Weekly Digest 112 - (#359 - #361) (Patreon)

The Ship In The Morning

While I woke up early these days, I was not naturally a morning person. It was a learned habit, and I needed to get up immediately and start moving to wake up properly.

This morning, I woke up miserable because I'd been woken up the night before, interrupting my sleep. The temptation to turn over and go back to sleep was strong, but as the leader I had to set an example. So I got up and started stretching get my blood flowing and wake me up the rest of the way.

…

I said I got up and started stretching get my blood flowing and wake me up the rest of the way!

No, I close my eyes again and go back to sleep when I didn't hear anyone else awake, I responsibly got up and—

…

Somehow feeling even more miserable, I woke up hot and sweaty to the sounds of everyone moving around on the upper deck.

As I lay there, feeling miserable and now guilty, I took a moment decry my complete and utter unsuitability for being a leader.

…

Sighing, I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Well, that was enough sleeping in. I needed to get up and—

I paused, sitting still for a moment as I concentrated on feeling how the ship moved. Why were we swaying? And… why did I hear water splashing?

Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet, still rubbing my eyes. The wisplight that also moved air was back in its usual place, but it was deactivated, the bead receptacle conspicuously empty. The light coming in through the hatch next to it made the wisplight unnecessary, and I was relieved to note it was the soft glow of morning light rather than the harsh illumination of noon. I hadn't slept in that long, then.

Sighing and grunting like an old man because it made me feel better, I got to my feet and started rolling up my bedroll and folding my blanket. It only took a moment's work to put my bedding away as I resolutely forced myself to be awake. Hanging my walking stick next to where my sword was—I'd brought it in case I needed it for anything, even if couldn't really carry it around Covehold Demesne—and putting away my knife, I climbed up to the deck.

I blinked at the light, even as the ocean breeze started to blow over my face. the splashing continued, and I turned to find some of the men balancing on one of the outriggers and scooping up water to pour over themselves as they scrubbed at their bodies, those who still had some soap using it.

Beyond them, the buildings and warehouses of Covehold was gone, and there was only the sea…

I looked the other way, and sighed as I recognized the stretch of shoreline there, which was bereft of glittering prismatic colors. We weren't far from Covehold Demesne, still well-within its sphere of influence, so it wouldn't take too long to get back.

"Yhorj," I said as I climbed the rest of the way up, "why are we out here?"

"The other ship started letting people off early this morning, Lord Rian," Yhorj said from where he was carefully dipping his shirt into the seawater before starting to pound it on one of the wooden beams to crudely wash it. "Some of them were getting too close, and there were troublemakers getting past the dockworkers to the dock. I decided it would be best if we left for a little while until it was safer, since we needed to leave the docks to bathe anyway."

I blinked. "Oh. Was it that bad?"

"It was like last time again, Lord Rian. The sailors were just getting people out of the ship, people were trying to hold on to what they'd brought with them, there were arguments breaking out as people accused each other of taking things… I was starting to sound like trouble, I thought we shouldn't be where they could walk up to us."

I nodded slowly. "I see…" Ugh, I should have been awake for this, but Yhorj was in charge of the Coldholdwhen I wasn't on it for a reason. If he thought it was best for us to make ourselves scarce for a moment, then I trusted his judgement.

Yawning, I took off my shirt. Despite my guts telling me they needed to be emptied, there was an order to this. Take a bath and wash clothes, then release our inner darkness. Wouldn't want to bathe in that water, after all.

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I got my first proper look at the newly arrived ship as we drove back into Covehold Demesne. The ship docked in one of the piers was a fat-looking thing, unlike the boxy riverboats common in the old continent, but then those boats didn’t have to worry about waves battering against their sides. Unlike the salt-collecting boat, which tended towards being wide and shallow bowls, these boats were narrower in profile, looking like a large, inflated bladder, or a kind of elongated seed. A mast rose from it, though at the moment there was no sail, no doubt having been furled to keep from catching the breeze and having the ship pull against the ropes securing it to the dock.

At the back of the ship was a pressure-release chimney for a steam driver. It would be heated by Whispering, I knew. There were always some wizards on every ship like these, and they were usually offered reduce passage fees for assisting in the operation of the ship, such as heating the water in the steam driver that was the primary means of propelling the ship desalinating drinking water, or maintaining the temperature of the occupied parts of the ship to just within livable ranges.

While we were still to far from the ship for me to see it at the moment, I knew that all the wood above the waterline, as well as on the inside of the hull, would have the strangely textured look of material that had been overly Deadspoken. It wasn’t dissimilar from the effect Whispering had on the ordered layers of natural stone, in which the natural patterns and striations were subtly smeared as magic was used to alter its arrangement. It was far less obvious with wood, since the Deadspeaking was used to collapse the holes created by growing Iridescence and reinforced the structural integrity of the material, but repeated applications led to patterns that didn’t occur naturally in wood.

I’d noticed a lot of those, since there hadn’t really been all that much to do for entertainment on the ship I’d traveled on to Covehold.

As I we got closer to the docks, I couldn’t help looking at the larger ship with some resentment. Sure, it probably wasn’t the same ship that had brought me here, but it certainly represented it. The cramped quarters, the noise, the smell, the heat and cold, the bad food…

I noticed I wasn’t the only one giving the boat sour looks. Were the others remembering their time on board the ship that had brought them here too? Probably. Everyone would have needed to go through the same thing, cramped in the hold except for the scheduled times for people to go up on the deck to wash the Iridescence growing on themselves off with seawater…

That had been an experience, learning that people in some demesnes didn’t consider it an issue for women to be shirtless in public, treating it as no different as men being bare-chested…

I shook my head, both to banish the memory of embarrassment and to return my thoughts to the present. My gaze turned from the ship towards the docks and dockyard next to it. The warehouse on the end closest to the dockmaster’s office, the one I knew new arrivals were allowed to stay in for the first three days before being kicked out to make other arrangements, was open, and a chimney at the top was blowing out smoke. A late breakfast was likely being prepared, as being kicked out of the ship had probably meant no food had been prepared for them. The front doors of the warehouse had been thrown wide open, no doubt to allow air to circulate and help deal with the heat that was probably building up inside.

A few buildings down, another warehouse was open. A wooden crane was lifting things from the ship’s hold and setting them down on the dockyard, and men were busy moving the unloaded cargo from the ship to this new warehouse. I let out a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh as I looked over the activity. I wasn’t sure if I wanted us to be docked near that. At the moment the new arrivals were probably setting up their little mini-camps and getting their bearings, enjoying having more space to themselves, but it was probably only a matter of time before they got curious and stepped out of the warehouse. And while the ship’s sailors were working t the moment, they would probably stop for lunch and maybe take a break at noon when it was hottest. If they approached the Coldhold…

“Yhorj, after we get off at the dock, move the Coldhold out so that you’re in sight of the docks but too far to be bothered,” I said. “We should be back around nooon and hopefully we’ll have the new recruits with us, or at least get a start on loading their baggage onto the ship.”

“So we don’t go out for salt and water today?” Yhorj asked.

I considered that. “Come back by noon. I’ll try to bring you all lunch, and if we’re coming back, it will likely be then. If we’re not here by then… well, wait for us. I’ll leave you some beads to buy lunch with.”

Yhorj nodded. “Got it, Lord Rian.”

“No booze, all right? I don’t want to see what happens when someone tries to guide the ship after they’d been drinking.”

I deliberately did not notice Yhorj rolling his eyes at me. “Understood, Lord Rian.”

Look, if I hadn’t made it explicit, someone would have thought to do it! They’re all good men, and I trust them… but I also know what sorts of things people can get up to if you leave them wiggle room!

Yhoe the dockmaster didn’t come to meet us as the Coldhold approached one of the docks and let me, Multaw, and Liggs off. I caught a glimpse of him keeping watch over proceedings and directing the dayshift dockworkers, looking very busy. He saw me, and I waved and mouthed ‘later’ at him, pointing towards the Coldhold, and to my relief he nodded in understanding and waved to tell me to go. Hopefully we both understood that I meant I’d settle the matter of any extant docking fees later. These sorts of gestures weren’t infallible communication, after all.

Let off the hook, walking sticks in hand, we headed out into the city to check in on our prospective Deadspeaker recruits and see who had decided to accept out offer.

While it would be difficult if they all decided to refuse, it would also awkward if all of them accepted. Still, I’d rather deal with the latter problem than the former. It was easier to turn someone down than it was to try to convince them to change their mind.

…

No, either way it was going to be very awkward for me.

And after I find out which ones have decided to accept our invitation… well, I was going to have to see Ravia and inquire about renting one of their carts and someone to help push it along for the day.

We’re not going to carry all their stuff by hand to the Coldhold, after all. That was just asking to get robbed in the street. All it took was someone willing to make a snatch and run…

Yeah, I was definitely going to ask Ravia if I could borrow a cart.

Already sweating, I headed towards the nearest of our prospective recruits, hoping they were home and that I had remembered the way properly.

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Siblings

Since we were having a late start, we grabbed a few chlyp skewers for a hasty breakfast from a street stall, and two buns each from a bakery so we'd have energy for all the walking we'd be doing today. Fortunately, the walking helped me shed my sleepiness, but I still felt tired. That would pass later in the morning, I knew, but for the moment I was simply going to be miserable.

We checked up on Master Yhosed's recommendation first, since he was nearby. I'd told him, as I had told all our prospective recruits, that I would come back in a couple of days so they'd have time to consider our offer. Wizard Lidzuga and his sister lived in a small room in a boarding house, one of those depressing places that seemed more a place to sleep than it was a place to live, though perhaps that was just my bias after living in Lorian. There were no families, for one thing, and I'd been told during the small talk stage of our discussion that the one married couple had been told to move out when the women had gotten pregnant.

Thankfully, my worry that Lidzuga wasn't going to be in was groundless. I found him sitting on a bench outside of the boarding house, working on what looked like a wobbly-looking chair, a wooden mallet in hand. He was gently tapping at pegs and tenons to firm it up, then seemed to be using Deadspeaking to fuse the pieces together to secure it. At least, it seemed to wobble less and less as Lidzuga worked. Clad in pale, tan-colored cloudbloom trousers and a short-sleeved shirt with the expected sweat stains, his pale red hair was wet with sweat and tied back with a cloth to keep it out of his eyes as he worked, but he looked up as I approached, and his face broke into a wide, happy smile.

"Tah, Rian!" he greeted, swinging the wooden mallet in little arcs in lieu of a wave as he kept one hand on the chair, no doubt to maintain whatever meaning was in progress. "I've been waiting for you."

"I hope that means good news, then?" I said. "Ah, Lidzuga, these are Multaw and Liggs. I brought them along in case any heavy lifting was needed."

"Tah," he greeted, waving the wooden mallet again. "Well, it depends on what you mean by good news. My sister said she wouldn't decide to go until after she'd met you." One shoulder went up and down in a shrug, as if to encapsulate the eternal unscrutable mystery that was sisters.

I nodded in understanding. As a man with a sister—even if I hadn't seen her in six, no, seven years—I knew well what he meant. "I see. Is she in at the moment?"

"She should be coming back from the bakery," he said, looking down the street, the opposite way we’d come. “Actually, there she is now.”

I followed his gaze, trying to figure out who it was by process of elimination. I didn’t have to think to hard about it, as the Deadspeaker’s sister was obvious by how she was looking directly at him. She had a displeased expression on her face that made me want to make myself scarce out of reflex, though that was hopefully from being out in this heat. Her hair was a vibrant red that was tinging towards orange where her brother’s was pale, and she cradled a carry cloth wrapped around a lumpy shape that was probably whatever she’d bought from the bakery.

“Lidz,” she said as soon as she was close, and I relaxed slightly at her easygoing tone, “we’re in luck, the bakery had just finished some meat rolls, so I got us some of those instead.”

“Thanks Kuw!” Lidzuga said. “Rian, this is my sister, Kutago. Kuw, this is Rian.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, going with an inoffensive, easygoing smile that would hopefully put her at ease.

My efforts slammed face-first into a wall, no doubt squashing its nose and perhaps losing some front teeth as Kutago narrowed her eyes suspiciously at me. “So you’re the one who’s trying to lure my brother to some other demesne,” she said.

“That’s me,” I said, giving her a small wave. “He said you wanted to meet me?”

She nodded curtly even as she handed the carry cloth to her brother, who began to unwrap it. “I had some questions about your offer.”

“I’d be happy to answer them, if I can,” I said as Lidzuga drew out a what was probably a meat roll. “What are they?”

Inwardly, I braced myself for a rejection. He didn't looklike he was looking for a reason to refuse, like abruptly saying 'ah, you don't have a library? Sorry, I have to refuse, I couldn't possibly live in a demesne without a proper library' or something like that. The sister though… well, she was actually doing the smart thing, getting more details about important matters, but that was close enough to make little practical difference.

“My brother tells me that you claim to have survived three dragons so far,” Kutago said. “I’d like to hear the details about how you did so.”

…

Well, this was awkward. On the one hand, it would be a simple matter to outline our preparations. It… might sound a little unbelievable—I honestly don’t know how well it compares to the speed in which infrastructure got built in the demesnes outside of Covehold—but I could probably explain it as Lori being… well, Lori. 'Our Dungeon Binder puts a lot of importance on infrastructure' is a reasonable explanation.

The problem there was a good chance that Lidzuga and his sister were going to end up living in River's Fork, which… well, didn't have Lorian's extensive infrastructure. It had a dragon shelter now, but…

Wait, perhaps this wasn't an issue. A Deadspeaker surely counted as important personnel. Surely they'd be moved to Lorian to keep them safe in the event of a dragon… right?

I was mildly terrifying that while I was mostly certain Lori would do the right thing—or at least the thing that would preserve lives—I wasn't absolutely sure.

My thoughts were interrupted as Lidzuga patted the bench next to him. “Well, if we’re going to be talking, the two of you better sit,” He said. The meat roll in his other hand already had a bite in it. “You need to eat to, Kuw. You want some, Rian?”

I shook my head, even as I accepted his invitation and sat down. “We already ate before coming here, but thank you for the offer.”

Kutago rolled her eyes but sat down on her brother’s other side, reaching into the carry cloth to get a meat bun herself.

I took a deep breath as I sat down, looking like I was organizing my thoughts, and helped by the fact that was exactly what I was doing. "Well, to start with, our Dungeon Binder was particular about where they formed the dungeon's core for the demesne," I said. "They were very particular about how the core needed to be inside a cave of a moderately large hill…"

The two of them listened as I listed all the particular features of that Lori had made over the past seasons, slowly eating through the baked meat buns. I admitted to the hurried excavation she'd done when she'd felt the original dragon arriving, of the water reservoir she'd dug out and filled, of how she'd stayed up all night to maintain the, in hindsight, very rudimentary defenses she'd made. Of how the Dungeon had become a dining hall, which it basically still was to this day. The cramped and slightly inadequate in-dungeon bath. The second level she'd excavated, which was still bigger than they really needed, so the unused rooms were used for grain storage, the carpenters, the weavers, the ropers and the gristmill. The still-unfinished but still-expanding dungeon farm, all the water systems, the cold rooms, the ventilation…

I also delved into the defenses Lori had set up for when there were dragons. The hot moat, the binding of lightningwisps, the vents that let use draw in fresh air, the darkwisps…

It was actually quite impressive when I listed it all out like that, and Lidzuga seemed to think so too as he listened with rapt attention, occasionally asking how effective the defenses had been. The chair in his hands continued to move as he tapped the pegs and tenons back into holes and mortices before he fused them whole with Deadspeaking. While that probably wasn’t very complicated and taxing work, it spoke well of both his capabilities and experience that he managed it while listening to me speak. Hopefully his work when something had his full attention was commensurately more capable.

"That sounds like a fair-sized dungeon," he said as he finally set the chair aside. The chair now stood solidly, no longer loose and wobbling. "A lot of the surviving demesnes have dug out dungeons themselves, or hired Whisperers and Mentalists to dig it for them, but I've always heard they get fairly cramped. Yours doesn't seem to have that problem."

I shrugged. "Our Dungeon Binder has good motivation to keep expanding the dungeon. The excavated stone is our primary building material because it's so plentiful and relatively easy to shape."

"Hmm… yes, I can see that…" the Deadspeaker nodded. "And you said any stone that hasn't been used for building is used to reinforce the front of the dungeon. It all sounds better than the colored dragon shelters around here."

“That wouldn’t be hard to do,” Kutago grumbled. Her suspicion and curtness had softened as I’d explained about our dungeon’s defenses, and she’d asked her own questions as well, about practical logistical matter like ‘how was the waste in the dungeon dealt with’. Fortunately, that was something I could answer, since it was part of my duties to make sure it was being done. Lori might have a private bathroom, but she didn’t have a private latrine, so I had the dungeon’s kept clean, emptied, and as fresh-smelling as we could manage.

"It can't be too bad, if you're still alive to complain about them," I said.

The two siblings exchanged looks.

"Well, I suppose it's enough to keep people alive, but every dragon it seems like the shelters get more and more cramped and uncomfortable," Lidzuga said. "The Horotracts taking shelter with us have to keep taking shifts to give us all enough space to breathe. I think we've petitioned for the shelter near us to be expanded twice already, but from what I've heard the soonest any expansion work is likely to begin is next red month."

"Oh."

Kutago sighed. "It's not so bad all over. I've heard that the population in the area simply grew larger than was planned for, but… well, unfortunately we don’t really have time to go looking for a new boarding house we can afford in a part of the demesne with a nicer shelter."

I resisted the urge to tell them how our demesne doesn't have that problem and just nodded. No need to come on too strongly.

For a moment, the three of us sat in silence.

“So…” I said awkwardly, “while I don’t want to rush you… we plan to leave some time tomorrow. If you’re going to decide to turn down our offer… well, either way I need to know sooner rather than later so I know what to prepare the ship for.”

The siblings looked at each other, and Lidzuga gave his sister an expectant look.

She sighed. “Fine, fine. You can go have your adventure, exploring strange new lands and seek out new beasts and bugs to draw and study.”

“What do you mean ‘my’ adventure? You’re the one who decided to come to the new continent with me!”

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t just go rushing into trouble. You wouldn’t have even asked about their shelter’s conditions if I hadn’t reminded you.”

“I assumed they must have one if they’d survived this long.”

I felt like an intruder as the sibling bickering to place. Really, hadn’t they ever learned they needed to keep disagreements like that private? It was the sort of thing an unscrupulous manipulator could use to drive a wedge between them to separate them and leave one or the other more vulnerable.

I missed it so much…

Hoping that my own sister was doing well, I waited for the two of them to remember I was still here.

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A Large Cart

Once the two of them stopped their sisterly bickering, they went inside to start packing, as well as speak with the one they were renting their room from to end their rent. Since the room was cramped, us going inside to help them would be more hindrance than help, so I told them I'd come back to help them move later that afternoon after I checked on our other prospective candidates.

After much walking, we arrived at the town house where Sharrod and his cousins lived. It was actually more like a row of town houses, and might actually be worthy of being called houses. While still one-room affairs, they were bigger, and could actually fit a decent-sized family if they all slept on the floor on bedrolls. All the rooms shared a long wooden porch, presumably so people would have a place to take off muddy shoes during rainy days or something like that. A few of the had a small bench in front, or small pots and planters full of small, flowering shrubs and what looked like fast-growing herbs.

After sternly reminding Multaw and Liggs to not laugh at the man's name—and patiently waiting for them to get the snickers out now so they wouldn't come out later—I knocked on the door and waited.

No one answered.

I frowned and listened at the door. While it wasn't some flimsy thing, it wasn't all that thick, and there were enough gaps around it that I if there was anyone inside the room, I would likely be able to hear them.

"Are you looking for Sharrod?"

I blinked and turned to the side to find a motherly-looking woman who was… well, probably at least ten years older than me, maybe more. As I'd said before, I was terrible at being able to tell how old someone was. "Yes, mistress," I said. "I expected him to be here, but…" I let my shrug summarize the entire situation.

"Ah, you must be the one he told me about," she said. "Reen, right?"

"…" I '…'-ed. "Most likely."

She nodded. "He told me to tell you he was turning down your offer."

Oh. "Oh," I said. "That's too bad. Did he say why?"

Instead of shrugging, the woman said, "He didn't say it, but he managed to get a job in old Tunhem's workshop, and the old softie lets him brings his cousins along. Tunhem's wife watches them, I think. After her own children moved out, she's been feeling lonely…"

I nodded amiably as the woman proceeded to go on about the workshop master's wife, and how what a nice thing she was doing taking care of those children, they'd lost their mother and father last winter when some gang toughs had robbed them for the bread they'd just bought and their beads, it had been so sad but thank goodness the one's responsible had been caught and hung up by their necks by the rest of the neighborhood, and it was a good thing that the neighborhood mayor hadn't interfered when he was so lazy that they had to do his job of dealing with the gangs for him…

Eventually we were able to extricate ourselves from the admittedly nice woman, and began walking towards our last prospective recruit.

"I'd just like to say, I'd very much appreciate it if people leave the 'hang by the neck' decisions to me," I told Multaw and Liggs as we walked. "Or better yet, to Lori. "

"Don't worry, L—Rian," Multaw said. "We know to keep it to a good beating if someone needs to get the colors washed off them. Though for something like that…"

"Oh, if someone did something like that back home, Lori would probably have them put to death," I said. "She'd probably just want to do it in some terrible Whisperer way that she'd been warned of to not do, and that would be her chance to find out why." Tellingly, most of Lori's laws that sentenced death on being broken had her acting as her own executioner.

I hoped she never actually had to do it.

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It was almost midafternoon by the time we reached the boarding house where Deadspeaker Taeclas and her wife lived. It was similar to the previous row of town houses, though the individual rooms were much smaller. Instead of being laid out in a line, the town houses were arrange in a square, with a small inner courtyard that served as a shared, semi-private space for the residents. It was one of several square-arranged boarding houses in the neighborhood, hinting at some kind of previous mass-housing project. As I had learned when I had visited the Deadspeaker last time, their particular block used the inner courtyard as a vegetable garden, with pots full of tubers, vegetables like sharrod, nigrum, manhood roots and other vegetables that I couldn't easily identify.

Unlike the previous places we had visited, Taeclas' room was a center of activity. Multaw, Liggs and I watched in bemusement for a moment, standing a little distance back where we wouldn't get in anyone's way. Women of various ages were coming and go from other rooms in the town house block and nearby blocks, while some men were carrying out wrapped bundles secured by cord and standing guard over it in case of opportunists. For some reason, there was a line of people holding various different planters containing some kind of vegetables, herbs or spices.

At the head of the line was Taeclas, her long light-brown hair tied back in a tail to keep it out of her pale green eyes as she examined such a potted plant sitting on a stool. She was holding a pair of scissors, but from the way she handled it the Deadspeaker was probably using it as a conduit to pass magic through, probably so she didn't get pricked by bristles and thorns or those really annoying fine needles you almost couldn't see. I hated those.

For someone who was described as being a slow but exceptional worker, Taeclas was finished with the little plant very quickly and handed it back to its owner with a smile and a few words. They chatted briefly, but the man quickly made way for the next person in line, who placed their planter on the stool, and Taeclas went to work with her scissors.

It was a few more plants before the Deadspeaker finally saw us waiting there. She excused herself to the person who's plant she was working on—from the leaves, it was a tuber plant—before hurrying towards us with a big smile on her face. "Rian!" she called. "I was wondering where you were!"

"Sorry, we—" was all I managed to say before in found myself being enfolded by a quick but friendly hug.

"Hmm??" Taeclas said as she stepped back. "What was that? You just trailed off suddenly."

I shook my head. Right, right, Taeclas was one of those very physical people. Considering she was a Deadspeaker, Lori was probably going to grab my shirt and use me as a literal shield more often, wasn't she? "Just surprised. Sorry, we had to meet with the other Deadspeaker we recruited. What's going on here, though?"

"Oh, our friends in the neighborhood are helping us pack," Taeclas said. "Rybelle is inside making sure everything is packed and cleaning the room so that it will be ready for someone else to live in." She sighed. "I hope whoever lives there next is as happy as we were."

"So should I take this to mean that you've decided to accept our offer?" I said.

"Oh, yes! Did I forget to say?"

"You did."

"Then yes, we decided to accept your offer," she said brightly.

I nodded. "May I ask why? While I'm glad you decided to accept, I didn't think it was likely you would. You seem… happy here."

Taeclas sighed. "We are, but… well, Master Cralk has been really kind, but we can barely pay the rent since I don't have regular work, and Ribelle's job as a weaver working for Mistress Alanya just isn't enough. We discussed it for a long time, and… well, we both agreed that doing this was for the best."

For a moment, I wondered how the sudden return of relatively cheap, usable wispbeads would affect the carpentry workshops of Covehold Demesne. It would very likely increase their productivity, but would that lead to them being able to hire more people? Would it result in Taeclas being able to find a more regular job?

"Are you sure about this?" I found myself asking. "It's not that we don't want you, but… "

Taeclas shook her head. "It's fine. Rybelle and I have been discussing moving out to one of the farming communities on the edges, or one of the other demesne that raises a lot of crops like Jinan Demesne. The fact you're actually recruiting us… well, you promised there's no rent on the house, right?"

I nodded. "No rent. And the people are very friendly once you get to know them." Even the malcontents were nice to talk to once they stopped complaining and began to appreciate how good their life actually was.

The Deadspeaker smiled. "Well, it sounds like we have that to look forward to as well."

I nodded, then gestured towards the pile of wrapped things. It had gotten bigger in the time I'd looked away. One large, lumpy bundle bore the unmistakable outlines of pots and pans. Next to it was what looked suspiciously like a dismantled table. "Is this everything you're bringing?" I asked.

"Oh no, Rybelle is still wrapping up the rest, and there's still my little darlings in the garden. And a few we'll be giving back to friends who let us borrow them or giving them away to those who need them."

I breathed a small sigh of relief at that, but even so, the pile was intimidating. "Why don't I go and see if I can borrow a cart to help carry all this?" I gave the pile another look. "A large cart."

"Oh, would you?" Taeclas said, a large, relieved smile on her face.

"Sure. We'll need it for the things our other recruit will be carrying anyway. Though… we won't be leaving until tomorrow. Will you be fine sleeping here with so many things packed up?"

"Oh! I'll tell Rybelle so she won’t pack the bedrolls and pillows."

"And I'll go see about that cart," I said.

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Fortunately, Ravia was quite understanding about letting me borrow a cart. I offered to rent it, especially since he was having three of their men come with us to help push it through the streets, but he insisted on the assistance. They apparently had few deliveries due this late in the day, so there were a few carts free. In the end, I talked him down to letting me pay for the three men's dinner, as well as giving them a little extra… and discreetly asking how much was a good amount.

Then I had to ask for a few more beads from the amount they owed us, to pay for it all.

"By the way," I said as a cart was readied. "Did Deadspeaker Telref choose to take a job with you? He hasn't shown up at our appointed meeting spot yet."

"Ah, I believe he has," Ravia said after a moment's thought. "Would you like to check the scrap room?"

It turned out that Telref had accepted the job with them. He was apologetic about not meeting with me, but had thought that him not showing up would have made his decision clear. Honestly, it was an understandable sentiment, but I was a bit annoyed he hadn't thought I deserved the courtesy of refusing me to my face. Still, it was a small matter, and as I wouldn't have to work with him ever again, I could afford to part ways with an understanding nod and an amiable handshake as wished him well.

Hopefully the many would be able to get more sleep now. He looked exhausted.