Michael glances at the books that had held Istredd's attention as they pass, wondering if any of the titles are worth examining himself, but he doesn't stop to check any of them. Now's not the time. The ravens receive a similar cursory glance. So long as they don't swoop down to harass him, they're not a concern of his.

There might be something to why the people he knows are so fond of filling their domains with that particular corvid, but that's another thought for later.

He follows after Istredd, between the book-laden shelves and into the secret reading room beyond. He frowns a little at Istredd's back as the man heads over to pull something down from the wall instead of off a shelf. A painting slash bulletin board is not what he'd been expecting. Michael is silent for a few moments as he examines the back, reading each line before he makes any comment of his own. Some of these theories sound a little far-fetched, if he's being generous; like grasping at thin air, if he's being his honest self.

"Good luck to you. Even Solvunn's ritual masters are not very forthcoming when they speak of the gods. We may only learn of them by meeting them ourselves," he suggests, cynical. "Are you thinking of testing any of these theories, or merely gathering them?"