A Tall Glass of Winter Wine is a piece of fiction from 100 Whispers & Rumors To Hear in Hoardreach, The City of Wyrms!, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara.

The wind that swirled through the North District had claws, and it raked them over any patch of exposed skin it could find, digging at padded coats and fur cloaks as it tried to get at the warmth underneath. It wasn’t just the cold of a mountaintop, either… the chill in this part of the city was unnatural, and it went bone-deep. Frost spread over the windows and doors like creeping rot, and most people on the street were bundled to their eyes, with thick hoods pulled over their heads, and heavy boots wrapping their feet. Some, though, were dressed in light jackets, dresses or even shirt sleeves, as if they couldn’t feel the cold. One woman with her hair blowing in the wind had the blue-stained lips that testified to a regular use of potions, while a kobold in a leather jerkin had the sere, white scales of those born to the mountain peaks.

Most who seemed comfortable in the cold, though, bore the black-edged wyrm mark of Frost Fang, the dragon who claimed at least half of the district’s territory on any given day.

A man in layered leather and woolens, with a headscarf tied around his face, walked through the chill streets. He carried a hard-used quarterstaff, using it as a walking stick on the icy paving stones. Outlanders were fairly common in the City of Wyrms, even in the North District, and there was nothing truly curious about him at a glance. Those who met his eyes looked away quickly, though. They burned with purpose, determination and focus. They were the eyes of a man who would brook no obstacle to his course of action.

The outlander came to the doors of a huge longhouse that stood outside the walls of the city proper. Built of massive timbers, and a roof shingled in dark slate that captured the warmth of the sun, one of the narrow sides was a set of doors that were over twenty feet high, reinforced with steel bands the width of a man’s arm. A smaller, wicket door set inside one of the larger doors allowed more average-sized customers to make their way inside. The man knocked the head of his staff against the door, and a moment later he heard the sound of a heavy bar being drawn back. The door opened, and he stepped inside before the wind could beat him over the threshold.

The longhouse was dim inside, lit only by storm lanterns and candles that seemed to wilt like burning flowers in the chill. Wooden tables were scattered around, and those that had customers seated at them had fire-heated bricks placed beneath them to warm the area. A heavy bar with thick curtains that kept in the heat ran along one of the long walls, but the back of the place was a massive, stone fireplace so large half a dozen men could stand shoulder-to-shoulder inside it. Carved into the shape of a gigantic mouth, the flames that blazed inside of it were enough to banish the cold, and turn the frost on one’s clothes into a gentle trickle of tears.

A woman sat a dozen feet from that fire, one leg crossed over the other in a heavy, straight-backed chair. She was dressed in thick, whipcord trousers, with boots made from bearskin. Her tunic was made of the same material, edged in white fur. Her arms and face were bare, and she held a goblet in one hand as she gazed into the fire. Her skin was the pale blue of ice, and her hair was a soft white that held the fire’s glow until it drowned between the pale waves. Perhaps the most striking thing about her, though, was that if she’d stood her head would have brushed the rafters.

Even in a place like Hoardreach, Ravina Hundar stood out.

The outlander crossed the wide floor, skirting around the tables, and bypassing the bar entirely. He tapped his staff on the flagstones as he approached, the sound clearly marking him out. Despite that, the frost giantess didn’t turn her gaze from the flames. The outlander rested his hands on his staff, and looked up at her.

“It’s a bit early in the day, isn’t it Ravina?” he asked.

The blue-skinned giant blinked, and turned her head to look at the man. She pursed her lips, and a frown line creased her forehead as she regarded him with eyes that had all the color and warmth of an iceberg. After a long moment a smile crooked one corner of her mouth.

“I know your voice,” Ravina said after a long moment. “Jace?”

The outlander pulled at the headscarf, letting it slide down around his neck. He offered the giant a smile and a bow, spreading his arms wide without taking his eyes off of her. Ravina slowly recrossed her legs, and took a long sip from her goblet.

“It’s a pleasure to lay my eyes on you once again, captain,” Jace said.

“If my memory serves, when last we met I threatened to throw you over the side of my ship,” Ravina said, idly swirling the dark wine in her glass.

“Your memory is as perfect as the rest of you,” Jace said, holding up a small, leather bag. He opened it, and spilled the contents into one hand. A collection of flawless rubies caught the light, winking in his palm. “However, if you’d allow, I’d like to buy you another drink and apologize to you properly.”

Ravina took a deeper drink from her goblet, and stood from her personal seat. She gestured toward a set of stairs that led up to the side table near her chair. Two strides took her to the bar, and she went down on one knee, setting her goblet on the ground. The barman swung over a barrel of winter wine using a chain hoist, emptying it into the cup. Once it was full, Ravina stood, hefted her glass, and returned to her seat.

“What is it you want this time, Jace?” she asked, taking a gulp that cost more than some men made in a year.

“Your forgiveness, of course,” Jace said.

“And?” Ravina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, there is one other thing…” Jace said. “Would it be possible for you to find room on your next voyage for, say, four extra passengers?”