Chapter 199 — The Husband Still Working

Nia noticed the man because the hide on his side kept dropping lower.

She was holding the rim of one of Ayari’s old carrying baskets while Ayari worked a fresh reed through a split near the handle. Shen sat on the other side of the low terrace ledge, separating the replacement strips by thickness before Ayari reached for them.

Ayari turned the basket enough for Nia to see where the weave had opened. “Tovin put two clay jars in this once and packed stones between them so they would not knock together. The jars reached home whole. The basket split before they finished unloading it.”

Nia looked at the damaged side. “That was a lot of weight.”

“It was. This weave was not made for that much weight.”

Ayari pulled the reed tight enough to make the rim creak.

Across the middle terrace, four men were moving winter hides from the lower airing line to the higher drying frames. Each hide hung from a long carrying pole, with one man at each end. The hides were broad and thick enough that the weight bowed the poles slightly when the men lifted them.

The pair nearest Nia raised another hide. The end on the lower man’s shoulder came up late. He adjusted his grip, hauled the pole higher, and caught up before his partner had to stop.

Nia looked back at Ayari’s basket, but a few moments later the same man struggled with the next hide. This time Shen looked over too.

The man kept his left arm close to his body when he lowered his end of the pole. He opened and closed that hand twice before walking back toward the lower line.

“He’s tired,” Nia said.

Ayari’s fingers stopped on the basket rim while she looked across the terrace. “That is one of Vessa’s husbands.”

The name pulled Nia back to the market weeks ago. She had seen a covered jar shift against a man’s wrist there. He had apologized before it struck anything, then gone completely still when the woman beside him turned her head. He had changed his grip only after watching her face.

Across the terrace, the husband had reached the lower line and was already bending for another carrying pole.

“I think I saw him before,” Nia said.

“You probably did.”

Ayari pulled the reed through and flattened it against the basket with her thumb without adding anything else.

The next hide took longer to raise. The man’s partner adjusted his end twice while waiting for him to settle the pole against his shoulder.

“You want the inside?”

“I have it.”

“You’re dropping again.”

“I said I have it.”

The answer was quiet but came too quickly. The other man studied him for a moment, then bent his knees and took more of the weight onto his own end.

They carried the hide uphill. The husband’s steps shortened before they reached the frame, but he kept moving.

Nia’s fingers tightened on the basket rim until Ayari said, “Hold that side higher.”

The fresh strip had begun to twist. Nia raised the rim while Ayari worked it flat, and for a while they stayed with the repair. Shen passed Ayari a narrower reed when the split tapered near the handle. Ayari tested it between her fingers, rejected it, and took the next strip instead.

“That one will pull loose when it dries.”

Shen took it back without argument.

When Nia glanced across the terrace again, Vessa’s husband was sitting on the edge of a stone ledge while the other workers shifted a hide from its carrying pole onto an upper frame. His elbows rested on his thighs, and one hand hung between his knees with a faint tremor in the fingers.

A worker passing him nudged his boot lightly against the man’s.

“Stay there for a turn.”

The husband raised his head. “I’m fine.”

“You look terrible.”

“I’m fine.”

The worker continued toward the lower line but looked back once before going. Vessa’s husband pressed both palms against his thighs and stood. He swayed just enough that one hand went to the wall before he caught himself.

Shen’s gaze sharpened. “He should sit longer.”

Ayari tied off the repaired section of the basket. “He will not.”

“You know that?” Nia asked.

“I have seen him work here before.”

Across the terrace, the husband was already walking back toward the hides.

Nia set the basket in her lap when Ayari released the rim. The repaired section felt rougher than the older weave but firm beneath her thumb.

“Does Vessa make him keep working?”

Ayari looked at Nia for a long moment. “I have never been inside their household when she tells her husbands what she expects.”

It was not the answer Nia wanted, but it was an honest one. Ayari reached for another loose edge on the basket.

“I know what I see outside.”

Nia followed her gaze. “What do you see?”

“A man who does not stop when other men tell him to stop.” Ayari pushed a damaged reed beneath the rim. “And a man who watches the upper path whenever Vessa is out.”

Nia looked toward that path. Several minutes passed before voices carried down from the turn above them.

Two women came first, talking about drying cloth. A male followed with a covered basket, and Vessa walked behind them.

Across the terrace, Vessa’s husband had been standing beside an empty drying frame with one hand braced against the upright support. He straightened the moment he saw her. His hand left the wood, his shoulders went back, and by the time Vessa reached the open stretch of terrace, he was already walking toward the lower line again.

Vessa did not call to him or slow her steps. Her eyes crossed the work area once before she continued toward the inner corridor.

Her husband watched until she passed the turn, then bent for another carrying pole, and Nia’s stomach tightened.

“She didn’t say anything.”

“No,” Ayari said.

A worker at the lower line caught the opposite end of the pole.

“You just sat down.”

“I’m working.”

“Take the lighter side.”

The husband shook his head. “I can carry this.”

The other man did not lift. For a moment they stood with the hide between them. Then Vessa’s husband looked toward the corridor where she had disappeared.

“I need to finish.”

The worker’s expression flattened. “You need to get through the frame without dropping it.”

“I will.”

The other man finally lifted his end, and Vessa’s husband followed.

Halfway up the terrace, his left hand slipped and his end of the pole dropped several inches.

Nia moved before she thought about it, one foot coming off the ledge, but the other worker lowered his side immediately. Two men near the frame crossed over and caught the pole before the hide could twist.

Nia stopped where she was. Nobody shouted. One of the men took Vessa’s husband’s end of the pole and shifted it onto his own shoulder.

“I can finish it,” Vessa’s husband said.

“Take the empty poles back down.”

“I can carry.”

“Take the poles.”

Vessa’s husband stood with both hands empty. His left hand had curled partly closed, and for the first time Nia could see wrapping around the base of his palm. The cloth was no longer fresh white; the edge had gone gray from work and sweat.

He watched the other men carry the hide uphill, then looked toward the upper corridor again.

A worker brought down two carrying poles freed from hides already set on their frames and laid them beside him. Vessa’s husband gathered both against his right side and started downhill toward the lower line.

Ayari drew a slow breath through her nose. Nia sat back down.

“Would the workers tell Vessa he stopped?”

Ayari frowned. “Why would they?”

“He looked worried she would know.”

“They might tell her if she asked.” Ayari turned the basket over and inspected the repaired rim. “They would not need to. Someone always sees who is working.”

Shen reached across the ledge and pressed one finger against a raised piece of reed near the repair.

“This edge will catch cloth.”

Ayari looked down. “So it will.”

She pulled the basket toward herself and worked the rough point beneath the weave while work continued across the terrace. A man crossed behind them with a bundle of cleaned lashings over one shoulder and stopped long enough to leave part of it beside an empty frame. Two workers farther along the wall argued over whether another drying frame had been placed too close to the stone.

At the lower line, Vessa’s husband set down the two empty poles and turned uphill again before anyone called him back.

His pace was slower now, and Nia watched until a hanging hide blocked him from view. She thought about Kael telling her to stay home when she had returned from the road exhausted and said she did not want to go anywhere the next morning. She remembered reaching too far while her shoulder still hurt and Shen taking the cloth from her hand before finishing the movement himself.

Ayari finished burying the rough reed and handed the basket to Nia.

“Feel it now.”

Nia ran her thumb over the repaired section. “Better.”

“It should hold if no one loads it that heavily again.” Ayari checked the opposite handle. “I’m keeping this one for cloth and lighter market goods for now.”

Nia gave the basket back.

Shen rose from the ledge and brushed a thin strip of reed from his knee. Ayari gathered the remaining pieces into a bundle and tied them together for another repair, but none of them started toward the upper path yet.

Across the terrace, workers set another hide on a drying frame and pulled the carrying pole free. Vessa’s husband came uphill, took that pole and another lying beside the previous frame, and carried both downhill.

The next time he returned, he collected two more.

By the fourth trip, he needed both hands to settle the empty poles securely against his right shoulder before turning downhill again. One of the other men said something Nia could not hear. The husband shook his head and kept walking.

When Nia finally stood, the afternoon light had shifted far enough to leave the lower drying line in shadow.

Ayari tucked the repaired basket under one arm.

“You coming tomorrow?”

“Probably.”

“Bring nothing. I have enough baskets here already.”

Nia glanced at the one beneath Ayari’s arm.

“This one stays with me until I see whether the repair holds,” Ayari said.

Shen stepped beside Nia as they moved toward the upper path.

At the turn, Nia looked back once. The workers were lowering the last hide into place, and Vessa’s husband was not at either end of the carrying pole.

Nia’s shoulders loosened until she saw him beside the upper drying frames.

He bent, gathered two empty carrying poles against his right side, and started downhill toward the lower line.