Torin of the Sasnak Clan Nalrakortiniah paced up the hill. They'd been summering in Rahal Ganyatihuta - or just Rahal, as he and his clan called it - for just about a week, with a few months ahead of him. His parents sent him up the hill to negotiate a deal with Alakia the Vintner, and he had made this climb many times previous. But today, the deal was unlike those previous times. He wore a fine cloak in addition to his pants and sandals, and had polished earrings on. In one hand he had a lacquered pipe. In the other, a skin of fine Hanyil.

Meanwhile, in her home near the top of the hill, Alakia was preparing her home for her guest. Hospitality was taken very seriously, especially with these strangers who were so different. She made a pot of hot mint tea, and brought out two bottles of wine, one grape and one elderberry, from where they had been cooling in the cistern-room.

She wore a simple linen dress that fell just past the knee, dyed a pale purplish red. Her hair was braided down her back, oiled and clasped with a simple pin of nacre in the shape of a dolphin. He might appreciate that, being of a seafaring folk, Alakia had thought as she put it in that morning.

When all was ready, she lit a small bowl of white sage to burn in the corner, offering a pleasing, calming scent to the room.

At last, Torin reached the hill of Alakia's residence. He'd hoped to have seen Vatina outside, but she was nowhere to be found. No matter. He was here to talk to Alakia today - it was how the Qet-Savaq did business, most unlike the Sasnak but made to work in the name of friendship and trade, no matter how infrequent the trade seemed. It'd been two years since he'd last been to the vinyard, and it hadn't changed as much as Torin had in the eight years since he first was there.

He approached the house. The door was closed, but a nice scent wafted out through the window. So Alakia was home. Torin rapped at the door and recited, "Hail Alakia. It's Torin, I come with gifts on behalf of Nael and Linar."

After only a moment or two the door swung open, and Alakia stepped into the doorframe. "Torin. How good to see you again. Come in and be welcome." She stepped aside, and made a sweeping motion with her arm to guide him inside.

The central room, meant for lounging, dining, and hosting guests, was significantly cooler than the burning heat outside. In one corner stood a tall conical domed oven, currently warming a teapot. There was a table centrally positioned, with wine and two cups. In another corner, a curtain, hung cleverly from the ceiling, was pushed back against the walls, but Torin could see that it would divide the room roughly in half were it extended.

"Elderberry or grape?" she asked, seating herself. "How have your own harvests been?"

Torin did a small bow to the taller woman, and then entered. "I'd like Grape. And the - the Harvests have been good. The voyage up was fair, we made good time." He was a touch nervous. "Before we go any further, on behalf of my parents and my grandparents and my clan, please have this offering." He presented both the skin of Hanyil and the pipe - lacquered and carved beautifully, perhaps 10 inches long, from Taa-Rokna. Nobody lacquered like Taa-Rokna.

"So," began Torin as Alakia poured the wine, "the deal I bring you this time is not quite like last time's." He suddenly remembered the first time he did negotiating with this woman. He was but 10 then, and stuttered most of it. He was similarly nervous now. Hopefully the wine - the fruity hanyil of the Qet-Savaq - would calm his nerves.

Alakia received the gifts with a small bow. "Thank you. It is beautiful. Please convey my thanks to your family." She ran a finger over the beautifully laquered wood, then laid it upon a shelf built into the wall. The skin of hanyil she left on the table in the event their negotiations went on longer than an urn of wine would last. She did enjoy the Sasnak drink...

She poured two cups of wine to start with, though, and pressed one towards him, then sat down on the wooden bench, lined with linen and horsehair cushions. "And what deal do you bring this time? Will you perhaps finally divulge the secrets of your delicious hanyil?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Uhh - no," said Torin. He took a sip, and then a deep breath, and sat down.

"Or at least, that could be part of it. My parents and grandparents have done trade here for some time, and now want to bind our families in marriage," he said, adding quickly, "between me and Vatina." His parents hadn't specified, nor did they care. They just wanted a tie here. But Torin liked Vatina, and indeed grew up with her in a way. Three months every two years.

Something glittered in Alakia's eye at the boy's words. Sun and stars bless him, her own youngest son wasn't much older than Torin. But Vatina.... I wonder if Torin just wants my vineyard for himself... she thought, taking a sip of wine and holding it in her mouth for a moment.

"Marriage, eh? Well, the two of you do get along well enough, when you're around..." Men being absent from cities was nothing new; Alakia hadn't seen her own husband in nearly a year. "Would you still traipse around on those dreadful looking boats all the time?" she asked. She had made a trip to the coast once, trading wine for nacre and wood, and saw the ships in the bay. They looked dreadfully unsafe, and under no circumstances would she ever set foot on one.

"Part of the pact," Torin said, looking somewhat distraught, "would be my... settlement here. My permanent settlement. My parents want a tie here to make things easier. They said you'd remember how hard those first years were. So, I'd be leaving the clan behind, and Nalro." Indeed, he would likely never see his home city again. His youngest sister was born in this city here, but he was born back in Nalro before his clan first voyaged to the Luzum valley. If this went through, he'd likely never feel the sea breeze. He'd never get to see Nacah-Itoyet, or the P'ufspuj kingdoms, or what lay beyond the horizon. He'd win no glory against Snehta, nor captain any ship. But against Vatina, there was no contest.

"You realize what you're asking, right?" she said, gesturing behind her to the vineyards and, more generally, her land and home.

"I understand what I'm asking," though truthfully, he didn't. He had a cognitive understanding of what happened when a Qet-Savaq mother died, and who it would pass to. But his grandparents had yet to pass, and thus he had never experienced any inheritance before. It seemed like something adults dealt with, and foreign adult at that.

He composed himself, "Nael and Linar are willing to- " he almost said 'to make any deal', "willing to make serious offers to make this work. You've treated us well over the years, and my parents consider you a dear friend."

Alakia looked on the young boy with a faint, motherly affection blended with the slightest shade of pity. Ah, young men. Alakia had, of course, always lived here, being a daughter's daughter's daughter of Eleswet herself.

"I am not.... altogether opposed to this marriage. You seem like a capable young man, as young men go." A small smile. "But. You are still foreign, and thus it would be fitting that if you stood to rise quite high in the city, that you and your family should offer something of comparable value."

Alakia took a moment to refill her cup with wine and take another sip, enjoying the breeze coming down from the windscoop, cool and fresh. Not a sea breeze, true, but not unpleasant for all that. Alakia narrowed shrewd eyes at him.

"How do you feel about this arragement? Are you here purely because your family sent you - or do you have any affection for Vatina? Because I can guarantee that you're not the only young man who would give a great deal to have her hand. You can see for yourself how close we are to the rādežut." She gestured out a side window and indeed, not very far in the distance was the palatial estate where the city-queen lived.

How do I answer this, thought Torin. The right blend of taking credit for the idea, and deferring to his parents' interest. It was a balance that all speaking children had to learn to strike, "I..." he took another sip for bravery, and made up his mind, "My family is a well-connected one as well, and you know that we always bring pearls and lacquered wood and P'ufspuj metal when we come here year by year." It was when he said pearls that Torin became suddenly aware of Alakia's nacre pin. But it was too late to bring it up now.

"The idea wasn't mine, originally," said Torin, "it's something I heard my grandfather and my mother discussing. I was the one who put together the details, though," he would not reveal that their original plan was to marry him to a family in Ibandr, "and they originally wanted to keep me with the clan!" That part was true, be it with a Hortens family or a Qet-Savaq one, "I was the one who said otherwise. Who said the deal would only work if I stayed here. I couldn't take Vatina from her home."

Alakia fought the urge to smile, and didn't do the best job in the world. "That is a lot of words to not answer my question, young man." She took another draught of wine.

"Speak freely, I would hear your words, not Nael and Linar's. If they wanted to talk to me, they could come visit themselves," she said with a toothy grin. She waved a hand encouragingly at him. "Your words. Is Vatina pleasing to you? Or would you prefer Šiluva?" she said, referencing Vatina's older sister.

"Or indeed, did you wish to marry some young woman from your own people? Your people and mine are very different. I, for one, would rather never marry than set foot aboard one of those boats you Sasnak live on. But I am an old lady now, and full of trepidation. Our grass seas are enough for me, and sometimes the saddle of a horse."

Her tone is warmed with something akin to filial affection, but no doubt the wine is helping - with honestly if not with tact.

"Sorry," said Torin, "this is my first time arranging a marriage."

He took a sip of wine, and said, "Vatina is a beautiful girl - woman! excuse me - that I enjoy spending time with. When I'm on the seas to the south, I often think of her. Not any Sasnak girl or Sasnak-ra girl or Hortens girl," damn, he let the Hortens slip, "That's why I said I would stay."

Sipping her wine, Alakia nodded thoughtfully. The boy seemed as earnest as a pup, and probably as loyal, too. Once he had been apart from those sea faring lunatics for awhile, he'd settle into some sense.

"I am glad to hear that," she began, seeming to dismiss entirely any commentary on the Hartna. "You will be pleased to know that she speaks fondly of you as well when you go. Since so much of your people's skill is linked to your boats - what do you think you will do once you live here? Both here as in the city, and here as in here."

Torin smiled at that. He didn't know Vatina felt the same. But it was a fair question that Alakia brought up... and fortunately one his own mother had brought up, so he had an answer ready, "The skills I learned at sea are not restricted to just being at sea. I'm a fair craftsmen and fletcher," and then he paused, realizing there was not much in the way of trees here, and quickly followed on, "and I'll still have my family, who will keep bringing goods up from the south."

"Vatina is already skilled at the cultivation of grapes and the production of wine," Alakia changed the subject, opening up the skin of hanyil and serving it, as if to underscore her next point. "But this.... is much more potent than anything we make. Do you know much about its making?"

"Err, yes. It's something that I've been doing most of my life," he said of the Hanyil, "it's something my mother taught me to do. The cane might take well to this climate, but I'm not sure. It spoils quickly, so it can't be imported up, but maybe something can be made with the juices here?"

"I'm sure that between you, you and Vatina will come up with something," the older women said with a smile.

"Wood is of lesser consequence - there are varieties that grow closer to the coast, so bringing it here is probably easier than from all the way.... wherever it is you get your wood from," she waves a hand dismissively.

"Very good, then. I think you'll make a fine addition to the family. Traditionally, a man would bring a young foal and a pup or hand-trained raven, but given that you are.... less familiar with those, let's say you bring ten amphorae of this hanyil. And you may note that it is customary to also bring smaller gifts of nacre and copper."

In return, you'll be a kept man, and receive gifts of hearth and home - clothing, food, that sort of thing. If you like, you can walk in the garden and vineyard; Vatina should be home soon."

"Ten amphorae of Hanyil," repeated Torin. He was taken aback. He had been instructed that a bar of electrum and three sheafs of Nacah-purple fabric would be an acceptable maximum dowry. Ten amphorae of Hanyil was reasonable - more than reasonable. Generous, even. The question is if they even had enough Hanyil...

Maybe just...

"That's... extremely generous!" said Torin, overjoyed, "I'm sure my parents will accept! I should go tell them the good news. And make sure they don't sell so much hanyil that we can no longer pay."

Torin stood. Perhaps it was a bit rude to rush out like this, but time was of the essence. He continued, "I'll be right back, Alakia. I'd like to walk the fields and to see Vatina. Thank you so much."