Over-Wealthy

The barman chuckles. "This is a tavern, not a dairy. We have nine different ales on tap, a couple of ciders and a wide range of spirits, and that's all."

I wonder whether I should ask for a glass of water, but I'm not sure that doing so would go down very well. Besides. I'm not sure whether I could trust the water from the local well to be free of nasty micro- organisms. At least alcohol tends to kill bugs. "I'll have a glass of your weakest ale then, please," I say.

The bartender uses a hand-pump to draw me a glass of a rather cloudy, dark brown liquid. "That will be one copper," he says.

I realise that all I have is the dozen gold pieces. When I was learning the ropes at Zal's I discovered that the currency here is ten coppers to one silver piece and ten silvers to one gold. (There are also smaller copper coins known as halves and quarters.) "I'm afraid that all I have on me is gold pieces," I say, afraid of making myself unpopular.

1. "I think I can change one of those for you."
2. "I can't change that."
3. I speak rather louder than is wise. A couple of heads turn in my direction. I hope that nobody has any ideas about separating me from my gold.

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