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 house where Sharrod and his cousins lived. It was actually more like a row of 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 them 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 ones 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 mid-afternoon 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 arranged 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 and vegetables like sharrod, nigrum, clapper 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 going 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 kinds 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 most likely 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 put away 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 Rybelle's job as a weaver working for Mistress Alanya and working at the greengrocer's in the morning 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 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 I wished him well.

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