Bart nodded. “Thanks,” he said. He dug into his pocket and gave the boy a silver.
“Hey,” the boy objected. “I thought we’d each get one!”
Bart glanced over to where the boy’s two buddies were still standing. “If they want a silver, then they better be the one’s talking to me.” He glanced back to the boy, “Are you going to be around?”
“Maybe,” replied Runt. “Why?”
“Might need your help again,” he said.
“I’ll be around,” Runt said. “If you don’t see me, ask around and I’ll hear.”
“Okay, I’ll do that,” agreed Bart.
At that, Runt scampered off toward his two friends and Bart returned to the inn. There he told the others what he had learned.
“So,” asked Chyfe in a barely audible whisper, “are we going to sneak into the castle now?”
Bart shook his head. “Not we, me,” he responded quietly. “You and the others find this wine merchant and play the part of agents. Learn what you can about the River Man and the crest,” he told him. “In the meantime, I’ll poke around the castle.”
A short time later, they were heading down to the castle area. Once they were close, Bart took his leave of the others. He had already donned his Cloak but had yet to activate its concealing magics. Disappearing down a side alley, he was soon out of sight.
“Hope he doesn’t get himself killed,” commented Chyfe.
“He knows what he’s doing,” Riyan said. “Now, let’s find that merchant.” Having been told the shop was somewhere near the castle, they made inquiries and it wasn’t long before they stood before the shop of the wine merchant Torrim.
It was very high scale, as were all of the shops and residences in this area. Being so close to the castle, they had to be as they more than likely catered to the nobility. The people on the streets were dressed very fine, most having servants in attendance. Finely constructed carriages rode upon the cobblestone streets, the occupants having an air of self importance.
Soth took the lead as they approached the door to the wine merchant’s shop. The bottle of wine bearing the crest rested in his pack. Being the more amiable of the twins, it had fallen to Soth to be their spokesman.
The front door to the shop was of carved wood and very sturdy. Opening it, they found the inner walls to be lined with shelves bearing row after row of wine bottles. There were six freestanding racks containing a variety of wine bottles as well. A guard was positioned to either side of the door and as Soth entered, they gave him a once over. As each of the others entered, they too were given a visual inspection. Deciding they were no immediate threat, the guards remained where they were.
As they entered, Soth examined the bottles of wines on the nearest freestanding rack. He was no connoisseur of wines, but they looked valuable. His brother nudged his shoulder. “Over there,” Seth said, pointing to an elderly man sitting at a table. There were three tables situated in an open area on the far side of the room. The man was the only one there.
Soth nodded and made his way over. Behind him, one of the guards shut the door as Kevik, who was bringing up the rear, entered.
An open bottle of wine sat on the table before the man, a wine glass a third of the way full was held in his hand. He looked up as Soth approached, and set his glass on the table next to the wine bottle.
“Are you the wine merchant Torrim?” Soth asked.
The man remained in his seat and nodded. “I am he,” he replied. “Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?”
Soth nodded and then indicated the chair across the table from the wine merchant. When he received a nod to go ahead, he sat. The others, including his brother, remained standing behind him.
“We are looking into the possibilities of acquiring a contract for a specific wine,” he explained. “Come spring when our master’s caravan is once more upon the road, he hoped to be able to travel here and purchase wine at a reasonable price.”
“Hmmm,” murmured Torrim. “You’d do best by going straight to the wineries if such is your desire. I cater more to the individual wine connoisseur.”
“Yes,” Soth replied. “We realize that, but at present we are not sure where to go or with whom to talk.” He sat his pack on the table before him and removed the bottle. “My master acquired this bottle of wine from a merchant in Kendruck. He was struck by the strength of its flavor and thought there may be a market for it among his regular clients.” Setting the bottle before the wine merchant, he waited expectantly.
Torrim’s eyes widened slightly at first sight of the bottle. That he recognized it was clear. “You wish to procure a quantity of Guerloch?” he asked.
“A contract for such, yes,” agreed Soth. “Would you know with whom we would need to speak?”
“Yes,” replied Torrim, “though I’m not sure if that knowledge would do you much good.”
“Why is that?” asked Soth.
“Guerloch is a special brew,” he explained. “Only one winery that I know of makes it. And such is the secrecy behind the making of Guerloch, that the actual location of the winery is a closely guarded secret.”
“Surely there must be a trader or agent in town where one could arrange for a shipment of Guerloch,” Soth said.
“There is,” he replied. “But like I said, that knowledge won’t do you any good.” When he saw Seth’s face grow into a grimace, he explained. “The one with whom you would need to arrange such a contract resides in the castle. His name is Lord Honni. Last year, his son was killed during a border skirmish with Byrdlon’s soldiers. He’s unlikely to listen to anything you have to say.”
“And he’s the only one with which we could secure a contract for Guerloch?” asked Riyan.
Torrim glanced to Riyan in surprise for having spoken. “I’m afraid so,” the wine maker replied.
“I see,” Soth said. Standing up, he extended his hand which was taken by Torrim. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with us.”
Torrim shook Soth’s hand then nodded. “Any time,” he replied.
Soth turned and made to leave the wine merchant’s establishment. One of the guards opened the door for them as they passed through into the street. Once the door was closed behind them, Chyfe asked, “Now what?”
“We return to the inn and wait for Bart’s return,” Riyan stated. “After that we’ll figure something out. Maybe arrange a meeting with this Lord Honni despite what Torrim said.” With the others following, he led them through the streets back to the inn. He hoped Bart was having better luck.
Chapter Thirteen
Before the gates leading into the castle area was a large plaza. Aside from the aesthetic value such would give the area, Bart could tell that in the event of an attack, it would also provide the castle defenders a clear killing field.
The gates themselves were two massive iron doors that could withstand some serious beating before they failed. Archers and guards patrolled the top of the wall, six guards were positioned within the gate area itself. The uniforms of the guards bore the crest that had been on the wine bottle, a sure sign that they were on the right track.
For the most part, the guards only observed as people dressed in fine attire passed through the gates. Occasionally, a guard would speak a moment with one of those traversing the gate area before allowing them to move along.
All this Bart saw from the entrance of an alley on the far side of the plaza. There was no way a person so obviously from Byrdlon as he would make it through to the other side without being questioned. More than likely, they’d bar his entry entirely.
But he hadn’t really expected to walk through the gates. That’s why he had brought the Cloak. Glancing around to make sure none of those within the plaza were looking in his direction, he pulled the Cloak’s hood over his head and closed the front. Confident that he was now invisible, he strode from the alley and crossed the plaza
