Jorg looked left, then right. He could swear that someone was following him. Was it someone who didn't like his information? Perhaps. Or maybe it was that librarian? He never liked it when Jorg checked out the same book again and again.
But he could go suck on a lemon for all Jorg cared. The mage hummed and went back home. It was shabby on the outside, with peeling paint and mud-covered windows, but it was luxurious on the inside.
Jorg threw away his moth-eaten robe and his hat. Underneath, he wore a good quality wool pair of pants and a sweater. Perfect for home, where no one would ask him where he got his money from.
Perhaps it was a mistake to tell the kid. But he saw, so what was the harm? Jorg patted his pocket where the fifty-silver jingled merely. A slow day, but fifty silvers were enough for a good meal.