The afternoon meeting sees the introduction of printing with moveable type - in two different ways. Merizel struggles to keep up with the unusual girl the Queen introduced her to. Later, some news of a distant event is received and Garia finally learns some local geography.

Somewhere Else Entirely

by Penny Lane

20 - Of Type and Typing

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2011-2017 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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Garia introduced Merizel to Parrel, Tarvan and Pitchell in the small room assigned to them at the front of the palace. Garia was pleased to see the blackboard she had asked for, although Merizel frowned as she saw it. They all took seats and made themselves comfortable, Pitchell with a pile of parchment sheets in front of him in order to take notes, Parrel with a battered wooden box like a seedling tray in front of him.

"Before we begin, Mistress," Pitchell said, "I have with me the first draft of the numbers sheet we talked about at the last meeting. If you would like to check it and see if there are any obvious mistakes, I would be grateful."

Garia took the offered sheet and read through it. It was a curious document because she could only understand half of it, the half which comprised the set of Arabic numerals and examples of their usage in notation and simple arithmetic. The other half, the notes which would help others understand the numbers, was just a mass of squiggles.

She shrugged. "As far as I can see, Master Pitchell, it all looks as I would expect. The drawing of each number is very clear, your writing is very good."

Merizel's eyes narrowed. "Mistress, I was led to understand that you couldn't read?"

"I can't," Garia told her. "But read this yourself and you'll understand what's going on."

She passed the sheet to Merizel and turned back to Pitchell. Merizel took the sheet and started reading, the concentration plain on her face.

"Master Pitchell, it seems that Lady Merizel will also need a copy of this sheet."

Pitchell surprised Garia by grinning at her. "As you say, Mistress. It seems Lady Merizel will learn something new today. I have twelve scribes who will be copying this out, but even though it is but a single sheet production will be very slow because I am wary of allowing errors to creep into the process."

"That's why we're here today, Masters. There is a way to speed up the production of identical sheets like this, in my world we call that whole process printing. It will need both of you to make it work, and today I will try and describe it for you." She paused. "I'm not sure if the King will allow you to experiment just yet, Master Parrel, but there is a certain amount of design you can do before the next full council meeting."

"As you say, Mistress," Parrel replied. He in turn frowned. "I've been thinking about this business since you first mentioned it, Mistress, but I'm not sure I understand how you intend this to work. I can readily see that if I dip one of my stamps in ink and press it to a sheet of parchment I can produce a letter or a symbol, that is after all how Master Pitchell adds a diagram or an engraving to any of his documents, but that is but one letter and there will be many on a written page. I know that you may have a different way of doing it, but I can't work out how. Do you intend us to strike each stamp with a hammer, as I would do against a sheet of metal?"

Garia blinked. That never occurred to me, she thought. Yeah, it could be done that way, and that will give us a completely different device. Okay, then, let's do that one first.

"Actually," she said slowly, "it can be done almost that way, and this is as good a time as any to explain exactly how. This is a digression from what I came here to tell you, but I think it will be worth while." She smiled at them as she stood and walked to the blackboard. "The device I will tell you about first is called a typewriter."

In the workroom behind the bookshop there had been an ancient typewriter, long superseded by the inevitable computer systems, but it still had occasional uses such as labeling. Young Gary had played with the thing in idle moments during his childhood, when they lived over the shop, and learned how it worked. Garia now used these memories to draw the machine on the blackboard and attempt to explain its operation. The concepts of a platen which the paper was wrapped round, automatically advancing as every letter was struck, the ink-soaked ribbon which advanced from reel to reel, the idea of "upper case" and "lower case", the use of the word "key" to describe the pad one pressed to obtain a letter, all were accepted by his listeners.

"This sounds like an amazing machine, Mistress," Pitchell said when she had finished, "but I am unclear as to the purpose of it. This will only produce a single sheet at a time, won't it? Or have I misunderstood something?"

"No, you're quite correct, Master Pitchell," she said. "The advantages over hand-writing are clarity and speed. Clarity because the letter struck every time a key is pressed will be exactly the same quality as the last one. The letters we use are reduced down to essentials to ensure everyone can understand the message. Typewritten text is much easier to read than hand-written text. Speed, because almost anyone can operate a typewriter much, much faster than you could ever write the same thing using your pen and ink."

"I see that might be possible, Mistress. But, even faster than Quick Script?"

"I can't answer that, Master Pitchell. But, how many people can read Quick Script? You're writing it so fast, I bet only you can read your own writing."

Pitchell bowed his head in recognition of the point. "As you say, Mistress. Quick Script is designed as an aid for the writer only, who will doubtless remember enough of what he heard to make up for any gaps when he properly writes the text down. So, this machine wouldn't replace Quick Script, then?"

"No, not at all. In fact, in use it can be very noisy. In fact -"

Garia went on to describe a typical twentieth-century secretary and shorthand typist and how there were often rooms full of typists copying documents. Then she mentioned that these were almost exclusively women and jaws dropped all round the room.

"Of course, men could also type," she clarified, "but it was usually the women who were faster. Men who could type did other kinds of work and the typing was merely a means to an end, a way of setting down their thoughts on paper."

"Do you mean that I might become a... what did you call them?" Merizel asked.

"Typist? No, Merizel, I don't think you'd make a great typist here in Palarand. Still, you never know."

"Mistress, I am intrigued by this machine," Parrel said. "I think I would like to attempt to make one."

"You might be better off finding someone else to handle the project," Garia said with a smile. "I guess it would probably take three men three months to put a prototype together, and that's assuming we get the design right first time. There are other things I would like you to concentrate on rather than this machine, if you would. Like what I asked you here today for."

"As you wish, Mistress. I will find someone within the Guild to handle the project. If I may ask you to describe the machine again some time?" Garia nodded assent. Parrel sat up straight. "And now, Mistress, your other project?"

"Of course. Now I see you have brought your stamps with you in that box?"

"Here, Mistress." Parrel pushed the box across the table towards her. Each of the pockets in the box held about a dozen stamps, each about two inches long. There might have been sixty or seventy pockets altogether. She pulled one out to examine it. Made from iron, the end had been carefully carved and filed and then the whole thing tempered to harden the ends against hammering. She lifted out a handful and held them in a line between thumb and forefinger, symbols uppermost.

"Suppose I hold them like this. I could arrange a whole word, couldn't I? If I had a special stamp made shorter than these, I could have several words with spaces between, couldn't I?" Her intent audience nodded. "If we had a special wooden holder made, we could have enough stamps to make up a whole line on a page, couldn't we?"

"Aye, Mistress, but they would fall out of the holder when you turned it over, wouldn't they?"

"Ah, but I've no intention of turning it over," she replied. "Suppose I stand them on a surface so that all the letters are exactly the same height, then ink them. I'd have to use an different kind of ink, one similar to that I mentioned for the typewriter ribbon. Fairly thick and probably oil-based. Then, I carefully lay my sheet of... paper or parchment, it makes no difference, on top and use a press to make sure that the paper contacts the letters all over. When I peel the paper off, I'd have a whole row of letters." As she spoke, she pantomimed the actions.

"Aye, I can see that," Parrel said. "But, we'd need a lot of letters, wouldn't we? To cover all the possible words we might want to create?"

Garia smiled. "It gets much worse, Master Parrel, since I want to do a whole page at a time, not just a single line. There are ways of making that many letters cheaply, since you won't be hammering them. For instance, you can use your existing stamps to make a mold, in clay for example, and then cast many letters using, say, zinc or even copper. I wouldn't use lead because that might wear down too quickly, but you can make the tops out of a harder metal and then make the columns out of lead. Remember, they all have to be exactly the same length, so you'll need to be able to accurately adjust the lengths of each letter."

"But, Mistress," Parrel said slowly, his mind racing as he considered the possibilities, "if you used lead, the stems would bend, surely?"

"No, because you would have a whole page of letters and spacing elements jammed together face-up in a box just like this," she tapped the stamp box. "There's no chance anything will be able to bend."

"It still seems a fiddle just to print off something," Pitchell objected. "You carefully lay out your page - in reverse, of course - and then ink it, put the parchment on top and press it. I understand that part of it, and I can see how you can improve the quality of the result. But, unless your document is only one sheet you'd have to take all the letters out and lay out page two, and so on. In that time I could have easily written out each sheet by hand."

"So you would, Master Pitchell, if you only needed a small number of copies. But, consider, suppose you needed one, or two, or three hundred copies of a document? The laws of Palarand, for example? Or the current tax rates? Royal decrees? Popular stories? That's where printing will make all the difference."

"But you still have to take each page apart to do the next, Mistress."

"No, you're looking at this the wrong way round. What you do is print off a hundred copies of page one first, then reset all the letters for the next page. Then you print all page two, then all page three, and so on, as many as you need. In fact, if you're folding them to make a book, you can print the first and last pages together, then the second and second-to-last pages, and so on. Of course, there's no reason why you couldn't have more than one tray, with the letters for page two being set up while you're printing off a hundred copies of page one. You just need to cast more letters. See?"

They did see. Parrel and Pitchell stood together at the blackboard and considered what this new device would look like and how the system would function. Garia contributed by giving the various parts the names she knew, like "Press", "Typeface", "Leading", "Point" and so on. Eventually they returned to the table, Pitchell to make a hurried summary of the afternoon's discussion, Parrel to praise Garia.

"A simple idea, Mistress," he said. "But of course someone first has to have the idea. This will require the services of carpenters, iron-workers, coppersmiths, scribes and many others in order to get the first one made, and I fully understand now what you said the other night, that we couldn't hide this knowledge away inside each Guild. I now understand also the production of paper, how it fits into this way of working. All Anmar will be indebted to you, Mistress."

"I do my best to help, Master Parrel," she told him modestly.

"But, Mistress Garia," Merizel said, with a puzzled look on her face, "I don't understand. What good is it to be able to make so many books? Who will read them all?"

"Where I come from," Garia told her gently, "every single person can read and write. We all have books, many of them."

Merizel's eyes opened wide. "Even peasants and laborers? What on Anmar for?"

"We all learn to read at a young age," Garia told her. "I could read perfectly well by the age of um, five of your years. My world is full of words, it's not just books, it's -"

Suddenly, Garia realized that Merizel would be unable to comprehend newspapers, television, computers, advertising hoardings and all the other places which had text liberally sprinkled over them. How could she be convinced?

"It's everywhere," she resumed. "By making words available to everyone it means that knowledge can be spread more easily." Ah! I have an idea. "If this world becomes as literate as my own then you wouldn't have heard quite so many silly rumors about me in the city because the knowledge of my arrival would have been properly reported." Except, of course, my world is awash with rumors as well, just different ones, but I'm not going to go there.

Merizel just looked confused. "As you say, Mistress. But, tell me, you said, 'this world', and 'my world' as though they were different! How can this be? Everyone knows there is only Anmar."

Parrel, Tarvan and Pitchell all smiled but Garia decided that the time was not right to tell Merizel such things which she probably would reject at first.

"We need to have a talk later, Merizel," she said instead. "Just trust me on this, will you? I don't want to waste any of the masters' valuable time right now."

"As you wish, Mistress."

"So, Master Parrel, Master Pitchell, have you enough to be going on with for a while?"

"Yes indeed, Mistress!" Parrel said. "If I understand this printing process correctly, it will make a great difference to all of us in the future."

Garia smiled. "Good. That's why I'm giving it to you early, since it means that you'll be able to distribute information about all the other things I'll be telling you about to all the other people who'll need to know. But, don't get the idea that this is the biggest thing that I'll tell you about. There are a number of other even bigger ideas to come, all of which are crucial for our future. I'll begin to describe two of them at the next full meeting of the Council."

"By now we have learned to expect nothing less from you, Mistress," he replied. He started gathering his notes and diagrams together ready to leave. "If that will be all, Mistress?"

"Maybe, maybe not, Master Parrel," she said. He stopped what he was doing and looked at her enquiringly.

"I know you make copper piping," she continued, "because I see it in the bathrooms and toilets around the palace. How small can you make the pipes? Say, as small as my little finger, perhaps?" She held up her pinkie for him to see.

"Aye, Mistress, I suppose so," Parrel replied. "There is little call for piping so small, but I see no reason why we should not be able to produce such pipes. I deduce from your question that there is, in fact such a use?"

Garia shrugged. "Several, in fact. But today I have one such idea in mind. Do you know how to distill things? Water, alcohol?" The words were translated so she knew that the concepts were familiar to at least somebody in the Valley.

"Why, yes, Mistress, but... water? We could, I suppose, but what would you use it for? And there is distillation of spirits from beer or wine but that is carefully controlled by the Crown because of the danger it can cause to drinkers." He shook his head. "I don't think we use pipes, even small pipes, for that though, but large copper vessels."

"If you can make spirits then my next meeting just got easier, and I'd like to ask you to join me, Master. I'm going to meet Mistress Healer Margra. I'll explain everything there if that is acceptable to you."

"Anything you care to tell us, Mistress, is acceptable to me," he replied.

Garia walked over and pulled the bell-rope set in the corner of the room next to the door. After a short while a footman appeared and she held a discussion with him about the best place to hold her next meeting, deciding eventually to ask Margra to join her where she was. The footman left to fetch Margra and Garia returned to her seat. Nobody was leaving, Pitchell deciding to stay and record the next meeting.

"Mistress Garia," Merizel said doubtfully while they waited. "This document that Master Pitchell has let me read, I have trouble understanding."

Garia encouraged her to continue.

"These strange symbols, they are the numbers that are used where you come from?" Garia nodded. "But, what do these arrangements mean?" She pointed to the example calculations on the sheet. "I gather that they are a means of using the numbers, but what for?"

A brief talk with Pitchell uncovered the fact that Merizel, although she could read, had never been given any proper tuition in arithmetic and could just about do simple sums in her head. The fact that Arabic numerals could help perform calculations much faster than the letter-based system used in the Valley went completely over her head.

"Lady Merizel," Pitchell said when he realized the truth, "I shall arrange for someone to attend you and help you to learn this new method, if that would be acceptable?"

Merizel glanced at Garia and the two metalsmiths and it dawned upon her that despite the fact that she was a Baron's daughter, she was far less educated than any of the others around the table. Trying to keep any expression of resentment or shame from her face, she smiled and told the scribe, "Yes, Master Scribe, that would be acceptable."

Garia waited, and Merizel turned to her quickly. "Oh! If that will be acceptable to you, Mistress?"

"I'm sure we can work out something, Merizel," she replied. "After all, if you can't understand the new numbering system it will make your job that much harder."

"As you say, Mistress."

After some time Margra appeared accompanied by two of her assistant healers. Immediately afterwards a servant appeared with a tray of mugs and a large pot of pel. Once everyone had been introduced and refreshed, Garia began.

"I thought it would be better for us to meet separately," she explained, "since much of what I can tell you isn't going to be of interest to some of the others on the committee."

Eyes moved in Parrel's direction, and she continued, "I've asked Master Parrel to remain, since I guess he will need to make some of the equipment I'm going to tell you about. So, let's carry on where we left off."

Again she went over cleanliness and antiseptic procedures, both during healing and in day-to-day life, stressing that it was better to stop somebody getting sick in the first place than having to spend time and effort making them well again afterwards. Simple matters like properly washing hands before eating, drinking or cooking could prevent a lot of common problems.

"To keep the places you treat people clean, you can use boiling water," she added. "Of course, that's not always practical, so alcohol is something else you can use. You can wipe down surfaces with it, and even clean wounds with it. It will sting, sure, but it will make certain that the wound is clean."

"But, Mistress, alcohol can be dangerous! Is it safe to let it get into the body that way?"

"Not enough will get in to cause much problem, I don't think." Garia frowned. "I gather you have problems with alcohol?"

"Aye, Mistress," Margra told her. "Depending how it is made, it can cause blindness or even death. We're not sure how or why, which is why production is discouraged. No-one drinking it can know if it is going to poison them or not. Despite that, it is still produced in remote areas by farmers who drink it themselves."

Garia nodded. "Yes. There is more than one kind of alcohol, and one of those kinds is indeed poisonous. For treating wounds, I don't think it really matters but you're right, drinking the wrong kind can be deadly. Fortunately, the difference is because of what you use to make it. Stick to using plants that you can eat and you won't go far wrong. Grains, vegetables, fruit, you can make alcohol out of almost anything. Now, Master Parrel."

Garia stood by the blackboard and started drawing.

"Since we'll need alcohol in greater quantities, this is how I'd make it." She drew a still, with a condenser made out of a copper coil enclosed in a water-cooled jacket.

"Copper's a good material for this because, as well as being easy to work, it conducts heat very well, meaning that the condenser will be more efficient."

"Will we need so much just for cleaning wounds?" Margra asked.

"No, but you might find your use going up as time goes on. Alcohol can also be used for cleaning your tools and even bandages. It can also be used for dissolving some of your medicines in, to make them easier for the patient to take."

"I see. But we don't use many tools, Mistress."

"Perhaps not, right now, but as time goes on you'll find you will be able to do more for your patients."

Garia started explaining about surgery, which started off a whole discussion about human anatomy and what things might be possible and what couldn't be done. It seemed surgery in Alaesia was limited to amputation and cleaning up after accidents and not a great deal more.

"You're going to have to get some bodies to examine," she told them. The looks on their faces showed her that such an idea would break local customs. "It was the same with us, to start with. Now, there's no reason why you can't give the person concerned a decent funeral afterwards, it would just mean that their body wouldn't be intact when you did it. Doesn't that happen sometimes anyway?"

"Why, yes, Mistress," Margra conceded. "But we couldn't just go and take any body and start cutting it open."

"No, I agree that wouldn't be right. But, there's no reason you couldn't get the consent of the person concerned before they died."

Margra looked confused. "But, how would we know they would die? In most cases death is sudden, we wouldn't be able to ask somebody beforehand, Mistress."

"There are two kinds of people you could ask, Mistress Margra. Those are people with fatal diseases who you know are going to die shortly and criminals convicted to die. In the circumstances, I think some of those would agree to their bodies being examined. Otherwise, you might ask people to sign a declaration offering their bodies for study if and when they died. That happens where I come from."

The three women talked amongst themselves and eventually Margra said, "Very well, Mistress. I understand your arguments, and I do think we need to have a better understanding of what goes on inside our bodies. I will talk with various interested parties and see what might be arranged."

"Of course," Garia added, "I can tell you a certain amount about what happens inside, but really you need to see it all for yourself. One day in the future you're going to be opening people up to fix something and you'll need to understand what you're dealing with."

"As you say, Mistress."

"And before that day comes, Master Parrel or one of his guild is going to have to provide you with tools for the job."

She described basic surgical tools, all that she could remember from TV shows. These were scalpels, many varieties of forceps, cutting tools like saws, shears and scissors and finally needles for sewing people up again. She noticed that Pitchell, while he was manfully talking down notes of all she said, was looking rather green around the edges.

"I'm sorry, Master Pitchell," she said, giving him an encouraging smile, "you could let one of your deputies take notes if the subject causes you distress."

"Thank you, Mistress, I'll manage," he replied, but it was obvious that he was uncomfortable.

"Mistress," Margra said, "I fear we must stop here, it will soon be time for the evening meal. You have given us sufficient to be going on with in any case."

"As you wish, Mistress Margra. We'll see you at the next full meeting, I trust?"

Margra smiled back. "I can't say I understand half of what you tell us, Mistress, but the other half would ensure I attend."

The meeting broke up and Garia, Merizel and their maids made their way back to the Cerise Chamber. Inside they found two servants unpacking chests containing Merizel's clothing.

"Good, it's all arrived!" Merizel turned to Garia. "Mistress, how should I dress for dinner? I do not think I have sufficient gowns of such a quality to wear every night before the King."

"It shouldn't be a problem, Merizel. Normally, unless it's a state occasion, the King's dinners are not very formal. So long as you wear a full-length gown, I don't think anyone will object. Of course," she added, "the weather is very hot at the moment so allowances are made. Just find something light, you should be all right."

Hark at me! Here I am, giving fashion advice to another girl! Two weeks ago I wouldn't have known a bodice from a flounce, and now look at me! Oh dear, she's going to find out soon enough what a fraud I am...

"Thank you, Mistress. In that case, I think I know just what to wear. Let me see." Merizel went towards the trunk.

"If you'll excuse us, then," Garia said, "we'll have to go and get changed ourselves. I'll see you again downstairs in the dining room. It's the same room where we had lunch, I'm sure the palace staff will direct you."

Jenet took Garia back to their own quarters by a more direct route than Garia had used earlier that day. They both changed and made their way down to the dining room. On entering, Garia blinked.

Keren! I've just spent the whole afternoon without him and I didn't even notice. She mentally shook herself. He's the Crown prince, of course there must be other things he should be doing rather than follow me round all the time.

Not that I object to him following me around all the time, of course...

He came towards her from a cluster of men standing at one end of the room.

"Garia! I'm sorry I couldn't be there, something came up."

"Oh? Something important?"

His face grew serious. "Aye. We've had word that Yod has invaded Ferenis." At her blank expression, he explained, "Ferenis is another Valley state a little closer to us than Yod is. They're still a longish way away, but we have to view everything like that with caution." He grimaced. "We thought Ferenis was strong enough to stand up to Yod, they've done so several times in the past. Looks like we haven't been paying enough attention to what's been going on at the upper end of the Valley."

"Right," she said. "If you have time this evening, I want you to give me a geography lesson. I still know absolutely nothing about this strange land I've ended up in, and I think that has to change. I need to know what's going on, Keren, so that I can give you the best help I can."

Keren nodded. "Father has asked me to make sure you know what's happening," he said. "After all, you might be behind this invasion." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he continued. "What I mean is, they couldn't get you by kidnapping you, perhaps they are trying another, more basic method."

Merizel had arrived catching the end of this exchange and stood watching them both with her mouth wide open.

"Lady Merizel," Keren greeted her and she responded with a curtsey.

"Your Highness," she stammered as she rose. "Is it true? That Yod tried to kidnap Mistress Garia?"

"That's not easy to answer," he told her. "There was a kidnap attempt, yes, and certain other things happened which strongly suggest Yod was behind it, but we've no absolute proof. Fortunately, they're a long way away so you can rest easy. There's no immediate danger."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Her brow furrowed. "I've heard of Yod, but I know nothing about it. Is it a Valley state?"

Keren blinked. What did they teach these people out in the country?

"It is, Milady. Perhaps you'd better accompany Garia and myself after dinner. She is new to Alaesia and hasn't had time to learn her surroundings yet. I'm going to explain the Valley and our neighboring countries to her."

Merizel gave Garia a look of surprise. "Mistress? I thought you'd been here some time."

Garia thought. "Um, I'm not sure. Perhaps nine or ten days, my memory was bad when I first came here."

"Nine or ten days?" The disbelief was plain. "How could you - I don't understand. How could you possibly - " she shook her head.

"I haven't had a chance to explain to her yet," Garia told Keren. "It's not surprising she's confused."

Keren grinned. "I can't imagine why. Even after you tell her, it's going to be difficult to accept. Shall we go and sit down? My father is heading for his chair."

~o~O~o~

"This is the best map I could find of the area," Keren said as he spread the sheet of parchment on the table. "It probably isn't very good by your own standards, Garia, I know, but it should be enough for tonight."

"No, that looks just fine," she assured him.

"This is the Valley, as you can see," he gestured. "It runs roughly South-West to North-East and empties out into the ocean here. That's the Shan Ocean, although since it's the only one nearby most people just say 'The Ocean'. We're here." He tapped the map. "As you can see, we're now right up against the estuary but that didn't always used to be true. This is Palarand, and here's the city, also called Palarand.

"Now, as you can see the River Sirrel comes from the mountains far to the South-East and is fairly large by the time it comes into the Valley. Because of the way it curls about all over the valley floor there are rounded areas of fine river soil sticking out both sides of the Valley. Most of these were settled centuries ago and form each of the Valley countries. Because they are usually attached to one side or other, we call them 'north' countries or 'south' countries." He tapped Palarand. "As you can see, we're a south country, but we used to be a north one, occupying this area here and this valley here."

Garia saw Palarand, with the center being surrounded by Crescent Lake and she realized what must have happened. The bulges looked like the interlocking parts of a jigsaw in shape, joined to one side or other of the valley.

"This valley to the north is the Palar valley," he continued, "and we hold all of it including these three tributary valleys here, here and here." He then tapped an area between Crescent Lake and the estuary. "This part of Palarand used to be a country called Kendeven. It was - still is - marshy lowland not fit for much except grazing, and we now call it 'Lower Palarand'. The loop on the other side used to be called Brikant, and the Duke of Brikant still runs it on behalf of my father. It's now called 'Upper Palarand'.

"What happened was, the neck of land joining us to the Palar valley got narrower and narrower as the river moved, and we had to keep moving the road connecting the two parts of the country as the land got eaten away. Then, one night about two hundred and seventy years ago there was a terrific storm and the whole thing got washed away. Central Palarand, where we are now, became an island and the next few years were difficult, but we knew that the ends of the old river course would eventually silt up and join us to Kendeven and Brikant. Treaties were made and the three countries were joined under one name. As I said, the Duke of Brikant remains the hereditary ruler of Upper Palarand but Lower Palarand is governed usually by a cousin of the King or, if there isn't one, by some other favored relative. The Palar Valley is usually governed by whoever is Crown Prince but for now my uncle Gilbanar has it."

"I see," Garia said. "So, Crescent Lake used to be the river, then?"

"That's right. Now, because of the wanderings of the river, a sailing craft will take more than a day to get past the whole of Palarand, so one of my ancestors had canals cut across the necks of Kendeven and Brikant. We charge a small toll for traffic but it cuts down the travel time to less than a quarter of what it used to be. It also means that Crescent Lake hasn't dried out very much, which means we have our own, exclusive supply of fish."

"I remember crossing the canal on the road from Moxgo," Garia said. "I don't remember much of that journey, but I do remember that."

"It's quite clever, really," Keren said, "because not only have we a canal that makes us money and saves everyone time, but we also have a defense measure in place. The canals mean that this part of Palarand is effectively an island again, but this time we are in control of the situation. If we get attacked we can demolish the canal bridges. Now, look here."

Keren pointed to a spot on the north shore of the estuary. "This is Viridor, it's the furthest up river a deep-water sailing ship can safely get because of the shoals of the river. For some reason the estuary is deeper on the northern side. The country is called Vardenale, and my sister Malann is married to the Crown Prince, so she's not far if we want to visit. Viridor isn't the capital, that's Brankane right round here, but Viridor is the largest city in Vardenale." He pointed to a mark further round where Vardenale faced the ocean.

"On the southern shore of the estuary we have the Duchy of Plif. It's a poor land of marshes and bogs, but we have good relations with them. One of Plif's main products is something called Wax-tail, which is a reed we boil up to extract the wax we use to waterproof our rainy season clothing with."

Merizel leaned over the map. "Highness, can you show me South Reach, please?"

"Here, Milady." Keren pointed to an area right inside the southern bend of Crescent Lake. "South Reach used to be the southernmost point of Palarand before the Great Storm. That's why the Baron's holding is that great big stone fort, because in the days before the storm the south side of the river - as it was - was where we most often got attacked from."

Keren pulled another sheet of parchment from a shelf and laid it over the map of the Valley.

"Before I take you up-river, so to speak, I thought I'd show you the Palar Valley. As I said, Uncle Gilbanar looks after that on behalf of the King. Formally, it's known as North Palarand. As you can see it's not that wide but it goes a long way into the mountains. These three side valleys are ours as well." He glanced at Garia. "It's just as well we have it since there is precious little metal here in the Great Valley. All of Palarand's mines and foundries are in North Palarand and are the main reason we're one of the more prosperous countries around."

Garia breathed a sigh of relief. "That's the best news you could have given me, Highness. The advances I am attempting to give you depend on large quantities of raw materials and I am well aware that you won't find those around here. I had wondered about the mountains to the south - how much of that is claimed by Palarand?"

Keren shrugged. "Very little, Garia. Oh, we look after the route to Moxgo about as far as the Lookout," he lifted the North Palarand map and tapped a location on the Valley map, "and we occasionally send patrols further in after bandits, but most of the mountains are by custom unclaimed by anyone. It's assumed that all have free passage across and through the mountains, both north and south. Just as everyone has free passage up and down the Sirrel, whether they are permitted to land anywhere or not."

Keren put the two maps away and pulled out another which showed the Great Valley to a much smaller scale.

"Now, this is a view of most of the Great Valley," he said. "Upstream of Brikant is Brugan, the Duchess of Brugan is my Aunt Kasona so we've good relations with them. Beyond them is Virgulend, then Smordan and Joth. Joth is an oddity since the river splits and flows either side of it so it's an island. For some reason, unlike what happened with Palarand and what happens elsewhere, neither side looks as though it is going to silt up. Beyond Joth is Forguland and then we get to Ferenis and finally Yod. You'll notice that Yod is all this area, that's because they've swallowed up their neighbors here and here." He looked up at Garia. "Is that enough detail for you, or shall I tell you about more of Alaesia?"

"Um, no, thank you, that's enough for now," she replied. "I'm never going to get all these names straight anyway, but at least now I can picture the area around us in my mind. Sometime soon I'll want to come back to you and learn some more, I think. It could be important for the future."

Garia became aware of Merizel's intense stare.

"Surely you could just take this map and -" Merizel stopped. "Oh, you can't read our letters, can you? That's really odd, I'm going to have difficulty remembering that after what you did this afternoon. Just exactly how far away is your home, Mistress?"

Garia sighed. She was becoming tired and wanted to get back to her suite and relax but forced herself to answer Merizel's question.

"I'm not from the Valley, Alaesia or even Anmar," she said. "I come from somewhere else entirely. Another world, so far away I don't know how I got here or if I can ever get back."

Garia explained how she had arrived and much of what had happened since, but Merizel's upbringing hadn't given her much imagination so she had difficulty comprehending what she was being told. If it hadn't been for Garia's performance at the afternoon's meetings she probably wouldn't have believed any of it. She certainly didn't believe it when Garia told her that where she had come from, she had been a boy like Keren.

"That's impossible!" she said flatly. "It's just not possible for your body to have changed that much! And you don't sound or act like a boy at all!"

Heh. You might just change your mind when you join us in the gym tomorrow morning.

Garia shrugged. "I didn't say that this was the same body I had there, or that it had been changed. It's as though my mind had been moved through space on its own. I have no answers for you at all about what's happened to me, and I'm not sure I'll ever get any."

Merizel remained unconvinced. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation we'll find out eventually. All that knowledge you were talking about this afternoon, how did you come to know all that? Were you much older on the other world, then?"

Garia shook her head. "No, but we are much better educated, all of us. I wasn't joking when I said everyone could read at a young age. Earth - the world I come from - is very different than this world, and I hope to pass on much of what even such a young person as myself has learned over there, to people on this world. The King has given me his full backing, and I'm trying to pass things on as fast as I can."

Merizel thought, this can't possibly be true, can it? On the other hand, she certainly knows some things we don't and she'll need help if this afternoon is anything to go by. I think I'll stay here and keep an eye on her, try and find out the truth. Besides which, I'm beginning to like being in the palace. That's got to be a good thing, hasn't it?

~o~O~o~

"Ow!"

"Sorry, Mistress. Have you bruised yourself again today?"

"I don't know, Jenet. I keep forgetting I have these things on my chest now, and they're rather sensitive, aren't they? I think the Prince might have come into rather firm contact with them once or twice today."

"I'm not surprised, Mistress. Before today, I could never have imagined that a woman of Palarand would be able to do such things to a man. But, for all the strangeness of the occasion, I have to say you certainly knew what you were doing."

"Hah! Keren didn't of course, did he? I was quite pleased to wipe that smug grin off his face a couple of times. Ooh," Garia said, rubbing her breasts with the insides of her lower arms, "these certainly feel funny tonight. Say, tomorrow afternoon I think we'll pay Mistress Yolda a visit and try and get the old bat to make me some proper clothes to practice in, would that be a good idea? I'll see if I can get her to make me something that supports my breasts a little better than these bodices do. Although, that could take a bit of argument, couldn't it?"

What Garia knew about women's underwear came from either the TV or from games at school, which in practice meant very little. What she thought she needed was something like a sports bra, but with nothing remotely resembling Spandex available it might be an uphill task. Still, tomorrow was another day and an alternative suggestion might be forthcoming. She sighed in relief as Jenet unlaced the bodice and she stood naked ready for her evening wash.

"As you say, Mistress. You're asking for clothing no-one in Palarand has ever needed before."

"I suspect that it won't be the last time, either," Garia noted. "While I can get by with most of what's in the dressing room, and I don't want to upset everyone by wearing clothes that look too strange, I do have one or two ideas which might make my life a little easier."

"Your idea for a tunic which can be disguised as a gown was a good one, Mistress. I'm sure your other ideas will be just as useful."

Yeah. Well, given that my knowledge of women's fashion could be written on the head of a pin, I'm not so sure of that. Still, here on Anmar I have a clean canvas, so to speak, so there's no reason I can't make my own rules up, is there? I've got plenty of other things to do first, so there'll be time enough to figure out what I want in that regard.

"What do you think of Merizel?" Garia asked as she slid into the water. Jenet joined her and they began soaping each other's bodies.

"I'm not sure, Mistress," Jenet said diplomatically. "She's an outsider and I think you've surprised her somewhat. You're not like anyone she's ever likely to have met before. Mind you, considering where she was brought up that could apply to most of us in the palace. Did you see what she was like when we were introduced to her by the Queen?"

"She'll change as she gets used to living in the palace, won't she?"

"Of course, everyone does. But, Mistress, she's the daughter of a Baron and she'll expect to be treated a certain way. That won't bother anyone else here because all the nobility do it, but you're different, if I may say so, Mistress. I don't know how she'll adapt to being around you at all."

Garia busied herself with washing soapy water off herself and then said, "It seems to me that people either like me or fear me for what I might represent. Would you agree with that?"

"Yes, Mistress," Jenet nodded firmly. "I think that's exactly right. But, you haven't had to deal with anyone from the nobility before, so I don't know what will happen with Lady Merizel."

"Hmm. Well, she won't be the only noble person I'll come across, so perhaps I'll have to use her to learn how these people think they ought to be treated. I still have a lot to learn about Palarand and she's part of it."

"Yes, Mistress. Remember, though, that she's only a young girl, the youngest daughter of a minor baron, and there will be others who behave nothing like her."

"Warning noted, Jenet. Now, hand me that towel."

Lying in bed later, she mulled over the day's events.

The gym session was very satisfactory. If I can carry on like this, I'll have the core sorted out in a couple months and begin to plan for the future. This afternoon, we have a start in printing, which is definitely something we'll need for the future. The other things I have in mind, we'll have to have written records, instruction manuals, and everything else that goes with mechanization so printing is a must. The typewriter business was a lucky bonus, I guess. And I've made a good start with Margra, although I'm so hazy about the medical aspects that I suspect the locals will have to do most of the work themselves.

Looks like it's all going according to plan.

Wait, what? There's a plan? Where did that thought come from?

The horrible thought came then that perhaps she'd been programmed to do what she had begun, but however much she searched her mind there was no evidence of it.

If it's been done properly, then I wouldn't notice anyway. I suspect it's just paranoia on my part, who in their right mind would pick a random kid from Earth and fling them God knows how far away, give them a new body and make them upgrade the civilization they find themselves in?

Nope, not possible. I could have been picked up by anyone on that mountain, been taken anywhere. Or I could have just stayed there and died of exposure. Nobody could possibly have predicted that I'd end up here, in a palace, with a King who just can't wait for me to upgrade his society. The whole idea is crazy!