Chapter 23: The Price of Progress

Seraya studied Morra for a moment, trying to read what had gone wrong this time from her face, but the elder merely waited, so she asked for a second and turned back to her things.

She set the last lump of charcoal in a dry spot, nudged a stone flake away from the entrance so no one would step on it by mistake, and followed Morra, growing increasingly uneasy at her silence.

Usually the elder would offer some explanation or drop a brief remark, yet now she marched ahead with a scowl so dark that Seraya preferred not to test whether asking questions would only make it worse.

Only when they reached the center of the valley did she realize Morra wasn't the only one who looked like she'd had an exceptionally foul day.

Women stood in small clusters, weary, dust-covered, and visibly irritated, while at their feet lay lumps of earth hauled in on hides and broad leaves, with pale insects scurrying here and there among the clods.

Seraya locked eyes on one of the piles, instantly forgetting all the brooding faces around her.

"Is this the earth?" she asked, stepping closer.

She crouched, inspected the packed clumps, and felt a familiar surge of excitement, because after an entire day of wrestling with fuel, she finally had the second piece needed to begin testing.

Come to mama... Maybe I'll actually manage to boil this damn soup before I go gray.

Before she could inspect anything more closely, however, the food rationing began, and with it came the stark realization of why the returning women were in such foul moods.

The prepared portions were pitifully small.

Not merely modest or a little less than usual, but so meager that when Seraya looked down at the fruit handed to her, she wondered for a second whether she was supposed to wait for the rest.

On better days you received seven or eight pieces, but now some walked away with barely three or four, while meat remained scarce enough for only a chosen few.

Tracking down the mounds had taken far longer than anyone anticipated, and the women roaming the woods for the right earth couldn't gather food at the same time.

Before the distribution even finished, the first vocal protests broke out among the crowd.

"We spent all day hunting for food, and we get the same as those who hauled back mud?!"

"We worked too!" one of the gatherers shot back at once, holding up filthy hands. "Try hauling that through half the forest yourself!"

"Only we can't eat that!"

"Then tell the Grand Shaman to go fetch it herself next time!"

Voices clashed over one another, fatigue and hunger swiftly turning ordinary grumbling into a shouting match where both sides felt increasingly wronged.

Seraya took a step back, clutching her portion, but before she could decide whether to say anything, Morra stepped between the women.

"Enough!"

Her voice sliced through the din so sharply that several women clamped their mouths shut on reflex, and as the elder swept a heavy glare across the crowd, the rest fell quiet too.

"Bickering won't put more food in your bellies," she said. "Take your shares."

They obeyed, though disgruntled murmurs didn't die out immediately, and Seraya, still more consumed by the prospect of testing the material than the meaning of the commotion, set off back toward her cave.

Selka tracked her with her eyes.

Unlike Seraya, she saw all too clearly how swiftly resentment was spreading among the women, and a calculating look settled over her face.

A little longer, and they'll start asking why we keep her here at all.

She dug her fingers into her forearm, watching Seraya walk away, before turning to several gatherers and ordering them to carry the earth to Vaelira's cave.

"Today they received half of what they normally get," Selka said, standing before the shaman's bedding. "If you order them to search for earth instead of food again tomorrow, it will only get worse."

Vaelira looked at the hauled clods, then at the elder, whose face reflected only as much respect as caution demanded.

"I know the portions were smaller."

"Smaller portions mean less strength," Selka pressed on. "And when they lack the strength to hunt and roam the woods, they will bring back even less. How long are we to do this?"

She didn't need to raise her voice; this time, the problem itself was serious enough to give every word the weight she wanted.

Vaelira pressed her lips thin.

She knew what the elder was driving at, understanding full well that behind the concern for food lay the urge to rid themselves of Seraya, but she couldn't deny that pulling gatherers away had taken a real toll on the evening rations.

Yet admitting it aloud would mean conceding that she had made a bad decision.

And that was something she had no intention of doing in front of Selka.

"These materials are necessary," she replied at last. "What the warrior intends to craft from them may serve the entire tribe later."

Selka glanced down at the earth with obvious doubt.

Vaelira remembered the explanation about cooking vessels, but she still didn't know what they were supposed to look like or how much they would truly change, delivering her assurance with far more confidence than she actually felt.

Above all, she clung to the hope that Seraya would keep her promise and finally produce something useful before the women's discontent became impossible to manage.

Seraya... you'd better know what you're doing.

"Grand Shaman?"

Vaelira looked up, realizing she had been silent longer than intended.

"I will handle it," she said. "For now, the gathering continues."

Selka froze, her fox ears pinning back slightly, betraying dissatisfaction she didn't dare voice aloud.

"As you command."

She turned and walked out, but the moment she was out of the shaman's sight, her face hardened, her reptilian tail lashing sharply behind her heels.

I won't let the entire tribe go hungry because of you.

She didn't head for her own bedroll, making a beeline instead for the caves where the other women gathered, intending to talk with them about who was truly to blame for tonight's dinner.

Seraya had just dropped off the fruit, grabbed a small piece of ginger, and stepped back outside when Morra showed up to lead her to Vaelira.

She walked beside the elder more calmly than the night before, pleased at least that she hadn't forgotten anything this time, though a sudden sneeze forced her to stop and rub her nose.

"What is with me lately..." she muttered. "Can't stop sneezing."

Morra offered no answer.

Seraya shot her a sidelong glance, but the elder kept her eyes straight ahead, lost in her own thoughts.

She wasn't as openly hostile as Selka, yet today's food rationing had left a bitter taste in her mouth that she couldn't shake.

She liked Seraya and had taken her side more than once, but she couldn't understand why crafting a few new novelties had to come at the expense of the other women's stomachs.

Even so, she had made sure the materials were delivered to Vaelira first.

As long as the gatherers saw the earth going to the Grand Shaman, their grumbling was checked by her authority, whereas a pile of dirt outside Seraya's cave would have funneled that wrath straight at her.

The title of First Warrior sounded grand, but Seraya was still a newcomer, and few women truly accepted her as one of their own.

Morra sighed, glancing at her face, which still held traces of satisfaction from a day's work.

Something good had better come of this.

Outside the shaman's cave, she stopped and pointed toward the entrance.

"She is inside. Go on in."

"Thanks."

Seraya stepped inside, Morra watching her go for a moment, wondering whether the girl understood at all how little separated today's murmurs from something far worse.

"Grand Shaman, how are you feeling to—"

Seraya cut her greeting short the moment she saw Vaelira's face.

The smile melted from her lips, and the hand she had raised in friendly greeting dropped to her side.

Great... A funeral atmosphere in here too.

"Feeling sick again?" she asked more cautiously.

Vaelira pushed up so abruptly that Seraya took a step back on reflex, bracing for something far less pleasant than a chat.

But the shaman didn't approach her, pointing instead to the hauled earth.

"What you wanted is here. When will you finally be able to help me?"

Seraya followed her pointing hand, brightening instantly at the sight of the material spread across the hides.

She walked over, crouched, and began inspecting the clods one by one, completely forgetting for a moment that Vaelira was still waiting for an answer.

Up close, they varied: some were dense and fine, while others were packed with sand, roots, or hard grit that would need to be sifted out before any attempt at shaping.

Seraya crumbled one lump, rubbing it between her fingers, then reached for another, realizing with growing clarity that a whole pile didn't necessarily mean an equal amount of workable clay.

"Won't amount to much," she muttered.

Vaelira stared at her for a second as if disbelieving her own ears.

"Not much?"

Seraya looked up.

"Once it's cleaned and sorted for what's actually usable..."

"Do you have any idea how many women went with less food today just to haul this back?"

Seraya glanced at her, then down at the clay, feeling a prickle of annoyance mingled with embarrassment.

"I'm not saying it to be picky," she replied, holding up a crumbling lump. "Not just any dirt will work, and if I make a pot out of something that falls apart immediately, that really would waste everyone's effort."

Vaelira crossed her arms.

"Then go pick the right kind yourself. I must also consider what the others will eat."

Seraya wiped her fingers on the edge of a leaf, trying not to sigh too loudly.

I'm not asking for lawn ornaments... Once you see a finished pot, maybe you'll stop looking at this like a pile of mud.

"I can check what they bring and show them what to look for," she said. "But if I spend all day hauling dirt, I won't have time to make the pots—and that's what you're waiting for, isn't it?"

Vaelira clenched her jaw.

The argument hit home uncomfortably, reminding her of the very reason she had agreed to the gathering in the first place, and Seraya knew she had struck the right nerve.

"Then at least tell me exactly what you plan to do!" the shaman demanded. "I know you want to make pots, but how long will this take, and what am I to tell the women who returned hungry?"

Seraya spread her hands.

"Tell them I have to test the material first, then shape it, dry it, and fire it," she answered. "I can't pull a finished pot out of the dirt just because we shout at it."

Vaelira pinned her with a glare that prompted Seraya to soften her tone immediately.

"It's not a whim, really. If this works, you'll be able to boil food and water, not just set things next to the fire or roast them on sticks."

The shaman remained silent for a long moment, staring at her with palpable tension, before finally dropping her shoulders with a heavy sigh.

"I hope you are not playing me for a fool," she said. "Maerra entrusted the tribe's welfare to me, and now I must explain why we bring back dirt instead of food..."

She trailed off, shaking her head, and Seraya pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the worst possible time.

Not long ago, Vaelira could silence an entire cavern with a single glance, yet now she looked like someone discovering that barking orders was far more pleasant than explaining their consequences.

Seraya reached for the ginger she had brought and placed it beside the bedding.

"I'll leave this here," she said. "And over the next few days I might be busy running tests, so I can't promise I'll come by every evening."

She had no intention of pretending a piece of root would solve all their problems, but hoped the reminder of the promised brew would placate the shaman a little.

Vaelira glanced at the ginger and snorted, seeing right through Seraya's attempt to cut the awkward conversation short.

"Something had better come of this, or else..."

"I know, you'll crack my skull open," Seraya cut in with a dismissive wave. "You could really come up with something new once in a while. You might love saying it, but I'm sick of hearing it."

Vaelira parted her lips.

For a second she looked poised with several blistering retorts, but none escaped, and Seraya took that as her cue to stop testing the limits of her patience.

"All right, I'll take this and get back to work."

She turned with an easy air, crouched by the material, and began scooping chosen clods onto a spare piece of hide.

The first clump slid over easily enough, the second proved heavier, and when she tried hoisting the entire bundle, her exhausted arms lodged an immediate and firm protest.

She bent lower, braced her legs, and tried again, but the hide tore free under the weight, spilling half the earth back onto the floor.

The loose hem of her top slipped forward, exposing the upper swell of her chest, forcing her to let go of one corner to hike it back up—which, naturally, sent the rest of the clods tumbling loose.

For a moment she froze in that thoroughly undignified pose, one hand clutching her neckline and the other trapped beneath a pile of dirt, acutely aware that Vaelira was enjoying front-row seats to her failure.

"Shall I call someone to carry that for you?" the shaman asked.

Seraya slowly looked up.

Something dangerously close to smug satisfaction tinged Vaelira's tone.

Fucking beautiful... A second ago I was lecturing her like a master craftsman, and now I'm getting beat by a bundle of mud.

"You can," she replied, feeling warmth rush to her cheeks.

Vaelira summoned the guards, who stepped inside, shifted the earth onto a larger pelt, and hoisted it between them, resolving the entire predicament with infuriating ease.

Seraya stepped aside, dusted off her palms, and trailed after them, doing her best to look as though this had been her plan all along.

Only outside the cave did she freeze in her tracks.

The guards took two more strides before glancing back, startled by her sudden halt.

"Oh, fuck!"

One woman checked the pelt, suspecting something had spilled again, but Seraya just slapped a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I forgot to take the meat!"