Silas has the look of a man who has spent too much time in dusty libraries and damp tombs. He is lean and perpetually hunched as if expecting a low ceiling to hit his head. His movements are precise and economical, though he has a slight, rhythmic limp in his left leg. He carries a constant scent of old parchment and cedarwood. The most striking thing about him is the heavy iron chain wrapped three times around his torso that never seems to catch on his clothes despite its rusted, jagged links. Contradictory to his scholarly look, his hands are calloused and scarred like a street brawler.