That was of Golsway's own choosing, however. With his home base of operations in Waterdeep, he had never allowed many into his home. He neither needed their pandering or their questions. Usually there were too many maps and books and little-known documents scattered throughout every room and on every conceivable surface to permit anyone to come visiting. As a result, usually the old mage went calling, or a meeting took place in an agreed-upon tavern or inn.
Despite his years, Golsway remained a lean, tall man. Age had not stooped his back yet, nor robbed him of his vigor. His silver hair lay forward on his scalp, coming down to a widow's peak, cropped close in a military-styled cut. He wore a goatee that scarcely covered his chin, then tucked neatly under to come to a point. His ears lay back against the sides of his head, though the right one had a notch bitten out of it. He had never had the wound properly tended to in order that it might be made to look more presentable. He chose to wear it to remind him that he was not infallible. His hooded eyes and narrow face made him resemble a hunting falcon to a degree that he could never deny. He wore a brilliant red robe with a field of stars that announced his fealty to Mystra.
"And who is this new vintner?" Keraqt asked.
Golsway cocked an eyebrow, a move that was known to send those who knew of him into conniption fits. "Do you press me on this matter?"
Keraqt shook his head then laughed. "Press you about a vintner, you say? You have always had the tongue for pretty thoughts, haven't you?"
Golsway turned a hand over. "The new vintner is myself."
"You jest."
"Should I show you the basement where I have casks fermenting now?"
"No. I believe you. What I find hard to believe is that boisterous Fannt Golsway, self-appointed re-discoverer of Toril, should spend his days raising and pressing grapes."
"You admit that the wine is good?"
"Readily."
"Then my efforts are not met with failure."
"But to be squashing grapes when you should be putting expeditions together, my friend?"
"Things have changed. I no longer run willy-nilly through the forests and deserts and mountains seeking the truth in some frivolous tale of wonder or drunkenness. There are books that must be written, and I have put them off far too long if I hope to inspire another generation to seek out the mysteries of the ancients." Golsway shook his head. 'Too many of them are only grave robbers, destroying priceless relics for the gemstones and beaten gold before they know what they hold in their hands."
"It is the times," Keraqt lamented. "You remember the brand of fleeting youth. How it drove us to do things that we should never have done."
"But my agenda was always clear," Golsway replied. "Never did I destroy anything that would advance our knowledge of the past."
Keraqt kept silent.
Golsway knew the other man could not make that claim. Though in recent years, the merchant's tastes had changed. He had enough money and riches now to be more discerning about what he did with objects that came within his grasp. Many times Golsway had learned that Keraqt had taken less of a profit from some items to place them in the proper hands rather than break them up. It was one of the things that had convinced the old mage to open up his friendship more than it had been.
"Getting back to the wine," Keraqt said. "Do you have any flasks ready for sale? I'll send a boy around in the morning. With a fair price only, mind you, and not one copper more."
"It's not for sale."
Keraqt spluttered in denial. "Everything is for sale. It's only a matter of finding the proper time to buy."
"Send a boy around in the morning," Golsway invited with a smile. "I'll send him back with a few flasks I can spare."
The merchant sipped his wine again and smacked his lips in appreciation. "What an evening this is turning out to be. First you invite me over for one of the best meals I've had in five tendays or more, then you promise me free wine, and offer to send it to my door." He linked his fingers in front of him, his elbows resting on the table. The candlelight from the sconces in the corners of the balcony splintered from the jeweled rings on his fingers.
"I am glad you accepted my invitation to share eveningfeast."
"Bah! I invited myself and you were gracious enough to accept me into your home. We both know that."
It was true, but Golsway didn't acknowledge the statement. He took his pipe pouch from a pocket of his robe and worked the dottle out in anticipation of using it. Keraqt was a talker; the mage doubted the man would be gone before the morning cock crowed.
"Put your bag away," the merchant said, producing a pipe bag of his own. "I've only this tenday found a new blend I fancy. A trade ship I had owned part of a cargo in brought this from Beregost and I've found it quite pleasing."
Golsway took the bag and performed a quick spell to detect magic. If Keraqt noticed, he gave no sign. Finding the pipeweed free of any spells or wards, the mage quickly filled his pipe from the bag, packing the bowl tight.
"Allow me." Keraqt offered a light from one of the nearby candles. When both pipes were going, curling streamers of smoke about their heads that vanished into the night stretching out over Waterdeep, the merchant replaced the candle. "So tell me about the latest venture you are planning."
"What do you not yet know?" Golsway asked.
Keraqt grinned. "I know that you received a man in your home only four days ago. He carried a package for you that was nearly the size of a bread loaf, but was heavily wrapped and warded, so that may not be its real dimensions. I know, too, that the man spent the night and left early the next morning. You are not wont to allow overnight guests. I myself have spent a night here, but generally at this table or the one in your dining room, never as an overnight guest."
"Your spies are very good."
Keraqt shrugged. "They are paid generously."
"Do you have someone in my house?"
"No. I would never do something like that."
"You would," Golsway argued, "if you thought you could get away with it. But go on."
"I also know that your interest of late has been in Myth Dran-nor. I have people among the sages and book shops who say you've again been searching the histories and legends of the place."
Golsway released a deep lungful of smoke. In truth, he found the pipeweed quite pleasing. "My interest in Myth Drannor is no secret; nor do I stand alone in that interest."
"No, but I've not heard of you wasting research time in idle curiosity. It would take away time from the books you are writing. I am guessing you have turned up a new lead to follow."
"One that no one else has followed after all these years? Do you think such a thing could exist?"
The merchant nodded his big head deliberately. "It is the only kind of clue you would follow. Probably only one that you could turn up. Remember, I've known you for years."
"There are all kinds of new legends and rumors springing up about Myth Drannor. More now than at the time the city fell. You can pick and choose your illusions." Golsway made his voice deliberately demeaning.
"I've heard a name," the merchant whispered conspiratorially.
"You needn't whisper in my home," Golsway said. "It is well warded against those who would seek to invade my privacy."
Keraqt held up a plump hand. "I know, my friend, but this name is not to be bandied with."
“Tell me."
Keraqt leaned forward, covering his wine glass in case any would use the liquid in the goblet as a scrying vessel. Golsway recognized the action immediately for what it was. He quickly checked the wards around his home and found them all intact.
"Faimcir Glitterwing," the merchant said in an even lower whisper than before.
Golsway covered his surprise by sipping his wine. "How did you come by this name?"