We agreed to meet up the following sundown at the Ticklish Ogre Tavern in Merchant District. The next morning, I sat down in meditation and considered my options. There were two of them, really. I knew one "spell" to make my words more eloquent, and another one to help me read body language and social cues. I decided the latter was more important. The magic took the form of a pair of blue-lensed goggles, which floated up to my eyes as I finished shaping them, hovering about a half-inch out from my face.
As the lenses settled over my vision, the world changed. My vision wasn't any sharper, but I noticed things. Like...I'm not sure how to describe it. Do you know how in mystery stories, the brilliant detective can take one glance at a person and tell—just by the little details of their appearance and demeanor—where they are from, what they do for a living, and what they had for breakfast that morning? That was sort of low-key how it felt. I think if I were more experienced and had a little more mojo, I could have done an excellent impression of that brilliant detective. For now, the insights I received were slightly...muffled. Muted. I focused on the goggles, letting more power flow into them from my protective bracers, and the impressions became a little clearer in my mind. That seemed like the best I was going to get.
I had a long day ahead of me. First a shift at the library, then an afternoon of asking around and searching for leads. At least it was obvious who to ask first: my grandfather is the head librarian, and my grandmother is the Academy's groundskeeper. It seemed unlikely that they would know anything about Vanthus's whereabouts, but between the two of them, I was sure they could point me to someone who could tell me more.
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