Estherbrook said, “I have made inquiries about you, young Avery.” He sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. Roo had never seen him without his hat and saw the man was bald above his ears, but he let the rest of his grey hair hang to his collar in back. He affected long muttonchop sideburns, but otherwise was clean-shaven. A look of wry amusement passed over his face.
“Your notion of importing bulk wine from Darkmoor had merit. I think it an enterprise worth pursuing. It’s too bad you ran afoul of the Mockers. Had I known about you, I could have saved you some loss and saved Sam Tannerson his life.”
Roo said, “I’m impressed at your knowledge of the details.”
Estherbrook made a gesture of dismissal with his right hand. “Information is valuable, but easy to come by if you have resources.” He leaned forward and said, “Remember this: of all the commodities men trade in, information is the most valuable by far.”
Roo nodded. He wasn’t sure he fully understood what Estherbrook was saying, or if he agreed. He decided this wasn’t a debate or even a discussion but most likely a lecture.
“Now, I hope that in the future you and Timothy Jacoby can put aside your differences, however deep the animosity runs, because I might find it difficult to do business with two men who are at any moment likely to kill each other.”
Roo said, “I wasn’t aware that we are doing business.”
Estherbrook smiled and there was nothing friendly or warm in it. “I think fate has touched you, young Avery. Certainly you have advanced to a station of some notice in a rapid fashion. Marrying Helmut Grindle’s daughter gave you some resources that most men your age would envy, but you’ve prospered far beyond that. Obviously you are well thought of in the palace. Mr. Jacoby’s father was very upset that your company received the contract to transport goods to the palace; he thought he was the logical choice.
“You’ve cut him badly, twice, I believe, in areas of less reputable trading.”
Roo was forced to laugh. “One thing I’ve learned, despite my youth, Mr. Estherbrook, is not to admit anything.”
Estherbrook laughed, and this time there was genuine amusement in his reaction. “Very well said.” He sighed. “Well then, whatever occurs, I hope we can all manage to work in harmony.”
Roo said, “I have a debt to pay, Mr. Estherbrook, but you are not part of that.”
“Well, at this point, no,” said Estherbrook.
A knock came from the door and Roo was out of his chair as the door opened and Sylvia peeked through. “Supper is served.”
Estherbrook said, “We mustn’t keep the lady of the manor waiting.”
Roo shook his head but said nothing. He followed his host through the doorway, and Estherbrook motioned he should precede him. Roo followed Sylvia down the hall, and as they came into the well-lit antechamber at the entrance to the house, he found himself again captivated by how the candlelight played off her golden hair.
He followed her into the dining hall, his heart beating far too fast for the tiny bit of exertion walking to dinner entailed. He hardly noticed as he moved to a chair at a long table, with his host on his left at the head of the table, and Sylvia across from him. There was room for another seven people to sit at this table.
Roo said, “I have never seen a room like this.”
Estherbrook said, “It’s an idea I found in a description of a dining hall in a distant court, in one of the kingdoms down in the Keshian Confederacy. That king preferred intimate dining to the usual court chaos, and instead of sitting in the middle of the table, which would be to your right by two chairs, with everyone arrayed to his right and left, he decided to turn the table sideways, sit at one end, and be able to talk to everyone.
Sylvia said, “We used to have this very large round table, and you’d have to shout across it to be heard by whoever sat opposite you.”
Roo smiled. “I like it.” To himself he vowed to have one made just like this. Then he realized there was no room for a table this large in his small home. Suddenly he remembered the gamble he and his partners were taking, and realized that if they won, he would be able to build a house to match this one. He put aside his worry over what would happen should the gamble fail.
Conversation passed quickly, and Roo couldn’t remember half of what was said. Throughout the night he found himself working hard not to stare at Sylvia, but he couldn’t avoid it. She drew his eyes. By supper’s end he had memorized her features as if they were a map home. He knew every curve of her neck, the set of her lips, the slight imperfection of one tooth in front that was slightly turned and overlapped the one next to it, the only flaw in her beauty he could ascertain.