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"There is something very peculiar about you, Lord Goffe." Abbas' dark brown eyes held on him, seeming somehow more penetrating due to how deeply sunken into his long, thin face they were. "Something familiar."

Hmm. Hector had a feeling he knew what the man was getting at, but he wanted some elaboration first. "Familiar in what way?"

"It is difficult to describe," said Abbas. "I have felt its like before--I am sure of that. But it has been a very long time since I felt it so... strongly."

Garovel interjected before Hector could answer. 'When WAS the last time, if you don't mind my asking?'

Abbas gave him a look. "So you are aware of it, then."

Garovel gave a light chortle. 'Maybe just a bit. But please, answer my question. I'm quite curious.'

Abbas took a moment to think, and his gaze grew distant. "I was but a child. Not yet a servant, even. My grandfather introduced me to a man named..." He shut his eyes, perhaps to help him concentrate. "Hanseth. Yes, that is what it was. Hanseth."

'Jara Hanseth?' said Worwal.

Abbas looked at his reaper. "I don't recall his first name. And you and I had not met yet, so I don't know if we are referring to the same person."

'Mm. You're probably thinking of Jara. Or perhaps his brother, Kizo Hanseth. They were both friends of your father around that time.'

'Hanseth, you say,' said Garovel. 'I've heard that name before. And not in the most flattering of contexts, unfortunately.'

'That does not surprise me,' said Worwal. 'Jara had a reputation for being something of a... "kook," to put it nicely. Many a strange idea were born from that man's mind.'

'Is Jara still alive?' said Garovel.

Worwal's skeletal face twisted awkwardly. 'Ah... no. He was killed. By Kizo, no less.'

'Oh.'