'Why isn't anyone stopping me?' he thought to himself as he passed by more and more changelings. More than a few eyed him as he passed: some dispassionate observers, others with the look of habitual suspicion in their uncovered eyes. Still, others covered their eyes and hissed at him as he passed, usually the changelings attending stalls that were selling… something. He didn't linger; they made it clear they didn't want any business from him. 'Can they not feel the lack of anything when they see me pass? What’s going on?'