"L. E. Modesitt - Recluce 12 - Wellspring of Chaos" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

panes that his grandsire had installed before Kharl had been born. At
that time, glass windows had been considered particularly foolish for a
cooper, unlike a goldsmith or an artisan-or even a weaver or a potter-
who had to display work to attract buyers. Times had changed, and
most shops along the lane had come to display their wares behind
windows.

"A barrel's a barrel. So's a hogshead. People buy barrels because they
need barrels." Kharl smiled as he recalled the acerbic words of his
grandmother, who had never let his grandsire forget what she regarded
as the foolishness of the glass.

Foolishness? Kharl didn't think so. He still got orders from passersby
who otherwise hadn't thought about barrels. Not many, never more
than one an eightday, and sometimes only a few a season. Over time,
though, the windows had paid for themselves.
He picked up the lamp and walked toward the rear of the shop, past
the high racks that held the billets he would form into staves. Most of
the billets were oak, white for the tight cooperage and red for slack.
There were also some billets of tight-grained black oak, and a few of
chestnut. He passed the workbench and the tool rack, with every tool
in place. On

the left side of the rear wall was the small forge where he sized and
shaped the hoops for tight cooperage. Beside the forge on the brick
flooring was the fire pot and, beside it, the steaming ring. The faintest
smell of ashes and charcoal drifted toward Kharl from the banked
coals of the forge.

Just short of the rear wall, and the door to the loading dock, the cooper
stopped and looked at the fifteen white oak barrels waiting there. Each
was identical to the next, with the iron bands, set just so, and the
smooth finish, with a medium toasting on the inside. Korlan was
supposed to pick them up in the morning-pick them up and pay the
balance due. The vintner had taken the first fifteen barrels an eightday
earlier. Kharl only hoped that the vintner did not come up with some
excuse, as he had the summer before, waiting almost two eightdays
before showing up, but, then, that was the problem in dealing with
someone who lived more than ten kays to the south of Brysta.

Kharl half smiled, then nodded, and turned, the carry-lamp in hand, to
head up the stairs.

"... silvers and coppers are not for me, but a pretty girl whose charms
are free..."

He frowned. Had he heard singing in the alley? The Tankard was four
doors toward the harbor, but seldom did roisterers come wandering
down the alley, even early in the evening. Kharl cocked his head.