Marcellus rubbed his brow. He never did like the docks; nor was he very fond of the man he was dealing with.<br/>"Do you have what I asked for?" inquired the man, from just behind a stack of wooden crates. Marcellus fiddled within his cloak for a moment, producing an unadorned scroll tied with a simple black ribbon. He tossed it past the stack of crates, where it hit a wall and bounced into his clients chest.<br/>"Its all there. Schedules, routes, times, names; everything you could ever want to know about the trade guild." Marcellus was, as always, damn good at what he did. The crinkling of parchment could be heard from behind the crates as the client looked over the contents of the scroll.<br/>The client almost chuckled. "I'm impressed. You live up to your reputation, Crow." Marcellus heard the clinking of coins. "Some gold, for your troubles." Marcellus' voice went colder than usual.<br/>"That wasn't the deal, Doff. Information for information. Don't think you're getting out of this one." His voice was like ice, or cold iron; sharp and unforgiving. "You already know what I want. Where is Garette?"<br/>The client's  voice wavered. "I know what we agreed, but I can't tell you that. You know what would happen."<br/>"Where. Is. Garette?" Speaking slowly and deliberately, Marcellus coaxed forth his magic power; he could sense the man around the corner, and the man's mild, but rising, fear. Focusing, he imagined a tendril of his own will extending from his body and coiling around the client. Pouring forth more power, he willed that most primal of emotions to intensify. He repeated himself, louder this time. "Where. Is. Garette?!"<br/>"I can't tell you that!" The client rounded the corner, knife in hand. His power had the wrong effect; silently Marcellus cursed the unpredictability of sentience. From underneath his cloak a dagger flashed forth to parry and disarm the client; with his other hand, Marcellus roughly grabbed the man by the face. Images, sounds, smells, thoughts flooded into his head; the worst part of reading memories was making sense of so much information. Poking, prodding through the man's mind, Marcellus found what he was looking for, and again silently cursed. Then, sifting through the client's mind once more, he found a particular set of memories. Bringing for his power again, Marcellus seared away all memory of himself from the man's mind. He could hardly let his existence remain now that he was forced to use his power. He withdrew his hand and the man collapsed, unconscious.<br/><br/>Marcellus Crow squinted as he walked into the light. He had waited for nearly an hour in that dark warehouse. Yet another uncooperative client. He made a mental note to charge anyone from this most recent client's organization double in the future. "This is why dealing with organized criminals is such a hastle." he muttered. From a ways off, smoke was rising from the city, and various screams echoed between the buildings only to be lost when they hit the open sea. Marcellus thought about it, and found himself unable to care. What happened in the slave district wasn't his problem. In fact, better for the slaves to die in fire than under the heel of some aristocrat.<br/>More importantly, he needed a way across the ocean, preferably soon. If he was to track down Garette, his contact within the Red Leopards, he could hardly wait until the slippery bastard moved again. Come to think of it, the client's friends would probably come looking for him sooner or later, and he didn't want to be in this city when they did. Just as he was thinking this, a group came barreling out of the slave market and into the otherwise largely empty docks; a warrior, a slave, a prisoner, and a soldier. He saw them speaking to a pair of dockworkers, and boarding a vessel. They'll have to do. Emerging from behind yet more crates, he reached out with his power and sent a feeling of calm to the odd bunch; he hardly wanted to be attacked again. Nearing the boat, he brought his arms from beneath his cloak, though keeping his hood on, and turned his palms upward in a nonthreatening pose. "I don't suppose this ship could carry one more?"