Chapter 193 — Hotter Than Nia’s Bowl

Nia took the older watergrain sack down after first bell and set it on the preparation board. The newer sack Kael had brought from the second wetland seller remained tied on the dry shelf beside it.

She measured a small household portion from the older grain, retied the sack, and returned it to the shelf. At the washing side, she washed the measured grain until the water cleared enough, then covered it with clean water for its short soak.

“I want the savory pot again,” she said.

Shen was dividing snow burrow-hen on the raw side. He glanced toward her. “With bird?”

“Yes. More garlic this time.”

He nodded and returned to the knife as voices carried up through the partly open entrance. Two men below were arguing about whether rain would come before midday. One insisted the western clouds were too thin. The other told him to move his drying hides anyway.

A woman passed between them and said, “If you want to discuss clouds, get out of the turn first.” The arguing men moved several steps downhill.

Nia looked toward the entrance. “They were there when I washed.”

“One of them covered half his hides before first bell,” Shen said.

“The one saying it will not rain?”

“Yes.”

Nia laughed under her breath and crushed the garlic.

The work moved quickly. Shen finished cutting the bird, then washed his hands and the raw knife. Nia browned the pieces in a shallow layer of sunseed oil while the grain soaked. Onion and garlic followed the meat, then a little preserved tomato concentrate, broth, herb salt, and enough mountain pepper to warm the base without making the shared pot too hot.

When the soaking time had passed, Nia drained the watergrain at the washing side and added it with the browned bird. Broth and clean water brought the liquid to the familiar level. Once the pot boiled, Shen lowered the heat, and Nia covered it.

The smell filled their home long before the grain finished cooking. Browned bird came through first, then garlic, onion, and the softer warmth of mountain pepper. Nia washed the preparation dishes while Shen cut a few long hollow stalks for the finish.

When the grain had finished cooking, Shen drew the pot off the heat and left it covered to rest.

“No rain yet,” one man called from below.

The woman with the reed mats answered from farther down the slope. Nia could not hear all of it, but Shen tilted his head toward the entrance.

“What did she say?”

“That midday has not arrived.”

Nia dried her hands. “She is still right.”

After the grain had rested, she lifted the lid onto the resting stone, and Shen scattered the cut stalks over the pot. Nia folded the grain once from the bottom, then tasted. The watergrain was tender and separate. The extra garlic had done what she wanted, but the mountain pepper gave the pot less heat than Nia liked in her own bowl.

Nia served Shen first, straight from the pot. She filled her own bowl next and added a little more crushed mountain pepper, stirring it through the hot grain. The first bite warmed her tongue without covering the browned meat or garlic.

“Better,” she said.

Shen had already carried his bowl to the table. He took a bite, then reached for the root cakes. Nia joined him, filled a water cup for herself, and left Kael’s place empty.

They were halfway through their first bowls when Kael came home. His steps crossed the landing, followed by the scrape of his outer wrap being set aside. He washed before entering the kitchen. The sleeves of his inner shirt were pushed back from his forearms, and dampness remained at his temples.

Kael looked at the pot. “You made it again.”

Nia swallowed her bite. “I did.”

He sat beside her. His knee touched hers beneath the table, and his hand settled briefly at the back of her neck before he reached for the empty bowl Shen put near him. Nia leaned into the pressure for a moment, then filled Kael’s bowl from the shared pot. He tasted the grain before she brought down the redneedle.

“The garlic is stronger,” he said.

“I wanted it stronger.”

Kael took another bite while Nia set the marked redneedle jar on the table with its dedicated small spoon. She put a small clean dish near him, poured in a little fresh sunseed oil, and measured a tiny amount of redneedle into it. Nia stirred the spice through the oil with the clean narrow transfer stick, then spread part of the mixture through one side of his serving. She left the transfer stick in the dish and set the dry spoon beside the jar.

Shen reached across the table for a root cake, then shifted the redneedle jar and dish farther toward Kael’s side before settling back with his food. Nia kept eating.

The mountain pepper in her own bowl left a pleasant warmth along her tongue. Kael worked through the redneedle side of his serving first, then mixed what remained through the rest of the grain.

“The men below are still arguing about rain,” Nia said.

Kael looked toward the entrance. “They started yesterday.”

Nia paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Yesterday?”

“One said the western clouds would bring rain by morning. The other said they would not.”

“Which one covered his hides?”

“The one who expected rain.”

Nia glanced at Shen. He broke off another piece of root cake.

“The other one covered half of his,” Shen said.

Kael took another bite. “The better hides are already under stone.”

Nia laughed and went back to her bowl.

Shen mentioned the squealing cart next. He had heard it while Nia was washing.

“That explains the noise,” Nia said. “I thought a loaded frame was scraping along the stone.”

“The wheel pin was nearly broken,” Kael said. “They stopped before it gave way completely.”

Shen took another bite. “The driver did not stop the first time someone told him.”

Kael looked at him. “No.”

Nia shook her head. “I heard that wheel from inside. He was on the cart.”

Kael tore a root cake in half and put one piece beside her bowl before eating the other. Nia took the piece and finished it with the last of her grain.

By then Kael’s first bowl was empty. He reached for the serving spoon and filled it again himself, taking a larger portion than the first.

Nia nudged the small redneedle dish closer. “Same?”

“More.”

She measured another tiny amount of redneedle into the oil left in the dish. The amount was still small, but the mixture was stronger than the first serving. She stirred it with the transfer stick.

“This is hotter than the first bowl.”

Kael held the bowl steady while she spread the redneedle oil through one side. “Good.”

He mixed the seasoned side through part of the grain and took a bite. He took his next spoonful from that side too. Then he picked out a browned piece of bird from the redneedle-heavy grain and gathered more grain from the same place. After several bites from that side, Nia held out her spoon.

“Give me a little.”

Kael used his spoon to place a small bite from the redneedle-heavy side onto hers.

The browned bird and garlic reached Nia first. The redneedle followed quickly, sharper than the mountain pepper in her bowl and strong enough that she knew she would not want a full serving at that level. She swallowed and took a drink.

“That is good,” she said. “But not for my whole bowl.”

Kael took another bite from the same side.

“You would eat the whole bowl like that.”

“Yes.”

Nia looked down at the redneedle dish. “Do you want me to start your first bowl this strong next time?”

“Yes.”

“Not add more halfway through?”

“Start there.”

Kael took another bite from the strongest part of the grain. Nia’s mouth curved. She reached over and touched two fingers to his wrist.

“All right.”

Kael turned his hand beneath hers and closed his fingers around them for a moment before letting go to finish eating.

The first drops of rain struck the stone outside before he reached the bottom of the bowl. Nia looked toward the entrance. The light had dimmed while they ate. Down the slope, someone shouted for the last hides to be moved under cover. A second voice answered too far away for her to understand.

Kael listened for a few breaths. “It will be heavier after dark.”

“You were right.”

He scraped the remaining grain and browned onion together and finished them.

Only a small amount remained in the cooking pot. Nia scraped it into her own bowl and ate the last grains while Kael rested one hand against her knee beneath the table.

Shen finished his bowl and carried it to the washing side. He returned for the empty cooking pot, lid, and serving spoon after Nia set her bowl down. Nia secured the redneedle jar and returned it to its shelf with the dedicated dry spoon.

Shen washed his bowl and spoon, the cooking pot, lid, and serving spoon. He cleaned the redneedle dish and transfer stick separately and set them on the drying frame. Nia washed her own bowl and spoon and rinsed her water cup beside him. Kael brought his bowl and spoon over last and washed them before drying his hands.

When they were done, the three of them stayed near the kitchen instead of scattering back to separate work. Rain had strengthened enough to darken the outer stone, but it came down steadily rather than hard.

Kael sat again and drew Nia between his knees when she passed. His hands rested at her waist. She leaned back against his chest and watched Shen dry his hands.

Shen opened the candied-root jar, took one piece, and closed it again. He leaned one hip against the preparation board while he ate. Kael’s shirt was cooler across the shoulders from the damp air outside, warmer where Nia’s back rested against him. His chin touched the top of her head for a moment, and she reached back to rest her fingers along the side of his neck.

Outside, the morning argument had finally ended. Wet hide slapped against stone as someone shifted the last bundle under cover. The woman with the reed mats called for one end to be lifted higher, and a man answered that he had it. Their voices faded beneath the rain while Kael’s thumbs moved slowly against the cloth at Nia’s waist.