Marked by the Four Beast Lords After Transmigration

By second bell, water from the previous night’s rain was still dripping from the edge of the new market roof, but the space beneath it was louder than Nia had ever heard the spring rows.

The roof covered the broadest lower platform and part of the eastern trade lane, new timber darkened where the damp air had reached it. Traders had pushed tables, sacks, baskets, hanging bundles, and two narrow carts beneath the dry span. Hearthfang workers moved between them with shoulder poles and handcarts while sellers called prices over the scrape of wood, the thump of sacks, and an argument near the far support where two men disagreed about whose goods had crossed a chalked floor line.

Nia slowed near the entrance without meaning to.

Shen, walking beside her with the empty egg carrier tucked under one arm, let her look.

“This is larger than the spring market was,” she said.

“Three routes are open now that were still restricted then.” Shen shifted the carrier when a worker passed close with a bundle of reed mats. “And the traders who waited through the wheel repair stayed for the gathering instead of leaving as soon as the cart was usable.”

That explained the eastern cloth she recognized near the middle row. It also explained why the redneedle seller from two days earlier was already busy with someone else.

A broad-shouldered worker at the roof entrance dragged a low barrier farther inward before a wet cart rolled past the platform.

“No wheels beyond that mark,” he called toward the driver. “Unload there or wait for the lower ground to dry.”

The driver complained, but he stopped the cart.

Nia stepped around a shallow puddle just as Kael came from the opposite side of the platform with Tarek and two workers behind him. Mud darkened the lower edge of his trousers, and a rolled cord was looped around one hand. He looked first at the cart stopped outside the line, then at Nia and Shen.

His pace changed enough to bring him to them before Tarek reached the next roof support.

“You came down.”

“We are returning the egg carrier, and I wanted to look around.”

Kael’s eyes moved to the basket on her arm, then to Shen’s empty carrier. “The center stays dry. Do not use the east edge if they start moving the loaded grain carts.”

Nia glanced at the people already walking beneath the east side.

Kael’s hand settled briefly at the back of her waist as a porter squeezed past them. “You stop when something catches your attention. A loaded cart will not stop as quickly.”

“You’re right.”

Kael bent and kissed her temple before he moved away again. He told one of the workers to shift a hanging tarp before its runoff reached the platform line, then continued with Tarek without looking back to see whether Nia obeyed him.

Shen watched him go before continuing beside her.

Tovin was three tables farther in, speaking to an eastern trader while Garrick sat at the end of the same table with a marked strip of hide and several small counting stones. Tovin had one hand on a folded length of dark cloth while the trader argued that the damaged corner should not reduce the price because the rest of the piece was dry.

“It reduces the useful length,” Garrick said without looking up from his marks. “You can sell the damaged part separately if you think someone wants it.”

The trader’s mouth tightened as he pulled the folded cloth a little closer.

Tovin saw Nia over his shoulder and lifted two fingers in greeting before returning to the cloth. “Give me a moment unless the carrier is trying to escape.”

“No hurry. I only wanted to return it and thank the seller.” Nia set the shallow egg carrier beside the end of the table.

“I will tell her.” Tovin pressed his thumb into the damp corner of the cloth and showed it to the trader. “And now you can stop pretending this happened after you unloaded.”

Garrick slid one counting stone aside.

Nia left them to it.

A trader nearby shook out lengths of dyed cord for two buyers comparing the weave while another ran his thumb around the rim of a heavy clay pot before setting it back with the others. Shen moved easily past several hanging medicine packets without slowing. Nia made it another few steps before a stack of shallow wooden trays drew her toward the edge of the next table.

She ran her fingers along the rim of the top tray, checked its depth, then moved on.

A shallow bowl near the middle support caught her attention.

Long pale grains filled it, narrow and smooth, with faint translucent edges unlike the cracked stone grain kept in their pantry. Two larger sacks rested open behind the table.

Nia stepped closer with Shen beside her.

The seller, an older man with gray threaded through the fur at his ears, finished weighing a measure for another customer before he looked at them.

“You know watergrain?” he asked.

“No. I know our mountain grain.”

“Then do not cook this like mountain grain.”

The grains smelled mild and dry when the seller let her inspect the bowl. Nothing sour, musty, or oily reached her. The shape pulled hard at her memory of rice.

“What changes?” she asked.

“Enough that mountain cooks buy a sack, treat it like cracked grain, and come back complaining that I sold them stones.”

“So I should find someone who knows what they are doing before I waste it.”

“Ask someone who cooks it regularly before you start.”

“How far does it travel?” Shen asked.

“Lower eastern wetlands. Far enough that you are paying for road as much as grain by the time it reaches this mountain.”

Nia looked at the sacks again. “So it is expensive here.”

“Yes.”

He gave the price without apology.

Nia’s brows rose, then she looked into the bowl again. “Will you split a small measure?”

“The opened sack, yes. The sealed one stays sealed unless someone buys the whole lot.”

“How small?”

He showed her a cup measure that was larger than the little household cup but nowhere near a sack.

“Two measures.”

Shen looked at her, then at the price strip.

“One would tell you whether you dislike it,” he said.

“One would also tell me very little if I cook it badly the first time.”

The seller gave a short approving sound and reached for the scoop.

Nia paid for two measures, and he poured them into a small inner sack before tying it shut. Shen took the sack and tucked it beside the empty carrier, leaving Nia’s basket open for smaller goods.

A familiar scent from the next cross-row made Nia turn her head.

The scent was sweet, warm, and faintly floral, with a dry woody note beneath it.

“Aurel’s packet,” she said.

Shen turned toward the scent with her.

A trader farther beneath the roof had several narrow packets hanging from a cord behind his table. This table smelled of dried fruit, bark, flower heads, and something resinous Nia could not place.

The seller was folding a packet when they approached.

Nia pointed toward the hanging bundles. “Which one smells sweet?”

He looked at her, then reached for a small packet tied with pale thread. “Sunbell blossom.”

He opened the top just enough for her to smell without putting her hands into it.

The scent strengthened at once. The dried petals were small and pale gold, curled tightly around darker centers. A few thin stem pieces explained why Aurel had been uncertain whether the packet contained bark.

“What do you use it for?” Nia asked.

“Sweet milk. Grain sweets. Warm drinks. Some households grind it with honey.”

When Nia glanced at Shen, his gaze was already on the packet.

“How strong?” he asked.

The seller pinched two fingers close together. “Too much makes the back of the mouth bitter. Steep it, strain it, or grind very little.”

The trader named his price, and Nia looked at the small packet again. “For that little packet?”

“Good flower does not ride north cheaply.” The trader retied the packet. “Most of the whole blossoms do not ride north at all.”

“Why?” Shen asked.

“The fox buyers farther south pay well for clean whole blossoms. Most of the better bundles disappear before they reach the upper road.” He tapped the packet in his hand. “Broken petals still scent milk, and mountain households are more willing to pay for these.”

“How much will you split?” Nia asked.

The trader tapped the smallest packet. “That is already the split amount.”

Nia looked at it, then at Shen.

Shen glanced once toward the watergrain sack and then back to the flowers.

“We still have some of the ridge milk from yesterday, but not enough to waste on a large test.”

“I am not testing it today.”

“I know.”

Nia paid, and the trader passed the small packet to Shen, who smelled the outside before placing it in Nia’s basket away from the grain sack.

Nia had just secured the basket cloth when Ayari’s voice reached them from the next row.

“There you are. Tovin said you had already escaped him.”

Ayari came around a stack of woven mats with Bram behind her, carrying a rolled sleeping pad and another bundle tied against his back. Garrick was still at the cloth table with Tovin, bent over his marks.

“I returned the carrier,” Nia said.

“And bought something before I got here.” Ayari looked directly at Shen’s grain sack. “What is that?”

“Watergrain.”

“You paid mountain price for watergrain?”

Nia narrowed her eyes. “You know it?”

“I have eaten it twice. Tovin likes it under fatty meat when traders bring enough to waste money on dinner.” She glanced toward the sack. “It was good. I still complained about the price.”

Bram shifted the sleeping pad higher against his shoulder. “She complained while eating the second bowl.”

“I liked the food. I did not like what Tovin paid for it.” Ayari looked back at Nia. “He burned the bottom the first time, so find someone else before you ask him how to cook yours.”

Nia laughed as a porter called for space nearby. Someone farther down the row knocked over a stack of empty baskets and swore loudly enough to make two traders look up. Near the roof edge, rainwater finally stopped dripping from one corner after a worker climbed onto a support and changed the angle of the runoff cloth.

Ayari leaned toward Nia’s basket. “What else?”

Nia opened the cloth enough for Ayari to smell the sunbell packet without touching it.

Ayari leaned closer. “Let me smell it again before you put it away. It is lovely, but I am not paying that much for flowers today.”

Nia loosened the packet again. Bram waited behind Ayari with the sleeping pad braced against one shoulder while she breathed in the scent.

Ayari straightened and looked at the bundle Bram carried. “I spent enough on the new sleeping pad after Bram reminded me twice that the old one still has several seasons left in it.”

“It does,” Bram said, adjusting the roll. “We are keeping it for the lower room.”

“I know. I wanted the softer weave for ours.”

Bram gave a small nod as though that argument had already been settled before they reached the market.

Nia retied the packet and tucked the basket cloth back over it.

They walked one more row together before Ayari turned toward a household-goods seller. Nia saw dark legumes in a broad basket on another table and asked the price out of curiosity, but she left them there when the seller explained that the lot had come in small and several lower households had already asked for portions.

By the time she and Shen turned toward the upper route, another cart had stopped outside the wheel line, and workers were carrying sealed sacks beneath the roof while a trader near the far support argued over a salt measure. Shen had the watergrain tucked beside the returned carrier, and the sunbell packet rested beneath the cloth in Nia’s basket as they started uphill.

At home, the familiar stone grain still filled its larger storage container while Shen set the smaller watergrain sack on the dry side of the preparation board. Nia loosened the tie long enough to look at the pale grains beside the coarse meal they already knew, then closed the sack again before opening the sunbell packet.

Shen rested one finger against the tied neck of the watergrain sack. “Which first?”

“The grain.” Nia retied the flower packet. “It already comes with people telling mountain cooks they use it wrong. I would like to avoid proving them right more than once.”

They left the watergrain protected with the other dry goods and tucked the small sunbell packet onto the spice shelf. Its sweet scent lingered faintly among the familiar bark and herb jars after Nia drew her hand away.

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