The cloth still covered the object.

Beorn stood at the end of the table, turning a wooden letter block between his fingers. The frame had already been set before the girls arrived. He had no practical reason to handle the type. The motion looked more like he was gathering his thoughts.

"Every settlement in the protectorate gets its decrees, notices, and orders the same way."

He started to explain. "A clerk copies them by hand, one letter at a time. One town means one copy. Ten towns means ten clerks spending ten afternoons writing the same thing."

He returned the block to its tray.

"The real question is what happens when making another copy costs nothing."

Beadu eyed the covered object. She had been staring at it since the previous lesson ended.

"Some of us have been exercising remarkable restraint, so if you please just told us what it is."

Aestrith remained in her corner, studying the shape beneath the cloth.

"He’s talking about producing text in quantity."

"Indeed."

Beorn pulled the cloth away.

The machine stood on a four-legged wooden frame at table height. An iron screw dominated the design, descending from a crossbeam overhead. The threads were coarse and familiar. Tam recognized them immediately from the boring machine.

At the bottom of the screw sat a flat iron plate. Beneath that rested a press bed holding a rectangular iron frame packed with cast letter blocks. Each block was roughly the size of a thumbnail. Each carried a raised letter on its face.

A cloth ink pad sat nearby, dark with lampblack. A stack of vellum waited on a board to the right.

Tam stepped closer and examined the screw. She held a hand near it without touching.

"Oh! The um, boring machine. This was made with it."

"Correct, Tam," Beorn agreed. "Just solving a different problem."

Beadu had already reached the type case. She picked up a loose letter block and tilted it toward the lamp. The raised letter looked wrong.

"This letter is backwards."

Beorn chuckled lightly, "It has to be. The printed image reverses when it transfers to the page. If the block faces the normal way, the text comes out backwards. Reverse the letters here and they read right on paper."

Beadu studied the block, then looked at the rows of prepared type in the frame.

"I get it, I think." She made a face. "Still looks really odd."

Leof had wandered over to the trays where the letters were sorted. She picked up two blocks from the same compartment and held them side by side.

Same size. Same shape. Same reversed letter.

Beorn picked up the ink pad and drew it slowly across the type. Then he did it again. A thin, even layer of black coated every raised surface.

Beadu wrinkled her nose.

"That smell."

He shrugged, "Lampblack and linseed oil. The soot comes from lamp glass. Grind it fine enough, mix it with oil, and it spreads evenly."

He placed a sheet of vellum on the press bed, aligned it carefully, then gripped the handle attached to the screw.

He turned.

The plate descended.

The vellum pressed firmly against the inked type.

Two full rotations.

No more.

No less.

Then he reversed the motion.

The plate rose.

He removed the sheet and held it up.

A line of text appeared in crisp black letters. Every character matched the others in size, darkness, and pressure. The result looked mechanical because it was. No copyist working by hand had ever produced that level of consistency through thousands of hours of writing.

Beorn waited.

Tam stepped forward first. She read the line, then looked toward Beadu.

Beadu took the sheet. Reading still required concentration, so she held it close to the lamp.

"For Beadu. Lesson Nine."

She paused. "’Copy the following before your next session with your teacher, and do not arrive without having done so.’"

She lowered the page and stared at Beorn with a gaze that could only be described as resentful.

"Ugh... homework."

"Yes."

Beorn placed a second sheet onto the bed.

The screw descended.

Two turns.

The screw reversed.

The plate rose.

He removed the second sheet and laid it beside the first.

The two copies matched perfectly.

He repeated the process with a third sheet.

Down.

Two turns.

Up.

The third copy joined the others.

All three sat side by side.

"One machine. Unlimited copies."

He did not touch the frame.

Beadu stared at the pages. Three identical assignments. All addressed to her.

"So..."

"Yes?"

"This is just an example, right. A demonstration for the machine."

"Incorrect. That’s your homework for tomorrow. I got it from your tutor."

She picked up the sheets and compared them one after another.

"I now possess three copies," she lamented. "Of homework."

"That is indeed the case."

"I can’t claim I lost it."

"It would be quite absurd to lose all three copies."

Tam was already staring at the press.

"If I wrote something embarrassing about Beadu," she imagined, "I could make twenty copies."

Beadu looked up sharply.

"You absolutely wouldn’t."

"I absolutely would."

Tam glanced back at the machine.

Her eyes widened. "Or letters. You wouldn’t have to write them over and over. Just make a stack."

Beadu set two sheets down and kept hold of the third.

"You could give everyone dozens of homework."

A look crossed her face.

She pointed accusingly at Beorn.

"This machine was invented by teachers."

"One of its many uses." Beorn nodded with a small smile.

Beadu narrowed her eyes.

"Evil."

Leof ran a fingertip across the printed text.

"The ink isn’t the only thing left behind."

She traced one character slowly.

"You can feel the words."

Aestrith finally pushed away from the wall.

She examined the sheets, then the press, then the stack of waiting vellum.

"One arrangement of reports can reach every settlement in the protectorate."

She considered the proper applications. "Every copy arrives the same. And after the first setup, each additional copy requires almost no extra labor."

Beorn glanced at her.

"That without mentioning recording, too."

The smell of lampblack hung in the room alongside iron, oil, and the faint residue from the earlier match demonstration.

Beadu walked to the type case.

She selected the letters E, V, I and L.

Then she placed them into the frame in the order she normally read them.

That seemed reasonable.

She inked the type.

Placed a sheet.

Pressed.

Lifted.

Then read the result.

LIVE

She frowned.

Then read it again.

"It came out backwards."

Beorn sighed, "Because the frame must also be backwards. The letters reverse once during printing. Place them in normal order and the entire word reverses."

Beadu looked from the printed sheet to the frame.

"So the last letter goes in first."

"As I explained before."

"And I put toward the first letter."

"Correct."

She took the arrangement apart and started over.

L.

Then I.

Then V.

Then E.

She inked the type again.

Placed a fresh sheet.

Turned the screw with both hands.

Applied pressure.

Released.

Lifted.

EVIL.

She set the page on the table and read it twice.

"Huh."

The result felt suspiciously easy considering how much effort it had taken to understand.

Tam had already moved to another section of the case.

She assembled a short line of type with practiced efficiency.

Ink.

Press.

Lift.

She glanced at the result.

"Tam’s Foundry Diary."

A small nod.

"It would be much easier to keep a diary like this..."

Beorn was slightly confused what was a foundry diary in the first place.

Leof approached the trays with a clear objective.

She selected four blocks and set them in place.

Inked.

Pressed.

Lifted.

LEOF.

She placed the sheet beside the others.

She offered no explanation.

Aestrith studied the growing collection on the table. Beorn’s demonstration copies. Beadu’s evil. Tam’s diary. Leof’s name.

"The consistency is a bit of a surprise. The letters look identical."

"Very much so, standardization is a rather large reason of why it’s useful."

"Again that word. Standardization, you really love to say it."

Beorn began returning the type to its proper compartments. The process was methodical. The demonstration was over. Real work would come next.

As he worked, his attention drifted to a shelf behind the press.

Multiple objects sat there beneath cloth coverings.

Different sizes.

Different shapes.

The smallest looked about the size of two clenched fists. One was much larger.

Beadu followed his gaze.

For the first time, she studied the shelf properly.

"There are more covered objects."

"Several more lessons’ worth. At least."

Beadu looked over the hidden inventions.

The spent matches remained at one end of the table.

The identical homework sheets sat nearby.

Her printed name rested beside them.

The press stood between everything, smelling of oil, ink, and possibility.

Then she looked back at the shelf.

"How many things do you have hidden under those cloths?"

Beorn considered the question while staring at the row of covered shapes.

"Enough to keep me busy. Come, I’ll show you."