out his hand in a stop gesture to Joe. He moved the hand to his chin and began to very animated pacing around the cell. “Either you were found guilty and cannot pay the fine … No. You would be on your way to a work camp by now if your trial was already this morning. You are waiting on a witness … No. You said the trial was over. If you were innocent, they would have no course to hold you …”

“Give up.”

“Please, Joe. I have only begun. Neither free nor incarcerated. Neither innocent nor guilty. You are on hold. Held awaiting … Wait, Wait. Ah. I got it! You are held, awaiting the start of a quest from the One Above. Yes?”

“I can’t tell if that was brilliant or obvious. My experience with this world's legal system goes no further than this morning.”

“And a newcomer to boot. Ok, ‘Just Joe’, this may be my favorite confinement all year. Well, this month for sure. So what do you think of our illustrious world so far?” In a smooth motion, Jink slid onto the bench beside Joe.

“Honestly. It’s been kind of a kick in the crotch. When I got here, I imagined I’d be an adventurer, exploring the world, questing for treasures. Instead, I’ve been backed into corners at pretty much every turn,” Joe admitted glumly. “Don’t get me wrong. My new life is still miles better than the one I left behind. Still, I would much rather have been an adventurer than a fugitive.”

“And what have you done to become an adventurer?” Jink asked, looking at the nails on his left hand instead of at Joe.

Joe hopped to his feet, spun around, and blurted, “I haven’t really had a chance TO do anything yet. I’ve been dragged to or running from one thing after another since I got here.”

“Then I think it is high time you do do something of your own choosing,” Jinx proffered as he leaned forward on the bench.

“Like what?” Joe asked quizzically.

“Well, why don’t we start with what the One Above set out for you? What quest did you get?”

“I have to catch a killer who murders on full moons.”

“Ah. The Night Skinner.” Jink uttered in a low voice, before shuddering. “Well, that is at least a quest for the good of all Peregrine Bay. As your one and only cellmate, and a firm believer in your cause, I can do no less than give you whatever help possible. So where do you plan to start?”

“I don’t know yet, Jink. I’m locked in a cell. All of my very few magic items are locked up somewhere else. I have close to no information gathering …”

“Pish, pish, pish. Stop getting bogged down by the minutiae of facts. If you could utilize any resource, where would you start?”

Joe let out a deep breath to clear his head. “Divination. I’m sure someone has to have thought to ask a diviner about the killer already, but, even so, if I think that is where I’d start. I’m not sure how oracles work in your world but in the … um … adventures I have had in the past, whenever we got really stuck, seers were a great way to get some clue as to what to try next.”

“I think that is a capital idea. I look forward to hearing how it all works out for you, even though I weep that our time together has come to an end.”

Joe looked to the elf confused. His reply was a mirthful grin, and a long finger reaching up to tap his pointed ear, while mouthing the words ‘exceptional perception.’ A second later the door opened and Rozzetta, Hah’roo and one of the guards entered the room.

“Hey, Joe. Time to get you out of there,” the little lawyer declared.

“What? You mean I am not under arrest?” Joe blurted, hopping off the slab of stone.

“No. I could have gotten you free on your own as soon as the quest was confirmed, but Hah’roo whispered we should let Azbekt toss you in a cell for safety's sake.”

“Duke Amberwroth is a vindictive man,” Hah’roo breathed in her airy voice. “The winds whispered to me that you were in danger as your trial was wrapping up. I thought it best to get you somewhere safe, while I sought the threat. I am quite certain he had loyal soldiers or hired mercenaries waiting for you outside the courthouse. Allowing you to be locked away has given us some room to maneuver. I believe we have thrown them off your trail, at least for now. We will still need to be cautious, but the winds are not speaking of further peril.”

“Just because I gave Groven some lip. What a dick!” Joe swore.

“Actually, it is more likely about your heritage,” the wind-dancer corrected. “The House of Amberwroth has been at war with the fey for centuries. His hatred for anything associated with the Gossamer Lands is well known. Between the Mark and what I must assume is a feyish bloodline, you are not something he will abide.”

“This is the kind of politics we at the Canakin actively try to avoid,” Pallsen added. “ Your advocate has a sealed Order of Edict. That’s good enough for us. Let’s get you out of here before any knights of the Golden Decree come asking for you.”

Joe was ecstatic. While the jail had not been terrible by any means, free was way better. He grabbed his gambeson as a voice crooned from behind him.

“Rozzie, my dear. You are looking lovely as always.”

“Jink? Oh, for crying out loud. What did you do now?”

“Oh, nothing really. A simple overreaction to a selfless deed of charity. I’m sure, with your keen legal repertoire, you could work this out with no trouble at all. I’d be happy to pay for your time, of course.”

Rozzetta looked to the Canakin guard and raised a brow.

“There technically have not been any formal charges laid yet, but they are surely due in the morning, Miss Ithnikcot. If you want him, you’ll have to swear to Onhur for him. And have him back here tomorrow … early.” the guardsmen shrugged before adding. “That being said, I’m all for saving us a night of dealing with this joker.”

“I’ll want his file too, officer. You better not make me regret this, Jink.” the small woman scowled over her shoulder.

“I shall be the model of …”

“Gsst,” Rozzetta hissed. “Let’s skip the verbal avalanche this time, Jink. I’d like to get Joe out of here without a cavalcade of glibness bogging us down. I’m willing to do this for you, but you’re going to owe me a favor.”

“Done,” the flamboyant elf replied with uncharacteristic succinctness, even though his grin spoke volumes.

Pallsen led the four of them back to the front office. There Joe received his gear back. He put back on his Band of Beguilement and Talisman of the Medic and stuck the knife and stone in his belt. Surprisingly, the item he was happiest to have back was his simple healer's satchel. The bag was the first thing of importance he had started with. Even though it was not overly powerful in the scale of things, the pouch of cures and bandages had become a familiar and comforting companion.

Five minutes later, he stood on the street a nearly free man. He only had the looming quest of hunting an untraceable killer hanging over him now.