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. . . and ... a mountain of gold coins to last a
lifetime of ale and mutton."
Everybody in the Pig and Whistle looked up just a little bit,
hoping maybe the coin truly was magic. Drago might have his
wishes granted, and disappear.
"Bah!" snorted Drago. He reached across the bar and grabbed
William by the collar, squeezing until the innkeeper turned pink.
"It was given to him by Raistlin the mage!" blurted Sintk.
Drago squeezed harder.
"He was a faker," gulped William, gasping for breath. "But I
am worse. A FOOL. I took the coin as payment in kind, because I
believed him when he told me it was magic, but it is ... nought.
You may . . ." He stared directly into Drago's blazing eyes. "You
may have it, my friend."
"Bah!" said Drago, and let William go. With a flick of his
hand, he sent the coin spinning across the bar. Around and around
it spun, sending off glints of light. William grabbed for it and
clasped it dearly, feeling its warmth. But Drago had already turned
away and settled his bulk at a table.
"Bring me ale and the usual rotten stew!" shouted Drago,
without a backward glance. "And be quick about it. Pig-face!"
William bustled about fulfilling Drago's edict, while Sintk
unhappily drained two more tankards.
*
Later, as the sun was setting, William locked up the Pig
and Whistle. It was not unusual for the innkeeper to close
early these days
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