"Well there is that," Emmaline agreed in a soft murmer barely audible above the rumble of dwarven conversation. Though the other two were clearly long standing citizens of the city Emmaline couldn't imagine what busy Sketti had with the nobility. Well she supposed she and Markus were also bereft of legitimate interests, which didn't necessarily mean bereft of interests of course.

"A witch is it"?" Branvaldin demanded suddenly, breaking in on the private conversation.

"Well," Emmaline temporized, "I prefer less ... inflammatory words but sure." Flammability was a matter of serious concern for practitioners in the Empire. In theory a wizard with the writ of the colleges of magic was perfectly legal and perfectly safe. Of course saying you had a writ wouldn't do you much good if you found yourself on some witch hunters pyre and he wasn't inclined to check the paperwork.

"You wouldn't have anything to do with these reports of counterfeit coins would you?" the dwarf demanded pugnaciously. Emmaline looked so stricken with wounded innocence at the notion that the dwarf narrowed his eyes further." At that the suspicion faded and was replaced with a speculative look that was quickly replaced with a businesslike nonchalance.

"What can we do you for captain?" the dwarf asked Markus.

"I don't know anything about counterfeiting coins," she objected, her face projecting perfect innocence that made the dwarf appear, if possible even more suspicious.

"If someone is passing trick coins I imagine people will flock to the wise dwarven folk to demand their specie be checked though. A dwarf can always tell true gold from fake afterall, even if he does charge a modest fee for his talents.