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of
green. Unfortunately, after five courses of stone, they had run out of the
green-faced building stones and had then used interior stones faced with yellow
to alternate with the blue stones. Where the stones had come from, no one alive
knew. Over the years that had followed, the yellow had faded into a sickly and
uneven beige, but the blue and green had not.
    As
early as it was in the morning, the hitching rail outside the pleasure palace
had no mounts tethered there, and the palace itself was still. Wendra drove the
wagon past the empty vingt or more separating the pleasure palace from the
nearest dwellings straight into Iron Stem, and then past the metal shop and its
thundering hammermill, with the smell of hot iron drifting across the road and
thin white smoke rising from the forge chimney.
    The
buildings surrounding the central square were all of two and three stories, and
although mainly boardinghouses, were moderately well kept, if one ignored the
peeling paint on shutters and doors. On the west side of the square were the
coopers, the chandlery, the silversmith’s. On the adjoining corner was the inn,
its blue-painted sign an outline of the long-vanished mining mill.
    Wendra
eased the team up to her father’s cooperage, and Alucius jumped down and tied
the horses to the post just short of the loading dock. Then the two of them
entered the building, stepping into the mixed odors of oils, varnishes, and
wood.
    “Wendra!
Alucius!” exclaimed Kyrial, beaming at his daughter. “Its good to see you both.
I’d thought Lucenda might be the one picking up the barrels.”
    “Grandsire
and Mother were kind enough to let us drive in together and handle the buying,”
Alucius explained.
    Clerynda
burst from the back room, bustling toward her daughter. “Wendra! Let me see
you!”
    Wendra
flushed. “I’m fine.”
    “I
know you are. You have that glow. I do hope he’s a boy.”
    “She’s
a girl,” Alucius said, “and she’ll be a herder like her mother.”
    For
a moment, Clerynda was silent. Then she smiled and shook her head. “Herders.
You take all the surprise out of it.”
    Kyrial
just grinned. “I wouldn’t say that. The two of them just come up with different
surprises.”
    “You
look pleased, Father,” observed Wendra, clearly trying to change the subject.
    Kyrial
smiled at his daughter. “And well I should be, Wendra, after the order I
received yesterday. Fifty of trie best oak barrels. Fifty!”
    “Who
could order that many?”
    “A
fellow acting as a broker for a group of traders in Dekhron. Came up with half
the cost in hard golds.”
    “Your
reputation is finally spreading, Father,” offered Wendra.
    “Does
that mean you’ll be delayed in getting us the solvent barrels?” Alucius’s tone
was humorous.
    “Sanders,
no. Yours are almost done, and your family has been my steadiest customer for
years. The traders aren’t asking for the first group for another two weeks, and
Korcler’s become a great help.” Kyrial glanced at the youth who was half inside
an oaken barrel, deftly using a curved plane to touch up the inside of the
staves.
    Korcler
extricated himself and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Wendra. I just was afraid I’d
lose track of where I was if I didn’t finish.”
    “That’s
all right.”
    “The
five full barrels are ready. They’re the ones by the loading door,” Kyrial
said. “We’ll have the half barrels and quarter barrels ready by a week from
Quattri.”
    “Might
as well get them into the wagon.” Alucius turned.
    “I’ll
help,” offered Korcler. “Wendra shouldn’t—”
    “I’m
not made of porcelain,” Wendra replied. “Not for another season or two, anyway.”
    In
the end, Korcler, Alucius, and Wendra loaded the wagon.
    After
the barrels were roped in place, Alucius and Wendra walked back toward the
square to see what produce might be available. After they bought what they
could find, they would need to drive out to the miller’s.
    As
they walked away