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"Body heat," said Sintk, wearily. "The coin is nothing. A piece
of cast metal."
"Magic!" insisted William.
"Is not," said Sintk.
"Is!" said William, most uncharacteristically raising his voice.
"Why don't you let me be the judge?" said a surly voice behind
them.
William and Sintk whirled to see the fiendish countenance of a
barrel-chested draconian in smelly armor. It was Drago, captain of
the prison guards, who, despised and friendless even among his
fellow dracon-ians, took an occasional meal and tankard alone in
the Pig and Whistle. The fact that his presence was so repugnant to
William Sweetwater and his friends made it all the more
pleasurable to Drago.
William remembered too late to close his fist around the magic
coin, for it was suddenly gone. Drago held it aloft in his scaly paw,
leering. "A magic coin, is it?" he barked to nobody in particular,
for there were only a couple of other customers and they were
studiously avoiding his gaze. "It looks like a beggar's token to
me," he said. Drago bit down on the coin with his yellow,
mucousy teeth.
Pale with shame, William was staring at his shoes.
"That's right," said Sintk weakly. "It's just a common,
worthless ..." His voice trailed off. His eyes, too, were lowered.
Drago was rubbing the coin against one of his grease-stained
sleeves. "I wish ... I wish ..." he uttered grandly, "I wish I had a
one-year vacation from stinking Port Balifor, and two wives to
shine my boots, and
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