"As you wish, good sir."  Sal sketched a bow, and turned to leave.  He paused only to drop a few coins to the innkeeper, asking him to take care of the strange man in black and his raven, and then he left.<br/><br/>Out in the dark street, Sal melted into the shadows as if he was one himself, not because he was particularly trying to, but just because that's how he was.  In the street, the odd tickling sensation in his mind eased, and he wondered if that had been Vincent, using his magic to try and read Sal's mind.  Even before the Gift, Sal had been good at hiding his thoughts and memories; he'd searched the wilderness once in the far-off land of Wo and paid a princely sum to the mental magicians he found there in a secret kingdom to teach him mind techniques to hide his true thoughts and motivations, which he used habitually.  Now, however, with Secretive Severn's particular blessings, he didn't seem to need those anymore.<br/><br/>Not that he could really stop the habit he'd cultivated over a decade, but it was reassuring to think he probably didn't need it any longer.<br/><br/>He definitely felt mystical eyes on his back as he strode from the inn, and recognized the sensation of Vincent's magic, but soon it faded.  Another sense of his, now, a benefit of Severn's habitual paranoia.  Such a sensible God, Severn...<br/><br/>Sal made his way through the Lower City, to all the places that never closed for the night, murmuring a few words to a bartender here, slipping a few coins to a street vendor there, buying some city guards some drinks in yet another place.  He asked about certain people, certain names, certain descriptions.  He listened to what news there was, and promised further compensation for better data.  He canvassed the city, putting out the word that he was looking for certain leads.  This was not unusual; people were looking for other people all the time.  And he was occasionally known amongst his contacts for looking for leads.  The only difference was how widely he was casting his net.<br/><br/>As the night began to lighten toward dawn, he strode back toward the inn he started from, feeling almost human again.  Of course, he wasn't, not anymore.  The Gifts of the gods had changed him; they were natural powers, now, and he was never to be a normal human again.  Still, he knew what felt "normal," and he was adjusting to his new status, normalizing.  He only hoped the others would come to grips with their new abilites as quickly as he had.  He had no specific data, but he had a bad feeling that they'd need their wits about them, possibly sooner than  he'd be comfortable with...