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“Your Highness,” said Sighing Wind when Tarkyn had had time to consume the first round of offerings, “would you be interested in seeing the caves under the mountain where we ferment and store our wines? We have a couple of hours before the evening meal is ready.”
Tarkyn inclined his head. “I would feel privileged to be shown the source of your fine wines.” For the life of him, the prince couldn’t relax and be anything less than formal with the larger group of mountainfolk. Sighing Wind, having orchestrated the pre-oath ceremony the night before, was particularly difficult to be casual with.
Sighing Wind took a smouldering branch from the fire and, gesturing for Tarkyn to follow him, set forth with two other mountainfolk from the clearing in the opposite direction from the stream. Bef
