Zaber moved away from the guild, deliberately slowing his steps. The document was in his pocket, but its weight was not that of paper—it was something else, an inexplicable heaviness in his heart that words could not describe.
The street gradually narrowed. The bright sounds of the commercial district were left behind; the atmosphere here was different: people spoke less, their gazes lingered longer. In this area, no one hurried—as if rushing would be a mistake.
Zaber stopped.
A sensation rose within him. The feeling of being watched. Zaber had known this since he could remember, and he had grown accustomed to it. He looked around, but there was no one. Nevertheless, he knew he was not alone.
"They are watching," he thought.
It was not fear. It was a warning.
He continued walking.
At that moment, in one of the inner floors of the merchants' guild—a room Zaber had not seen but that existed—three people sat in silence.
