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“I’m sorry.” I said. “What do you mean, the larder doesn’t have enough to make it through winter.”

“I didn’t say THROUGH winter. I said TO winter, as in we have two weeks of supplies.” The innkeep told me.

“That’s... How did we contribute to this problem?”

“Well, sir, being on the short end of groceries for so long, combined with signora Gamilla’s... dietary needs, we’ve had to cut into our reserves.”

I blinked. “Is she not paying for her own food?”

“No, she is, but at market rates before the fall crunch.”

Which are half of the actual rates?”

“Closer to a third, now. But after this storm, it may be higher.”

.....

I sighed. “So, you’re saying when the storm ends, we need to forage with the crew.”

“I’m saying every bit of forage is already picked.”

“It can’t be EVERY bit of forage.”

“What isn’t already in someone’s pot or larder is likely to be damaged by the storm. What survives the storm will be picked up by other foraging parties, I guarantee it.”

“You’re telling me that we need to forage during the storm?”

“No. That is certain death! If you aren’t killed by flying debris, you’ll be swept off into the sky!”

Not the discussion to have when you’ve already got a headache.

“So, there’s nothing you can do until the storm ends?” I asked.

“There’s nothing anyone can do.” He insisted.

“Let me speak with Gamilla.” I said.

Kismet and Madonna were practicing thrusts in the hallway.

“Husband, you’re soaking wet! Tell me you haven’t been outside in this weather.”

“I promised to tell you no lies.” I said.

“When? I don’t remember this.”

“Neither do I, but I couldn’t have said it if I hadn’t.” I knocked on Gamilla’s door.

“Uhm, Rhishi?” Kismet asked, “Just WHY are you outside in the storm?”

“New quest. I need to found a shrine to Sobek.”

Kismet looked at me. “That’s just some random quest. Drop it.”

Madonna just made an ‘ugh’ noise and went back to her forms.

“What?” Kismet asked. “What?”

“For the next eight years, most of my divine quests will be coming from Sobek.”

She scrunched her face up. “Couldn’t you serve a deity that we’d at least heard of?”

Gamilla answered the door. “Ambassador.”

“Two things,” I said, “Firstly, are you aware we’ve depleted food stores in the inn to the point where there’s no food stockpiled for winter?”

“Sounds like inept inn management to me.” She said. “We can’t replace the innkeep and his wife, though.”

“The issue seems to be that we’re not giving them enough coin to replace what the crew eats.”

“That’s reasonable.” She said. “Food prices HAVE been going up. They should have come to me earlier. Replacing those stores is going to be a problem this close to winter. I’ll deal with it. I take it the second issue is the crew?”

“No, but as a third issue, I want the crew foraging for food and firewood.”

“Barrels of water as well.” She said. “That will take care of any problem with idle hands.”

I pulled one of the prayer stones out of my inventory, setting it on the floor and wall with a resounding THUNK.

“Is that what I think it is? Where did you find this? ... And how did you store this in your System inventory, anyway?”

I placed the rest of the set against the same wall. “I need these translated, and prayer books made. Preferably in multiple languages.”

“That’s... quite the request. Can we at least sell them off afterward?”

“I haven’t asked, but I think the spirit that gave me these wants them back. That, or I’m supposed to use them to decorate the new shrine.”

“Shrine? This is the first I’ve heard of any shrine.”

“Ooh,” Kismet said from the door. “I want to help translate those.”

“Do you read Numerian?” I asked her.

“Nope, but willing to learn.”

My left eyeball throbbed. “So long as you don’t disturb whomever we hire to perform the actual translation.”

She gave a cheer, and went back to sword practice.

“If I may say, you shouldn’t indulge her.” Gamilla said.

“What harm can letting her learn a new language cause?”

“Babylon. Tower of. Any tale involving a poorly worded wish. Besides, we have enough languages we NEED to know.”

I blinked. “Enough languages to travel anywhere in the civilized world, at least on this side of Athal.”

“I know that tone.” She said.

“Yes, yes. Work to do. I’ll be taking one of the fishing nets from the vessel.”

“What? When and why?”

“Today, and to catch fish in.”

“This isn’t one of the week-long storms we’ll have soon, but it’s still nothing to be out in.”

“Except for going there and coming back, I’ll be far enough underwater that it won’t matter.”

“And how were you planning on seeing?” she asked.

I breathed deeply, and let it out slowly. “Okay, that was a dumb plan.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll come up with a better one.” I said.

“I’d advise waiting until after the storm.” She said.

I didn’t take that advice, but I should have.

#

It wasn’t hard to convince myself that I could just manipulate my skeleton to a four-legged form, and thus be resistant to the wind. The trouble was that I wasn’t a miraculous shape-shifter; my changes took time, and in the middle of a storm isn’t a time-lax environment.

It wasn’t the kind of storm that uprooted trees, although there were branches and leaves (which, taken in bulk, had nutritional value), and even propelled coconuts along the ground. And yes, I kept my eyes mostly closed because sand and soil everywhere.

I’d trained myself to work blind, but that relied on other senses. It was too noisy for my hearing, and the water drowned out scent, and the constant bombardment of debris made touch iffy. In short, there was too much sensory input to work smoothly.

System inventory works in stacks; branches of palm trees wouldn’t stack with coconut tree branches, unless you worked them both into firewood. You’d think those wouldn’t stack, but it turns out as long as they’re the same quality, the type of wood no longer matters.

I didn’t dare take the branches back out of my inventory, nor my new wood axe.

What I wanted, honestly, was a new shield.

Not that my scales weren’t holding up; they were. But there were occasional hits by things doing two points, or sometimes six.

I had intended to walk upriver, toward what I’d begun thinking of as spa mountain. But I turned around at under thirty health; there was nothing out here worth risking my life over. All told, my foraging expedition was just over an hour and fifteen minutes.

The grand item of loot was a wooden bucket, whose handle had broken off. There was firewood, once it dried, and branches I could chop into firewood. And, as expected, there was no food beyond things that I myself could eat.

I was down fourteen points of health, which would take me three days to fully heal. This storm wasn’t likely to be that long.

Oh, and I had to scrub myself down in the rain for a minute or so, just to get the mud and grit off.

About the only good thing was that I’d refilled my Storm mana (to one, yes, but full) and finally flushed open my air chakras. There was a lot of River mana available, and even a point of Chaos.

So, it wasn’t a total loss, but... I’d need to upgrade both my defenses and weight if I wanted to forage during the winter storms. Which I wanted to do.

Not because it was easy, but because of the sheer amount of experience I’d netted. Not more than a single point at anything, but the spread was impressive, and it covered most of the bases for physical regimen.

Yeah, I forgot to divide by three, for the days I’d be recovering. What can I say? I was two.

.....

But there was little enough time to ponder my outing, anyway, as it was already time to start dinner preparations.

Due to a lack of eggs, we had white bread. Contrary to what I had been expecting, the taste wasn’t as lacking as the nutrition. I tried making a loaf with some mashed green vegetables mixed in, and while that took care of the nutrition issue, it still tasted like mashed vegetables.

We were also back to stew without noodles, and while nobody thanked me for the fare, nobody complained, either.

How were we supposed to get fresh fruits and vegetables if a storm came through that lasted a week? And if we couldn’t even get enough ingredients for a single week, what about some of the longer trading lanes that took two weeks, if not three?

I’d need to speak to Gamilla about finding a new quartermaster for the crew.

None of this was doing my headache any good.