The room was quiet, but Dodger knew he wasn’t alone in the darkened library. His knowledge wasn’t anything mystic; spells, conjurings, and astral voyages were not his kind of magic. It wasn’t that he heard them, or smelled them, or, as yet, saw any evidence of them, either. His awareness might have been due to some combination of his physical senses, operating below his consciousness. He didn’t need to know how it worked; the fact that it had worked was enough. Still, there was no sense of danger. He had been on enough shadowruns to know that feeling. At least for the moment, whoever watched wasn’t planning to attack.