"GOOD-DAY, JETHRI." Ren Lar looked up from his lab table, meter held delicately in one hand, blue eyes soft as ever. Somehow, he managed to look cool and elegant, though his apron was liberally painted with stains, and his sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Jethri, his own sleeves rolled up in anticipation of another long shift spent readying barrels to receive their next batch of wine, inclined his head, which he had found was considered respectful enough, in this circumstance.
"Good-day, sir. I hope I'm not late." He wasn't, just, which was no fault of the tailor who had been summoned to produce what Lady Maarilex was pleased to call "appropriate" clothes for himself. Not satisfied with the first set of readings, the tailor—one Sun Eli pen'Jerad—had measured him again—and yet again, muttering over his readings, and at last jerked his chin at Jethri, giving him leave to cover himself decently.
"I will bring samples, in six days," Mr. pen'Jerad said, gathering up his measuring devices and his notes. "Tarnia informs me that you are a trader-under-study, eh? What you wear now tells the world that you are a cargohand-for-hire. We will amend this." He patted his pockets, making sure of his notes and bowed farewell. "Six days."
Six days or never—it made no nevermind to Jethri, who cut out the door as soon as he was dressed and ran down the back halls to the winery, prudently pausing on the outside of the door until his breathing had returned to something like normal before entering and presenting himself to Ren Lar.
That gentleman looked dreamily amused. "My mother had warned me that you were with the tailor this morning. The pen'Jerad is a marvel with his needle. Would that he were as sure with his measure-tapes." A device on the table chimed, and he glanced down with a slight frown, and then back to Jethri.
"In any case, I had not hoped to see you so soon. Now that you are here, however. . . "
Jethri sighed to himself, knowing what he was going to hear.
"Ah." His face must've let something slip, 'cause Ren Lar smiled his slight, dreamy smile. "The barrels grow tedious, do they? Then you will rejoice to hear that the end of the racking approaches. The last of the blends will be assembled by the end of the twelve-day. Soon, we shall take to the vineyard and the pruning."
He said it like pruning was a high treat. On the other hand, he had shown Jethri the barrels, and explained the necessity of having them scrubbed spotless as if it were the most important job in the winery, which, Jethri thought now, having had some days to consider the matter, it might well be. Bacteria would grow in dirty barrels, and bacteria could spoil a whole batch of wine, so clean barrels was important, right enough.
'Course, cleaning a barrel wasn't anything so simple as shoving it into an ultraviolet box, because the UV broke down the wood too fast. No, cleaning a wine barrel involved gallons of hot water, scrub brushes, sodium carbonate and of all of things a length of plain chain. After the barrel was scrubbed down on the outside, and the inside filled with water, sodium carbonate and chain, then it was sealed up tight and rolled over to the agitator, locked in and shook up but good, while the faithful barrel-scrubber rolled another dirty over to his work space and started the process over again.
It was tiresome and tiring work, make no mistake. Empty barrels were heavy; full barrels heavier. Jethri figured he was earning gravity muscles, but that hardly made up for the ache in his arms and his shoulders and his back.
Halfway into his first shift, he'd come up with the conviction that chemical disinfection would be the surer—and easier—way to go, but he hadn't made the mistake of saying that to Ren Lar. After a session with the house library, he was glad he'd kept his mouth shut on the point, for it transpired that disinfectants turned the taste of the wine, which meant "spoiled" just as sure as if the bacteria'd got in.
"There are only a few barrels today," Ren Lar was saying. "When you have done with them, make yourself available to Graem, in the aging cellar. She will be able to put another pair of hands to good use."
"Yes, sir." Jethri inclined his head again, and went to see how many barrels was only a few.