Chapter 219 — When the Smirk Slips
Nia found Ren arguing about the condition of a wheel. Its outer rim had split near one joining peg.
“If you put that back under a loaded cart, you'll be walking beside it when the rim separates,” Ren said.
The broad-shouldered trader opposite him folded his arms. “It held all the way from the river road.”
Ren crouched beside the wheel and pressed one thumb near the split.
The wood shifted.
He looked up.
The trader sighed. “That expression is unnecessary.”
“I haven't said anything.”
“You don't need to.”
Nia stopped beside the eastern shelter.
Ren saw her, and his smirk sharpened.
“Nia.”
The trader followed his gaze. “No. You are not leaving because your woman arrived. You started this.”
“My worker is bringing the replacement rim now. Once it fits, you may argue with him about putting your cloth on another cart.”
“My cloth is not going on another cart.”
Ren stood and brushed his hands together. “Then it can admire Hearthfang for another day.”
The trader stared at him.
Ren smiled pleasantly.
A worker came around the shelter carrying a curved section of wood over one shoulder.
“Found one.”
Ren stepped aside. “Check the joining ends before you strip the damaged rim.”
The worker lowered it beside the cart.
Ren collected his narrow travel bag and the outer coat he had left over the rail.
The trader pointed at him. “If that doesn't fit—”
“I'll still be in Hearthfang.”
Ren turned toward Nia.
“Walk with me before he develops another argument.”
The trader muttered something behind them.
Nia waited until they had crossed the lower path.
“You enjoy that.”
“Damaged wheels?”
“Being right.”
“Only when other people are wrong.”
She laughed.
Spring sun had returned after the previous day's rain, but the deeper seams between the stones remained dark. Children crouched beside a shallow runoff channel, sending pieces of bark through the remaining water. One bark boat caught against a pebble. A little girl shoved her entire hand into the channel to free it while the boy beside her protested that she had cheated.
Ren stepped around them.
“You have time before the wheel is ready?” Nia asked.
“Enough. One of my workers is meeting me before evening, and I have already done everything useful I can do to that cart without becoming a wheelwright.”
They reached the fork above the storage row.
Nia took the quieter branch.
Ren came with her.
The broad stone on the upper ledge was dry where the sun reached it.
Nia sat.
Ren dropped his bag beside his boot and joined her.
Below them, Hearthfang moved through the afternoon. Voices rose from the lower shelters, softened by distance. Someone shook out a broad cloth near the drying area, and farther down the slope a cart moved slowly between the storage rows.
Ren rested his forearms on his knees.
His sleeves were still pushed back.
A dark streak crossed one thumb and continued toward the base of his palm.
Nia caught his hand.
“You missed some.”
Ren looked down at the mark. “Wheel dressing.”
She rubbed it with her thumb.
The dark streak did not move.
“You're going to put that on your clothes.”
“I own soap.”
“Shen would be horrified by your attitude.”
“Shen has had years to recover from my attitude.”
Nia laughed and let go.
Ren left his hand where it was, resting on the stone between them.
His fingers touched hers.
Nia turned her hand and linked them.
Ren looked down briefly before settling his attention on the slope again.
A cart rattled across the lower road.
After a while, Nia said, “You looked like you've done that wheel argument before.”
“Not that exact argument. I have had several versions involving cracked axles, bad bindings, overloaded carts, and one memorable man who believed a wheel only needed to be round on the outside.”
Nia laughed.
“I learned early that people become surprisingly optimistic when repairing something costs them money.”
“How early?”
“I was conducting questionable exchanges before I was tall enough to look respectable while doing them.”
“That sounds like a confession.”
“It is too late to punish me.”
Nia turned toward him. “What were you exchanging?”
“Dried fruit. Colored cord. Carved pieces if I could get them. Small things at first. When I was eight, I traded away a knife I had specifically been told not to touch.”
Nia stared at him.
“You stole a knife?”
“I borrowed access to it.”
“Ren.”
“It was returned to the world through commerce.”
Nia laughed. “What could an eight-year-old possibly need badly enough to trade somebody else's knife?”
“A winter coat.”
Her laughter faded.
Ren looked toward the lower road.
“My younger cousin had outgrown his. His mother had already replaced his boots, and his father was away with a buying group. I knew a man who wanted the knife, and he had a coat that would fit.”
“You already had a coat?”
“Mine still fit.”
Ren's fingers remained linked with hers.
Nia looked at his profile.
He continued before she could ask anything else.
“My aunt was furious. She made me work back the value of the knife, which took most of that winter and part of the next season. My cousin wore the coat until the sleeves ended halfway up his arms.”
“Did you regret it?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
The smirk disappeared with it.
Nia's thumb stopped against his hand.
Ren was still looking down the slope.
His fingers tightened slightly around hers.
“The man who took the knife knew I shouldn't have had it,” he said. “I understood that better later.”
Nia tightened her fingers around his.
Ren looked down at their joined hands.
“You loved your cousin.”
“He was six. He followed me everywhere and believed almost anything I told him.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It was terrible for his development.”
Nia smiled.
Ren's mouth curved faintly.
“He did eventually learn better. He works with his mother's household now. Leather finishing. He claims he's bad at it, but people keep buying from them, so I assume the evidence is against him.”
Nia leaned her shoulder against his.
Ren shifted enough to make the contact easier without releasing her hand.
“Does he remember the coat?” she asked.
“He remembers that it scratched his neck.”
“That's what you got for stealing.”
“I did not steal it.”
“You traded something you weren't allowed to touch.”
“That is a much more precise accusation.”
Nia laughed.
Ren looked at her.
Nia held his gaze for a moment, then rested her head briefly against his shoulder.
They stayed on the ledge until the shadow from the higher stone reached Ren's boot.
A voice carried up from below.
“Ren!”
One of his workers stood near the eastern shelter with an arm raised.
“The rim fits!”
Ren called back, “Strip the damaged one before you load anything.”
The worker waved and disappeared beneath the shelter.
Ren stood.
Nia released his hand so he could collect his bag.
“You have to go.”
“I warned you my freedom was temporary.”
She rose beside him.
Ren brushed dust from the back of his trousers. The streak of wheel dressing still marked his hand.
Nia pointed at it. “Don't touch your coat.”
Ren looked at his hand, then at the coat over his arm.
“You may have saved me from tragedy.”
“You're welcome.”
He adjusted the bag across his chest.
Nia looked at his mouth.
The smirk was there again.
She reached up and touched one finger to its corner.
Ren went still.
Nia had meant to tease him.
She no longer felt like teasing.
His attention settled completely on her.
Neither of them spoke.
Nia lowered her hand.
Ren's gaze followed it for a moment before returning to her face.
“You are becoming dangerous,” he said quietly.
Nia smiled. “You'll survive.”
“I have so far.”
They started down the path together.
At the storage fork, Ren's worker called again.
Ren stopped.
Nia continued uphill, but his voice reached her before she had gone far.
“Nia.”
She looked back.
Ren stood at the fork with his bag across his chest, dust on his boots and wheel dressing still dark across one hand.
“I'll come back after this run.”
Nia smiled.
“I know.”
Ren turned toward his waiting worker.
Nia continued home.