Chapter 201 — What She Sends Him Back To

Nia and Shen were halfway past the care station the next morning when Sera called her name.

Nia stopped and looked through the open entrance.

Vessa’s husband sat on the same bench he had used the day before.

For a moment, Nia only noticed the gray wrapping around his left hand. Then she saw the darker patch along the lower edge where the cloth had gotten wet.

Sera stood in front of him with both hands planted on her hips.

“I wrapped this yesterday.”

The husband looked at the floor. “I know.”

“And I told you to keep it dry.”

“I tried.”

Sera’s eyebrows rose.

Shen changed direction without being asked. Nia followed him inside.

The care station was busier than it had been the previous day. One man sat near the far wall with his ankle propped on a folded hide while another complained that the salve Sera had given him smelled worse after it warmed against his skin.

“It smells exactly the same,” Sera said without looking at him.

The man muttered that it did not and settled back against the wall.

Sera returned her attention to the wet wrapping.

“What did you do?”

Vessa’s husband flexed the fingers of his right hand against his knee. “Washed sleeping cloths.”

“With this hand?”

“Mostly the other one.”

Sera closed her eyes for a moment.

Nia looked at his left wrist. The outer cloth was wet enough that moisture had spread nearly to the back of his hand.

Shen crouched beside the bench. He did not touch the wrapping immediately.

“How long has it been wet?”

The husband glanced toward the entrance before answering. “Not long.”

Shen looked at him.

The husband added, “Since after first bell.”

It was already well past that.

Sera began untying the wrapping.

“You were supposed to rest the hand.”

“I did not go back to a crew.”

“That was not the only thing I told you.”

The husband said nothing.

Sera peeled the damp cloth away slowly. The raw patch at the base of his palm looked pale around the edges where the moisture had sat against it. The swelling had not moved into the wrist, but the thumb side of the hand was still thick.

Shen watched while Sera checked it.

“The wet cloth softened the skin again,” he said. “It has not split farther.”

“Yet,” Sera said.

The husband looked between them. “I can keep it out of the water next time.”

Sera stopped examining his fingers. “There should not be a next time today.”

His mouth tightened.

Nia had heard that silence from him before. It was the same silence that had come after other workers told him to sit down, and the same one he had worn while insisting he could still carry empty poles.

Sera noticed it too.

“What else are you supposed to do?”

“Nothing heavy.”

“That was not my question.”

He rubbed his right thumb over his knee.

“I have to finish the sleeping cloths, turn the inner covers while they dry, and carry the clean ones back.”

Nia asked, “You have to do all of that today?”

His eyes moved to her and then away again.

“Vessa wants the sleeping space changed before evening.”

There was no complaint in his voice.

That made Nia’s stomach tighten more than a complaint would have.

One of the men near the far wall shifted his injured ankle and glanced over before deliberately looking elsewhere.

Sera washed the damp skin again.

“How much water did you carry?”

“Only the smaller jars.”

“With one hand?”

“My right hand is fine.”

Sera gave him a long look. “Yesterday I told you the other hand was fine for ordinary things. If washing cloths soaks this wrapping, then you are not doing that today.”

He lowered his gaze.

Shen rose and moved to the clean-cloth table. He selected a fresh strip and passed it to Sera without interrupting her work.

Nia remained beside the bench.

“Can one of her other husbands finish it?”

The husband’s head came up quickly.

“They have other work.”

Nia asked, “Are they doing household work?”

“One is checking the upper storage room. One went for the morning food share.”

Nia waited.

He seemed to realize she was still waiting and added, “The washing is mine today.”

Sera wrapped the hand again, leaving the thumb side loose enough that the cloth did not press directly into the swelling.

“You are not putting this hand into wash water.”

“I won’t.”

“You are not carrying wet cloth against it either.”

“I won’t.”

“And if this wrapping comes back soaked again, I am going to make you sit here until I know exactly how you managed it.”

The husband gave the smallest nod.

Footsteps approached the entrance.

Another man stopped outside.

Nia had seen him near Vessa before but did not know his name. His eyes went first to the bench and then to the fresh wrapping.

“She asked whether you were finished,” he said.

Vessa’s husband stood.

Sera caught his right forearm before he could leave. “I said rest.”

“I heard you.”

The other husband stepped farther inside. “I can finish the covers.”

Vessa’s husband shook his head at once. “You have the upper room.”

“It can wait.”

“She asked me to finish them.”

The other husband went quiet.

Sera released his arm slowly.

Nia looked at her. “Can you make him stay?”

Sera’s mouth tightened.

“I can make him stay while I treat him.” She began gathering the damp cloth from the table. “I have treated him.”

Vessa’s husband tucked his wrapped hand close to his chest and followed the other man out.

Nia watched him disappear into the corridor.

Sera dropped the wet wrapping into the used-cloth basin harder than necessary.

The man with the injured ankle looked toward the basin, then away when Sera glanced at him.

Sera turned back toward Nia and Shen.

“You were going somewhere.”

Shen said, “We were going to the lower kitchens.”

“Then go before Mari finds out you were standing here and decides that means you have free hands.”

Nia’s mouth almost moved into a smile before it settled again.

Shen touched the center of her back as they left.

They had not gone far when the sound of water reached them from one of the washing passages.

Spring had made the household washing ledges busier. Winter cloths were being scrubbed, aired, repaired, or packed away, and the long stone channels carried a constant shallow flow toward the drains. Damp fabric hung from overhead lines wherever the warmer corridor air moved steadily enough to dry it.

Two women were arguing over whether a thick sleeping cover needed another rinse.

“It still smells like old smoke.”

“It is supposed to smell like smoke. It spent all winter beside a hearth.”

“It smells like your husband burned half a tree under it.”

“He was cold.”

“He was always cold.”

A man kneeling beside the channel laughed until one of the women splashed water toward his boots.

Nia followed Shen around them.

Then she saw the gray wrap again.

Vessa’s husband knelt at the far end of the ledge.

His left hand was held against his chest while his right hand pulled a heavy wet cloth across the stone. Water streamed from one corner as he tried to fold it over itself.

The other husband stood beside him holding the far end.

“I told you I can take this,” the other man said.

“I can turn it.”

“You are using your shoulder to do what your hand cannot.”

“It needs to be turned.”

The other husband looked toward the household entrance behind them.

Nia did too.

Vessa came through carrying a small stack of dry folded cloth.

She was dressed neatly, her hair secured away from her face. Nothing about her suggested hurry.

Her gaze moved over the washing ledge, the wet cover, and her husband’s fresh wrapping.

“Sera redid it?”

“Yes.”

“Then keep it out of the water this time.”

“I will.”

Vessa set the dry cloth on the raised stone beside the channel.

“The inner cover is still wet through the fold. Turn that one before you hang the second.”

The other husband reached for it.

“I can do it.”

Vessa looked at him. “You have not finished the upper storage room.”

He stopped.

Vessa turned back to the injured husband.

“When these are hung, carry the dry cloth inside and sit down. You do not need to do anything else until the evening food comes.”

The injured husband nodded.

Nia looked at the three wet sleeping covers still lying beside the channel.

Vessa’s attention shifted and found her watching.

“Nia.”

“Vessa.”

Vessa’s eyes moved briefly to Shen.

“Shen.”

He inclined his head.

Vessa picked up an empty water cup from the ledge and carried it inside with her.

The injured husband immediately bent over the wet cover again.

The other man caught the far edge before he could pull.

“Use your right arm. I’ll lift the wet side.”

“I can—”

“I know.”

The other husband did not wait for permission. He lifted the heavier end himself.

Together they turned the cover.

The injured husband’s left hand never touched the cloth.

His whole body still tightened when the soaked weight shifted.

Nia stood long enough that Shen’s hand settled against her back again. His hand rested there without urging her forward.

She moved when he did.

They continued toward the lower kitchens.

For several turns, neither of them spoke.

At the next corridor, a worker carrying three empty grain baskets complained to another man that someone had stacked damp baskets in the dry line again. He had already moved them and was still muttering because whoever had done it had disappeared before he could complain to the right person. His companion told him to save the anger until he actually knew who deserved it.

Their voices faded behind Nia.

She kept walking.

Shen waited until they reached the wider kitchen passage before speaking.

“You are holding your jaw tight.”

Nia loosened it.

“I know.”

He glanced at her.

She sighed. “She told him to sit after the cloths were done.”

“Yes.”

“And there were three of them.”

Shen was quiet for a few steps. “The work is ordinary.”

“That is what bothers me.”

Nia looked back down the corridor they had left.

The washing passage was already out of sight.

They finished what they needed to do in the lower kitchens without staying long.

Mari had three workers moving grain jars away from a damp patch near the outer wall and was in no mood to let anyone stand where they blocked traffic. She told Shen that someone had returned a clean stirring paddle to the wrong rack again, then dismissed both of them with a wave because two porters were coming through with sealed flour baskets.

By the time Nia and Shen climbed back toward their cave, midday had already passed.

Kael returned later than they did.

Nia heard him outside before the entrance covering shifted.

Shen was portioning the evening broth into three bowls. Nia sat at the table trimming damaged edges from a stack of dried greens that Mari had sent home before they became kitchen waste.

Kael came in, set his route wrap near the wall, and washed his hands before joining them.

His gaze passed over Nia once.

“What happened?”

Nia put the greens down.

“Vessa’s husband went back to Sera.”

Kael stopped drying his hands.

“Was it his hand?”

“The wrapping was wet. He had been washing sleeping cloths.”

Kael folded the drying cloth once before setting it down.

“Did the swelling worsen?”

“It had not spread into the wrist. Shen said the wet cloth softened the skin again.”

Shen set Kael’s bowl down.

“He did not split it farther.”

Kael sat.

Nia told him the rest.

She did not rush it. She told him about the small water jars, the wet covers, the other husband offering to finish, and Vessa sending that husband back to the upper storage room.

“She told him to sit after the washing was finished,” Nia said.

Kael’s hand rested flat beside his bowl.

“Was he on a territory assignment?”

“No.”

“Was he carrying for a crew?”

“No.”

Nia looked at him. “I know.”

Kael met her eyes.

Shen pushed Nia’s bowl closer before the surface stopped steaming.

“Eat.”

She looked at him.

“I am eating.”

“You are looking at Kael.”

“I can do both.”

“You have not.”

Nia picked up her spoon.

Kael reached for his own bowl.

For a while, the only sound at the table was the scrape of spoons against clay and the low crackle from the hearth.

Nia finished half her broth before setting the spoon down again.

Her hand moved across the table and closed around Kael’s wrist.

He turned his hand over beneath hers.

Shen sat on her other side.

Nia reached for him too.

He gave her his hand without asking why.

The broth cooled slowly between them while footsteps and voices continued through the corridor outside their cave.