Chapter 21: The Ginger Excuse

Seraya sprinted across the valley as fast as her tired legs could carry her, clutching the bundle of ginger to her side.

Maybe she fell asleep... Maybe she forgot she called for me... Maybe she chose today of all days to become an exceptionally forgiving person.

Reaching the entrance, she bent double, propped a free hand on her thigh, and wheezed for breath a moment before looking up at the two guards.

"How... how is the Grand Shaman?" she panted, wiping sweat from her chin.

The women exchanged glances that Seraya hated on sight, holding nothing that promised a quiet evening.

"Fine," one answered, though the corner of her mouth twitched. "She only said that when you finally get here, she's going to kill you."

Seraya stopped panting.

She stared at the guard in silence for a second, wondering if anyone would count it as fleeing if she started backing away very slowly.

So she hadn't fallen asleep after all.

Before she could make a move, the middle-aged woman she had seen tending to Vaelira stepped from the cave, glancing around the entrance with nervous eyes.

"Is the warrior here?"

The moment she spotted her, she hurried over and clamped a hand above Seraya's elbow with a grip that effectively killed any hope of slinking off unnoticed.

"Finally! Come, the Grand Shaman has been waiting for you forever."

"I heard, but maybe first…"

She didn't finish; the woman hauled her inside, leaving Seraya, dead on her feet from a day of labor and a dead sprint, to scramble just to keep from tripping over her own boots.

Vaelira sat on the bedding, a hand pressed to her lower belly, the glare greeting her late visitor making Seraya swallow on instinct.

In the firelight, her face looked drawn with fatigue, but the anger was plain enough to overshadow everything else.

"You came," she said at last.

Seraya straightened a fraction, trying to look like someone who had arrived right where she belonged, right on time.

"I'm here."

The shaman gave a flick of her hand, dismissing the caretaker, and once they were alone, a dry, grating chuckle slipped from her lips.

"You are the first soul in Emberfrost to disregard my word so openly," she said, keeping her gaze locked on Seraya. "I sent for you during the food rationing, and you only show your face now?"

"Grand Shaman, I…"

"Do you think being named First Warrior means you can do as you please?"

Seraya tightened her grip on the bundle, feeling every excuse she had rehearsed on the run lose whatever credibility it had left.

The story about building a bed sounded innocent enough in her head, but something told her Vaelira might see things differently.

"There's a reason I'm late," she began carefully.

"You still dare make excuses?" Vaelira leaned forward, scowling. "Do you know the penalty for defying my command? A smashed skull."

A familiar cold chill ran down Seraya's spine.

Fuck me, again... Can't you people just dock someone's dinner or make them haul firewood for once? Does it always have to be cracking a head open right off the bat?

"Call Selka!" Vaelira shouted toward the entrance.

Seraya reacted before she could think, lunging across the bedding to clap a hand over her mouth.

"No, no, no, listen to me first!"

The shaman went rigid, eyes wide, before her gaze hardened in a way that should have served as fair warning.

An instant later, Seraya recoiled with a hiss of pain, clutching her bitten hand to her chest.

"Fuck! Are you a dog?!"

Vaelira wiped her mouth, glaring at her with enough resentment to suggest that a smashed skull might actually be too lenient.

"What did you want to say?" she asked coldly, then frowned. "And what is a dog?"

"Never mind," Seraya muttered, checking the tooth marks. "Forget the dog."

Her teeth are real enough - that's all I need to know for now.

Vaelira shifted on the bedding, her eyes never leaving her.

"Speak, then. But if you try to deceive me again, Selka will ensure you remember the laws of this tribe."

Seraya rubbed her hand for a second, then looked down at the bundle still clutched in her other fist.

That was when an idea struck.

Not particularly honest, but far preferable to another reunion with Selka and her boulder.

She let out a heavy sigh, slumped her shoulders, and slowly parted the leaves, revealing the chunks of ginger.

"And here I was, glad to bring you something to help with your pain," she said with enough bitterness to sound like a wronged martyr. "I work all day, thinking of the Grand Shaman, and before I can even open my mouth, I'm about to lose my head."

She stole a glance at Vaelira, catching the shift in her eyes immediately.

The anger hadn't vanished, but something new and far more useful had crept in.

Hope.

"What did you say?"

Seraya sighed again, looking down at her find.

"That my feelings were hurt..."

"That's not what I asked!" the shaman snapped. "You said this could help me?"

"I did, though clearly it wasn't worth the trouble," Seraya replied, shaking her head. "Oh well. If punishing me for being late matters more, I won't stand in your way."

She knew full well she had found the ginger hours ago and the bed was to blame for her delay, but she had no intention of spoiling the performance with unnecessary facts.

Vaelira pressed her lips together, clearly torn between shaking her and snatching the bundle from her hand.

"Seraya... Are you serious?"

"I brought it just for you," she replied, holding up the package. "But if you don't need it, I can get rid of it."

She made a move toward the hearth, with no real intention of burning something she had treated like gold minutes before, but Vaelira couldn't know that.

"STOP!"

The shout bounced off the rock walls so loud that both guards burst in, looking for a fight.

"What happened?!"

Vaelira whipped her head around, leveling a glare that made even Seraya step back on instinct.

"Get out."

The women hesitated, glancing between the shaman and Seraya holding the leaves, before deciding no question was worth staying another breath for.

Once they vanished through the entrance, Vaelira rose carefully from the bed and stepped over, steadying herself against the edge for a beat.

"Can this truly help?" she asked in a lower voice, gripping Seraya's forearm.

Seraya looked at the hand, then at the face where impatience clashed with fear of another disappointment.

"It can bring some relief," she answered, more carefully this time. "I didn't say one piece would make everything vanish forever."

Vaelira blew out a breath, as if that assurance alone let her drop her shoulders a fraction.

Then Seraya lowered her hand and tossed the bundle onto a clean patch of hide beside the hearth.

The shaman flinched, then bent down at once to scoop up the bundle, holding it with as much outrage as if Seraya had tried to trample a sacred relic.

"What are you doing?!"

"It only brings trouble," Seraya replied with an innocent face. "I bring you something useful and you threaten to cave my skull in, so I clearly should have left it where it was."

Vaelira opened her mouth, closed it, and looked away for a moment.

She caught the point all too well.

"In this matter... I misjudged you," she said at last, so quietly that Seraya cupped her good hand to her ear on the spot.

"Come again? Didn't catch that."

The shaman lifted her head, the flush in her cheeks having nothing to do with relief now.

"I misjudged you! I apologize! Did you hear that?!"

Seraya grinned so wide she couldn't even reply at first.

Holy shit, it worked... She actually apologized.

"Heard it that time," she acknowledged with satisfaction. "See? Much nicer to talk like this."

If looks could tear off limbs, she probably would have lost both legs on the spot, but Vaelira apparently realized that arguing further would only keep her from what she actually wanted.

She returned to the bedding, unrolled the leaves, and held up one of the rhizomes.

"How is it used?"

"You can make a hot drink, maybe add some red dates..." Seraya began, rattling off a remembered recipe on reflex.

Vaelira frowned.

"Some what?"

Seraya fell silent.

She stared at the shaman for a second, then scanned the cave, half-hoping to spot a pot in the corner she had simply missed before.

Storage vessels and serving dishes sat around, but not one looked safe to set directly over an open flame to boil water.

Brilliant... Why not tell her to get out the kettle and check for tea bags while you're at it?

"What now?" Vaelira asked, reading her face.

"Nothing, just got ahead of myself," Seraya said, scratching the back of her neck. "First I need something that can actually boil water."

The shaman glanced at the hearth, then back at the ginger.

"Can't you just place it on the belly, like yesterday?"

Seraya opened her mouth to take the easy way out, but stopped herself at the last second.

She had no idea how Vaelira's skin would react to freshly cut ginger, and after today's welcome she definitely didn't need another reason for the shaman to call for Selka.

"We'll stick to the warm compress," she said. "Don't press this straight against your skin. I'll show you how we prepare it first."

Vaelira looked down at the root with clear impatience.

"What is it called?"

"Ginger."

"Ginger..." she repeated slowly, turning it between her fingers. "A strange name."

Seraya shrugged, figuring she could say the same about half the things she had heard since landing in this world.

The shaman reached for a stone flake nearby to inspect the root's interior, while Seraya sat off to the side, watching as Vaelira sliced away the first piece.

Scraps of plants and cold wraps still littered the ground around the bedding, testament to her failed attempts to replicate yesterday's relief.

No wonder she was furious, waiting around in pain all evening while Seraya turned her cave into a carpentry shop.

Fine, next time I'll come straight away... But she could still dial it back on the skull-smashing.

Her gaze drifted over the vessels again, the thought from earlier taking clearer shape.

A pot...

She needed a common pot - something that sat in every kitchen back home without a second thought, but here could change far more than the flavor of a single meal.

She could boil water, brew tonics, stew food, and finally eat something other than fruit and meat turned on a stick.

The mere thought of hot soup brought a pang of longing so sharp she nearly forgot where she was sitting.

Got the bed down, now it's time for the kitchen... A little more and this might actually feel like a life.

Scooping up dirt outside the cave, adding water, and shaping a bowl wouldn't work, though; common mud would crumble, crack, or fall apart the second it met fire.

She needed proper clay, and then she'd have to figure out how to dry and fire the vessel so the whole effort didn't end in a pile of useless shards.

She scowled, racking her brain for anything that might help locate the right material.

Then an image of hard termite mounds crossed her mind.

She wasn't sure if every mound was made from earth suited for pottery, but if insects could build something that durable from it, it was at least a lead worth investigating.

Of course... I don't need perfect clay right away, just a clear idea of what to look for.

She pictured a sample mixed with water, a small hand-shaped dish, and the first successful pot sitting by her hearth, a smile slowly finding her lips.

I'm a fucking genius... Assuming the whole thing doesn't crack before I can pour the soup.

"It smells strange."

Vaelira's voice broke her train of thought.

The shaman held the cut ginger root in her fingers, studying it with suspicion as its sharp, familiar aroma mingled with the woodsmoke.

Seraya looked at her, then at the items gathered across the cave, and another thought struck her.

She was sitting before a woman who could dispatch foragers for plants, materials, or information with a single word, while she had spent two days trying to do everything with her bare hands.

Her grin widened a fraction.

Hold on... Since I'm already here, maybe I won't have to hunt for this clay all by myself.