Cillian put his left hand in his pocket and started scrambling through the coins. One, two, one, two. Two were coins, two were not. One of the fakes came with the first purchase, the other with the second. He entered a café at a corner of Arzanà Square, sat at a table and ordered a cup of green tea, took the coins from his pocket and looked at them intently. The fake coins were well made but for minor details. They were lighter, enough to be measured by hand, and they were made from a different alloy which looked the same but sounded differently when the coins were laid on a metal or wooden surface.
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