Zaber walked away from the place where the murder had occurred, then slowed his steps. He was in no hurry. The city swallowed such disappearances quickly. After a few turns, he took the wallet he had taken from the merchant into his palm.
The leather was soft. Not new, but well-maintained. This man had known money.
Zaber continued walking, opened the wallet, and began counting the coins inside. Each gold coin rang differently—some worn, some freshly minted.
"Forty gold…" he said inside.
His shoulders relaxed for a moment.
"So, there is money. Now weapons… and the adventurers guild."
He looked at the gold coins once more. Then he separated thirty-nine gold from the merchant's wallet and put them into his own pouch. One gold remained in the wallet.
"Let it not be too clean," he thought. "Let a trace remain."
