“And now, half of them disbanded are, and no more need for extra clerks.” That was certainly true enough. Just as it was true that an Army the size of the one that Sendar had assembled had required a vast force of people to support it.

“Which is why I’m back—” Her smile spread. “But of course, the reason I’m not back at my old job is because I was replaced. Which I was, but when I was Chosen. So—”

“A job you must have.” He frowned over that thought.

“Not necessarily—”

“No, wait—an idea I have. The Bell. That is safe enough. A note I will leave; it will be arranged, should anyone ask.” Not that anyone would; no one was likely to ask about a minor clerk and accountant, but it was best to cover every contingency. “For the master, you do the records, and the taproom clerk you are, also. You board there as well.” This was common enough. Just because people were supposed to be literate didn’t mean they were good at reading and writing. Often enough, they were willing to pay someone else to write a letter for them—and of course, any legal documents absolutely required a clerk to draw them up.

“That’ll do.” She sighed with satisfaction. “I like to have everything set out, just in case.”

“As do I. Alike, we think, in that way.” And before he could say anything else, although there were a couple of half-formed ideas in the back of his head, it was too late to say anything.

Because the Three Sheaves was looming before them, and with it, a good-sized crowd milling about at the door, waiting to get into the courtyard for the performance. They joined it, and at that point, kept their conversation to commonplaces.

* * *