Ordermaster (35 page)

   
After a time, he walked back into the house, sliding the door bolt into place behind him. It was quiet, and all the lamps had been wicked out, except a carry-lamp in the study. He lifted it and headed for the stairs up to his chambers.

XLI

Dy the end of another two eightdays, Kharl had the cooperage working the way he wanted, in most fashions, although he needed a better hollowing knife, and he was short on charcoal for the toasting and the forge. He'd ordered coal, because he didn't want to turn his few hardwood trees into charcoal, but coal came by ship from Colton, a good hundred kays north of Valmurl, and he had no idea when it might arrive.

   
He had already turned out a score of white oak barrels, as well as several of red oak and spruce. The red oak and spruce were for slack cooperage around Cantyl.

   
Glyan, the estate vintner, was looking over the white oak barrels, turning them so that the morning light from the open door illuminated the insides of the staves. "Good barrel, ser. I'd not be saying that because you made it, either."

   
Kharl could tell that Glyan mean it. The barrels were good, not his very best, but that would come, once he got back into better form.

   
The gray-bearded Glyan looked up from the barrel he had been examining, his deep brown eyes fixing on Kharl. "Ser ... we'd make more golds by selling your barrels and buying from Dezant, even counting the shipping costs."

   
Kharl shook his head. "We wouldn't. People won't pay for the best barrels. They say they will, but they don't. They buy barrels that are just good enough."

   
"I forget. You've been the cooper." Glyan scratched his head. "I've been thinking, ser. I'd like to try a few barrels that are toasted different-like, a touch darker for the Rhynn, and lighter for the red."

"You think it will make a difference?"

   
The vintner nodded. "Don't know as what the difference will be. Know that the vintners in the Cetarn Hills like their barrels that way. Might not work here. Grapes, soil, sun, they're all different, even on different sides of the same hill. That's why I want to see."

"We can do that. I can toast some scrap oak first, and you can tell me

what darkness you want." Kharl paused. "Maybe I should make them half barrels or kegs, if you're going to try something new."

   
Glyan furrowed his brow. "Half barrels'd be better. Keg might be too small."

Kharl could see that. "How many?"

   
"Just four, I think." Glyan offered a slow smile. "Doesn't beat all. Finally get a real say on the barrels, and that's cause the lord's making 'em." He laughed.

So did Kharl.

   
Once Glyan had left, humming under his breath, Kharl began laying out the billets for some smaller kegs. He'd planned to do one for Speltar anyway, who asked if it were possible because his consort had a weak arm and had trouble with a full-sized flour barrel. Then Dorwan had mentioned that three of the smaller kegs would be useful. That was as close as the forester would ever come to asking. So Kharl would be making kegs for the next day or so, not that he minded.

   
He'd already discovered that he couldn't spend all his time in the cooperage-not if he wanted to learn about Cantyl. He'd spent two full days walking the southern boundaries of the estate with Dorwan and half a day for an eightday trailing Glyan, watching and listening as the vintner explained everything from the stone troughs that fed just the right amount of water to the grapes in times of no rainfall to the need for Rona to inspect the leaves of every plant and use a fine brush to sweep away the webs of the brown spider-just the brown spider.

   
Kharl doubted that he would ever learn all that was necessary, but the more he learned the better.

   
After checking the oak billets, both with his eyes and order-senses, he moved to the planer and began to rough shape the staves.

XLII

Almost another eightday had passed, and, in addition to his travels around his lands with Glyan, Dorwan, and Chyhat, Kharl had finished another score of various types of barrels, as well as the six half barrels for the vintner, two each with different amounts of toasting. Of course, the mage and cooper reflected, it would be more than a year before Glyan would have any idea as to whether the toasting mattered, and how much. Then, too, because the grapes changed some every year, depending on the weather, it might well be years before they really knew. He was just beginning to understand why Glyan was so cautious.

   
Kharl had blotted his forehead with the sleeve of his working gray shirt and turned to reach for another stave when he noticed that Heldya stood just inside the doorway of the cooperage, her figure outlined by the late-morning sunlight.

   
He stopped and stepped away from the bench. "Yes, Heldya? What is it? Does your mother need something?"

   
"No, Lord Kharl. Ser Arynal's daughter is here. She's waiting for you up at the main house."

"Which daughter? Did she say?"

"Mother said it was the younger one, the nicer one."

   
Meyena? Kharl took a deep breath. At least it wasn't Norelle. "If you

would run back and tell her that I'll be there shortly."
          
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"Yes, ser." Heldya scurried off.

   
Kharl glanced at the staves for the unfinished hogshead, then shook his head. He reracked his tools and left the cooperage, making his way up the last part of the hill to the main house, where he entered through the rear service door.

   
"She is in the sitting room," Adelya said quietly from the kitchen. "I will have a midday meal for you and your company."

"Thank you. I didn't expect her," replied Kharl.

   
"You are a widower, Lord Kharl," Adelya pointed out. "You are also thought to be a powerful man, and you're handsome."

   
Handsome? Kharl certainly didn't consider himself good-looking. He wasn't ugly, but handsome?

"I'll tell them you'll be with them shortly."

   
"Thank you," he said again, before turning to take the rear stairs to the upper level.

   
Kharl undressed and washed quickly, using the basin and pitcher Adelya or Heldya had set out for him-he didn't have time for a real bath. Then he dried and donned a clean set of blacks, before heading down the front staircase.

   
Meyena was still waiting on the love seat in the sitting room. Beside her was an older woman who looked like Lady Jacelyna, but with a more pinched face, and totally white hair. Both women rose the moment they saw Kharl. The older woman wore a long gray traveling dress with a muted purple jacket.

   
Ser Arynal's younger daughter wore flowing black trousers, a cream shirt, and a dark maroon vest. "Lord Kharl."

"Lady Meyena."

   
"You're kind. I'm not the heiress. Only Mama is properly a lady." Her smile was tentative. "This is my aunt Aylena."

   
Kharl inclined his head to the older woman. "I'm pleased to meet you."

   
"And I you, Lord Kharl. One seldom encounters a mage who is also a lord."

   
Kharl wasn't quite sure what to say to that, but after a moment that felt all too long and awkward, he managed to reply. "That was Lord Ghrant's choice, and who am I to second-guess his decisions?" After another silence, he added, "I must apologize. I didn't expect company, and I've been working in the cooperage."

   
"It was quite rude of us to come unannounced," the young woman replied. "I know, but I brought you three bushels of redberries. We had so many of them, and I just thought it would be a shame if you didn't have some. You can make juice if you can't eat them all, and it will keep in a cellar for eightdays." Meyena offered another tentative smile.

   
"Redberries-that was very thoughtful of you, and to come all that way."

   
"No one was using the coach, and Aunt Aylena was kind enough to accompany me. Besides, it is a lovely day, and there are so few neighbors who are close."

   
What she meant, Kharl realized, was that there were few neighbors who were well-off or lords. "There are few close to Cantyl, and not many, I would wager, close to your father's lands."

   
"Yes, Feldingdon is most isolated, especially in the winter. That is why I like to visit when we can."

   
"I can imagine." Kharl turned to the older woman, who was probably closer to his age than was Meyena. "Do you live at Feldingdon, or are you visiting?"

  
 
"Me? Ser Arynal was kind enough to let me have a cottage there after Durulat passed on. It is different. We had lived in Valmurl ever since we were consorted-in Hilldale, you understand."

   
Kharl assumed that Hilldale was one of the better areas. "I would judge that Feldingdon is very different."

   
"That it is, but Arynal has been most kind, as have the girls." Aylena smiled at Meyena. "I was delighted to accompany her here. You know that it's been years since a lord was in residence here?"

   
"So I have been told. Would you like a short tour of the grounds near the house?" Kharl smiled politely.

   
"That would be-" Aylena turned to her niece. "This was your idea, dear, and I should not be deciding for you."

   
"Oh, no," protested the younger woman, "I would very much like to see what you have done here, Lord Kharl."

   
"I've only done a few things, but I'd be happy to show you around; then perhaps you two would join me for a midday dinner."

"You're most gracious, Lord Kharl," offered Meyena.

   
Kharl could sense that the young woman meant what she said, and that she was a sweet and sincere young lady. The only problem was that he did not have the faintest interest in her, and that would make it hard on her, since her parents were clearly hoping that he would. He smiled. "Then we should start by walking down to the pier. You get a better view of the harbor from there ..."

   
Without a doubt, Kharl reflected, as he opened the door to the front porch-or portico, as Norelle had called it-the day would be moderately pleasant... and very long.

XLIII

A single bronze lamp illuminated the study, spilling amber-gold light over the ledger in front of Kharl. In the quiet of the night, his fingers brushed his short and square-cut brown beard as he perused the entries and figures set out in black ink on the pages before him. Speltar's figures went back more than a decade. They were neat, and the entries clear-just another of the steward's many virtues.

   
When his eyes reached the bottom of the last column, he nodded and closed the ledger. For a time, he sat behind the antique desk. Then he stood and took a last look at the closed account book he had been studying for the last glass.

   
By any rendering he could imagine, he was well-off. Not wealthy, for the coins necessary to operate Cantyl were not insignificant, but over the past ten years, the lands, the vineyard, and the sawmill had produced an annual income above expenses of almost two hundred golds. He didn't have many of those golds. They'd gone to Lord Estloch, but the strongbox in the cellar counting room now held almost seven hundred golds-one hundred remaining from the previous wine sales and the timber loaded on the Seastag from the time when Kharl had first come to Cantyl, the hundred remaining from the hundred and fifty Kharl had received initially from Lord Ghrant, and the most recent five hundred.

   
Even with the year's timbering and planting costs ahead, and the wages for the retainers and the sawmill, there would have been some golds remaining out of the original hundred, and that was without sales of the aged red wine scheduled for the fall, and the payment for the timber consignment being readied for midsummer.

   
The new forest produced far less in golds, showing a profit of twenty to thirty golds a year after costs. That suggested another reason why Ghrant had been happy to settle the forestlands on Kharl. Chyhat, while a good forester, had not been the best of stewards and had been happy to relinquish those duties to Speltar, especially after Kharl had explained that his

stipend would not be reduced. Speltar had recommended building several roads, closing the ancient sawmill in the new forest, improving the Cantyl sawmill, and adding another drying barn. Those changes were likely to run close to a hundred golds, including the costs of building several cots for the sawmill workers to be moved from the old sawmill to the one at Cantyl. Despite Glyan's fears, they would actually save some golds through Kharl's barrels. Kharl also hoped that, with the better barrels and changes in the toasting, Glyan could improve the red wine enough that they could get a better price in Valmurl, one equal to what the Rhynn received already.