Marked by the Four Beast Lords After Transmigration

The upper cave still held the cooler air of late afternoon when Nia returned from the market.

Below, sellers called across the closing rows while wooden covers were fastened over tables. Someone near the lower path had found one of Mari’s missing broth cups beside the pottery turn. Farther inside Hearthfang, stone struck stone where Selvan’s workers continued repairing a drainage edge before the evening meal.

Shen had left the market goods wrapped where he had placed them.

The greens rested on one cool tray. The tied mushroom bag occupied another. Four yellow fruits and the bundle of sour shoots remained together in the shallow holding basket. The two purple-streaked roots sat inside the empty stone basin near the outer wall, well away from the food shelves.

Nia set her basket on the worktable and washed her hands.

When she turned, Shen had placed a basin beside the low workbench.

“Your feet first.”

“I sat beneath the market shelter.”

“After walking through every row Ayari could find.”

The water was still warm. Nia lowered her feet into it and let the heat ease the ache beneath her heels.

Shen carried the tray of greens to the low table within her reach.

Several stems had softened where the market cord had pressed against them. Nia separated the bruised leaves from the firm ones while Shen checked their undersides for eggs, webbing, or darkened patches.

“The pale marks came from cold wind,” he said. “Nothing has fed on them.”

He rinsed one unbruised leaf in clean water and passed it to her.

Nia tore a small piece from the edge. The first taste was mild. Bitterness followed after she swallowed, stronger near the thick stem.

“It needs meat, curd, or another source of fat,” she said. “The leaves can go into the pot late, but the stems should be cut small and cooked longer.”

Shen tasted a piece from the cleaned leaf. “The bitterness stays on the tongue.”

“It will become tiring if the whole bowl tastes like that.”

She placed the bruised greens in a covered bowl for the evening meal. Shen wrapped the remaining bundle again with damp cloth around the stems and returned it to the cool tray.

The mushroom bag smelled of wet bark when he loosened the tie.

Shen removed the mushrooms one by one, examining the caps, gills, and bases. One had been crushed beneath the others. Soil clung to the stems of two larger mushrooms.

“These are the same kind Sera used during the second storm,” he said. “The young ones are safe. The larger ones should be opened before cooking.”

Nia sliced the largest mushroom down the middle.

The flesh was firm and clean. Its scent was deeper than the dried winter mushrooms, but still earthy rather than sharp.

“It will make broth fuller,” she said. “It will not give me the aroma I wanted.”

“What kind of aroma?”

“Something that reaches people when the pot is opened. Fresh or sharp, not only smoke and cooked meat.”

Shen looked toward the route map hanging beside the storage shelf.

“There are plants near the warm-water paths that release a stronger scent when their skins are cut.”

“Have you eaten them?”

“No.”

“Then tomorrow we look before we decide what they are good for.”

The crushed mushroom joined the bruised greens for dinner. Shen covered the remaining mushrooms and returned them to their tray.

Nia lifted one of the yellow fruits.

Its skin released a bright scent beneath her thumb. Away from the market’s smoke, bodies, and prepared food, the fragrance was clearer. It reminded her of citrus peel without matching any fruit she had known on Earth.

Shen washed it before Nia cut through the middle.

The flesh was pale and watery, with several hard seeds clustered near the center. Nia tasted a narrow slice.

The fragrance was much stronger than the flavor. The faint sweetness disappeared almost as soon as she swallowed.

Shen tasted from the other half. “Mostly water.”

“And that scent.” Nia scraped her thumbnail lightly across the yellow skin and smelled it again. “The peel may be more useful than the flesh.”

She cut three thin strips and placed them on a small drying tile near the hearth.

“If the scent remains after drying, we can try a little in hot water or a light broth. It may also become too bitter to use.”

The opened fruit went into a covered bowl for the evening meal. The other three remained whole in the shallow basket.

Shen rinsed one sour shoot and laid it on the cutting board.

Nia sliced off a narrow piece for each of them.

The sourness was clean but mild. A watery green flavor followed it.

“This can balance a pot now,” Nia said. “It does not solve what happens when the shoots disappear.”

“They may keep if they are dried.”

“They may lose the sourness. We should dry a small piece instead of risking the whole bundle.”

Shen wrote the seller’s name and high-ground gathering place on a narrow strip of bark. Nia laid one short section of shoot on a separate drying tile and covered the rest of the bundle before returning it to the shallow basket.

“You remembered every place the sellers named,” she said.

“The places connected to ingredients you may use again.”

“What about the male with the old onions?”

“He wanted twice the ordinary price and would not say where he stored them.”

Nia smiled. “Then he did not earn a place on the map.”

“He did not.”

The two purple-streaked roots remained inside the stone basin.

Shen moved the food trays farther down the table before lifting one root. He washed its outer wrapping, dried it, and cut the cord holding the pair together.

The purple streaks continued beneath the thin outer skin.

He scraped away a piece no wider than his smallest fingernail. A sharp medicinal smell rose from the exposed surface.

Nia leaned closer without touching it.

“That is stronger than it smelled at the stall.”

“The wrapping held the scent.” Shen crushed the tiny scraping between two stone chips and added one drop of water. The liquid darkened at the edges. “Healers use this root against fever. The strength changes depending on where it grows.”

“The seller said it could be peeled and soaked all day.”

“That removes part of the strength. Some households may use a very small amount after repeated soaking, but the safe amount would be difficult to judge without experience.”

Nia looked at the two roots.

“Then it does not belong in an ordinary meal.”

“No.”

“We show it to Sera and keep it with the medicines. I am not teaching anyone to prepare something that may change strength from one root to the next.”

Shen rewrapped each root separately. He labeled them with the seller’s name, the healer’s name for the plant, and the soaking instructions the seller had given. Both roots went into the covered medicine basket.

He poured the darkened test water into the medicine-waste jar, rinsed the stone chips twice, and scrubbed his hands before wiping the section of table where he had opened the root. Only after the wet cloth and used water had been carried away did he bring the food trays back within reach.

Nia dried her feet and stepped into her soft indoor wraps. She washed her hands again and dried them on a clean cloth before returning to the table.

“So far, we found bitter greens, good mushrooms, fruit that smells better than it tastes, sour shoots that may not keep, and a root I will not put in dinner.”

Shen’s mouth moved slightly.

“You also have three unopened fruits.”

“Three more chances for the same disappointment.”

A heavy step sounded in the passage before Kael entered.

Dust marked one shoulder of his dark outer wrap, and his hair had loosened near one temple. He carried a flat wooden board against one hip.

Small test portions had been secured to it: two leaf packets of salt, a lidded clay cup, a pouch of dark seeds, three sealing rings, a folded strip of fine cloth, and a narrow bundle of dried red-brown root.

“These were left at the security table for your household,” Kael said. “Tovin arranged them before he went home with Aurel. Luma sent the cloth herself.”

Nia cleared the washed end of the worktable.

“Did the sellers leave?”

“The visiting households are inside their assigned shelters. Two local sellers are still arguing about the boundary between their tables.”

“Which one crossed it?”

“Both.”

Kael set down the board.

Nia unfolded Luma’s cloth first. The weave was finer than the cloth used for ordinary broth straining, with small, even gaps between the threads.

She stirred a pinch of coarse grain meal and loose husk into a bowl of water. Shen held the cloth over an empty bowl while she poured.

The cloudy water passed through. Nearly all the husk and larger meal remained behind.

“This could strain curd or remove fine pieces from broth,” Nia said.

“Will you ask Luma for more?” Kael asked.

“After we wash this strip several times and see whether the weave loosens.”

She rinsed it immediately and hung it from a clean peg near the hearth.

The first salt packet contained broad gray crystals like the salt Hearthfang already used. The second held smaller white pieces.

Nia dissolved a little of each in separate cups of warm water.

The gray salt carried the familiar mineral bitterness. The white salt was cleaner and much stronger.

“This one is better,” she said, touching the second cup. “People will need less of it.”

Shen copied the seller’s token onto a new bark strip.

“Can the seller provide enough for the household?” Kael asked.

“For this household, perhaps,” Shen said. “Not for everyone now asking about Nia’s broth.”

“Then we test it here before anyone carries home a smaller measure without understanding why,” Nia said. “Luma’s husband already turned one missing instruction into more salt.”

She retied both packets and placed them in the seasoning basket.

Shen opened the clay cup before Nia touched the curd inside. He checked the surface, smelled it, and pressed a clean spoon through the center.

“It is fresh.”

Nia stirred the thin liquid at the edges back into the curd and tasted from another spoon.

It was soft, rich, and only slightly sour.

“This gives us fat and sourness together. It would soften the bitterness in those greens.”

“How long will it keep?” Kael asked.

“Tonight is best,” Shen said. “Tomorrow morning if it remains cold.”

Nia covered the cup again. “Useful, but not reliable. I cannot build a household dish around something that may spoil before the next market.”

“Could they preserve it differently?”

“Possibly by draining, salting, or pressing it. I need enough to test without taking food from the household that made it.”

Kael nodded. “I will ask what they can spare after their own needs.”

Shen set the covered cup on a flat stone inside the coolest basin. Shallow water surrounded its base without reaching the lid.

Nia opened the pouch of dark seeds. Shen inspected them before she crushed four between the small grinding stones.

A faint sheen appeared, but most of the seeds became dry meal.

“There is oil in them,” Nia said. “Not enough for cooking unless we have many more and a way to press them.”

“The seller said they roast the seeds,” Shen said.

“Roasting may improve the flavor.”

Nia rubbed a little meal between her fingers. The scent was nutty and warm.

“We can grind them into food, but they are not the oil source I hoped for.”

Kael turned the seller’s token over. “At this price, a jar of oil would cost more than the meat cooked in it.”

Nia returned the whole seeds to their pouch and tied it closed. The crushed meal went into a small covered dish for the evening pot.

Two sealing rings were braided from fiber coated with wax. The third had been cut from soft hide.

Kael filled a narrow jar with water while Nia fitted the first waxed ring beneath its lid. He turned the jar on its side over an empty bowl.

Water gathered beneath one edge.

The second waxed ring held longer, but a wet line appeared after Kael pressed the lid twice.

The hide ring remained dry.

“This one is worth copying,” Nia said.

“For water,” Shen said. “Oil may soften it.”

“Salt may dry it. Selvan can test both before anyone seals a full jar.”

Kael left the hide ring fitted beneath the lid and tied the upright test jar securely to the market board. The two leaking rings went beside their seller tokens so Selvan could see where each one had failed.

The dried root was last.

Its scent sharpened when Shen cut a thin piece from the end. Warmth, sweetness, and something bright reached Nia before she lifted it closer.

“This is nearer to what I wanted.”

Kael told her the marked price.

Nia looked at the narrow bundle.

“For this much?”

“For a bundle three times this size,” he said. “It grows beyond the eastern ridge. The visiting households are buying it as a spring gift.”

Nia smelled the cut end again.

“It may be useful, but it costs too much for ordinary cooking.”

Shen copied the seller’s mark onto a bark label and tied it around the wrapped sample. Nia placed it in the small comparison basket beside the route map. The original seller token remained on Kael’s board to be returned before the trader left.

Kael looked across the worktable. “Which of these would you buy again?”

“The cleaner salt, if the seller can supply it without raising the price. The cloth, if it survives washing. The hide seal after Selvan tests it. The mushrooms and greens while they are in season.”

Nia glanced toward the curd cup resting in the cool basin.

“The curd is good, but it will not keep. The shoots give sourness, but only for a short time. The yellow fruit gives scent without enough flavor. The seeds cost too much for the little oil inside them. The aromatic root costs too much to use often, and the purple roots belong with medicine.”

“What is still missing?” Kael asked.

“We still need a reliable sour ingredient, something sharp enough to give heat without harming anyone, a fat we can store, and an aromatic we can gather or grow instead of waiting for a trader.”

Shen brought his route map from the wall shelf and unrolled it across the cleared end of the table.

“I have seen plants near the warm-water path that may have some of those qualities.”

He touched a damp hollow beyond Hearthfang’s worked routes.

“A thinner relative of the purple root grows here, but I do not know whether its strength is the same. Farther south, animals open broad pods beside the stream. There are also sharp-smelling leaves near the water.”

“Do the healers use them?” Nia asked.

“The sharp-smelling leaves are placed beneath wraps. The thinner root irritates bare skin. I have never seen either prepared as food, and I have only seen animals open the pods.”

“Then we keep everything separate and bring back only small samples. I want to know how they smell when cut, whether the bitterness changes with soaking, and what happens near heat. Nothing goes into food until we understand it.”

Kael studied the map.

“Nothing unknown reaches your mouth.”

Nia nodded. “Shen checks it first. We test the least dangerous things against skin or heat before we consider tasting them.”

“And if he is uncertain?”

“We leave it there.”

Kael’s hand closed around the back of her neck. He drew her forward until her forehead rested against his chest.

“I cannot leave Hearthfang tomorrow,” he said.

“I know.”

“The visiting traders depart through two routes. The western drainage wall must be checked before the ground softens again, and the lower patrol changes after market duty.”

Nia curled her fingers into his wrap. “I still wish you could come.”

His thumb moved once beneath her hair.

“So do I.”

He released her far enough to look at Shen.

“How long to the first warm stream?”

“Most of the morning on foot. Less after the damp turn.”

“Return before the evening path cools.”

“We will.”

Kael questioned him about loose stone, water depth, fresh animal tracks, and where Hearthfang’s patrol marks ended. Shen answered each question without making the route sound easier than it was.

While they spoke, Nia washed the empty tasting cups. The evening greens, crushed mushroom, seed meal, and opened fruit remained together near the hearth. The curd stayed covered on its stone inside the cool basin, with the water below the lid. The closed seed pouch returned to the market basket, while the covered sour shoots and unopened fruits remained together in the shallow holding basket. The two drying tiles stayed near the hearth, one holding fruit peel and the other holding the sour-shoot test. The medicine basket stayed closed beside the wall.

Kael took a travel pouch from its storage peg.

He added two wrapped grain cakes, dried meat, clean cloth, and empty sample packets. Shen checked the water skin and found the loop around its stopper beginning to fray.

Kael replaced the cord instead of tightening the worn one. Shen tested the new loop, filled the skin, and set it beside the travel pouch.

“You packed enough for a delay,” Nia said.

“That is the purpose.”

He set the pouch beside Shen’s map, then looked down at her feet.

“Show me where the wraps rubbed.”

“Shen already made me soak them.”

Kael waited.

Nia sat on the low bench and lifted her right foot into his hands.

The skin beneath her heel had reddened along the edge of her market wrap. Kael pressed around it gently, spread salve over the sore place, and covered it with a thin square of soft hide.

Shen brought her outdoor wraps from the sleeping ledge and examined the inner seam.

“I will soften this edge tonight.”

Kael tied the protective strip and set her foot down.

“Once the path is easier for Shen’s other shape, you stop walking.”

“We still need to decide how I will ride.”

“You and Shen decide before you leave,” Kael said. “You will not reach the narrow trail before learning how to get on and off safely.”

He kissed the center of her forehead, touched Shen’s shoulder as he passed, and lifted the market board with the secured test jar, failed rings, and seller tokens.

“I will take the seal test to Selvan and return the trader’s token before he leaves.”

Kael left with the board beneath one arm.

Nia listened until his steps joined the movement in the main passage. Then she returned to Shen’s side.

He had added the high-ground greens, mushroom seller, fruit gatherer, sour-shoot source, and medicinal-root seller along the edge of his map.

Nia touched the damp route leading south.

“Show me where walking stops being sensible.”

Shen picked up the charcoal.

He followed the worked path beyond Hearthfang, traced the first descent, and stopped where the trail narrowed between the warm stream and a slope marked with exposed roots.

There, he drew a short dark line across the damp route.

“From this point,” he said, “my other shape will be faster.”