Miss Hartwright vanished into the back with Mr. Lusian, leaving Alicia alone with walls of used books. She took a deep breath and sighed contentedly. Perhaps it was the fond memories of small bookstores that Christine had harbored, or perhaps it was the similarity to the library at the Senius estate, but she felt at ease here. She walked closer to examine one of the shelves in greater detail; the books were largely disorganized, and if there was a pattern, it wasn’t one that she could see. Looking closer she could see that while many looked to be used, a good percentage shared the same cardstock covers, although they had been scattered about to disguise their commonality. That would have to change, she thought to herself.

The sound of soft footsteps came from the back door. She glanced over to see a young girl, wearing a faded-light blue dress with a mismatched mid-calf skirt, and holding a large hardcover book in front of her like a shield. The girl had silky brown hair and soft hazel eyes, which were currently watching Alicia with a guarded expression.

Alicia looked back. “Hello,” she said after a moment.

“Hello,” the girl replied, her voice quiet.

“My name is Alice,” Alicia said. “Are you Elizabeth, then?”

“Ah--yes, I am.” She opened her mouth, but seemed to not find the right words to follow up that thought.

After an awkward pause, Alicia said “What are you reading?”

The girl’s face lit up. “It’s a treatise on advancements in warfare in the last century. I just now was reading about the parallel development of firearms and magnolic warding. Apparently there’s a big debate over whether to use Kinetic, Material, or Entropic shielding, and the dominant usage has changed several times. The author seems to favor Entropic, since it’s more reliable, but it’s also less efficient in terms of magnolium consumption.” She seemed to realize herself then and visibly deflated, looking at the floor. “I apologize, Miss Alice. I’m sure that I have bored you; I have a tendency to run my mouth when I get excited.”

“Not at all,” Alicia replied. “In fact, I am quite intrigued by that subject. Why are the Entropic wards less efficient?”

Elizabeth set the book down on the counter, opening it up to a page marked by a worn bookmark. Alicia stepped over and peered down to see dense text intermixed with several equations that she recognized as dealing with velocity, momentum, and heat exchange. “The Entropic wards work by producing a localized explosion when disturbed, which shatters the bullet and reflects shrapnel backwards. It is generally effective, but can cause secondary harm to nearby combatants and requires a constant amount of magnolium for every projectile stopped. In comparison, Kinetic wards stop or redirect the projectile efficiently, but are only reliable if one can adequately calibrate them for the velocity of the incoming attack.”

Alicia’s eyes latched onto one equation on the page. As near as she could tell, it was a calculation of magnolic power required to stop a projectile in its tracks. “The magnolic consumption scales linearly with the acceleration? Could you not just use a slower stopping power over a longer distance, to account for the difference?” She looked further at the equation, and then understanding stuck her. “Ah, but that term there marks the distance from the ward, and the effective force decays quadratically with that distance. I suppose that does make some sense…”

She trailed off as she noticed Elizabeth looking at her with wide eyes, and now it was Alicia’s turn to flush. After a moment, the other girl spoke. “You truly do have an interest,” she said at last.

“Of course I do,” Alicia replied, more than a little indignant. “Did you think that I had lied?”

“No, of course not!” came the alarmed response from the girl. “I just thought that you may have said it to be polite, and I at times can mistake such niceties as an unfounded invitation to speak my mind.”

“Rest assured, Elizabeth; I will not stand on such niceties with you. If I find something tedious, I will not hesitate to inform you.” It was only after saying this that Alicia remembered that she had come to the shop in disguise, and that the privileges of rank did not currently excuse such rudeness. She was about to apologize for her behavior when Elizabeth spoke.

“I should like that far more than the other option,” the girl said. Her voice took on a pained quality. “Most people think that my interests are peculiar. Or rather, they think I am peculiar to be interested in such things, and they find my conversation tiresome. Yet often they do not tell me, and I have difficulty picking up on their disinterest until they leave.”

“Well, perhaps you are peculiar,” Alicia replied, “yet what is so wrong with that?” The subject was near to her heart, and even as she spoke she was not seeing the girl in front of her, but rather the image of her father saying, ‘if only you had been born a man’. It had hurt then, though she had been forced to hide it, and she could tell that this girl had been through a similar pain, many times over.

She carried on. “If you are peculiar, I must be so as well, for I am intrigued by such things as well. Indeed, what is wrong with being peculiar? All it means is that you are different from what others expect of you, and I find no harm inherent in that. The great poets and philosophers, the great scientists and magicians, they must all have been deemed to be peculiar in their time. Yet their names have been stamped into our histories, while the others have faded away in time. Our society would have us be meek, and demure, and take interest only in the limited scope of life which they see fit. I would rather be labeled peculiar a thousand times over, to be sure, than let pieces of myself die off to satisfy someone else’s vision.”

She found herself a bit breathless at the end of this proclamation. Elizabeth was looking at her with an expression of wonderment and admiration that could not fail to induce strong feelings of embarrassment. She coughed, changing the subject. “In any event, you mentioned something about a third type of ward, did you not? I would like to know about that as well.”

~*~

Mary was led by Mr. Lusian through the back door, leaving Lady Alicia behind in the front room. She was a little hesitant to leave the lady’s side, but she had been entrusted with this task, and she meant to see it through. She just hoped that her charge would not find the company of Mr. Lusian’s niece to be overly offensive.

“Can I get you anything?” Mr. Lusian asked her, his hands fidgeting slightly. “Perhaps that cup of tea I mentioned? I have a blend from the East Indies.”

“I would appreciate that,” she said. He moved to the back of the room, where she saw what was unmistakably a prototype of a steam engine. By the way he was using it now, it seemed that it would double as a kettle. It was an eccentricity, to be sure, but hardly his only one, judging by the state of the backroom.

The whole of the space was about the same size as the front, and shared many of the same characteristics. It was dimly lit here as well, also by a cheap magnolic lighting fixture, and in a state of somewhat organized disorder, and the stale scent of paper was quite strong, to the point that she almost felt like holding her nose. One table held a box containing a pile of the poorly made sheets, while another box seemed to hold containers of a dark powder, which was most likely mixed to make ink. A second table had a few unfinished books, which seemed to be in the process of being made, with several sheets of paper in the middle of being folded into individual pages. Discarded to the side was a stack of envelopes, most of them seemingly unopened.

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Much of the available space, however, was dominated by a large metal contraption, which she realized after a moment must be the printing press. It was bulky, formed primarily of a large metal drum suspended by a mess of gears, all resting on a flat metal plate. It was quite obviously cobbled together from spare parts, as few of the gears shared any uniform properties, and some were even of different materials. Despite that, it was quite unlike any other design she had ever seen. In her time at the Academy, she had seen a number of presses, and they all followed the same general schematic. Movable type made of metal was arranged to create the text of the book, and then was either coated with ink or imbued with magnolic power. Paper would be pressed down onto the type with a heavy block, until the text was properly printed. This design, with its rotating drum, was quite different.

“How do you like the Beast?” Mr. Lusian’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He was returning with two tin mugs filled near to the brim. “Ah, the Beast is what I like to call the press, on account of her appearance. I designed it myself, although I had some help with the construction.” He offered one cup to her.

She took it with a demure nod, murmuring her thanks. A sip showed it to be about the quality she had expected. “How does it work? Do you feed the page in through the top, or the bottom?”

“Through the top, and it is pressed against the type at the bottom. The type actually moves back as well, to refresh the ink, although I still need to do some fine-tuning on that account.”

“And this is better than the standard design?” Mary asked, without any hostility.

“Ah, well, the current production is about the same as my old press. However, that is largely due to the necessity of turning the drum with a hand crank. I am convinced, if I could get access to a proper steam engine, that I could double the rate, at least. Perhaps even more.”

Mary took another sip of tea as she thought. Here was a golden opportunity, more than Lady Alicia could have even predicted. Or perhaps the Lady had seen even further than Mary had expected, had anticipated that capital was exactly what Mr. Lusian would need right now. And perhaps that had been a sign of genius, and perhaps it had been something more. Although that line of thought was dangerous to pursue.

Out loud, she said, “Mr. Lusian, how much would you need to develop such a working design?”

He looked at her with a sudden interest. The question was inherently enticing; implied was the assertion that, however much he needed, she might be able to supply it. “Well, the biggest issue is the steam engine, which might be near nine sterling on its own. Then another nine or so to get the gears and other parts replaced, to be able to handle that level of power. If it got working, the printing would be fast enough that I’d need to higher another pair of hands to keep up with the output, in terms of the rest of the binding process.”

“What would you say to a twenty five sterling investment? In return, the Akari Corporation would receive twenty percent ownership in your company, and an additional five percent of all future profits for both the books and the press?” She said it casually, as if she handled these kinds of transactions all the time.

“Do you believe that this invention is worth less than two gildlillies?” His words made him sound affronted by her offer, but she had seen the moment of surprise and excitement that had first flashed across his face.

“Frankly, Mr. Lusian, I would be surprised if your business was currently worth the property that it is on. Tell me, how much debt do you currently owe?” She gestured casually at the envelopes. It was a bit of a gamble, but not an unfounded one. The idea of printing cheap books was novel, but few other investors would have taken a risk on it, especially with the new technology that he was using. It was almost inevitable that Mr. Lusian would have gone into debt, and given the location of his store, it was equally probable that he had not been able to sell enough books to pay back those loans.

By his expression, she could see that her guess was correct. He had followed her gaze to the envelopes and then, recoiling at her words, had looked away. “Sixteen sterling, seven shill,” he said at last. “Although if we sell all of this new run, it would only be twelve sterling, three shill.”

Mary suppressed a smile that would have been positively predatory and quite unladylike. “And you would have been obligated to pay off your debt first, before you could invest in the machine. At least, I have trouble believing that your creditors would accept new purchases before you repay your loans.”

Mr. Lusian seemed to deflate at her words. She felt like she had his mettle, now; he was an idealist and an inventor, the kind of person who would rush headstrong into any exciting project only to be caught completely off guard by the practical restraints of good economy. If left unrestrained, such a man would surely fail, drowning in debt with little idea of how it could have occurred. However, with the right guidance, he could become a very rich man indeed.

“The first proposal still stands, but I have been authorized to offer you another one. The Akari corporation is willing to give you an immediate investment of fifty sterling. In return, the Akari corporation will have thirty percent ownership of your company, and will receive fifteen percent of all profits until you repay the investment, and ten percent in perpetuity afterwards.” She rattled off these figures quickly, as if it was completely routine for her. “Additionally, you will need to immediately pay off your debt and move your operations to a new store that is more centrally located, and you will need to consult with the Akari corporation for all major operational plans.”

He was looking at her with wary astonishment. After a moment, he spoke, his voice somewhat shaky. “Why me?”

She looked at him impassively. Silence was a useful tool, she found, often more effective than speaking.

“Please don’t misunderstand, I’m very grateful for the offer,” he said quite hurriedly. “It’s just, I’ve taken my ideas to several investors, and none of them have expressed an interest. Now you’re here, quite suddenly, and offering more money than I ever dared to ask for before. Surely you would agree that it is at least a little curious. I imagine there are plenty of other booksellers who would be able to turn a much quicker profit than I.”

“Perhaps in the short term, you are correct,” Mary replied. “However, the Akari corporation is not merely interested in such small trifles as making money. In fact, let me answer your question with one of my own. Mr. Lusian, why do you print your books on such cheap paper? Why do you sell them at the price that you do? I imagine that, with your clear ability, you could make much more by producing beautiful books for the rich and genteel.”

“Ah, well, I probably could. I have, in fact, in the past,” he replied. Mary patiently waited as he took a moment, visibly collecting his thoughts. “I have always loved books, ever since I was a young man. I come from a family of merchants, and while we weren’t rich, we were more well off than most. We only had the two books at our house, the Holy Scripture and a collection of faerie tales, both of which were older than my father and practically falling apart. I must have read every line of each of those books a hundred times.”

Mary nodded, almost unconsciously; her mother had owned a copy of the Scriptures as well, and Mary had read it, well, religiously. Mr. Lusian continued, “I almost joined the clergy, before I realized that it was the words I loved, more than the actual theology. Ah, not that I dislike the scripture, of course. After that, I apprenticed at a print shop, where I was exposed to so many more books, so many more ideas and stories than I had ever thought were possible. Everything I’ve learned,” he gestured here at the mechanical press in the middle of the room, “well, I learned from books. At some point I realized that most people would only ever see a proper book when a priest was reading from it. I suppose I just wanted to change that.”

Mary couldn’t help but respond to this surprisingly open confession, and she felt her gaze soften. Even if she was here just to convince him to accept the Lady’s offer, she empathized entirely with his sentiment. “It may surprise you, Mr. Lusian, but that is precisely the goal of the Akari corporation as well. You are a man who values morals over profit, which is quite a rare thing in these times. That is why the corporation chose you, Mr. Lusian. Now, do we have a deal?”