Sabetha steps forward once more.

"Thank you for your time thus far, Sheriff Southwell.  I too will be happy to help track down this killer.  As for our present discussion, in addition to the pending question regarding a cleric, my companions Eva Tudor and Elk Running may also have questions of their own.  Finally, I am a messenger with a proposed peace agreement that I wished to present to Speaker Shane, but perhaps could do so to you if she is unavailable."

Sabetha leaves it implied that her decision on whether to trust Markham Southwell with the peace agreement (rather than wait to take it herself to Duvessa Shane) may depend on how helpful he is with the other party members' questions prior to that.

Naraeld looks quizzically at Blackberry's mention of a town then his immediate dismissal of further inquiry to it. He makes a mental note that it is dedinitely worth prying into...later. He responds to Aubin's quwstions with a much milder, even warm tone, "The trek to Targos is only a couple of hours in normal weather, Easthaven will take a day of travel on foot. As for a cleric, I will happly take you to the kindest priest in Ten Towns, as soon as the business here is concluded."

Aubin tips his hat "Thank you for the assistance and directions"

While listening to Sheriff Southwell and Naraeld interrogate Aubin, Eva recedes behind her companions and into herself.

Everyone who hails from this dire place operates in bad faith. Elk Running had been wary of the simplest arcane magic—the kind of cantrip Eva might cast to entertain friends at a garden party. True, Naraeld had greeted her courteously enough, but now this pressure on Aubin. People are entitled to their secrets. And how quick they are to reach for their weapons! I’m less safe here than I would have been had I remained in Bal—

Eva had intended to be forthcoming, finally, about what must have happened to her. But how is it possible? With every enquiry into her health, with every comment about her appearance, with every averted gaze—she could sense their revulsion—the jagged, broken memories were becoming sharper, clearer. I do not feel like myself. I both am and am no longer.

Upon the utterance of “killer” from Sheriff Southwell’s lips, Eva snaps out of her reverie—a state she now succumbs to whenever inactive in the slightest. She resolves not to ask the sheriff for assistance—not yet. I shall demonstrate my worth first. I shall assist in apprehending this killer. The quest intrigues her. Death intrigues her. But Eva shudders at an idea: Perhaps this mystery is tied to my own?

Rather than presenting Little Alfred, as is her wont, Eva steps forward. “Where can we find Hlin Trollbane?” she asks.

Just now noticing Eva, Sheriff Southwell’s whole demeanor changes, softening. “Madame, are you alright? Have you been attacked? You are safe here, but perhaps you should seek medical attention? Naraeld can take you to his mother. She would be happy to help you.”

Sheriff Southwell then says, looking at Blackberry and Eva both, “Do not take this mission lightly. The killer has killed three people, perhaps more, each with a knife made of ice. You must be careful!”

”Hlin can be found most evenings at the Northlook Inn. She’s an old shield dwarf with one eye gone from a bear attack. Tough old bird! Tell her I sent you.”

Turning to Sabetha, he says, “A peace treaty? From who? I’m not aware of being in a war with anyone.”

The harengon shrugs at the sheriff.  "Look around at us.  Every one you see here has faced death before.  We'll be careful, but that doesn't mean we have to be sourpusses about it.  When you've been a slave as long as I have, anything that you do of your own free will and choice is a source of joy, even if it is dangerous!  Maybe especially if it is dangerous!"

He hops excitedly toward the door.  "Let's go!"

A slave? Eva reflects. She turns to the harengon. "True, Blackberry. It seems that none of us is a stranger to death—or injustice." And something begins to stir in her: a thirst for revenge.

She faces Southwell: "Oh I take murder deathly seriously. As for my wounds, I appreciate your concern. Given people's reactions, they must indeed be gruesome. But I assure you they are healed. Perhaps they should also be concealed. Do you have a washstand and basin, ideally with a mirror?"

[OOC: At the first opportunity, whether now or back at the Northlook, Eva will take 10 minutes to try to cover her injuries. Her disguise kit is more of an elaborate make-up kit, not unlike those used by actors. She will also take a few minutes to clean her body and clothes with Prestidigitation. Alas, her clothes will remain tattered, however. She does her best with what she has.]

"Sheriff," Elk Running says with a polite but serious tone.  "If murder be a crime in your city, then there is another that must be atoned for.  A beggar from this town was put out into the cold to die, and if I hear it true he was put out by his own neighbors and kinsmen.  Why would the people of this town do such a thing?"

A pin drops.  Everyone hears it.  Blackberry's excited hopping ceases, and he turns slowly to gaze at the sheriff, awaiting his response to Elk Running.  He moves closer to her, in an attempt at solidarity, and perhaps seeking someone to hide behind if things suddenly go south.

Sheriff Southwell frowns, but does not look at Elk Running unkindly. “You must mean Duffy. I’m glad to hear he wasn’t savaged by beasts or anything of that nature. As you’ve likely heard, the long winter has brought the old ways. Each month, at the new moon, a lottery is held here in town. The one selected is offered as a sacrifice to the Frostmaiden to attempt to appease her wrath. It is a barbaric practice, one unworthy of civilized folk. But you’ll find, I’m afraid, that the Ten Towns offer only a thin veneer of civilization. Scratch the surface and you’ll find most people as desperate for survival as a cornered yeti, willing to sacrifice their own if it means seeing another day.”

”I’m sorry to say that we’ve been holding the lottery for over four months now. It actually started in the smaller towns, where the influence of frost druids and worshippers of Auril are greater. Of course, it’s only the largest towns that make human sacrifice, Targos, Easthaven, and here. The smaller towns sacrifice food or even warmth for a night to appease the Frostmaiden, but here lives are considered cheaper than goods or comfort. I imagine that Auril’s worshippers are well pleased with us.” At this, he spits on the floor.

”You are probably asking yourself why the Speaker and I allow this cruelty. I often wonder at it myself. Perhaps the Ten-Towns deserve to die if this is how they buy survival. I only know that I am sworn to protect this place, unworthy though it may be, and so I stay and try to impose some order and justice on the process. In other towns, Targos and Easthaven, the lotteries are rife with allegations of bribery, fraud, and misdirection. Without our oversight, the lottery here would be the same. And, in times like this, the wealthy always survive at the expense of the poor or desperate. So, we decided to enforce strict adherence to the rules of the lottery. Those caught cheating their way out of it are punished severely, same as those caught attempting to buy their way out. Wealth and power are no shield in our lottery. If the time comes that my name is the one revealed, I’ll die for this town. This is no different than my other vows of responsibility. It is a cruel way to survive, but we do our best to make it as fair and just as possible. May the gods have pity on our souls.”

He leans back on his desk and shakes his head. “I apologize. I do not mean to be rude or dismissive, but I am quite busy and I tire of this conversation. Naraeld, would you take them to meet Hlin? I imagine she is at the Northlook this time of day.”

Sabetha steps forward once more, realizing that the group is being dismissed before she has had a chance to present the goblins' treaty.

"I understand Sheriff.  Your time is valuable.  I trust you then with this letter of proposed accord from the leader of the goblins of Karkohlok, Yarb-Gnock.  I bring it for Speaker Duvessa Shane, as entrusted to me by Yarb-Gnock's lieutenant, Izobai who I and several in my group encountered during our most recent task retrieving a sled full of iron from the dwarven valley.  From your words that speak of commitment to Bryn Shander, I entrust you to deliver it to Speaker Shane.  My understanding is that the goblins propose a truce wherein they cease their raids on caravans and initiate trade agreements with Bryn Shander.  If so agreed, Izobai would meet with your delegates sent to the Luskan Arms in Targos in two weeks less one day now.  From there she would take them to Karkohlok to conclude negotiations, potentially of mutual benefit in these difficult times."

She takes a breath.  "I am simply a messenger, fulfilling a promise.  I cannot vouch for the good faith of the goblins in general.  But I believe this Izobai, at least, was sincere in her desire to negotiate.  I trust her, as I am trusting you now."

She hands Markham Southwell Izobai's letter with a respectful incline of her head and steps back and away.  Ready to depart with her companions so as to allow the sheriff to continue his busy day, unless he has anything to say to her in response.

Elk Running looks askance.  "But what poor grain you buy with the lives of your citizens!  It is not food fit for ravens!  Auril is not appeased--you yet live in unyielding winter!"

Blackberry says slowly, "I don't think he believes he's appeasing Auril, Elk... He's appeasing the masses.  He fears a descent into total anarchy, and to avoid that, he consents to the sacrifices.  They are being sacrificed to the gods of Ignorance, Fear and Mob Rule, not Auril.  I doubt she either notices or cares about the victims offered."

At the presentation of the goblin’s treaty by Sabetha, Sheriff Southwell’s face goes completely blank. He mutely accepts the document and motions for you all to leave, going back around his desk and sitting down. He ignores Elk Running’s comment and only glances up briefly at Blackberry’s answer. He appears to be consumed by some paperwork. 

Aubin waits by the door

Sabetha tries to Insight sheriff Southwell's strange reaction to the treaty as she makes to leave:  19 

Naraeld motions for the group to make their way out of Markham's office, saluting to the sheriff as he turns on his heel to follow them out. As they pass the line of people still queueing to see the sheriff he sighs lightly. Looking up at the group, he ask, "Are we to Hlin or a priest first? You are aware of the Northlook, the house of the Morninglord lies to the north east of the city near the walls."

[OOC, I'm fine with visiting the House of the Morninglord before returning to the Northlook. Eva doesn't have a clear objective yet. She's curious about Hlin and wanted to talk to Dannika about the job posting, but neither is urgent. She does wonder if Alfred was sacrificed, however...]

"If you can tell me the directions to the cleric that will be good enough. This is rather a personal matter" says Aubin.

We all have our secrets, Sabetha thinks, not for the first time.  Every single one of us.

"Perhaps we all meet Hlin Trollbane first at the Northlook, given that  we are all taking on the task of finding this murderer?"

She looks at their mysterious hatted companion.  Who would hunt a member of the Arcane Brotherhood?  She is still not sure.

"Aubin can then head off for his private meeting with the cleric at the house of the Morninglord.  The rest of you are welcome to come with me and, I believe, Eva as we return to the Geldenstag's Rest Inn where we hope to find someone named Dannika who is staying there but had posted a job at the Northlook that I think we can be working on at the same time as searching for the killer.  Perhaps once everyone is done, we then rendez-vous at Blackiron Blades for any final equipment purchases before heading out?"

Sabetha has so many more questions.  She wants to speak to Elk Running about perhaps finding a way to counter these Frost Druids that are promoting the human sacrifices, and to Blackberry about being a slave.  A slave!  But she holds her tongue for the moment.