L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

“I’m most fortunate in having Adelya.”

“A good cook is a gem. That’s always been true.”

“Pardon me, Lord Kharl, but I’ve not seen anyone else here, and there is the rumor …” ventured Jacelyna.

“I am a widower, that’s true.” Kharl did not elaborate, especially since he had indicated that earlier. Had Jacelyna missed that, or was she making sure that he was single?

“Be a shame if you had no sons to hold the lands,” murmured Arynal.

“It would be, but I’m hoping my … younger son will be joining me before the end of the year.”

“Oh … where is he?”

Once more, Kharl ignored the fact that he’d already mentioned that fact. “He’s in Nordla, with his aunt and uncle. They have an orchard, mostly peaches, but some pearapples.”

“You don’t have that much in the way of fruit here, do you?”

“Besides the berry patches, there’s a small cherry orchard in the western lands, and a handful of fruit trees on the south slopes here-apple, pearapple, and a quince. Maybe two quinces,” he added.

“Quinces make good jelly,” offered Meyena.

Kharl laughed gently. “From what I’ve tasted, Adelya can make anything taste good.”

“What are your plans for the summer, Lord Kharl?” asked Arynal.

“We’ll be improving the sawmill here, and making some otherchanges. I’ll be seeing if the white oaks on the new lands are suitable for barrels for the vineyard, and we may need some better roads in places.”

“You don’t plan to return to Valmurl … Lord Ghrant?”

“If Lord Ghrant needs me, I will certainly attend him, but he and the lord-chancellor have seasons’ worth of work before them, I think, in repairing the damage caused by the rebellion. For now, it is better that I remain here at Cantyl. I have done what was necessary. For now, at least.”

“Some had thought, after the defeat of the Hamorian wizards … ”

Kharl laughed. “Hamor sent five wizards. The emperor has scores, and hundreds of iron-hulled warships with mighty guns. Austra can defend itself.” He hoped it could. “But waging war elsewhere would be foolhardy.”

The older lord nodded. “So you plan to be here for a time.”

“I do. There’s much to do here.”

“There always is. The sheep … you know that we have the best white wool in the east. Some say that it is as good a white as Reduce produces black …”

From that point on, the conversation turned to the lands, the weather, how Lord Julon had wasted his inheritance on horses and women.

Kharl managed to smile his way through the rest of dinner, and the sweets afterward, then see his guests to their coach.

Once the coach’s side-lamps vanished from sight, Kharl walked back up to the porch. He looked at the pin-lights that were the stars, then at the darkness of the harbor. Arynal’s motives-or those of his consort-were clear enough. Kharl was a lord and a widower. They had two consortable daughters.

He shook his head. Norelle was the better-looking, and he doubted if he could have stayed in the same room alone with her for a glass without wanting to strangle her. The younger one was sweeter, but he knew he would feel nothing for her … except perhaps pity.

If he had to consort, he would have taken Sanyle or Jeka-young as they were-over either of Arynal’s daughters, but that wasn’t the question. He just hoped that Hagen’s men could get a message to Warrl.

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.

By 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 mewhat 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.

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.