Chapter 10
ISANDOR TOSSED a couple of coins onto the bar and wriggled sideways between sweating bodies to pick up the tray of drinks the barman had put there. A maid burst out the kitchen door, yelling at two younger girls who were collecting tottering piles of dirty glasses. In the din of the meltery room, Isandor couldn’t hear what she said, but the gist of it was written on her face. Hurry up; work faster. The girls were rosy-cheeked, their hands red from alternately washing up in ice chips and tending the roaring fire, or stirring the giant vats of meltwater and mixing in spirits and berry distillate to make bloodwine.
Isandor lifted the tray with drinks carefully over the heads of a couple of fishermen and backed into marginally less-crowded territory. Here, patrons sat at tables, e
