For a long moment Bliss said nothing and merely stared. It was a considering sort of stare, more than a stupefying stare, as if he was still processing the world around him and its changes--as far as he could track those changes. There was a tiny wrinkle in his brow. Dexter wished he knew what the man was thinking.

"You seem somewhat diminished, China," he observed finally, then looked away and pushed himself upright off the wall. "Like I'm stuck in a fishbowl."

He flexed his hands, looking down at them with a frown, and then moved closer into the centre of the room, where most of them stood. His stride was a little hitched at first, but then it evened out into that familiar purposeful step. He still moved a tad gingerly, as if testing, and even in spite of that Dexter let out a relieved exhale at the lengthening distance between them. "How much has changed, aside from Guild's retirement?"

"For one thing," Solomon said with an ironic quirk of his mouth, "Corrival Deuce is now Grand Mage, Ravel and I are his Elders, and we've just replaced the Cleavers with a force of angel statues."

"Deuce is a good leader," was all Bliss had to say on that, and his pale eyes turned to Solomon again, studying him, "but only he would elect a blind Elder. How do you have magic, if you gave up yours?"

"Having magic aligned toward what's after death leaves one with some untapped facets, apparently," Solomon said simply. He met Bliss's gaze with a stare as piercing, but in a different way. Bliss saw a person. Solomon looked into them.

"How could you see me?"

"An side-effect of that magic's shift in alignment," was Solomon's vague answer, and then he shrugged. "It's complicated. Suffice to say I'm not as helpless as it seems."

Bliss digested that and then nodded and looked around again. "What about Batu? The Diablerie?"