Chapter 207 — Ayari Notices
Ayari had a carrying basket turned on its side when Nia reached her household.
One section of the upper rim had loosened enough for several reeds to lift away from the binding. Fresh strips lay across Ayari’s lap, and the pieces she had already removed rested in a shallow work-waste basket beside the stone ledge.
Nia removed her outer shoes near the entrance.
“You have been working long enough to make me feel late.”
Ayari looked toward the entrance light.
“You are not late. Come hold this.”
Nia sat beside her and caught the rim where Ayari pointed.
Ayari fed a fresh strip beneath the older weave.
“Lift.”
Nia raised the rim enough for her fingers to pass beneath it.
“Turn it toward me.”
She turned the basket.
Ayari pulled the strip through and tightened it against the damaged section.
“This one has been carrying too much again,” Nia said.
“Aurel put a clay jar beneath two bundles of wet cloth.”
Nia looked at the stretched rim.
“Did the jar survive?”
“Yes.”
“That explains this.”
Ayari smiled and pressed the binding flat with her thumb.
Outside the household entrance, a man called for another drying pole. A woman farther along answered that two clean poles were still on the upper ledge and told him not to take the ones marked for bedding.
Ayari turned the basket again.
“Run your hand over that side.”
Nia felt along the rim.
A narrow section near the corner still moved beneath her fingers.
“This part.”
Ayari took the basket back and worked another strip into the gap.
A second basket waited near Nia’s foot. Its body was sound, but the handle had been removed.
“What happened to that one?”
“One of my husbands keeps carrying it against his side because the handle sits too high against his wrist.”
Ayari nodded toward a longer replacement lying with the repair strips.
Nia picked it up.
“So you are changing the handle.”
“I became tired of watching him carry a basket badly when changing it takes less work.”
Nia held one end while Ayari secured the other through the existing loop.
A child crossed the deeper room carrying a bundle of narrow wooden pegs against his chest.
“Both hands,” someone called after him.
The child stopped, caught the bundle before one peg slipped loose, then continued with his arms wrapped around it.
Ayari tightened the handle.
Nia shifted her grip.
A blue-green curve came to mind.
She had looked at the riverstone before leaving home that morning. It still sat beside her tie bowl with the white band facing outward.
“Nia.”
She looked down.
Ayari had stopped pulling.
“You are holding against me.”
“Sorry.”
Nia loosened her hand.
Ayari watched her for a moment, then resumed tying the handle.
They worked through another crossing before she asked, “What are you thinking about?”
Nia looked at the basket between them.
“Ren came yesterday.”
“The fox merchant?”
“Yes.”
Ayari tucked one end beneath the binding.
“Why did he come?”
“He had business with Kael. Something about two loads at the trade shelter.”
Ayari nodded and kept working.
Nia rubbed her thumb along the new handle.
“He brought me something too.”
That made Ayari glance up.
“A riverstone.”
Ayari waited.
Nia almost laughed.
“That is all.”
“A stone.”
“A pretty stone.”
“What does it do?”
“Apparently nothing.”
Ayari’s mouth moved slightly.
Nia continued before she could say anything.
“It is blue-green, with a white band through it. A woman near the eastern reed road had a bowl of them beside her other goods. Her household collects the smooth ones when the river drops.”
Ayari pulled the final binding tight.
“Did the woman send it with Ren?”
“No.”
“Did Ren want you to buy more?”
“No.”
Ayari turned the basket upright.
“What did he say?”
Nia lifted the new handle when Ayari passed the basket to her.
“He said the color stood out.”
She tested the handle with more weight.
“And?”
Nia looked at Ayari.
“He thought I might like it.”
Ayari reached for the basket and checked the binding herself.
Nia watched her press one thumb beneath the loop.
“You have that face.”
“What face?”
“The one you use when you notice something and decide whether to tell me.”
Ayari set the finished basket beside the wall.
“I was deciding whether you had finished telling me.”
“I have.”
Ayari picked up a smaller basket with a loose lower corner.
“Hold the base.”
Nia took it across her knees.
Ayari began easing the damaged reed free.
For several moments, only the work filled the space between them.
Nia finally said, “You remember what I told you about Ren after the outside market.”
“I remember.”
“He knew which sellers had what we wanted. Which lots were worth our time.”
Ayari eased the damaged reed out without breaking the surrounding weave.
“That sounds like his work.”
“It is. He told me he watches where buyers stop, what they ask twice, and what they go back for. It saves him time when they finally bargain.”
Ayari nodded.
Nia shifted her hand as Ayari pushed a fresh strip beneath the corner.
“He was waiting for one of his buyers when he saw the stones.”
Ayari’s hands continued moving.
“I was not there.”
Ayari looked at her then.
Nia adjusted her hold on the basket.
“He was on the eastern road. I was here.”
Ayari pushed the strip through and caught it from the other side.
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“I do not know.”
“That makes this difficult.”
“I know.”
Ayari tightened the strip.
Nia watched her fingers.
“At the spring market, you showed me those courtship gifts.”
“The wooden case.”
“And the comb.”
“Yes.”
“The wooden case was easier to understand.”
“Because the male was already courting her.”
Nia nodded.
“He had already brought other gifts. Everyone knew why he was there.”
Ayari turned the basket enough to inspect the repaired corner.
“Ren has not asked to court you.”
“No.”
“Then you do not have a courtship question to answer.”
Nia let out a slow breath.
Ayari pressed the corner once more.
“But I would notice this.”
Nia looked at her.
Ayari took the basket from Nia’s knees.
“A merchant remembering what you may want while you are standing in front of him is useful work. Remembering you when you are not there is something I would notice.”
She placed the repaired basket beside the others and reached for the waste pieces.
Nia stayed quiet.
Ayari did not add anything.
A woman appeared at the entrance carrying a folded sleeping cover over one arm.
“Ayari, do you have a tie strip?”
Ayari set the waste basket aside.
“What happened?”
“The lower fastening tore when we shook it out.”
The woman opened one corner of the cover. The cloth itself remained sound, but the narrow tie hung from several frayed fibers.
Ayari examined the damaged edge.
“This was already wearing thin.”
“My husband pulled it too hard.”
“He finished the tear. The edge was going before that.”
The woman sighed.
“I need it tonight.”
“Sit down.”
Nia moved the finished baskets aside to make room.
Ayari chose a narrow strip and handed one end to Nia.
“Keep the corner flat.”
Nia stretched the cloth across her knees while Ayari removed the worn tie.
The woman settled at the end of the ledge.
“He told me last week I should replace it.”
Ayari pulled the last damaged fibers free.
“Then next time listen before washing day.”
The woman gave her a look but did not argue.
Nia hid a smile by looking down at the cloth.
Ayari worked the new strip through the reinforced edge.
The woman began talking about the rest of the washing. One cover was still drying. Another had collected grit along the lower fold because someone had dragged it across the passage. A child had dropped a clean wrap, picked it up, and tried to return it to the folded stack without telling anyone.
“Which child?” Ayari asked.
The woman named him.
Ayari tied the strip.
“I will tell his mother before he decides the floor also counts as a drying surface.”
The woman laughed.
By the time the fastening was finished, someone outside called for a missing bundle of pegs.
“Upper drying ledge,” Ayari answered.
Small feet ran past the entrance a moment later.
The woman tested the new tie herself.
“That will hold.”
“Yes.”
She thanked Ayari and left with the cover folded over both arms.
Nia helped gather the repair strips spread across the ledge. One short piece had fallen near her foot. She picked it up and dropped it into the work-waste basket.
Ayari sorted the longer pieces back into the repair bundle.
Nia almost asked what Shen might think.
Shen knew Ren far better than she did. He would probably understand some part of this before she finished forming the question.
She left it alone.
Ayari lifted the waste basket.
“Come with me.”
They carried the broken reeds and worn ties farther into the household. Ayari emptied the pieces into the work-waste container, then pulled out two longer strips that could still be used for smaller repairs.
When they returned, two of her husbands had come in.
One carried a bundled net over his shoulder. The other had fresh cord looped around one wrist.
Ayari pointed toward the basket with the longer handle.
“Try that.”
The husband with the cord lifted it.
He let the handle settle against his wrist, walked several steps, then shifted the basket away from his side.
“That sits better.”
Ayari checked the angle.
“Does it pull?”
“No.”
He put the basket down, touched Ayari lightly at the shoulder, and carried the fresh cord into the deeper room.
The husband with the net stopped beside the repaired basket.
Ayari tapped the new section of rim.
“Use the heavier work basket next time you carry clay with wet cloth.”
He examined the repaired weave, then looked toward the heavier basket near the wall.
“All right.”
He took it with him when he left again.
Nia brushed several reed fibers from her skirt.
“I should go.”
Ayari nodded and walked her to the entrance.
Nia slipped her outer shoes back on.
Ayari adjusted the edge of the entrance screen where it had twisted around its lower tie.
Nia rested one hand on the frame.
“I still do not know what I am supposed to do with this.”
“With the stone?”
“With any of it.”
Ayari finished straightening the screen.
“You do not have to do anything today.”
Nia nodded.
That answer she could use.
She stepped into the passage.
Two children came around the upper turn dragging an empty basket between them. One complained that the other was pulling too fast. The second complained that he was not pulling enough. Nia moved aside and let them pass.
Near the water turn, someone had opened a wider section of passage screen. Cool spring air crossed the stone and lifted the loose ends of Nia’s hair near her cheek.
The walk home was short.
Shen was near the washing side when she entered, hanging a clean cloth over the lower drying rail.
“You stayed longer than you expected.”
“Ayari had repairs.”
Shen glanced at the small reed fibers still clinging near the hem of her skirt.
“So I see.”
Nia removed her shoes and washed her hands.
Shen finished with the cloth and crossed toward the household shelves.
For a moment, Nia considered calling him back.
She could ask what Ren was like when he was not dealing with sellers. She could ask whether he remembered small things for everyone he knew. Shen would probably answer plainly.
But she still did not know exactly what she wanted from the answer, so she dried her hands and let him continue with his work.
Nia went into the bedroom.
The riverstone sat where she had left it.
She picked it up.
The blue-green surface was cool against her fingers. She turned it once and found the pale band with her thumb.
Ren had seen it beside a road she had never walked.
He had chosen it while she was nowhere near him.
Nia stood beside the shelf for a while, holding the stone.
The stone had warmed in her palm by the time she set it back beside her tie bowl.
Then she returned to the main room with Shen.