“Come in.” Lukas called.

The door shivered with a slight impact, followed by a strained, “I believe you’ve locked your door.”

Lukas leaped to his feet and twisted the two brass knobs that unlocked the door. The door opened to reveal a tray-laden Sirach.

“Sorry, I’d forgotten-” Lukas began.

Sirach interrupted him, laying the tray down on the table. “You wouldn’t have forgotten in your old room, I know.”

His gnarled hands deftly moved the thick clay mug off the tray to the table and popped the top off the wine skin. As he poured the amber-colored liquid into the mug, fingers of steam seemed to wave in friendly greeting and the hardy scents of cloves and cinnamon spread out in accompaniment.

Closing his eyes, Lukas inhaled, remembering Winters past. Memories of good friends, lively women and the best of times, all floated out of the recesses of his mind, and for a moment, nostalgia took him.

A smile touched his lips. “Truly, this wine is incomparable!”

Sirach beamed with pride. “So you say every time.”