When Jenkins fell silent, the aging coachman let the topic drop. He pulled a hand-rolled cigarette from a large, finely stitched pocket with his gnarled hands, then rembered he had a passenger. He glanced at Jenkins, who shook his head to show he didn't mind. Only then did the coachman open a small box nailed to the carriage, take out a match, and strike it against the side panel, lighting his cigarette.
It wasn't a display of remarkable skill; matches in this era had an extrely low ignition point and could be lit on any dry surface. This, of course, was also one of the reasons fires were so frequent.
The coachman took a deep drag, exhaling two streams of smoke from his nostrils above a stubbled upper lip.
"Is that one you rolled yourself?"
Jenkins asked curiously. A slight breeze was blowing that evening, and all the smoke the coachman exhaled drifted to the right.
The carriage continued forward. Ahead lay a dim intersection where several shadows could be seen approaching.
"That's right, sir. The boxed cigarettes from the shop are just too expensive. By the Sage, three shillings for a pack of ten. I much prefer rolling my own with loose tobacco."
No one Jenkins knew had a smoking habit. In his predecessor's mories, Robert Williams had smoked a pipe for a ti years ago, but he'd quit after it broke.
"And that's not even the most expensive kind. The priciest stuff..."
The coachman, not noticing Jenkins's mind had wandered, picked up a small bell and shook it gently to alert the patrolling officers turning the corner ahead. The officers recognized the holy emblem painted on the carriage and stood aside politely, waiting for it to pass before resuming their patrol.
"The priciest tobacco costs a whole gold pound, a full gold pound. I don't know why those people bother trying to sell that sort of thing where we live."
By the ti they reached the church, it was only half-past seven. The guard at the gate recognized him and gave a nod, letting him pass. Jenkins stopped a middle-aged priest carrying a flowerpot down the hallway, asked for directions, and quickly found the right classroom.
It was another tiered lecture hall. The room wasn't crowded, and most people were seated in the middle few rows. Judging by their clothes and appearances, so were clearly students, while the majority were respectable-looking but not quite middle-class adults.
There was a ti when Robert Williams, as a shop owner, would also attend night classes at the church. But after his fortunes had "risen," he no longer had the ti.
Father Roberts, the priest in charge of the evening courses, soon arrived. He was a gentleman of about fifty with spectacles. He gave Jenkins a few pointers: speak slowly, answer questions patiently, and be prepared to stay for a while after the one-hour lesson, as so attendees might have questions.
Jenkins checked his pocket watch, thinking it was about ti to begin, but just then, the door creaked open and soone else walked in.
It was a petite woman wearing a pair of gold-rimd glasses. Her long, wavy brown hair cascaded down her back, and she carried an ochre-colored satchel with an overly long strap. Though her features were sowhat youthful, a closer look revealed she was a grown woman.
Jenkins recognized her. It was the lender he had t at the hospital when visiting Miss Mikhail. She had borrowed five pence from him and later repaid him six, calculating the interest based on the rates of a bank run by followers of the Traceless Traveler.
At the ti, she had claid that "everything in this world can be calculated," and what's more, she was a level 6 Enchanter.
"Is she also a believer of the Sage?"
Jenkins wondered, surprised. The short woman, realizing she was late, looked up apologetically at the lecturer standing at the front. She recognized Jenkins as well and offered a sheepish expression.
His theory was quickly disproven when he noticed a piece of cardboard she had casually placed on her desk. It was a temporary pass; believers from other faiths had to pay a small fee if they wished to attend a class.
"A heretic Enchanter coming to an Orthodox Church for a simple math lesson?"
The idea struck him as absurd. The petite young woman might have so other motive.
But as he watched her sit in the front row, take out a notebook and pencil, and ignore even Chocolate, who was napping on the far right of the desk, her gaze fixed intently on the blackboard behind Jenkins, he began to think he was overanalyzing things.
The previous lecturer, a Mr. Foley, typically taught arithtic in five-lesson cycles. He had just finished the last one before he left, so Jenkins was starting today from the very basics.
He was well-prepared and had taken into account the audience's limited education and weak foundation. As such, he barely wrote anything on the blackboard, instead using practical examples to explain addition and subtraction, like transactions at a vegetable stall.
The class went on without a hitch. Aside from Jenkins, practically no one else spoke. When he announced the end of the lesson, there was no applause. The attendees simply trickled out.
Of course, they were polite enough to bid Jenkins goodnight as they left.
This was normal. The original Jenkins had been brought here as a child by his father, so he didn't take the quiet reception as a sign of his poor teaching.
"Excuse , sorry to bother you. Do you know where Mr. Foley went? Oh, right, hello, um..."
"Williams. Jenkins Williams."
"Hello, Mr. Williams. My na is Alexia Miller. I'm sorry to take up your ti, but could you tell where the previous lecturer, Mr. Foley, has gone?"
Miss Miller waited until everyone else had left before approaching the blackboard to ask, clutching her bag.
"Mr. Foley suffered a serious illness a while back. After he recovered, he returned to his hotown to enjoy his retirent. He resigned from his position at the school and notified the church as well. From now on, I'll be teaching the Wednesday mathematics class."
He told her the truth without reservation.
"Oh, I see."
Miss Miller looked sowhat disappointed.
Jenkins hadn't intended to get involved with an unknown Enchanter, but his curiosity got the better of him. Besides, they were in a church—it was safe. He decided to ask.
"Ma'am, were you looking for Mr. Foley for a particular reason? The church has his current address. Perhaps you could write him a letter."
"No, thank you. The National Research Institute of the Cheslan Kingdom published an excellent book last week, and I had so questions for Mr. Foley. But if he's gone, then it can't be helped."
Sothing about that sounded familiar to Jenkins. He thought for a mont, then asked:
"You wouldn't be talking about 'A Brief Introduction to Higher Mathematics,' would you?"
"Oh, you know of it?"
Miss Miller asked in surprise. "The book hasn't been officially released in our kingdom yet. My copy was lent to by a friend at the Third Private Preparatory College."
"Is that so? The copy I saw was mailed to by a friend in Ruen. Thank the Sage that the entire continent shares the sa written language."
"So, do you understand the material in the book?"
Miss Miller asked, and it seed this conversation would take a while. Jenkins glanced at Chocolate and saw the cat was still fast asleep on the front desk, so he figured he could spare a few more minutes.
"I understand so of it."
He answered cautiously. He watched as the petite woman pulled "A Brief Introduction to Higher Mathematics" from her satchel, flipped through a few pages with a soft rustle, and then handed the book to him.
"Excuse , do you know what this ans? When I do the calculations, I always get a different result."
Jenkins glanced at the page and blinked naturally. Aside from the usual number of light motes, he saw at least five spots on her person that shimred with a potent spiritual light.
"So many special items? Does this an people who like mathematics have good financial luck?"
He mused, ntally calculating his own net worth while pretending to study the page.
"Let's see... No, your answer is also correct, it's just in a different form. Are you familiar with Euler's form—ahem, with that equation?"
With that, Jenkins turned and wrote Euler's formula on the blackboard. "Exponential and imaginary forms can be converted. They have the sa nurical value."
"Is that so? How was this formula derived? Was it by so famous professor? Oh, gods, mathematics is always so delightful."
Miss Miller pressed, walking around the lectern to stand beside Jenkins. He noted that her exclamation had been "gods," not directed at any specific deity. While not uncommon, coming from an unfamiliar Enchanter, it greatly increased the likelihood that she was a follower of a pseudo-god.
"It's quite simple, you just..."
Jenkins suddenly froze. Her question implied the formula wasn't ntioned in "A Brief Introduction to Higher Mathematics." He had written about it in his own letters and had assud it was in the book, which was why he had answered so quickly.
He had been so focused on figuring out her identity that he had made a careless mistake.
"This is bad."
He thought, turning back to the blackboard. He casually placed the half-used piece of chalk back in its box and slid the lid shut.
"My apologies. I saw this formula in another book. I'm afraid I don't recall the proof."
He said it with an air of regret. If this topic continued, he would surely face more questions.
"I see. That's a real sha."
Fortunately, Miss Miller didn't ask for the specific title of the book. She wore an equally regretful expression as she took her book back and thanked him softly.
"Thank you for your help. If the opportunity arises, I will help you in return."
"You're too kind."
"Not at all. A debt should be repaid. It's only natural."
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