Chapter 248 — Work Someone Else Can Do

Ren arrived at the trade shelter to find two carriers unloading clay vessels beneath the covered receiving area.

One of the men had placed a smaller jar on top of a larger one while making room for the remaining baskets. Soren stopped him before he could lift the next load.

“Put that one on the lower shelf. If the jar beneath it shifts, you'll lose both.”

“The bindings are sound,” the carrier replied, although he lifted the smaller vessel away.

“The jar has a rounded shoulder. The bindings won't stop the one on top from sliding.”

The man examined the vessels, apparently decided that Soren had a point, and carried the smaller one to the shelf. His companion continued unloading while a receiving worker checked each piece against the seller's count.

Soren noticed Ren approaching and raised a hand in greeting, but he finished speaking with the carrier before coming over.

“You're early.”

“I thought I'd see whether the eastern goods had been counted.”

“Most of them. The seller brought a cracked lid with the last load, so we're holding that piece out until he replaces it. He's agreed to bring another in three days.”

Ren glanced toward the receiving area. The damaged lid rested separately from the sound vessels, and the worker had already marked the difference on the count. He knew the seller well enough to expect the replacement without further argument.

One of the carriers recognized him and called from beside the shelves.

“You finally made it home, then. I thought the eastern road might keep you until summer.”

“It made an effort,” Ren answered.

“Your wife must be pleased to have you back.”

“She seems satisfied.”

The carrier laughed and returned to his load.

Soren waited until the workers had cleared the next space before speaking again.

“Halen's group reached the lower crossing yesterday. A carrier brought word that he intended to come here this morning.”

Ren turned toward him. “With the loading record?”

“He was asked to bring it. I'd rather see the marks before deciding what they prove.”

The answer suited Ren. Their older supplier dispute had remained open throughout his eastern journey, and the question had become more troublesome each time someone repeated an account of what might have happened. Soren had Hearthfang's receiving count and the supplier's original list, but neither established what had actually left the first loading shelter.

Ren took a seat at the end of the receiving table while Soren finished with the morning deliveries. A seller waiting for confirmation of his accepted goods approached with a question, and Soren directed him toward the collection counter. The workers followed the instructions without seeking another decision from Ren.

A little later, a familiar voice sounded from the entrance.

“I hope you haven't decided the missing bundles were my fault. I've traveled too far to be accused before I've had water.”

Halen stood beneath the outer covering with a document case tucked under one arm. Dust marked the lower edges of his clothing, and he had loosened the fastening at his throat in the morning warmth.

Ren rose to greet him.

“I was beginning to think the road had decided to keep you.”

“It tried. One of the lower stretches was still soft enough to make the carriers complain. We came through without losing anything, which is more than I can say for the last journey you and I made together.”

“That cart was too heavily loaded.”

“It was a good cart. You insisted on making it carry more than it should.”

“I remember a different version.”

“I'm sure you do.”

Soren greeted Halen and cleared a place at the receiving table. A worker brought water while Halen opened his case, withdrew two folded records, and flattened the first beneath his palms.

“I brought the original count and the supplier's correction,” Halen said. “He wasn't particularly pleased about changing his marks, but he did it himself.”

Ren recognized the supplier's original figures. The three smaller bundles appeared among the goods prepared for Hearthfang, just as they had on the copy sent with the delivery.

Halen pointed to that entry.

“Those bundles were there when we began. I watched them go onto the first carrying frame. Then we found out the load was too heavy, and the carriers had to shift the larger goods onto another frame. We took the three smaller bundles off and put them beneath the shelter covering.”

He turned the record so Soren could see a second set of marks near the lower edge.

“This is what I counted after the frames were adjusted. Those three weren't on either frame when the carriers left. I watched the departure myself.”

Ren leaned closer to examine the marks. The final count was lower by exactly three bundles.

“The supplier sent the earlier list anyway,” he said.

“He did, though I don't believe he intended to. The first list had already been copied. I gave my final count to the departure worker, who apparently thought I'd told the supplier about the change. I thought he'd done it himself. Neither of us found out otherwise until the goods reached Hearthfang.”

Halen looked more irritated by that failure than by the journey he'd made to correct it.

“When I returned to the supplier's shelter, he was still asking where the missing goods had gone. He'd found three bundles in covered storage, tied exactly as we'd left them, but he didn't know whether a carrier had returned them without making a record. I showed him my count. Once he checked the bindings and accepted that they were the same bundles, he corrected the delivery.”

Soren unfolded the second record beside the first.

The supplier's newer marks acknowledged that the three bundles had been removed before departure. They remained in his possession, available for a separate future agreement rather than part of the completed Hearthfang delivery.

Soren brought out the receiving sheet and placed it beside Halen's original count. He compared the figures carefully, then turned the two sheets toward Ren.

“The carrier delivered everything Halen counted leaving.”

“And the supplier has acknowledged the difference,” Ren said.

Halen drained the remainder of his water. “That's what I spent the last several days persuading him to put on that second record.”

Soren called the receiving worker responsible for the open account and showed him the correction. The worker checked the numbers, then brought the record for the goods already accepted and paid for.

The confirmed portion remained unchanged. The three disputed bundles had never been paid for, so Soren removed them from the outstanding delivery rather than making another payment adjustment.

The worker studied the revised count.

“That means the carrier who brought the goods here wasn't short?”

“He brought what was loaded,” Halen replied. “I counted it myself.”

“He'll be glad to hear that. He's complained about those bundles every time he comes through.”

“Then tell him the record has been corrected,” Soren said. “Make a copy of Halen's final count and keep it with the supplier's first list, this correction, and our receiving record. His original goes back with him.”

The worker copied the witnessed marks onto a clean sheet while Halen checked them against his original. He filed Hearthfang's four records together, leaving Halen's own sheet on the table.

Ren watched him go. He was pleased for the carrier, who had spent weeks answering questions about goods he'd never been given. Halen's marks had cleared the doubt without requiring anyone to rely on another merchant's assurances.

Soren prepared a copy of the correction for the supplier.

Halen watched him work.

“I'll carry that east when I leave Hearthfang, but I'm going farther along the road first. If you need something delivered immediately, find someone taking the direct route.”

“There's no hurry now,” Soren said. “The count is settled here.”

“Good. I'd rather not explain the same three bundles again when I return.”

Ren smiled. “You could charge for telling the story.”

“I'd have to listen to someone argue about the price.”

“That does sound troublesome.”

“Exactly. I've spent enough of my life listening to people argue about goods that aren't where they expected.”

Soren handed Halen his original witnessed count. Halen returned it to his document case, then rose and stretched his legs.

“If neither of you has another disputed delivery waiting for me, I'd like to find something to eat.”

“There's food in the cooking area behind the shelter,” Soren told him. “They should still have some from the morning preparation.”

“I'll take whatever's warm.”

Halen thanked them for the water and went toward the rear passage, stopping when one of the carriers recognized him and called a greeting.

Ren watched the two begin discussing a journey they'd apparently made together several seasons earlier. Halen had already forgotten about being hungry long enough to complain about a shelter keeper who'd once charged them for dry sleeping mats.

Soren heard enough to smile before returning to the receiving table.

A younger worker approached with a marked sheet. He had found a difference between a seller's count and the goods placed beneath the covering, and his eyes moved toward Ren before he spoke.

“Should I bring the seller over?”

Ren glanced at the entry. The delivery fell within terms that had already been agreed upon, and there was nothing unusual about the kind of goods involved.

He had already shifted toward the familiar corner of the table where the marking tool lay. His hand stopped against the wood.

“Take the count to Soren. He'll decide whether it needs correcting before you accept the load.”

The worker turned toward Soren, who was already reaching for the sheet.

“Show me where the difference is.”

As they bent over the figures, Ren moved aside to give the worker room. Soren compared the marks, then sent him to recount the last basket before calling the seller back.

When the young male left, Soren looked at Ren.

“You nearly took that sheet from him.”

“Habit.”

“I know. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Ren stayed beside the counter while Soren replaced the marking tool in its usual place.

“The workers were coming to me while you were away,” Soren said. “Since you returned, some of them have started looking for you again. I'd like the arrangement to stay the same whether you're here or on the road.”

Ren nodded for him to continue.

“The two receiving visits you assigned me are finished. I'd like the routine deliveries to remain mine. I can handle the counts, accept goods within our existing terms, and arrange the ordinary collection work. I don't want the workers waiting for you to approve something I've already checked.”

“You've been doing most of that for some time.”

“I have. I'd like everyone to treat it as my work, not something I'm watching until you return.”

Ren glanced across the receiving area. The workers knew Soren, and he knew their habits well enough to catch mistakes before they became expensive. Ren had counted on him for years, particularly when a journey carried him farther away than expected.

He also knew how difficult it would be to stop looking over every familiar record.

“I like being here,” Ren admitted. “Even after a long journey, I usually come straight to this table.”

“I've noticed.”

“There's always someone to speak with. I get to hear which sellers arrived while I was gone, and I can see what's moving before anyone gives me a report.”

“You also find three more things to do every time you come through the entrance.”

Ren laughed because that was true.

For years, the trade shelter had been the first place he returned to and often the last place he left before another journey. He knew the people and the work, and he liked that they knew where to find him. When he'd started staying with Nia, Kael, and Shen, he hadn't immediately stopped treating the shelter as the place where every available hour should go.

Soren leaned against the table beside him.

“When you told me Nia had asked you to marry her, you were still trying to finish the receiving work before you went uphill.”

“I remember.”

“You were smiling so much I thought you'd forgotten the next carrier was waiting. Then you asked me to handle two visits and started explaining the terms as though I hadn't been standing beside you when you made the agreements.”

Ren turned toward him.

“You could have told me to stop.”

“I did, eventually.”

“You were more patient than I deserved.”

“Only because I knew you'd finish talking if I waited long enough.”

Ren laughed again. Soren's amusement softened, though he remained comfortably serious about what he was asking.

“I enjoy the receiving work,” Soren said. “I know the sellers, and I like being the one who settles those ordinary problems. You can keep the longer journeys and the difficult bargaining. I'd rather have the shelter running properly when you come back.”

“I don't intend to give up the journeys.”

“I'd be surprised if you did. You complain about sleeping on the road, then come home telling me about three more places you want to visit.”

“There are still roads I haven't taken.”

“And sellers you haven't argued with.”

“Quite a few.”

“Then you have enough work to keep you occupied without counting every basket that comes through here.”

Ren looked toward the receiving board again. It was strange to think of arriving at the shelter and not automatically taking charge of whatever was waiting. He would miss some of the ordinary conversations, though nothing prevented him from visiting when he wanted to.

More importantly, he knew Soren wasn't asking to borrow the work until the next journey ended. He wanted it to belong to him.

“What about the busier receiving days?” Ren asked.

“We have enough workers for the usual loads. If that changes, I'll tell you. And anything outside our agreed terms stays open until we've discussed it.”

“Then keep the routine receiving work,” Ren said. “Tell the workers to bring those questions to you, even when I'm standing right here.”

Soren's expression brightened.

“I was planning to.”

“Were you going to ask whether I agreed first?”

“I thought I'd be polite.”

“How unusual.”

“Don't become accustomed to it.”

Ren smiled and offered him his hand. Soren clasped it firmly, and neither of them needed to say anything more about the arrangement.

Soren released him and picked up the receiving board to make the new assignment clear before the afternoon loads arrived.

“Now, unless you'd like to carry something, I have work.”

Ren looked toward the covered shelves. Two workers were maneuvering another heavy load into place, with a third directing them away from a narrow gap between the storage frames.

“I have suddenly remembered that I promised my wife I'd be home.”

“You haven't promised her anything today.”

“Then I should go before she discovers how much free time I have.”

Soren waved him away without looking up.

Ren collected his outer wrap and made his way toward the entrance. Halen was returning from the cooking area with a bowl in his hand and stopped beside him.

“Leaving already? You've barely done any work.”

“Soren seems determined to manage without me.”

“A terrible habit. I've known people who insist on doing their own jobs.”

Ren laughed and stepped into the sunlight.

The morning had grown pleasantly warm. Workers moved supplies between the shelters, while a pair of younger males argued over which of them could carry a heavier basket without stopping. One tried lifting the other's load and immediately put it down again.

“You put stones in that,” he accused.

“They're part of the delivery.”

“That doesn't mean you should carry all of them yourself.”

An older carrier told them to stop arguing and help finish the actual work. Both obeyed, although they continued muttering at one another as they walked away.

Ren passed the market paths without stopping. Several traders greeted him, and one called to ask when he'd be ready to discuss a future exchange.

“Tomorrow,” Ren answered.

The seller accepted that and returned to arranging his wares.

By the time Ren reached the household entrance, the midday bustle had begun spreading through the residential passages. He could hear someone farther down the slope calling for a missing basket, followed by another voice insisting that the basket had been returned the previous evening.

Nia was sitting near the open side of the main chamber when he entered, with one foot tucked beneath her and a small basket beside her seat. Several smooth stones lay across a folded cloth in her lap.

She looked up at his footsteps.

“Ren? You're home early.”

“Soren sent me away before I could find another task.”

“Did he?”

“He was remarkably pleased with himself.”

Nia laughed. “That sounds promising.”

“It is. We settled the missing supplier bundles too.”

Nia put down the stone she was holding.

“After all that time?”

“The witness had the final loading count. Those three bundles never left the supplier's shelter, and he's corrected the record.”

“Then the carrier wasn't responsible.”

“No. He delivered everything he was given.”

“Good. He must have been tired of being questioned.”

“From what Soren says, very tired.”

Ren leaned down to kiss her, then looked at the stones in her lap.

“What have you been doing?”

“Deciding whether I'm any good at throwing stones.”

He examined the collection. The stones were small, rounded pieces of different colors. A few had pale bands running through them, and one was flat enough to rest easily on its broad side.

“That sounds like an interesting way to spend the morning.”

“It was more frustrating than interesting at first. I saw some people playing a game near the lower sitting area. They were tossing stones into circles scratched in the ground, and I thought I'd try.”

Ren sat beside her and picked up the flatter stone.

“Did you manage to land one?”

“Not in the circles. I missed the first one completely, and when an older male told me to stop gripping the stone so tightly, I threw the next one farther than I meant to.”

Ren smiled.

“I've played something like that on the roads.”

Nia turned toward him immediately.

“Then you can show me.”

“Here?”

“I was planning to go back and watch another round. You could come with me, unless you need to return to the shelter.”

Ren weighed the stone between his fingers before placing it beside the others.

“I'd rather come with you.”

“Good. I want to find out whether those men are actually skilled or whether they just enjoy making the rest of us look foolish.”

“Both are possible.”

Nia laughed and gathered the stones into her basket. She handed it to Ren while she adjusted her clothing for the walk.

“You'll carry those?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I want both hands free in case I need to demonstrate how badly I was throwing them.”

They left the household together and took the lower passage at an easy pace. Near the communal washing area, Nia stopped to greet a woman returning with a covered basket. The woman mentioned that the warmer weather had made it easier to dry her household's washing, and they exchanged a few words before parting. Ren recognized her from earlier market visits, though neither had trade to discuss.

When they continued, Nia reached for his hand.

“One of the older males was winning nearly every round this morning,” she told him. “He kept telling everyone that they were throwing too hard, but he wouldn't explain what he was doing differently.”

“Perhaps he enjoys keeping his advantage.”

“That's what I thought.”

“Did anyone beat him?”

“Not while I was watching.”

Ren squeezed her hand.

“Then we'll see whether he's still there.”

They reached the small open space beneath the lower shelter, where several people had gathered around a patch of ground marked with three uneven circles. Two older males were seated nearby, watching a younger man prepare to throw.

The younger male tossed his stone. It struck the edge of the middle circle and bounced away.

One of the older men shook his head.

“You keep throwing as though the ground is going to move out of your way.”

“It nearly landed.”

“Nearly doesn't count.”

Nia laughed, and the older man looked up.

“There she is. Have you come back to show us how much you've improved?”

“I brought someone who claims to know the game.”

Ren lifted the basket slightly.

“I didn't claim to be particularly good.”

“That's what people say before they win,” the older male replied.

Ren sat beside Nia while the current round finished. The older man explained that they counted only stones that remained inside the marked circles, with the innermost worth the most. He had been playing with the same group for years and seemed delighted to have someone new to challenge.

When Ren's turn came, he selected a stone and tested its weight in his hand. He tossed it gently toward the nearest circle, where it landed and remained.

Nia leaned forward.

“You made that look easy.”

“I've had practice.”

“That is becoming a suspiciously common answer from men who are good at something.”

The older male laughed.

“Then watch him miss the next one.”

Ren aimed for the middle circle. The stone struck its edge and rolled away.

“There,” the older male said. “Much better.”

Nia grinned at Ren.

“Now I feel better.”

He offered her a stone from the basket.

“Your turn.”

She examined the circles, adjusted her stance, and threw. Her stone landed short of the nearest mark.

The older male opened his mouth, but Nia pointed at him.

“Don't say anything. I already know.”

He laughed so hard that the younger male beside him started laughing too.

Ren passed her another stone.

“Try releasing it a little sooner. You're holding it until your arm is already moving down.”

Nia considered that, then shifted her grip. She threw again, and this time the stone landed inside the outer circle.

She straightened with a pleased smile.

“There.”

The older male nodded approvingly.

“Better. Now you've given me something to worry about.”

“Not yet,” Ren said. “She's still learning.”

Nia turned toward him.

“Are you saying I can't beat you?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I was thinking you might want another turn.”

She held out her hand for the next stone, already smiling as she looked toward the circles.

Ren gave it to her, and she turned back to the game with renewed determination.