"I very nearly was." Raking fingers through his hair, Tadhg shudders as another wave of queasiness hits. "Only her nerves are affected, as far as I can tell," he rasps, bracing one elbow on his knee and his forehead in his hand.

"The toxin ... traps them in their own minds, damps their reactions to the bare minimum. I didn't get a chance to tell whether it dampens their awareness as well." In a way he hopes it does; the thought of these little ones and who knows how many others knowing their abuse in full, with no way to run or scream or even weep--ruthlessly he drags his mind back to what information he did gather.

"Whatever produced that toxin," he says slowly, working it out as he speaks, "must have been either magical itself or exceedingly alien. The drug never entered my blood, and yet it nearly trapped my consciousness with hers. Potent stuff." He looks over to see the little girl absently running a fingertip back and forth where her bruise once was, an idle movement, but a movement nonetheless.