"Friend Ince," Bartholomea clasped her hands before her rumpled apron, "are you hungry now? I have just taken 3 dozen small pies from the ovens. They are beautiful! They are golden delights of perfection! In your dreams you could not conjure their equals! They are fat with river fish you helped bring in and Buorn’s vegetables and the best spices from Community. Will you take 1? Friend Ince?”
         “Will they ever be better than they are now, Bartholomea?”
         “Never!”
         “Then I will take 1.”
         “Oh, wonderful! Oh, praised! Ok! I shall bring it at once. What shall you have to drink with it, Friend Ince?”

        “Uorn water,” Regis commented slyly, blowing into her tankard.
         Annie Pyle cackled.
         Regis clarified, as if we had been dim baqs, "The favorite of nurslings.”
         Annie shrieked at this and nudged Regis.
         I raised a brow in acknowledgement but did not look at them. “Water.” Seeing Bartholomea’s disappointment, I added, “Set 1 of your gem packets in it, Bartholomea. I couldn’t ask for anything more pleasant.”
         “Yes, yes, Friend Ince. Right away!” Bartholomea rolled off. Her walk moved as much side to side as forward.
         Sem Partoldi deepened her voice as though she reprimanded a schoolchild, “Are you playing pawn-dha with me or are you lost within your senses?”
         Annie Pyle giggled and dipped her freckled face into her beer.
         I glanced up. After further consideration I set 3 cards on the table.