“Since mages aren’t known for having full wallets?” asked Kharl, laughingly.
“That’d be true, ser.” Dorwan grinned at Kharl.
Kharl could not sense either calculation or chaos in any of the three, only a certain wariness in the vintner. He turned and gestured to Furwyl, asking the master to join them on the pier.
After a moment, Furwyl walked down the gangway.
“Captain Furwyl is now master of the Seastag,” Kharl said, “since Lord Hagen is occupied as lord-chancellor.” He turned to Furwyl. “It appears that you were correct, captain, and that the timbers are a consignment cargo for you to take to Valmurl.”
Furwyl nodded to Kharl, then to Speltar. “We would be pleased.”
“Got the invoices, and the golds right here, captain,” offered Speltar, who looked to Kharl, “if that would be fine by you, ser?”
Kharl nodded, stepping back slightly.
Once Furwyl had the invoices and the shipping fees, and had returned to the Seastag, Speltar turned to Dorwan.
Dorwan inclined his head slightly. “If you’d not mind, ser Kharl, I’ll be supervising the loading.”
“Go ahead. If you’d join us when you can…”
“Yes, ser. Be a while.”
Kharl hitched the old pack into place on his shoulder.
Speltar led the way off the pier to the graveled lane that led from the pier westward and up a gentle slope covered with winter-brown grass to a series of buildings on a low hill overlooking the harbor. The path looked to be only about half a kay long.
The three had walked less than ten rods, when Speltar spoke again. “Ser…begging your pardon…but…would you be bringing a consort?”
“No.” After a moment, Kharl added, “My consort died about a year ago, and my sons have left the house. For the moment, I’m the only one.” Kharl wondered if, with his newfound wealth, he might be able to track the boys down, perhaps even send for Arthal, or send someone to bring him back.
“I’m sorry, ser…we didn’t know…”
“There was no reason that you would,” Kharl replied politely. “And I appreciate your concern.”
As they neared the hilltop, Kharl studied the structures. The main house was modest, at least for a landholder’s dwelling, a two-story red sandstone structure only slightly larger than Kharl’s cooperage had been, if one excluded the wide, roofed porch that wrapped around the entire house. The roof was of gray tiles, a patchwork of older and newer darker gray that showed replacements over the years. The shutters were dark gray, standing out against the red stone of the walls.
To the south, slightly downhill, were two buildings that looked like barns. Much farther to the north was a stream and a mill of some sort. Kharl glanced to Speltar. “Is that a sawmill?”
“Yes, ser. Lord Estloch had it built years back. That way, we can offer planks and timbers and charge more than we could just selling felled timber.”
“The timberlands, the vineyards…how far do they go?”
“Not that far, ser Kharl…no more than four kays to the northwest and five to the southwest, four if you could ride due south, but you can’t, not over those crags.”
Kharl turned to the vintner, Glyan. “I know less about vineyards and wine than possibly anything in my life. You’ll have to teach me everything you think I should know.”
“You’d be wanting to know?” Glyan’s tone was somewhere between ironic and amused.
“I do. I was wondering…Do we have a cooperage here?”
“No, ser. Oak doesn’t grow well on the lands round about.”
Kharl nodded slowly. “And about the grapes?”
“What would you want to know?”
“As much as you can tell me. I’ll never know what you do,” Kharl admitted, “but it seems to me that I ought to know as much as I can.”
Glyan laughed. “That’d be taking some time.”
“I have time.” Kharl grinned. “And if you tell me a bit at a time, I might remember it more easily.”
Glyan cleared his throat. “Well…ser…the vineyards are over the second hill there, on the south-facing slope. We only grow two grapes here, the full red and the golden green. Green’s better, makes a Rhynn like no one else…”
Kharl listened intently until they neared the house on the hillcrest and Glyan broke off his words.
“…and that’s why we check the stones in the watering runs with a bubble level. They’ve got to be just so. Too little water or too much, and you’ve got a juice that’s good for vinegar and not much more.”
Kharl stopped and looked at the house. A flagstone walk led from the lane, which ran up the hill, then beside the dwelling, to the front porch, the one overlooking the harbor. After a moment, he followed Speltar to the porch.
There he set down the leather bag, before turning and looking out over the harbor, slowly scanning the water and the surrounding lands. He found it hard to believe that he owned the lands…lands that seemed too vast for someone considered a small landholder.
He stood and looked for some time, until he heard a cough.
“Ser,” offered Speltar, “might I show you the house?”
Kharl smiled broadly. “You certainly can, then the barns and the sawmill.” He turned to Glyan. “And the vineyard and the cellars as well.”
As he turned toward the door, he paused. There really wasn’t any reason he couldn’t have a cooperage now, was there?
With a nod to himself, he followed Speltar through the door.