The Traveler: Part 1

Chapter 29

Though nearly autumn, the Toussaint sun shone brightly down onto the ripe grapes ready for harvest. The servants were busy plucking the purple jewels from their vines. An old man, who had been leaning on a rake complaining about the youth's these days, straightened himself as the majordomo walked by.

Barnabas-Basil brought a small basket full of the various sorts of freshly plucked fruits, which would become the vineyard's award winning Sepremento wine, up to a veranda where the sorceress Yennefer lounged.

"I thought you might like to approve of this year's Carvanere before they go to be crushed," he asked her, polite and professional as ever.

The sorceress put down her copy of "The Name of the Orchid" and looked up at the majordomo with her violet eyes.

"Barnabas, you know I know not a fit about making wine. I merely wish to enjoy the fruits of your labors after said fruits have been turned into a refreshing beverage."

"Of course madam."

The witcher Geralt walked out with a pitcher of chilled Metina Rosé in which various sweet fruits and berries had been added.

"Would you like to try this year's harvest, sir?" asked Barnabas-Basil as the witcher walked by.

"Sure, why not." he replied, after setting the cold beverage on a table next to the fainting couch upon which Yennefer was lying.

Geralt popped the purple morsel into his mouth and chewed carefully, moving the content hither and fro between his cheeks. His heightened senses could taste the hints of blackberries that his vineyard's wine was famous for.

"Excellent as always, B.B."

"Thank you, sir!" he strolled off with the rest of the grapes as Geralt sat down near Yennefer's feet.

He put a hand on Yennefer's bare calf as she poured herself a drink. "Yen, do you think we will ever tire of this? Year after year, watching the harvest, drinking wine, lounging in the sun? Or in your case, the shade."

"I doubt it. Besides, there is no use wining about it now is there?" She shot him an inviting grin.

"Oh I don't know. One shouldn't keep their feelings bottled up inside. Wouldn't you agree?" Geralt responded without even a pause.

"Hmm, I suppose one must let such things breath from time to time. Keeps one from going sour."

"Yeah, otherwise it could be crushing."

"Now, now Geralt. You mustn't be too pessimistic, lest you begin to age poorly."

"But if the vat...hmm. I'm out."

Yennefer gave a pleasant chuckle and a mock grin of smugness. She placed her foot on his lap and affectionately rubbed his thigh with her toes. Geralt, always amused by her witticisms, sat enjoying himself and the peace and quiet around them. Yennefer turned her attention back to her book until a fly buzzing around her face caused her to look up. Two figures of similar height walking unlike the laborers were approaching the vineyard. She put her book down and shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun while squinting in order to see better.

"Geralt, be a dear and put those witcher eyes to good use. There is someone coming."

Geralt looked out beyond the estate.

"Well, who'da thunk?"

"Well, Geralt? Who is it? Do I need to go inside and make myself more presentable?"

Yennefer was wearing a loose, black silk top with a short matching skirt that showed off her immaculately sculpted thighs when the wind blew just right. She had changed her wardrobe insofar as to deal with the heat, but she refused to give up her favorite shades of black. Thus, she generally lounged in the shade despite her plenitude of uncovered skin.