The Essen Chronicles

Kim Mackey

Ring of Fire Press

East Chicago, IN

2013

Other RoF Press Titles:

Turn Your Radio On

Second Chance Bird

Joseph Hanauer

No Ship for Tranquebar

The Danish Scheme

Published by Ring of Fire Press

East Chicago, IN, U.S.A.

http://www.1632.org

Portions have been previously published in the Grantville Gazette.

Copyright © 2013 by Kim Mackey

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

A Ring of Fire Press Original.

Introduction

This book is an example of a new project we're launching in the 1632 series.  We're publishing e-books under the imprint of Ring of Fire Press, consisting of two kinds of materials.

The first are reissues — sometimes expanded and/or rewritten — of stories which were originally serialized in The Grantville Gazette. These stories were simply too long to be included in any of the paper anthologies published by Baen Books. At the same time, we felt it would be useful (and hopefully popular) to put them together in unitary volumes so that people who want to re-read them, or read them for the first time, don't have to hunt for them scattered over a number of separate issues of the magazine.

The second type are also reissues taken from The Grantville Gazette; in this case, compilations of fact articles on the same (or similar) subjects. We used to reissue fact articles along with stories in the paper editions published by Baen Books. But beginning with the change in format with Grantville Gazette V, where we switched from a direct one-to-one reprint of magazine issues to anthology-style "best of" collections taken from half a dozen issues, we stopped reissuing fact articles altogether. Again, we felt it would be useful (and hopefully popular) to put together unitary e-book volumes devoted to a single topic or closely related set of topics. That way, people interested in the subject matter don't have to hunt for the separate articles scattered across many issues of the magazine.

This is being done in consultation and with the agreement of Baen Books. As before, Baen will continue to publish the paper editions of the Ring of Fire series, as well as the e-book formats of those volumes. The material we will be publishing as Ring of Fire Press is material that Baen would not be publishing.

For those interested, it will also be possible to purchase paper editions of the Ring of Fire Press volumes on a print-on-demand basis.

Eric Flint

June 2013

The Essen Steel Chronicles

by

Kim Mackey

Part One: Crucibellus

Chapter One

By early morning they had passed beyond the siege lines and lay hidden in a copse of woods four miles from the Magdeburg gates.

"We will travel only at night for the first few days," Henri said, "and hide during the day. Best not to tempt fate."

That afternoon, after sleeping most of the morning, they watched the huge pillar of smoke boil up into the sky from the direction of Magdeburg. Henri, her father's friend, and an almost uncle, turned grim. "It is much worse than even I suspected it would be. They should not have set fire to the town. Magdeburg alive could sustain them. Magdeburg destroyed will force them to forage into the countryside. We will have to move as soon as we can tonight."

As Colette Dubois watched the black smoke rise into the sky she imagined she could hear the screams of the women and children on the breeze. She shuddered. Raped and murdered. Thousands of them. And now Tilly's wolves would be scouring the outlying districts for more plunder and victims.

They rode for days, constantly on guard and careful to avoid concentrations of other travelers who might attract the attention of soldiers. Finally they stopped at an abandoned house on the outskirts of a village so that Henri could get more supplies. Colette and Colas, her brother, hid in the woods near the house and waited, tying their horses far enough back so they would not whinny in greeting to any horses passing along the road.

In the late afternoon they heard hoof beats on the road. Colette quickly grabbed Colas before he could jump up and expose himself. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "Wait and see if it is Henri first."

Crouching back down, Colette and Colas watched as half a dozen soldiers kicked in the door of the house and began to ransack it.

So stupid, thought Colette. There was nothing of value left in the house. But the soldiers seemed to delight in smashing what little furniture there was. Two of the men began a more systematic search of the outside yard and were beginning to work their way steadily in Colette's direction. If they came too close … Colette shivered. She knew what her fate would be. Death, if she was lucky. And Colas wasn't strong enough to survive even a week in a soldier's camp, given his recent sickness.

It was the light that saved them.

The soldiers were twenty yards away when the sun spawned on the earth. A titanic wave of sound rolled across the house. Terrified, the soldiers quickly mounted their horses and galloped off.

Colette watched them go. She breathed a sigh of relief. Then felt Colas' tug at her sleeve.

He pointed. "Where did the hill go?"

Colette shivered again. A sign from God. But what did it mean?

It was an hour later when they once again heard hoof beats on the road. This time it was Henri. He had no supplies and he seemed to be favoring his left shoulder.

Colette saw the blood on his jacket. "You've been shot!"

Henri dabbed at the wound. "It's nothing. No bones broken, not much blood. A band of cutthroats. We'll have to ride on for supplies." Henri gestured toward the house. "What happened here?"

Colette shook her head. "I don't know. There were soldiers, half a dozen of them. They would have found us but for the light. It was like the sun was rising from the earth. The sound nearly deafened us."

They spent the night several hundred yards deeper in the woods.

* * *

"Josh! Your move, boy."

Josh sighed. Normally it took his grandfather at least 15 minutes to make a move in the middle game. He'd thought there would be plenty of time to use the phone in the kitchen for a quick call to his sister-in-law.

"What was that?" Michelle asked.

"Gramps. We're playing chess. It's Sunday after all," Josh said.

Josh's grandfather always hosted the weekly parish chess club. Josh had been involuntarily inducted when they heard about his U.S. Chess Federation master rank. This Sunday, of course, the group was limited to the real chess fanatics who were willing to incur Vince Masaniello's wrath by skipping out early on his fortieth wedding anniversary party.

Josh could feel his sister-in-law smile. "You going to let him win this time?"

"Not likely." Josh chuckled. "He knows I'm still a master. If I let him win I'd never hear the end of it. But at least I can make it seem like a struggle."

"Tell that French witch you're busy, boy. I just made the move of the century! No way you're getting out of this one!"

"Oh great," Josh said. "Now you're the French witch."

Michelle laughed. "Tell Joe he's a surly old curmudgeon."

"Michelle says you're a surly old curmudgeon, Gramps."

Joe snorted. "She's got that right."

"Hey, Lou," Josh said, "is Gramp's move that great? Maybe I should stay in the kitchen."

He heard the pause in the speed chess game and knew that Lou Giamarino was looking over the board.

"Yeah. You're in trouble all right," Lou said dryly. "Looks like he bought your sacrifice. Probably mate in five for you."

Josh laughed and listened for a minute as the three old friends began arguing over Joe's last move.

That should keep them busy, he thought. "Did you get all of the books sent, Michelle?" The company Josh worked for had received the contract from the West Virginia Department of Transportation to investigate the old Baltimore & Ohio railroad route for the "rails to trails" program. Josh had pushed hard to get the job, knowing that he could save a lot of his per diem by staying with his grandfather in Grantville.

But, as a quid pro quo, Josh's boss had demanded that he prepare a paper for a symposium, any symposium, involved with industrial archeology. Josh had discovered that the twenty-sixth International symposium of the International Committee for the History of Technology was looking for an American to present a report. Since he worked mainly in Pittsburgh, Josh decided that the early history of steel would be just about perfect.

Initially, Josh had made good progress on the paper for the symposium, gaining access to a variety of records from Pittsburgh steel companies. He had also done extensive spelunking on the internet, vacuuming all kinds of files onto his laptop's hard drive. Early on, he discovered "The Sheffield Connection" in the Pittsburgh crucible steel industry, but the only decent sources available for deep background were dusty nineteenth-century books not found in the United States. Taking advantage of his sister-in-law's upcoming trip to London and Paris, he asked her to air express some of the books he had selected.

"Yes, they've all been sent," Michelle said. "Didn't you get them yet?"

"No, just one package with the two history books. The rest are probably lost in some DHL warehouse in New York. If they aren't here by Wednesday I'll run their tracking numbers down. The B & O survey should be wrapped up soon and then I can really get working on the paper for the symposium." Josh heard some noise from the other end of the line. Daniel's voice.

"Oops." Michelle laughed. "Someone wants to say hi."

"Josh!"

"Daniel! How's my favorite nephew doing?"

Josh smiled when he heard Michelle say, "Speak French, Daniel."

"Josh, grandpere m'a amené voir Notre Dame."

"C'était amusant?"

"Josh, c'est une cathédrale," scolded Daniel. "Plutôt ennuyeux. Mais les gargouilles, ça, ça me plait."

Josh grinned. "Alors, peut-être la Tour Eiffel te plairait plus. Laisse-moi parler à ta maman maintenant."

"Okay, Josh. See you."

"Later, Daniel."

Michelle came back on the line.

"Got to go, Michelle," Josh said. "I'll call again when I get back to Pittsburgh. Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime au … "

The phone went dead at the same time a brilliant white light lit the sky and a distant sound of thunder seemed to echo across the hills. For a second Josh stood there, stunned. What the hell?

"What the hell was that?" his grandfather yelled from the living room.

"I don't know, Gramps. But both the power and the phone are dead."

Lou and Bart came into the kitchen, both with vaguely worried expressions on their faces. "The phones went out at the same time as the power?"

Josh nodded.

Bart shook his head. "Odd. The phone system is supposed to have its own power supply. Think I'll go take a look around town to see who's in the same boat. Want to come along, Lou?"

"I'm with ya." Lou turned towards the living room. "We're taking off, Joe. We'll call when the phones start up again."

"Party poopers," Joe grumbled.

Lou grinned. "Take care of the old man, Josh. He's getting a mite touchy in his dotage."

"You ain't no spring chicken yourself, Louis Giamarino!"

Lou laughed and waved to Josh as he and Bart went out the back door. "Later, Josh."

Joe yelled from the living room. "Damn. Josh, come finish the game and we'll wait it out, whatever it is. But open the curtains so we have some more light."

"Come on, Gramps. Let's go find out what's going on. Maybe it's something serious."

Joe snorted. "Forget it, boy. Can't be anything that bad. Besides, I still think I've got you cornered here, no matter what Lou says."

Josh sighed and glanced out the kitchen window. Odd, the sun seemed to be in a different direction than he remembered it being. Josh shrugged and walked back into the living room.

* * *

For Colette, Henri and Colas, the strangeness started again when they came across the road. Colette had been lost in thought and did not realize they were on a road until she noticed the change in the sound of the horse's hooves.

"Stop!"

Colas and Henri reined in their horses and watched as Colette slid off her horse and squatted to stare at the black-topped road.

"What is it, Colette? What's wrong?"

"Think, Colas. Where did this road come from? Look at it!"

Colas nodded. "It is very nice. Nice and wide. And very smooth."

Colette got to her feet and looked to the south. The road disappeared around a curve half a mile away. Colette took out her dagger and dug a bit of the black stuff out of the road. She rolled some of it on her fingers. Sticky. She sniffed her sample, then tasted it with her tongue. Tar. It was tar of some kind.

Colette stared at the road. "Henri? Don't you see it?" She paced the width and looked at the edge. She rolled some of the gravel and tar in her hand again.

"It's about twenty feet wide, and perhaps a little more than a half foot thick." Her eyes closed for a moment, her mind occupied with calculations. When Colette got her answer she shook her head.

No, that's impossible. She looked at the road again, stamped on it with her foot.

Definitely real, she thought wryly. Not impossible.

By now Henri and Colas were staring at her.

Henri cocked his head in puzzlement. "See what? It is just a road. A very good road, true, but still … "

"Henri, this road uses more tar for every mile than the annual production from Finland! How rich are these people?"

Henri opened his mouth, then shut it. He understood now what Simon Dubois had meant when he said he was sometimes afraid of his daughter. She thought … differently.

Colette looked again to the south and noticed that the road did not follow the exact curve of the hill but cut through a portion of it. It was like a chess problem. Colette was fully focused, gnawing at it like a hungry dog gnaws at a soup bone.

Colette studied the road more carefully. How was it made? Too smooth for slaves or other human labor. Too perfect.

"Machines of some kind," she muttered to herself, "definitely machines. Wherever this road goes we will find machines."

Henri stared at Colette again and then shook his head. "Should we stay on the road?"

Colette nodded. "Yes. But on the side, I think. This road is used for more than just carts and wagons."

They followed the road for another mile, passing several houses before Colette's words came true. They could see a river and another road that intersected the one they were on. They were several dozen yards from the intersection when a square metal box on wheels came from the right and moved rapidly through the intersection. The horses spooked slightly at the noise of its passing.

Colas' eyes were as round as saucers. "Was that a machine?"

Colette nodded. True, she had expected something, but the reality of it was certainly different than she had imagined. Especially the speed.

"Did you notice the man inside, Henri? I think he was guiding it, like a farmer guides his wagon with reins."

Henri nodded. "What do we do now? Follow it? It's at least heading in the direction of Saalfeld."

"Yes," Colette said. "But carefully. You saw how fast that machine moved."

After another mile they found themselves looking at a large rectangular building. They watched from the edge of the woods for almost an hour. Many of the people moving in and out seemed to be young, under the age of twenty. But all appeared to be well-fed and in excellent health. Some left or arrived on two-wheeled vehicles that they steered with their hands. Others got into the metal machines which moved off with loud noises. The machines came in a variety of styles and colors but Colette noted certain commonalities. Every one had four black wheels with a metal looking center. And when they started and moved every one seemed to emit smoke to a greater or lesser degree.

Occasionally words were shouted loud enough for them to hear clearly. Colette realized that all of the people she saw seemed to be speaking English.

"English?" Henri said, when Colette told him. "What is a colony of Englishmen doing in the middle of Thuringia?"

Henri winced when he moved his shoulder. The bullet was still in there. Colette knew they would have to get to a surgeon soon. It needed to be removed. With all of these machines the Englishmen seemed to be master mechanics. Perhaps they had good surgeons as well.

Colette smiled. "Let's go find out. But pretend to know no English. We may find out more if they think we don't understand their language."

"That will not be difficult," grumbled Henri. "I don't know any English. And how is it that you do?"

"Papa hired an English Jesuit, Father Line, to teach me mathematics. I asked him to teach me English as well so I could talk to the merchants who sometimes come to Liege. After learning Latin, Dutch, and German, it wasn't too difficult."

Colas hesitated a moment. "Are you sure, Colette? Maybe these Englishmen are Tilly's soldiers."

"Colas, have you seen any weapons? Any weapons at all?"

Colas shook his head.

"Soldiers would have weapons. These people act as if they are safe," Colette said. "If Tilly's or Hoffman's soldiers were anywhere about, these people would be armed and barricaded or acting with fear. And if they do not know of Tilly's soldiers, then we can obtain their gratitude by warning them."

Colette got to her feet and motioned to Colas and Henri. "Let's go. Henri, keep your sword sheathed. When we get close, start waving."

As they approached the building several of the young people stopped to watch them. When Colette waved at them, they waved back. She heard bits and pieces of their conversation as she got closer.

" … Jeez he's big … Be great power forward with those shoulders … She's pretty … looks like one heck of a sword … " What was "power forward," Colette wondered.

They seemed friendly enough. Colette considered a moment. "Excusez-moi, savez-vous s'il y a un chirurgien par ici?"

An older boy turned and motioned for a younger blonde-haired boy with glasses to step forward. "Sounds like French to me. Mark, you better handle it."

"My name is Mark." The boy's French was hesitant. He pushed his glasses up his nose. "But I do not speak French well. Would you like to speak with my teacher, Madame Hawkins?"

"Yes, please," replied Colette.

Mark led them inside the building and motioned for them to wait. In less than five minutes Nicole Hawkins arrived. Colette quickly explained their story to Nicole and asked for a surgeon, pointing to the dried blood on Henri's shoulder.

"We have a makeshift hospital right here. Other refugees have been injured, some seriously. Please come with me. Dr. Nichols will take a look at that for you."

The surgeon was an older man, a Moor, who acted in a very competent manner. Once Henri had his jacket and shirt off, Nichols probed and pushed at the wound, watching Henri's face as he did so. He had Nicole translate for him and Colette tried to follow his English.

"The bullet is in there and it has to come out. You already have signs of infection and we will have to clean out the wound channel." Nichols cocked his head at Henri. "How old are you?"

"Forty-nine." Nicole Hawkins translated.

Nichols nodded. "We'll want to keep you under observation for a couple of days to make sure no infection is starting after we operate."

"His immune system isn't as good as a younger person's," Colette heard Nichols mutter. "Better safe than sorry." What was an "immune system"?

Nichols looked at Nicole. "Where are they staying?"

Nicole shrugged. "No idea. Let me ask them what they want to do."

When Nicole addressed the question to Colette, Colette thought for a moment. "Is there a Catholic Church here? Perhaps the priest has room for us."

Nicole nodded. "Excellent idea. Yes, the churches are opening their doors to refugees. And if you're Catholic, you'll be more comfortable there. I'll drive you myself."

The next few days went by like a dream. Colette went on numerous walks around Grantville. She and Colas visited Henri after his surgery. He was grumpy about staying at the hospital. Dr. Nichols told her, through Nicole Hawkins, that it was necessary to be sure the wound did not become infected, especially seeing as their supply of antibiotics was limited. What were "antibiotics"? Anti-living? It does not make sense. But Nichols had assured her that Henri would be released by Thursday evening.

* * *

It was only after the town meeting on Wednesday that the emotional impact of the event everyone was beginning to call the "Ring of Fire" began to hit home for Joshua Modi. Josh was driving Joe back to the house. Both were lost in their own thoughts.

I'll never see my family again, Josh thought. The tears started to come but he forced them back. Got to be calm, for Gramps' sake.

The discussion he'd had with Doc Adams had made it clear that there was little that could be done for Joe's diabetes. His only living relative in this universe, his only family inside the Ring of Fire, was going to die. And there was nothing—absolutely nothing—he could do about it.

As they pulled into the driveway of Joe's house on Turnbull Street, Josh cleared his throat. "Gramps? How much insulin do you have?"

"About a four month supply," Joe said calmly. "But I'm giving half of it to David Miklos, the butcher."

"What? Gramps, you can't do that, damn it!"

"I can and I will, Josh. David and I use the same type of insulin but he was just getting ready to order some more when this damn Ring of Fire hit. He has less than a three week supply. And he has a family, Josh."

Joe patted Josh's hand. "I've lived a long, happy life Josh, and I'm seventy-five years old. David is under thirty. He deserves a few extra months with his family. Now come inside. I've got some things to show you."

Josh wanted to argue with his grandfather but he knew it would be useless. And Josh understood how precious the extra time might be for David's family.

* * *

Joe led Josh through the house and down into the basement. The basement was crammed with all kinds of things: a set of barbells, a workout bench, canning jars, three or four toolboxes. Josh spotted two boxes labeled "Josh."

"Are those my old college books?"

Joe grinned. "Yup. Maybe you can find something useful in them for this predicament we find ourselves in."

Josh snorted. Predicament. Typical for Gramps to understate the situation. Grantville was in the middle of one of the worst wars in human history, surrounded by potential enemies, and for his grandfather it was a "predicament."

Joe stopped to heave an old trunk out of his way. Then he inserted a key into a lock on a brown metal container about eight feet long and three feet wide. When Joe threw back the lid Josh could do nothing but goggle.

"What the heck is that?"

Joe chuckled and took the large semi-automatic rifle out of the container. To Josh it seemed to ooze lethality.

"I forgot you aren't a gun nut. This is an Italian version of the Garand I used to carry in World War Two. It's called a BM-59. When I saw one in Shotgun News I just had to get one for nostalgia's sake. Bought about a thousand rounds of ammo, too. But you'll probably want to give that to the army."

Joe pulled back a blanket on the left side of the container and handed Josh a comic book in a protective plastic slip cover.

Josh looked at his grandfather and smiled. "And how long have you been keeping this a secret? I never knew you collected comic books."

"About forty years," Joe said. "And don't tell anyone or you'll find out what this old man can still do with that BM-59. I get enough ribbing as it is." Joe rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I have no idea if these will be worth anything here, but you never can tell.

"The most important part of your inheritance, Josh, will be this house and the rentals down on Clarksburg Street. Property has always been a good investment. With that, and with the money in the Grantville Bank, you should be fine."

Then it hit Josh. His inheritance. "Gramps, what are you saying?"

Joe smiled. "What I'm saying, Josh, is that all of what I own, all that I have, I am giving to you. You have to make a new life for yourself, boy. And this is a damn hostile world for poor people. Just promise me you won't squander it on damn foolishness."

Josh nodded. Tears came to his eyes. This time he did nothing to stop them. "I don't want to inherit anything, Gramps," he said softly. "I want you."

Joe's voice was rough as he patted Josh's shoulder. "I know you do, boy. I know you do. But at least this way I can go to the Lord with the knowledge that you can make a fresh start for yourself. Now promise me you won't screw things up by blowing your inheritance on fast cars and loose women."

Despite himself, Josh chuckled. "I promise, Gramps. I promise."

"I've had my will made up for a long time and you were getting most of it anyway. But I'll need to see an attorney in the next week to revise it. No need to have your mom and dad in the will since they don't even exist in this universe, or whatever the hell it is." Joe hugged his grandson gently. "Let's go upstairs. Got a lot to talk to you about. You don't know much about the people in Grantville, since it's been ten years since you lived here. Like any town, there are some good people and some bad people. The more you know, the better off you'll be."

Josh and his grandfather went upstairs and talked for hours before Joe got tired and fell asleep in his easy chair. Josh carefully covered him with a blanket and went to his own bedroom. But he couldn't sleep. Over and over in his mind the facts churned through his head. His family was gone forever. Joe was going to die. Grantville was in the middle of a ferocious war. And he had no job. What the hell was he going to do with his life?

Somehow he eventually fell asleep. But the last thought he remembered was still … what the hell was he going to do with his life?

* * *

Josh was up before Joe. He moved quietly around the kitchen. When the phone rang he jumped to grab it before it could ring twice. "Hello?"

"Hi, Josh. Father Mazzare here. Is Joe awake yet?"

"No, he's still … wait a sec … "

Joe yawned and walked into the kitchen, still in the clothes he'd slept in.

"Gramps, it's for you. Father Mazzare."

Joe nodded and took the phone. "What can I do for you, Father?"

Josh listened to the conversation. He could tell it was about housing. The meeting the previous night had made it clear that there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of refugees out in the woods around Grantville. Housing them was going to be a real problem.

"Nope. Sorry, Father. Those houses on Clarksburg are packed with Vince Masaniello's relatives and guests from his fortieth wedding anniversary party," Joe said. "At least until they can make other arrangements. But I've got a spare bedroom in the studio over the garage and you're only a couple of blocks away."

Joe listened again and then nodded. "Talk to Josh, he speaks French really well."

Josh took the phone from Joe. "What's up, Father?"

Father Mazzare sighed. "As you know from last night's meeting, we've got one heck of a refugee problem. In fact, the rooms on the second story of the parish hall are already packed with people. Most of them seem to be German, but one group of three seems to speak French better than they speak German. Can you come over and talk to them, get their story? From what I can gather the older man is a close relative or friend of the family, while the woman and boy are brother and sister. The man, Henri Bex, had a bullet in his left shoulder that Dr. Nichols took out day before yesterday. The wound was festering a bit, so they have him under observation over at that makeshift hospital they put together at the high school."

"Sure, Father. When do you want me to come over?"

"How about right after lunch?"

"Sounds good, I'll be there." Josh hung up the phone. "What do you think, Gramps?"

Joe motioned for Josh to have a seat at the kitchen table while he got out milk and Cheerios for both of them. He tossed two bananas to Josh. Josh peeled and sliced them both into the bowls he'd already set up in anticipation of their usual morning breakfast ritual.

"Did I ever tell you the story about how your great-great-grandfather, John Modi, first came to Grantville?" Joe asked.

Josh shook his head. "Don't think so. You told me lots of stories about his tinker and peddler business, though."

Joe nodded. "Well, my grandfather came from a town in Lebanon called Beit Meri. Somehow, he'd heard about the opportunities here in Grantville at the turn of the century and came to make his fortune. He didn't know anybody in town, of course. But, through the kindness of people at the railroad station, he found a family to put him up for a week or two while he figured out what he was going to do and learned enough English to get by."

Joe took a bite of Cheerios and bananas, then wiped his mouth. "I think its payback time, don't you?"

Josh smiled. "No problem as far as I'm concerned. I'm in total agreement with what Mike Stearns said last night. We are way too small to fight off the entire population of seventeenth-century Europe. So you want to put up this French family?"

Joe nodded. "You speak excellent French. I think that would make them feel more comfortable. They may stay or they may not, but if they're good people and hard workers, well, those are the kind of folks we'll need to help us. We can house them for awhile."

"Okay. So put the woman and boy in the studio? And what about the man? I can sleep on the couch, it's pretty comfy." The couch in Joe's living room was actually a sleeper that folded out into a family size bed.

"Yeah, let's put the sister and brother in the studio. The uncle, or whatever he is, can have your bedroom until he's healed up."

Around ten o'clock that morning a second call came.

"Hey, Sparks. Nat Davis here."

Josh smiled. "Been a long time since anyone called me that."

When Josh had been kicked out of his home in Pittsburgh after a ferocious argument with his father ("chess won't make you a living, son!") Joe had offered him a place to stay and had gotten him a job at Nat Davis' machine shop. He'd gotten his nickname when he was using a cutting torch and failed to notice where the slag from his cut was going. It had set Lou Giamarino's pants on fire. From that day forward Josh's nickname at the machine shop was "Sparks."

"Joe talked to me last night. Got a job for you, if you're interested."

Josh sat up in his chair. "What kind of job?"

Nat explained some of the details of the previous night's Executive Committee meeting, especially the need for steam engines to provide power for the electrical system.

"Last night Joe told me that you were working on a paper for a symposium about pre-Bessemer steel. The machine shops are going to need some direction so we don't squander our material. We also need to get a better handle on what kinds of resources might be locally available. Think you can come up with something to help us?"

Josh thought a moment. "Sure, Nat. How much time do I have?"

"I don't know," Nat said. "How about a week? Is that enough time?"

"No problem. I'll check with Lou and other people. Maybe Bart Kubiak. I've got a couple of books that came in just before the Ring of Fire. So figure a meeting next Thursday? And who's my audience?"

"Sounds good, Sparks. Your audience will be mainly the machinists and the owners of the machine shops, but Greg Ferrara and Bill Porter will probably be there, too. Listen, I'm on a coffee break and the meeting is starting up again. Call me if you need any help."

Over the next hours Josh worked through what he had, and needed. He called Lou and others to arrange a Saturday morning meeting. At noon Josh walked the two blocks to St. Vincent De Paul's and met Father Mazzare outside the parish hall.

When they walked into the parish hall a woman with honey-colored hair was sitting with a boy of about ten. The boy had jet black hair similar to Josh's, but his facial features resembled the woman's and they were clearly related.

The woman looked up from the book she was reading and their eyes met.

She's very attractive. Josh was surprised by the thought.

The woman rose as they came near and extended her hand. "Hello. My name is Colette Dubois."

Josh shook hands with her. "A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. My name is Josh Modi. Or is it Madame?"

"No, monsieur. It is mademoiselle." Colette turned to the boy. "And this is my brother, Colas. He is twelve."

Josh extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Colas."

"Thank you, monsieur." Colas smiled shyly. "Colette has said that we will be staying at your house?"

"Actually, my grandfather's house. But yes, you will be staying in a one bedroom studio with your sister and your uncle … Henri, is it?" Josh looked at Colette. "He will be staying in my bedroom while I sleep on the couch. Father Mazzare said that he would be out of the hospital this afternoon some time?"

Colette shook her head. "Yes, but understand that Henri is not really a blood relative. He was my father's best friend and married my father's sister, but she died many years ago. We have always considered him to be an uncle."

At that moment a woman Josh recognized as one of the Parish council members appeared at the door of the hall and motioned at Father Mazzare. "Phone call, Father. I think it's important."

"You okay here, Josh?" Father Mazzare looked a bit harried.

"No problem, Father. We'll be fine." Josh turned to Colette as Father Mazzare strode away. "Do you have all of your belongings?"

Both Colette and Colas were dressed in typical twentieth-century clothing except for their boots; blue jeans and long-sleeved shirts.

"Yes. Father Mazzare was kind enough to provide us with clothing while ours were washed and the vermin removed." Colette smiled. "Very nice. I think I am in love with … what do you call them … washers and dryers?"

Josh laughed. "Yes, washers and dryers. Have you seen a dishwasher yet?"

Colette nodded. "Oh, yes. Those are wonderful, too. But the shower was even better. It is the first time I have felt clean in many months."

Colette and Colas had picked up the paper bags with their possessions.

"Ready?" Josh asked. "Let's go, then. My grandfather is expecting us."

As they left the parish hall Josh turned to the young boy. "So what do you think of Grantville, Colas?"

Colas laughed. "Colette calls it 'fairy-tale land.' And it is truly wondrous! Are you really from the future?"

Josh nodded. "Yes, about three hundred fifty years beyond the 1630's. The future is quite different from what you are used to. I spent a semester at the University of Paris studying European business history, so I know a bit about the seventeenth century."

"You've been to Paris?" Colas seemed impressed.

"Oh, yes. But it is much bigger than the Paris in this century. Much bigger. Perhaps three to five million people."

Colas had his mouth open. "Three to five million? That's impossible!"

Josh smiled. "You might think so, but that's nothing compared to Tokyo. I think there were fifteen million in Tokyo."

Colas shook his head. "You are joking, yes?"

"Nope. It's the truth. I'll show you an atlas when we get to my grandfather's house. You'll see."

"But how is that possible? Wouldn't the people get sick? What do they do with their … ummm … urine and manure?"

Josh noticed a small smile creep onto Colette's lips, while she listened to their conversation. He winked at her. To his surprise, she winked back. As they approached the door to Joe's house, Colette put her arm through his. "Thank you," she murmured softly, moving closer to him. "Colas has been very bored with talking only to me these past few days."

God, she smells good, thought Josh. Down, boy. Down!

"Welcome, strangers!" Joe threw the front door open. "Welcome to our humble home!"

When Henri Bex showed up that evening, Josh smiled to himself. Okay, this guy is huge. And he's got a sword. Do not piss off the chaperone.

* * *

The next morning Josh woke up on the couch and for one disorienting moment didn't know where he was.

"Check, you scoundrel," he heard a woman say.

"Ha! Ha! That won't save you."

Josh got out of the sleeper couch and put on his sweat pants before padding barefoot into the kitchen. Colette and Joe were playing chess.

Joe looked up at him. "Good morning, boy. Sleep well?"

Colette was brushing her hair, her attention focused intently on the chessboard. She glanced up at him and smiled. "Good morning, Josh."

"I thought you didn't know English," he said accusingly.

Colette sighed. "I'm sorry, I was … " She switched to French. "Dissembling? I wanted to learn more about Grantville and thought it would be better to pretend not to know English." Colette switched back to English and patted Joe's hand. "But your grandfather is too nice a man to keep secrets from. He lets me win at chess."

Joe flashed a smile at her. "Ha! Not likely, young lady. Not likely! You're a great player! I won the first game but she's beaten me three games in a row, Josh. Great moves. Great! Maybe better than yours!"

"Sounds like a challenge is in store," Josh murmured.

Colette's smile was now more of a grin. "Ah, but Joe has warned me about you, Josh. He's told me all of your secrets!"

"Well, then. I'll just have to pull a few rabbits out of the old chess hat."

Joe stood up. "Good, good. You two play. I'm getting hungry. Anyone else?"

Both Colette and Josh nodded vigorously. Colette began to reset the chess board. Colas and Henri appeared in the entrance to the kitchen. "We're hungry."

"Colas and Henri are hungry, too, Gramps. Make plenty."

"Flapjacks okay with you? Or should we make waffles? I have some strawberries in the freezer."

Colette looked pleased. "Waffeln?"

Josh laughed. "Oh yeah, Gramps. Definitely waffles."

An hour later, with a dozen waffles demolished, Josh knew three things. Colette was indeed an excellent chess player. She absolutely loved waffles. And if he wasn't careful he was going to fall in love with a woman he had just barely met.

* * *

On Saturday Colette and Henri participated in the lunch time discussion about iron, steel, mining, metal working and the conduct of business in the seventeenth century. Many of their insights were invaluable and Josh took copious notes. As the discussion wound down, Amy Kubiak, Bart's daughter, stopped by.

Bart was justifiably proud of his daughter. Energetic, vivacious and intelligent, Amy Kubiak had been one of the brighter stars in the academic firmament of Grantville High School the year before. With her high SAT scores and strong grades in math and science, she'd gotten a four year full-tuition scholarship to West Virginia University in Morgantown.

"Hi, Dad! Hi, guys!" Amy gave Bart a quick hug. "Are you about done? Mom's got some errands for you." The Kubiaks lived just four blocks from Joe's house.

"Josh, anything else?" Bart asked.

Josh waved his hand. "Nah, I think that's enough for now. But I'd like to look at that book on the history of metal casting you mentioned. I'll stop by on Monday."

Josh saw Colette motion her head at Amy. "Amy, I'd like you to meet Colette Dubois and Henri Bex. They're from Liege. You can try out your French on them." Amy had taken four years of French at Grantville High School with Nicole Hawkins.

"Cool!" Amy said. She switched to French. "I'm Amy Kubiak. Pleased to meet you." She shook hands with Colette and Henri. "So you're from Liege? How does it compare to Grantville?"

Colette smiled. "About four times the population, at least. But the people live much closer together and the streets are narrower."

Josh suddenly snapped his fingers. "Amy, do you have any spare dresses? Colette doesn't have any nice clothes for church tomorrow. You two seem about the same height and build."

Amy stood back from Colette and eyed her critically, motioning for her to turn around. "Sure. I think I've got just the thing. Maybe two. Want to come over and try them on, Colette?"

"That would be wonderful." Colette paused a moment. "Are you sure you can spare them?"

"Oh, yes." Amy grinned. "I'm not into dresses these days and I've got a nice pants suit for church. Come on, let's go try them out."

* * *

Over the next four hours Amy and Colette talked about many subjects. Men. Family. Grantville. Books. Clothes. Men. Sex. It took them two hours to get to the sex. By then, with that innate social sense that women tend to take for granted and that men find mysterious, they knew they could trust each other with their secrets. In Amy's words, "They were buds." Simpatico.

Except for Marie de Gournay, a Frenchwoman who had written "The Equality of Men and Women" in 1624 and with whom Colette had corresponded with for years, she had never had a female friend she could confide secrets to. But Marie was considerably older and letters were an inadequate communications medium anyway.

"I had two love affairs this past year at college." Amy had her legs curled underneath her as she sat on her bed. "Dad would have a fit if he knew. I swear he glared at every single boyfriend I ever brought home from high school." Amy sighed. "The first one was to just get over my virginity, but the second … Hank was a great lover. I miss him. A lot."

Colette nodded. "I missed Etienne for years. His touch was so … so … "

"Electric?" Amy laughed.

Colette nodded again. Both women sighed.

"So?" Amy patted Colette's leg. "What about you and Josh? Do you find him attractive?"

Colette blushed. "Yes. But he is still mourning the loss of his family, I think." Colette absently twisted a strand of her hair. "I can empathize. I mourned Jacques and Etienne for a long time."

"But his family isn't really dead," argued Amy. "Just … left behind. Do you think he's attracted to you?"

Colette blushed again. "I … I think so. I sometimes catch him watching me when he doesn't think I notice."

"Well then … "

Colette shook her head. "It is too soon. And he should make the first move."

Amy raised her hands in exasperation. "If women waited for the men to make the first move all the time the race would be extinct." She pulled at her chin. "Hmmm, we need an expert in Basic Man Trapping 101 … " Her face brightened. "I know!" She picked up the phone.

Two hours later, just as Josh was starting to get worried, Amy and Colette walked through the front door.

"Well, Josh, what do you think?" Amy said.

At first Josh didn't recognize Colette. She was no longer just attractive. She was beautiful. It was not just the dress, or the different hair style, or the subtle use of make-up. It was also the smile and the way her eyes seemed to glow in the late afternoon light.

"Josh? Hello? Earth to Josh!"

"What? What did you say?" Josh felt a bit dazed.

Amy smiled. "I said, "Doesn't she look gorgeous?" I want to hear you say that in French."

"You do look very beautiful," Josh muttered in French.

Colette dimpled and curtsied. "Thank you, monsieur."

"Well, I've got to get home. See you two at church tomorrow." Before Amy left she leaned over and whispered in Colette's ear. "What did I tell you? Pole-axed like a steer. See you tomorrow."

Amy skipped down the stairs and began to stroll home. As she went she occasionally snapped an imaginary whip, all the while whistling the theme to Rawhide. Rope him in girl, rope him in!

* * *

"Our communion meditation will be number four thirty-eight. We Will Rise Again. Number four thirty-eight."

As the church began to fill with music, Colette allowed herself to think about what she had seen during the Mass. It had been profoundly different from any other Mass she had ever attended. From the lack of Latin, to the priest facing the congregation, to the sharing of the sign of peace, it had been strange, but in many ways, exhilarating. Especially when she saw that women were allowed on the altar as readers and Eucharistic ministers.

The people around her seemed to have a deep faith in God and a sense of community that even rivaled what she had seen in the béguinage de Hermee. All week she had prayed to God before going to sleep. Prayed for the soul of her father. Prayed for Henri while he was in the hospital. Even prayed for Joe when she discovered that he was suffering from a fatal disease. But most of all she had prayed for guidance. What should she do with her life?

She could see that many of the congregation were singing. But at least a dozen were weeping. Then, it was as if the hand of God touched her soul.

This was no "fairy-tale land" as she had first thought. This was a tiny piece of a world ripped out by the roots and plunged into the depths of a man-made hell of war, disease, and unspeakable cruelty.

The people of Grantville were no weaklings. But neither were they giants. They could not stand alone, not just a few thousand of them. Not against the millions who would willingly devour them alive just for the fact that they were different. They would need help.

Again it felt as if God touched her. She shivered. She would not be here if not for the Ring of Fire. She knew, with certainty now, that she would have been raped and murdered, along with her brother. So, just as the coming of Grantville had helped her survive, so now would she help Grantville survive.

She would help them.

With every ounce of her strength and her mind, she would help them.

Thank you, God. Thank you.

The refrain began again. And Colette Dubois began to weep.

"We will run and not grow weary, for our God will be our strength, and we will fly like the eagle, we will rise again."

* * *

Later that afternoon the parish chess club of St. Vincent de Paul inducted its first female chess player ever. There was no ceremony. But no one was going to deny Joe Modi.

"Look," Joe said, "She's a great chess player, she's living in my house, and I like her. She's got spunk." He looked at the seven men in his living room. "Any objections?"

Nothing but smiles and shrugs. "Great! Let's play chess!"

"Who gets to play Colette?" Lou Giamarino glared at Joe. "You can't hog her all to yourself, Joe."

Jerry Calafano raised his hand. "Me!"

"Like hell! I get her first," Bart Kubiak said.

Vince Masaniello spoke up. "Wait a minute! Age before beauty!"

"You calling me a pretty boy, Vince?" Bart asked in mock anger.

Colette laughed gaily. "Please, gentlemen, please. I'll play all of you. But how to choose … "

"Where we came from, Colette, we often did things in alphabetical order," Josh pointed out.

Colette smiled at him and nodded. "In that case, let's go in alphabetical order, by first name. But since I've already played Josh and Joe, they're out."

Bart Kubiak waved her over. "B as in Bart, young lady. I'm first."

But parish chess club meetings were not just about chess. They were also social gatherings and it was expected that multiple topics would be discussed throughout the afternoon. What everyone did not expect, however, was the direction it would take when it was Jerry Calafano's turn to play Colette. No one noticed when it started, but after awhile it became apparent that Jerry and Colette were no longer really speaking English, nor were they playing chess.

They were speaking mathematics.

It became most obvious when they got paper from Joe's computer room and sprawled on the floor, drawing diagrams, writing equations, and jabbing excitedly at each other's work.

When Jerry finally left, promising to bring some of his math texts and other books the next day, Colette was more aglow than Josh had ever seen her.

"Josh, do you realize what this means?" She was positively effervescent.

Josh smiled and shook his head. "No. What?"

"I will be the first person in Europe to understand the calculus! From what Jerry said, it was not really formalized for another fifty or sixty years. And the merging of algebra and geometry using coordinate geometry. Descartes has not even published yet! And non-Euclidean geometries! Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Josh laughed. "Just so long as you don't try to explain it to me too much. I had a tough time just getting through a couple of semesters of business calculus for dummies."

Josh had a thought. "Wait, I've got something for you." He went into the kitchen and got his briefcase. He'd stuck it under the kitchen table. He opened it and took out his Ti-30 solar calculator.

"Here. A gift from me to you. It's solar powered so you can use it anywhere there is enough ambient light. Should last for at least another ten years if you don't drop it too much."

Josh leaned over Colette's shoulder and placed the calculator in her hands. He started explaining the basic keys and functions. After a few minutes she looked up at him. Her green eyes sparkled. She caressed his arm.

"Thank you, Josh," she said softly. "This is a wonderful gift. I will treasure it forever."

Inside Josh smiled. Who would have thought that the way to a woman's heart would be through a calculator?

* * *

"My shoulder is healing well, Colette." Henri and Colette were sitting in Joe's small backyard. The fence around the yard was six feet high, just tall enough to prevent passersby from observing them as they sat at the wooden table with its large blue umbrella. "We can leave tomorrow if you wish."

Colette was playing with her hair, a far-off look on her face. "I am not going, Henri," she said calmly. "And neither is Colas. You may do what you wish. We will stay in Grantville."

"But your father would have wanted … "

Colette stopped him with a gesture. "My father is dead, Henri. There is nothing else for me. If I could get to Amsterdam … " Colette shook her head. "No, not even Amsterdam attracts me now. The Ring of Fire was a sign from God, Henri. If it had not happened when it did, Colas and I would be dead. I am certain of it."

She gestured around her. "This will be my home for now. The people in Grantville will need our help, Henri. They are master mechanics but they are very few in number."

Henri looked at her skeptically. "You expect this Joshua Modi to marry you? Like you expected Etienne to marry you?"

Colette stopped playing with her hair and glared at him. Then her glance softened. "I loved Etienne, Henri. As much as you loved either of your wives. He would have married me if he had not died at Dessau. I am sure of it. But I have mourned him long enough. And Josh Modi is not an unattractive man. His family has been left in another universe, except for Joe. He will be totally alone when Joe dies."

"Eh?" Henri grunted. "What do you mean?"

"Joe told me the first morning we were here. He has a disease that requires medicine they cannot manufacture anymore. He will live no longer than three months." Colette reached out and touched Henri's hand. "Henri, I need your help."

Henri sighed. "What do you want of me, Colette?"

Colette gave him three packages of letters. "I have written several letters. This first package is to be delivered to my aunt, Annette, at the béguinage de Hermee in Liege. She is executing my father's will and she must know where I am so she can forward the monies from the selling of his businesses. I have decided to sign over the house on the Rue Chodelistree to the béguinage de Hermee. That is the second document I have in there. Once you reach a secure Thurn and Taxis post house, I want you to send the second package of letters to Marie de Gournay in Paris. The third package of letters is to be delivered to my uncle, Louis de Geer, in Amsterdam. He has a keen eye and an even keener nose for business. What I have told him about Grantville in these letters should catch his interest. Grantville will have a need for wealthy patrons I think."

Colette looked at him. "Will you do this for me, Henri? The letters to Annette and Louis de Geer must be hand-delivered. I dare not take the chance that they might be misplaced or lost."

Henri nodded. Simon Dubois, Colette's father, had died in Henri's arms in February of 1631, a victim of the political infighting in Liege. Henri had promised to look after Simon's family. Henri had taken Colette and Colas back to his home in Magdeburg when men associated with the political machinations began hunting them.

"I will, Colette. I promised your father I would take care of you. But do not expect to see me for several months. I will send word by post when I have accomplished what you ask. Do you want me to wait for return messages from your aunt and uncle?"

Colette shook her head again. "No. I trust my aunt and I know that what I have written to my Uncle Louis will be sufficient for him to come here as soon as he can. He may be in Sweden at the moment, though. I expect him in Amsterdam within the next few months." She smiled at Henri. "You would not mind waiting a few weeks in Amsterdam?"

Henri laughed. "No, not at all."

Colette reached across the table, serious now. She clasped Henri's arm. "This is very important to me, Henri. But so are you. Ride safely and may God be with you."

Henri sighed. Oh, to be twenty years younger. You would have a fight on your hands for this young woman then, Joshua Modi. Indeed you would.

* * *

In the second week after the Ring of Fire Josh met with the machine shop owners and their employees. Colette and Amy Kubiak sat in the back of the audience to provide moral support. The most critical points in Josh's lecture concerned the importance of good cast iron with a high silicon content for steam engine cylinders and the need to make their own cast steel, since that process in Europe hadn't been introduced until the mid-eighteenth century. When alloy steels were brought up, Josh laughed.

"That will take some time. Tungsten we can get from the tailings of tin mines, according to the encyclopedias. Chromite would be damn useful, but the deposits are spread all over the place, from Kemi in Finland, to Turkey, to Baltimore. If we could get to Maryland, the deposits there would be pretty easy to get. Vince Masaniello even has a brochure of a nature preserve where they used to mine it. Just a few problems, of course. Like getting to the sea and then crossing three thousand miles of ocean."

Josh nodded towards Greg Ferrara. "Here's Greg to help refresh you on metal chemistry."

Josh moved to the back of the room. Amy moved over so he could sit next to Colette. "How'd I do?" he whispered.

"Excellent," she whispered back. "Having Vince and Monty speak was a good idea. They seem to be respected masters of their guild."

After the meeting, Bart and Josh walked back to town. Amy and Colette walked ten feet in front, occasionally laughing and looking back at them.

"Thick as thieves those two," Bart said musingly. "Thick as thieves. I think you're in trouble, Josh. They're scheming about something."

Josh sighed. "I know it. I just don't know how much resistance to put up." Bart chuckled. "Knowing my daughter and judging from what I've seen of Colette, I don't think they're going to settle for anything less than unconditional surrender."

The two women turned to look back at him again.

Who knows, thought Josh. Unconditional surrender can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter Two

Joe Modi lapsed into a coma on August seventh. He died six hours later. The funeral was on August tenth. Josh Modi kept his composure throughout the ceremony, accepting condolences and murmurs of sympathy.

Men, after all, don't cry.

"Keep a stiff upper lip."

"Be a man."

"Grin and bear it."

Society frowns on men who cry.

But men do cry. Often it is late at night or upon awakening from a bad dream. Then the walls come down.

For Josh Modi the walls came down the first time he slept in his grandfather's bed the night after the funeral. He woke from a sound sleep and found himself staring at the ceiling. He began remembering the simple things he and his grandfather had done. The chess games. The shared meals. The laughter.

Brick by emotional brick his wall crumbled. Loneliness seized his soul. Ah, Gramps!

Josh began to cry. Not simple tears, but the wracking sobs of a man who had kept things inside for too long. Josh didn't know how long he cried that night, but he would always remember when he stopped.

A hand with long supple fingers began stroking his hair. Colette slid into the bed at his back, spooning him.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"Shhh," she said. "Shhh. Sleep now."

Slowly his body relaxed. Alone no more, he slept.

* * *

The next day they began to clean out the basement using the inventory lists that Joe had developed over the previous three months. The first place they went to was the large brown metal container Joe had shown him back in May. When he opened the container for Colette and Colas he was surprised to see the BM-59 still there.

Colas' eyes were round as Josh took the rifle out of the container. "What is that?"

Josh laughed. "I had to ask Gramps, myself. This is a BM-59. In the universe we came from there was a war called World War Two. Every army had its own main battle rifle. The American Army's rifle was called the Garand. It was a good rifle, one of the best. But it had limitations. The Italians created a main battle rifle based on the Garand but with twenty round magazines and in a different caliber. That's what this is."

Josh handed the battle rifle to Colas after checking to see it was empty. "I thought Gramps gave this to the army but apparently he forgot or decided not to."

After Colas had looked at the BM-59 for a minute Josh took it back and placed it in the container.

Colas pointed to the comic books on the left side. "What are those?"

Josh smiled. "Those are called comic books, but these are the rare ones, so we should leave them in the slip covers. Gramps said there were a few plastic containers of less valuable ones. Once we find them you can take a look at them. You'll have to learn to read English, though."

Might not be a bad way to learn English, now that I think about it Josh thought.

After relocking the container Colette, Colas and Josh began organizing the basement into three different piles: things to be sold, things to be kept, and other. Throughout the day Colette and Josh would sometimes touch or smile at each other. Occasionally they even embraced, when Colas wasn't looking. When it came time for bed, Colette yawned.

"Good night, Josh. I'm very tired." She smiled. "I didn't get much sleep last night." Colette came over and gave him a platonic kiss on the cheek, then went to her bedroom and closed the door.

Josh sighed. Well what did you expect, dummy? An hour later he went to bed.

* * *

This time, when he woke up, things were different. First off, he was hard and aching. Second, Colette was naked and her feverish hands were definitely not stroking his hair.

"It has been a long time," she murmured, swinging her legs over to straddle him. "You will forgive me if I am not very good at first?"

"Ahhhh, yes!"

They made love until, finally satiated, they fell asleep in each others' arms.

* * *

When Josh woke the next morning, Colette was gone.

A dream? But it had been no dream. The sheets were rumpled and the bed smelled of sex. Besides, he was still a bit sore. He'd never thought a woman born in the seventeenth century would be so gymnastic in her lovemaking.

After his shower Josh found Colas in the kitchen eating breakfast. "Seen Colette?"

Colas nodded. "She went over to Amy's house. Can I borrow your mountain bike again?"

"Sure." For the past month Colas had been riding Josh's bike nearly every day, exploring the streets, alleys, and paths in and around Grantville with newfound friends.

"Can you help us after lunch though? We're almost done with the basement."

"Okay, Josh." Colas looked over his shoulder as he walked out the door. "After lunch."

So why wasn't Colette here? thought Josh. After last night …

Then he realized what she was doing. Giving him time alone to make a decision. To decide what he was going to do without the pressure her presence would provide.

So what was he going to do?

* * *

Two weeks before, Gramps had brought up the same question. They had been washing dishes and Josh had been the dryer.

"You really ought to marry the girl, Josh," Joe had said, handing his grandson a dripping plate. "She's smart, she's pretty, and she plays a mean game of chess. Not to mention, she's got a fine business sense. You know what she said I should do with those houses on Clarksburg?"

Josh shook his head and took another plate from Joe.

"Since Vince has found places for almost all the relatives and guests from his wedding anniversary party, she thinks it could make a great inn. Grantville is going to grow and Clarksburg Street is centrally located. We could turn the partial basements into rooms and build a large common room in between the two houses."

"I don't know, Gramps," Josh said. "It feels like it's too soon."

"I know, Josh, I know." Joe's voice was soft. "But this is a new world we're in and Colette can help you adapt. It's time to move on, boy."

Josh shrugged. "I'll think about it." He smiled. "She is pretty darn attractive in a lot of ways."

"Well, if you do marry her … " Joe handed him another plate..".. just remember Joe's Maxims for a happy marriage."

Josh laughed. "I have had girlfriends before, Gramps."

Joe looked at him with a mock scowl. "You're still wet behind the ears as far as women are concerned, so listen up." He handed Josh another dish. "First thing, never discuss previous lovers. Never. No comparisons. She's the best ever, period. Second, if she's the touching type, touch her a lot. She'll appreciate it. Third, respect her privacy. If she doesn't want to talk about something, don't keep pressuring her."

Josh nodded. He'd learned that one with his last girl friend.

"And lastly, put a little romance into the relationship. Women love that kind of thing, especially on anniversaries and birthdays. And whatever you do, don't forget those." Joe shuddered. "Fate worse than death, boy, if you forget a birthday or anniversary."

Joe became thoughtful. "If you do decide to marry her, you can use grandma's ring. It's in the knick knack box on my dresser."

It was that last admonition that Josh remembered now. He looked around the living room and smiled. Joe had been right, time to move on. Now let's see, if he put the couch

there …

* * *

When Colette walked into Amy's house that morning, Amy knew something was different. "Okay, Colette, fess up. What happened? You're positively glowing. Did Josh give you a present or something?"

Colette laughed. "I would say it was the 'or something.'" She got a far away look in her eyes. "Oh, yes. Several 'or somethings.'"

Amy's eyebrows started climbing up her forehead. "You jumped his bones, didn't you? All right, girl! It's been a long time for you, hasn't it?"

Colette nodded. "Yes, we made love. And it was the first time since Etienne."

Colette flopped on the bed. "And it was very, very good."

Amy laughed. "So how many times did you … what was it Shakespeare called it … the little death?"

Colette smiled dreamily. "I don't remember. At least, if I am with child it will be a boy."

Amy cocked her head. "What?"

Colette waved her hand. "It is often said that for a child to be a boy, the woman must have an orgasm during the lovemaking."

"Well … " Amy laughed. "Did he propose this morning?"

Colette grinned. "That would be difficult since I left before he woke up."

Amy looked at her through her eyelashes. "Damn, girl. Men are most vulnerable when they're just waking up after sex. Now you have to start over from scratch. He did tell you he loved you, though. Right?"

Colette smiled. "We didn't exchange a lot of words last night. We made love and then fell asleep."

Amy looked at her critically. "I'm surprised you're able to walk. So what now?"

"Now, I think … " Colette grinned a bit. "It really is Josh's move."

They didn't have long to wait. The phone rang. Amy answered it. She handed the phone to Colette and mouthed It's him.

"Hello?"

"Colette, can you come home?" Josh asked. "We need to talk." His voice seemed cool.

"Certainly, Josh. I'll be right there."

"And Colette?"

"Yes?"

His voice turned soft. "I love you."

Her heart sang. "I love you, too, Josh."

"Oh," added Josh, "and bring little Miss Matchmaker with you. I'm sure she'll want to see the fruits of her labor."

* * *

Both Colette and Amy saw that the curtains were closed when they reached the house. They walked into the living room. Several lit candles were spaced around, giving the room a soft glow.

"Josh?" Colette's voice sounded nervous.

"Be right there. Have a seat on the couch, please."

Amy and Colette sat down. When Josh walked in he was holding something behind his back.

Josh switched to French. It is the better language for this. "Colette Dubois, I have loved you from the first day I saw you in the parish hall. I tried to tell myself that it couldn't happen, that love at first sight is impossible, an illusion. But it isn't. I want to share my life with you, and be a part of yours."

Josh brought his hand out from behind his back and got down on one knee. In his hand was a wide-mouthed brandy snifter with a flower floating in water. On the flower was a diamond ring. "Will you marry me?"

By then both Amy and Colette were crying. In the back of his mind he could hear his grandfather's voice. "Good job, boy. Good job."

Through her tears Colette smiled. "Yes, Josh, I will marry you."

* * *

Five minutes later they had their first fight.

"Lawyers!" Josh stomped around the room. "We don't need any stinking lawyers!"

"It's customary," Colette said stiffly. "I made a mistake with Etienne, I was young and immature. But we each must hire an attorney to negotiate our marriage contracts." Colette's voice softened. "Please Josh, this is important to me."

Josh sighed. "Tell you what, we can play a game of chess. Whoever wins gets their way."

Colette laughed. "I have a better idea." Her eyes turned smoky. "A wrestling match. Whoever dies the little death the most, wins."

Colette turned to Amy. "Would you mind waiting on the porch for Colas? Josh and I need some privacy to discuss this." She grabbed Josh's hand and began leading him into the bedroom.

Colette won. Josh found he didn't mind losing at all.

What he did mind, however, was that Colette insisted on real negotiations for their agreement. And that, while negotiations were going on, Colette felt it would be unfair to sleep with him since it might affect his judgment.

Wonderful, he grumbled to himself. I rediscover how great sex can be with a woman I'm in love with, and she cuts me off.

Fortunately, the negotiations only took five days. Father Mazzare, rather ruefully adapting to the times in which Grantville found itself now, abbreviated the six months of premarital counseling that had become standard up-time to what he could fit into calling the banns on three successive Sundays. On September 10, 1631, they were the first persons to be married in St. Mary's church since it was renamed.

* * *

"No, no!" shouted Henri. "Thrust, not slice! And watch your balance! You look like a headless duck flapping its wings!"

Colette smiled. A brief scuffle with ruffians in Erfurt on their honeymoon had prompted Josh to seek Henri's assistance in learning the proper modes of seventeenth- century combat. Henri had arrived back in Grantville in early September. He had also brought the first disbursement of Simon Dubois' estate, some two thousand guilders.

Colette turned back to her conversation with Amy. "So you don't like this Walter Miller?"

In July Greg Ferrara had convinced Amy to become an apprentice chemistry teacher at Grantville High School. What he had not told her, however, was who the teacher she was apprenticing with would be.

Amy rolled her eyes. "God, the man belongs in a geriatric ward! He actually fell asleep in sixth period yesterday!"

"What about Alexandra?" Colette smiled. Alexandra Selluci was the other new chemistry teacher at the high school.

"She's not too bad," Amy said. "I think I could actually learn something from her. I told Tonya today that we have got to switch at the end of the quarter. No way I'm putting up with Miller for an entire semester."

Colette looked over at the stove. "So how does the chicken look? I'm getting hungry." Colette had never learned to cook. Even when her mother had been alive Simon Dubois had hired servants to do both the cleaning and cooking.

Amy opened the oven door for a quick peek and then closed it. "Looking good. I just wish we had more spices."

Most of the spices available in Grantville when the Ring of Fire struck had been either used up or were being hoarded by cooks unwilling to part with them. This was particularly true given the fact that many spices taken for granted in the twentieth century were very expensive.

Colette moved to set the kitchen table and glanced back at Amy. "Where's Bart? Still working at the foundry?"

Amy nodded. "Yup, since he helped Josh get the two beehive ovens and the shell of the crucible steel building up, he's spent all of his time on getting the cupola furnace and the foundry started. He's got some partners for that, but they don't know much about casting. The smelting season is about to start and he wants to be ready in case they can get some cast iron from the local blast furnaces."

At that moment they heard Bart's voice in the living room. "Hello, anyone here?"

"Back in the kitchen, Dad. Is Mom coming?"

Bart walked into the kitchen and shook his head. "Nope. Colette Mora got sick at the café and Sebastian begged her to come in and help. Business is picking up for them."

Amy opened the oven door again and smiled at what she saw. "Chicken is ready. Better call the boys, Colette."

* * *

After dinner, conversation turned to the major topics of the month … Breitenfeld and business.

"I really don't see how our arrival could have changed the outcome at Breitenfeld," Josh pointed out. "Gustavus Adolphus will win and Tilly will be driven from the field. But the farther away in time we move from the Ring of Fire the more likely things will change, especially as we begin interacting with people outside Thuringia."

Colette nodded thoughtfully. "So my letters to Annette, my uncle, and Marie de Gournay will change history?"

"How could they not?" Amy asked. "In our history you were probably killed, from what you told me. Things are going to be way different now that we're here. And that probably means that a lot of the people who were born in our history, even the famous people, won't even exist in this universe. No Newton, no Einstein … nobody we're familiar with who was born after the 1630's."

Colette sat up in dismay. "But that means no Euler!"

Bart laughed at the expression on Colette's face. "Right, no Euler. Who's Euler?"

Colette glanced around the table. Every single person had a blank look on their face. She sighed.

Jerry Calafano had loaned her numerous books on mathematics including biographies, textbooks and problem books. She had spent hours each day reading, problem solving and pondering the mathematics of the future. Of all the mathematicians she had read about, she most identified with Euler. Not because she thought she had the same genius, but because Euler had seemed to love all of mathematics as she did, for the mere ability to challenge the mind.

"Euler," Colette said, "was the most famous mathematician since Archimedes. He averaged more than eight hundred pages of manuscript a year. Even when he lost his eyesight in 1771 he still kept publishing, dictating his thoughts to a secretary." Colette shook her head sadly. "No Euler. I will miss him."

Josh laughed. "Colette! He hasn't even been born yet!"

"True, but still … " Colette got a thoughtful look on her face.

Oh oh, thought Josh, I'm beginning to understand that look. "Colette, what are you scheming?"

Colette's face turned innocent. "Scheming? Nothing. Just thinking that I must do something to make sure people do not forget Euler in this universe." She patted Josh's hand. "Do not worry my husband, it will not affect us."

Colette was seldom wrong in her judgment. But Josh would remember the conversation later in life and point to it as a clear sign that there were times when she was not infallible.

The remainder of the dinner conversation centered around their various businesses.

"Well, I've got an idea for a name for the crucible steel business," Josh said. "I found a reference to a Pittsburgh firm that was one of the biggies. What do you think of Black Diamond Steel Corporation?"

Colette frowned. "I like diamond, and steel makes sense, but black is not good. People will think of death."

"What about blue?" Amy asked. "My favorite color."

Colette shook her head. "Too French. You will turn off the Germans."

Bart grinned. "How about yellow? I like yellow."

Colette shook her head again. "Too Swedish. All the Catholics will refuse to buy from you."

Amy laughed. "God, Colette. Is there any safe color?"

Colette thought for a moment. "White. White is a good color. Pure. Bright. The color of leadership."

Josh smiled. "White Diamond Steel Corporation it is, then."

"What about this inn you're planning on Clarksburg? Got a name for that yet?" Amy asked.

In their pre-nuptial agreement Colette and Josh had agreed to establish an inn using the two houses on Clarksburg. Money from Colette's inheritance would be used to renovate and maintain the properties and profits would go into a joint account.

For several minutes names were bandied about, but no one seemed satisfied. Colette had a thought. "We were planning to have chess club meetings at the inn when it opens, correct?"

Many members of the parish chess club were too busy with work to have time to play chess. So, Colette and Josh had started the Grantville Chess Club back in July.

"Yeah," Josh said. "We should have enough space since we're building the addition with two stories like you suggested. Why?"

" Échecs de la dame enragée," murmured Colette.

Josh laughed. "Perfect!"

Amy looked puzzled. "Chess of the madwoman?"

Colette shook her head. "No, no, it translates better as 'Chess of the Maddened Queen.' It was the name for the modern chess that we play. It was introduced in 1580 in Italy, some say, and everyone in Europe loved it, except for the Russians. So we will call our establishment … "

"Inn of the Maddened Queen!" blurted Amy. "I like it! And we all know who the Queen of the inn is going to be, don't we?" She grinned.

Josh smiled. "Are you sure we shouldn't call it Inn of the Maddening Queen instead?"

Colette hit him.

* * *

That night Colette dreamed. In her dream the souls of dead mathematicians and dead scientists flashed by her, vanishing into a stygian abyss. There were thousands, but a few she recognized because their names appeared in bright red above their heads.

Newton. Leibniz. Bernoulli. Bohr. Einstein. Euler. With nothing but her will she tried to keep them from vanishing, but it was useless. In her dream she cried tears that turned to diamonds that flowed into the abyss. Suddenly a light appeared in the abyss. As it drew closer she saw that it was the figure of a man dressed in brilliant white holding a steel crucible. In the crucible were her diamond tears.

"Can you save their souls?" Colette asked.

The man in white smiled. "No, but you can. No soul is ever lost to me so long as their name echoes through the corridors of time. That will be your mission, my daughter. Let their names echo through the corridors of time. Do you accept this mission?"

Colette nodded. "I do."

The man in white placed his hand on her head. "When you are ready, I will send you a messenger. Your name for this mission shall be … Crucibellus."

When Colette woke the next morning she remembered the dream. Crucibellus, she thought. It could mean so many different things. Perfect crucifixion. Tormented warrior. Torture of war. Crucible. Still, it was euphonious. She decided she liked it.

* * *

It was late November. Colette was in her office on the second floor above the common room of the Inn of the Maddened Queen when someone knocked on her door. She was going over the accounts of the inn and was happy to see that the inn was already making a profit. Not a large profit, it was true, but still a profit. "Yes? Who is it?" "John Dury," said a voice. "May I come in?"

"Sure, come in." When Dury entered Colette motioned to a chair next to her desk. "How can I help you, John?"

John Dury was an idealist. He had attended the Leipzig Colloquy in the hope of uniting all Protestants in a common front behind Gustavus Adolphus, but his hopes had been dashed. In July he had begun to travel around Germany trying once again to convince Protestant princes that the unity of all Protestants was the only means through which the Habsburgs could be defeated. In early November he had heard about a strange colony of Englishmen in Thuringia who had supposedly arrived from the future and decided to investigate.

When he stopped a stranger on the streets of Grantville and asked him where he might find lodging, the stranger looked him up and down and asked, "You interested in a good time or some peace and quiet?"

Dury had smiled. "Peace and quiet sounds nice."

"Then try the Inn of the Maddened Queen. It's on Clarksburg Street."

Dury had been very pleased with the accommodations at the inn. The rooms were spacious and the linens were clean and fresh. There was a fireplace, as well as a number of cozy chairs and couches in the common room. Several chess games were ongoing at all hours of the day and there were always guests around to engage in pleasant conversation. Bread, cheese, and wine were provided for guests in the evening.

It was there that he met Colette Modi, co-owner and manager of the inn. They struck up a conversation over a game of chess and he listened in fascination as she told her story of how she came to be in Grantville. Later that day he met her husband and it was clear that the love they felt for each other was deep and lasting. Over the next two days Colette and Josh Modi explained much about Grantville. He had been most impressed by Grantville High School since he had long been an advocate for education reform.

The day he was to depart he felt moved to return the kindness that had been extended to him. "Perhaps I can help you, Colette. Do you remember yesterday when you told me that you had prepared a manuscript on the mathematics of the future?"

Colette nodded, her eyes suddenly bright.

"Well, one of my friends is Samuel Hartlib. I think he would be interested in publishing such a manuscript. Samuel is endeavoring to be what is called an Intelligencer, someone who communicates new science and new ideas to others around Europe."

"That would be fine," Colette said. "I want anyone to be free to copy my manuscript. And this would be the first of eleven. Do you think he would still be interested?"

"I think so," Dury said, "although that might limit the number of copies that he decides to make. Don't you want any money for this?"

Colette shook her head. "No, my purpose is to disseminate the knowledge as widely as possible, not to restrict it. And I am just the synthesizer. Most of this knowledge is easy to come by here in Grantville, if you know where to look."

Dury smiled. "Well then, since I am headed to England tomorrow, perhaps I can place some copies in the right hands. How many do you have?"

"Three plus the original." Colette reached into her desk and pulled out three large envelopes and handed them to Dury. "One is for Samuel Hartlib, one is to be mailed to Nicolas Peiresc, and the third to Marin Mersenne." Colette smiled. "I believe you know those gentlemen?"

Dury gave a start of surprise. "How did you … "

Colette grinned. "I was told that a messenger would come, John." She looked up at the ceiling and then back at Dury.

Dury understood immediately. "Mysterious are the ways of God, Colette. Mysterious, indeed."

Before he left, Colette Modi made him promise one thing. "Initially I want no one to know that I wrote these, John. So please promise me that only the name Crucibellus will be connected with these manuscripts. The address I have left in the manuscript is Inn of The Maddened Queen. That way many will assume it is simply a postal drop."

Dury smiled. "I promise."

Two months later John Dury was in London. It was there that he mailed a copy of Colette's manuscript to Marin Mersenne in Paris and Nicolas Peiresc in Aix-en-Provence. The third he took to Samuel Hartlib.

* * *

To say that the Crucibellus Manuscripts took the European mathematical community by storm would be a vast understatement. In early 1632 many Europeans were still unaware that something unusual had happened to their universe. Even those who had heard the tales of a community of Englishmen in Thuringia tended to discredit the idea unless they had actually traveled to Grantville themselves. But when the Crucibellus Manuscripts began circulating in 1632, people's minds began to change. It was not that all of the concepts were totally new and different. But it was the style and the breadth and the mystery which set intellectual circles abuzz. For Crucibellus had outlined the topics of future manuscripts and promised that each would appear at approximately three month intervals. Mathematical Symbology of the Future. Analytical Geometry. Differential Calculus. Integral Calculus. Differential Equations. Matrix Algebra. Probability. Statistics. Fractals. Special and General Relativity. Quantum Mechanics.

The style was often brutally terse. While only the most essential concepts were given, the example problems in the manuscripts were explained in clear and exquisite detail and were often taken from problems the reader could imagine from everyday life.

And then there were the challenge problems. Theorems unheard of. Problems never dreamt of. Problems no mathematician in the seventeenth century could solve, especially in the ninety days before the answer would appear in the next manuscript. The first challenge problem set the stage for the rest: Prove the existence of the Euler Line. That is, that the orthocenter, centroid, and circumcenter of any triangle must lie in a straight line, with the centroid exactly twice as far from the orthocenter as from the circumcenter.

Soon, of course, a number of mathematicians had discovered the real name of the author and were studying in Grantville themselves.

But without the Crucibellus Manuscripts it might have taken years to stir their curiosity.

Ask a mathematician three hundred years later who Mike Stearns was and many would give you a blank look. But ask them about the Crucibellus Manuscripts and watch their eyes light up with recognition or listen to them discourse for hours on their impact.

The Crucibellus Manuscripts.

Long will they echo across the corridors of time.

Part Two: Louis de Geer

Chapter One

July, 1631

Louis de Geer refolded the letters from his niece in Grantville. Interesting information, he thought. But he was a powerful and busy man, much like a four-masted battleship. Battleships do not change course easily or on a whim. Verification of Colette's claims was the first order of business.

The person Louis de Geer turned to after reading Colette's letters was Jan de Vries. Jan was Louis' most trusted agent. He had over ten years experience in the Dutch army as an engineer and artillery officer and was a deadly man with a sword. He spoke and read six languages and had demonstrated his loyalty time and again the past eight years. To someone like Louis, Jan was a priceless asset.

"Jan, I want you to investigate this Grantville. I want to know everything you can discover about them. Military, political, economic. And bring back some evidence that they are really from the future. Perhaps a book."

De Vries nodded. He liked these types of assignments. He had an insatiable curiosity and enjoyed ferreting out information. "You will want maps of the area?"

De Geer nodded.

"Shall I make contact with your niece?" De Vries asked.

De Geer shook his head. "No, she's made up her mind to stay in Grantville. If you make contact she may decide to tell someone." De Geer smiled. "It is difficult for a spy to do his job if everyone knows he is a spy."

De Vries laughed. "True. How long should I stay in the town?"

Louis thought for a moment. "At least a month. That will give you plenty of time to get a true impression. Any less and you might miss something important."

De Vries nodded. "I will leave tomorrow."

November, 1631

De Vries was glad to finally return to Amsterdam. He reported to De Geer the day after his arrival. He would be preparing a written report, but knew that De Geer would want to get his impressions first hand. And there were always items of importance that were best left out of written reports.

"So their military forces depend on their advanced infantry weapons and the mobility of their vehicles?" De Geer asked. "No artillery?"

De Vries nodded. "Oh, they used military rockets at the battle with the tercio outside Badenburg, but it was not the rockets that broke the tercio. They broke the tercio in less than five minutes with rifle fire and the fire of their 'machine gun.' And with less than three hundred riflemen."

Louis de Geer grunted. Formidable indeed. As long as their ammunition lasted. "Vulnerabilities? Weaknesses? How would you attack them?"

De Vries rubbed his chin. "If I were attacking the town I would use well-trained cavalry in a night attack. Infiltrate them in close, attack at night and set fire to the town at various points. It would be much more difficult for the Americans to use their technical advantages. But as long as their capabilities are not assessed properly, they will have the element of tactical surprise."

"And the political situation? Who seems to be in charge?"

De Vries smiled. "A man by the name of Mike Stearns is in charge of their Executive Committee. He was head of their coal miner's guild, although guild is a poor description of the organization they refer to as the UMWA. A capable man."

For De Vries and De Geer it did not matter whether Mike Stearns was a nobleman, coal miner or manure handler. Unlike many in the seventeenth century they concerned themselves more with the aristocracy of ability than the aristocracy of birth.

"But what you will find most interesting, I think, is that Mike Stearns' future consort, who is also a member of the Executive Committee, is Rebecca Abrabanel."

De Geer blinked in surprise. "Balthazar Abrabanel's daughter?"

De Vries nodded. "And Balthazar Abrabanel has taken up residence in Grantville as well."

De Geer knew that the last shipment of silver to Gustavus Adolphus from the Netherlands had been sent with Balthazar Abrabanel. "Did you see any of Gustavus Adolphus' men?"

"Yes," De Vries said, "A few hundred Scottish cavalrymen under an officer named MacKay. They fought together with the Americans against Tilly's tercio at Badenburg."

So and so thought De Geer. The Abrabanels in Grantville as well as Swedish troops. Obviously an alliance of some kind had been formed, even if it was just an informal one.

"How are the Jews being treated? Are the people resentful of Rebecca Abrabanel?"

De Vries shook his head. "The Americans believe that all religions should be tolerated. They call it 'Freedom of Religion.' The secular authorities do not impose a state religion and in turn the churches submit to the secular authorities. It seems to work well."

Again De Geer grunted. After the years of strife between the Remonstrants and Counter-Remonstrants in the United Provinces, he could see the benefits of such a system. Not to mention it would be good for business. And if nothing else, De Geer was a businessman. If all religions were tolerated, then the Jews would find Grantville to be a haven. He suddenly sat up. And with the Abrabanels already in Grantville and the daughter of one of them intimate with Grantville's leader …

De Geer laughed.

De Vries looked at him with a puzzled expression. De Geer explained.

"So you think the Abrabanels will flock to Grantville? That will certainly provide Grantville with capital to expand their economy."

"It will do more than that," De Geer said. "With Swedish troops already engaged in some form of alliance with Grantville, inevitably Grantville will come to the attention of Gustavus Adolphus. So what do you think will happen, Jan? Think of the combination: money from the Abrabanels, advanced weapons from Grantville, and Gustavus Adolphus. What is most near and dear to the Swedish King's heart?"

De Vries smiled. "Corpus Protestantorum Evangelicorum."

De Geer nodded. "Corpus ProtestantorumEvangelicorum. I think the politics of Northern and Central Germany are about to get very interesting indeed."

Now thought De Geer how can this be turned to the advantage of a shrewd businessman? The first step of course, would be a trip to Grantville. Best however to let the situation ripen a bit. Perhaps March or April. But it was time to bring Colette into the picture. Louis knew that Colette had done an excellent job helping to run his brother-in-law's businesses in Liege, no simple task for a woman, no matter how intelligent. And since she was, according to De Vries, now married to an American, she would have valuable insights into the people and culture of Grantville.

De Geer smiled. "Jan, I think it is time you met my niece, Colette."

Chapter Two

April, 1632

Louis arrived in Grantville the first week of April. A firm believer in family business ties, he brought his son, Laurens, his brother-in-law, Steven Gerard, and his nephews, Hendrick and Louys Trip. A protégé of Hugo Grotius, Dirck Graswinckel, also accompanied them to provide legal advice.

The twenty soldiers who had provided security on the trip from Amsterdam camped out by Josh Modi's crucible steel plant and the rest of the party had rooms at the Modi inn. After several days of talks and sightseeing they found themselves at Bart Kubiak's foundry and cupola furnace.

"So how did you get the kind of cast iron you needed?" Louis de Geer asked. Josh Modi translated.

"We had to do a three-way deal," Bart said. "We had cast iron from the suppliers outside Grantville, but it wasn't of the quality needed to build steam engine cylinders. The local blast furnaces already had contracts to supply pig iron to their customers. So we offered to sell our pig iron to their customers at a slight discount if the blast furnace owners provided us with cast iron using coke for fuel, which we brought to them. Even then they were leery until we sweetened the deal by offering to build some metal pistons to provide air blast for the furnace instead of leather bellows. Once they saw how efficient the new pistons were, even with their water wheels, they were eager to sell."

"So how much cast iron did you get?" De Geer asked.

"About one hundred twenty tons," Bart said. "Financing took awhile. Once we get the kinks in the cupola furnace worked out, we should be able to start pouring a good cast iron. It helps us that the quality of the cast iron actually improves with remelting in a cupola furnace. We'll do a lot of experimentation and proof of principle work this summer. When the blast furnace season starts up again in October we'll be ready. We already have contracts for over a thousand tons of cast iron. The coke we'll transport to each blast furnace and each will be fitted with metal pistons for the air blast. As the cast iron comes in, we'll start the actual work of casting the cylinders and other cast iron parts we need for the steam engines we're building for the electrical plant. Those should be done by early spring of next year and everyone can breathe a sigh of relief."

Bart looked around at the foundry he had put so much work into over the previous seven months. "If we have excess over our needs we can provide cast iron for consumer goods like stoves and pots and skillets. Even cannon for the army. And there's already a couple of companies making inquiries.

"The hardest part … " Bart patted the side of the cupola furnace affectionately. "Was scaling this baby up. Not quite the same as my old ten inch furnace, not one bit. But it's coming along and we should be in great shape soon."

"So it is the silicon that is important?" De Geer asked.

Bart nodded. "Right, you get higher silicon content due to the speed and heat coke brings to the blast furnace process. You want to do it quickly to prevent graphitization, too much unmixed carbon. You can get higher silicon content to a certain extent by fiddling with wood charcoal in a blast furnace, but after awhile you get diminishing returns. So better to use coke to get the best product. Steam engine air blast is to be preferred over water wheels, of course, and we should have that for our own cupola furnace by next fall."

As they walked away De Geer was thoughtful. Metal pistons for air blast. Now that was something that could be easily implemented in his own blast furnaces in Sweden.

During their tour of Grantville Josh Modi had warned them to be careful of what he termed 'Pie in the Sky.' Many Americans were involved in projects with eager German business partners, especially those turned down for funding by the Executive Committee. But often the Americans did not have a clear understanding of the processes or machines they were attempting to build and the Germans had insufficient capital to fund the necessary research to make the business a profitable one.

De Geer turned to Josh. "How much will the piston air blast improve blast furnace production?"

Josh shrugged. "We've had no expert analysis done yet, but at least fifty percent."

Fifty percent thought De Geer. From something so simple. Now that was not 'Pie in the Sky,' but money in the bank.

* * *

Louis set down his wine glass. The meal had been very good. "So, should I invest in Grantville or not?"

Josh smiled. "Actually, after analyzing the strategic picture, we think the majority of your capital would be better invested elsewhere."

Louis de Geer and Steven Gerard looked at each other in surprise. This was not what they had expected to hear.

"Colette and I are still discussing the where." Josh glanced over at his wife. "But we should have that for you by next week. In the meantime, let me talk about the why and the what. Grantville's arrival has disrupted history as we Americans know it. In effect, a new universe has been created. For an up-timer the Industrial Revolution occurs approximately two hundred years in the future. This is a bit simplistic since the Industrial Revolution depended on the previous development of infrastructure."

At Louis' quirked eyebrow, Josh continued. "Roads, canals, bridges, mines and so forth. Something else that happened in the up-time universe was an agricultural revolution which started before the Industrial Revolution but was accelerated by it. Except in the seventeen provinces, agricultural productivity down-time is very low. So an agricultural revolution must come in tandem with an Industrial Revolution in this universe. Increasing agricultural productivity will free more workers to become available for industry. In addition, agricultural productivity will depend in part on the Industrial Revolution so there will be what is called a positive feedback loop."

"Positive feedback loop?" asked Gerard.

Josh nodded. "An up-time term. It means that each enhances the other in turn, back and forth, to ratchet production and productivity ever higher. It was thought that typically it took at least thirty years for a nation to reach 'take-off' so that the industrialization of an economy was self-sustaining."

Josh leaned back in his chair and cupped his hands behind his head. "So what to focus on? Here in Grantville, Colette and I think you should focus on steam engines and agricultural innovations that will enhance productivity. At the site of your main industrial complex you should focus on vertically integrating everything it takes to manufacture steam engines. Steam engines were the driver for the Industrial Revolution, and in the down-time universe everyone will want one. This will mean coal mines, iron mines, blast furnaces, refineries, steam engine works and boiler works."

De Geer nodded. "By having everything in one general location we would save on transportation costs and production costs."

"Yep." Josh smiled. "In addition, since this is a new plant, you will achieve economies of scale by building a complex capable of producing three to five thousand tons of cast iron or wrought iron a year. And you'll have the ability to expand to ten thousand tons per year. The steel plant will be near the iron complex but initially it will operate with iron from your blast furnaces in Sweden or blast furnaces close to the location of the complex … perhaps in the Siegerland or the Sauerland. The crucible steel plant can be built quickly."

Gerard took a sip of wine. "What kind of production would you expect?"

"Trained workers will produce five hundred tons a year." Josh thought a moment. "My figures indicate an estimated profit of two to three hundred thousand guilders a year. The steel could potentially be used for payment of goods in markets like Asia, the Levant and Russia where payment is often demanded in silver only."

"Based on what you've said, the location must be somewhere in the Rhineland," De Geer said. "Correct?"

Colette laughed. "Perhaps, uncle, but we still have a little research to do. We'll be ready in a week."

Chapter Three

Six days later they had their first real strategy meeting on the floor above the common room at the Inn of the Maddened Queen. The week had been well-spent. Besides touring Grantville and its industries, De Geer had had a chance to get to know Colette and Josh on a personal level and observe them in unguarded moments. Their love for each other was obvious and their marriage seemed stable. He was especially pleased to see the way Josh treated his employees, four young men he'd hired in Erfurt. De Geer himself believed that a close relationship between workers and management fostered loyalty to the business. He was well known for providing churches, schools and books for his Walloon workers in Sweden.

"So, are you ready to reveal this mystery location?" De Geer asked.

Josh motioned towards his wife. "Colette?"

Colette brought a large rolled-up map from the side of the room and laid it on the table. She put weights at each corner. The map was an accurate representation of central and northern Germany with simple markings for rivers and mountains. The area around Grantville was clearly marked with all political and ecclesiastical boundaries as was an area near the Dutch border.

"Here, Uncle." Colette laid her finger on the map. "We think your major industrial complex should be here."

"Essen?" murmured Steven Gerard, reading the map. "Why Essen?"

Josh smiled. "Up-time it was often said that there were three requirements for a successful business … location, location, location. Essen is located in what is called the Ruhr basin, an area between the Ruhr and Emscher rivers. The Ruhr was the center of the German Industrial Revolution because of the coal fields, which are the largest in Europe by far. The coal fields in the Ruhr start at the surface near the Ruhr River and descend downward towards the Emscher. There are many areas that contain anthracite, a coal even more suited for industry in some ways than the bituminous coal in Grantville. There are also blackband iron mines in the Ruhr basin. These are iron ores mixed in with coal in a coal mine.

"The second important factor favoring Essen … " Josh swept his hand westward on the map, "is distance to markets. The Ruhr is very close to the Rhine and thus has access to Amsterdam via barge. During the German Industrial Revolution Duisburg was the largest inland water port in the world. Down-time Duisburg is a mile away from the Rhine, so the port might better be placed at Ruhrort at the mouth of the Ruhr, or, if floods are a concern, at Styrum.

"Third, Essen and the area around it are now occupied by Dutch troops. We have a saying up-time: "Possession is nine-tenths of the law."

Louis smiled. He could appreciate that saying.

Josh continued. "While you'll want to make arrangements to obtain the proper legal authority to mine the minerals and build industries in the Ruhr, the fact that the occupying forces are Dutch should be very helpful for Dutch industrialists. Fourth, you're close to areas with skilled labor. As your industry expands you will be able to more easily recruit iron and foundry and other workers from the Flemish and German iron centers.

"Legally," Josh said, "you'll want to obtain mineral and transit rights so you can get your products to market. Colette has identified three areas of importance. Colette?"

Colette rose and began using a wooden pointer to indicate areas on the map. "This green area is most important. It is Essen Stift and the mineral rights have in the past been controlled by the Abbess of Essen. With Dutch troops occupying the area, however, Essen Stift is currently being administered by the Essen city council although technically they have no legal right to do so."

Colette moved her pointer to an area in light blue near the mouth of the Ruhr. "This area in light blue is currently controlled by the Elector of Brandenburg. When we were discussing this with Jan a few days ago, he remembered that the Elector borrowed over two hundred thousand guilders at seven percent interest from the Amsterdam admiralty in 1616 and that the loan has never been repaid. If someone assumed responsibility for the interest on the loan, it's quite possible that the Elector would consider a land grant as compensation.

"The third area, the one in red, is in Berg and belongs to the Count of Pfalz- Neuberg, Wolfgang Wilhelm, in Düsseldorf. Rumors are that the Count, like many German princes, has debt problems, so once again a loan might be compensated for with a land grant, particularly given the relative worthlessness of the section considering how surrounded it is by other territories. With all three areas you would control a continuous strip of land along the Ruhr River giving access to the Rhine and a number of coal and iron mines."

Louis nodded. It made sense. "What will your involvement be?"

Colette smiled. "Our role, Uncle, will be to expedite the transfer of knowledge so that your industrial complex can start operation as quickly as possible. We will hire the teachers and craftsmen to train your workers and engineers in modern techniques and modern chemistry. We will act as consultants and managers for your Grantville-based industries. In addition, we will constantly be looking for businesses that will leverage your capital or that will enhance the Essen industrial complex. For example, given the chemicals that can be distilled from coal tar gases when making coke, a chemical company might be very profitable."

"So, how do you propose we go about doing this?"

"We were thinking," Colette said, "that you would obtain investors to form a company similar to the United East India Company. Let us say we call it the Essen Steel Company. Naturally you would want to form the company only after obtaining the rights and lands we have already outlined."

Louis de Geer looked down at his fingers. "And your share of this company would be … "

Colette smiled again. The negotiations were beginning. "Five percent. Each."

Louis de Geer's nostrils flared. "Preposterous! You may be my niece, young woman, but do not attempt to take advantage of an old man with a bad heart! Three percent for the both of you combined."

Colette forced tears into her eyes. "Uncle, how could you think such a thing! Haven't I always been your favorite niece? Did I ask for a single guilder for all the hours I spent recruiting the Walloon ironworkers you needed in Sweden? I worked my fingers to the bone for you! Four percent each and twenty thousand guilders in an interest free loan for a new crucible steel plant."

As the two continued, Josh Modi and Steven Gerard looked at each other and smiled. Clearly the love of haggling had been passed on from uncle to niece in some way.

* * *

The negotiations lasted for several days. Eventually Colette settled for four percent of the Essen Steel Company shares. The White Diamond Steel Corporation received a forty thousand guilder interest free loan to expand their crucible steel business while taking on the obligation to train sixty Dutch workers in the crucible steel making process over the next two years. In addition, Josh and Colette were to establish a partnership with Louis de Geer in a company called Advanced Technologies Incorporated which would invest in steam engine companies and other businesses as well as train workers and engineers Louis would send to Grantville.

The day before his departure, Colette and Josh each gave a gift to Louis de Geer. Colette's gift was a cipher system based on matrix algebra so that they could have a form of secure communications.

Josh's gift was an up-time rifle, the BM-59 his grandfather had left him. Along with two hundred rounds of ammunition and two box magazines. "This might help convince some of the investors you talk to that there really is a Grantville."

They spent a bit of time test-firing the weapon.

The next day Louis de Geer left Grantville. With his son, Jan de Vries and the Trips, he headed in the direction of Mainz and Axel Oxenstierna. Dirck Graswinckel and Steven Gerard headed northeast towards Brandenburg.

* * *

"You realize, of course," Dirck Graswinckel said, "that this is absolutely hopeless." He and Steven Gerard were walking along the streets of Berlin toward the palace of the Prince of Brandenburg. "Even if we do get in to talk to the elector, there is no chance that he will make a decision."

The Elector of Brandenburg, George William, often seemed more interested in hunting wild game than in directing the affairs of state.

Steven glanced over at Graswinckel and shook his head. He had been troubled when Dirck Graswinckel had been added to their party at the last minute. Dirck was a protégé of Hugo Grotius. When Grotius realized that he was once again being forced into exile in the spring of 1632, he had appealed to his friend, Gerard von Berkel, burgomaster of Rotterdam, to find a patron for Graswinckel. Berkel had approached Louis de Geer. Despite Gerard's initial misgivings, Graswinckel had shown himself to be an excellent companion and a knowledgeable jurist.

"So what should we ask for? In addition to Duisburg and the area around it?"

Steven smiled. "Let's start with County Mark and work our way down."

"All of it?" laughed Dirck.

"Why not?"

* * *

"These Dutchmen are insane! A land grant for all of County Mark for a mere fifteen thousand guilders a year! Unheard of! The tax revenue from Soest alone is worth more than that!" George William was cloistered with Adam von Schwarzenberg, his chancellor, after meeting Graswinckel and Gerard.

Schwarzenberg's pointed goatee could not hide his large double chin. As he sat down he began adjusting the lace across his shoulders. "Did they say why they wanted the grant?" And it's not fifteen thousand guilders you pompous fool, he thought. It's 17,360. And when was the last time we collected tax revenue from Soest? Or anywhere in County Mark? Sixteen years? He shifted a little to get comfortable in the hard chair. Not that the rest of your nobility is any happier about paying their taxes.

The elector was Calvinist. The chancellor was Catholic. Most of the rest of Brandenburg's population was Lutheran. It made for some interesting domestic politics.

"According to Gerard," George William said, "Louis de Geer wants to ship coal to Amsterdam for new industries. New industries, while we sit here in poverty being threatened by my brother-in-law's cannon! I won't do it, County Mark is mine!"

Schwarzenberg smiled thinly. "Now you're just being petulant. This is just the beginning of negotiations."

George William pouted. "I don't want to negotiate. I want to go hunting." He looked over at Schwarzenberg with drooping eyelids. "Can you negotiate for me, Adam? I trust your judgment."

Schwarzenberg sighed. He liked power. Usually he enjoyed the fact that George William was more than willing to delegate the affairs of state to him. But there were times …

Ah well, he thought, the good with the bad. And if the Dutch were eager enough, and willing to compromise, there might be some personal gain to be gotten as well. Schwarzenberg nodded. "Your wish is my command, my Prince."

George William's face brightened. "Just don't give up too much of County Mark. It's mine!"

Two days later Adam von Schwarzenberg sat down with Dirck Graswinckel and Steven Gerard in his office in the Palace. "The elector has delegated authority to negotiate on this issue to me, gentlemen."

He motioned for the guards at the doors to leave. Once they were alone he leaned forward. "Now, tell me. What is the real reason Louis de Geer wants County Mark? And what is he willing to settle for? You understand that a grant of the entire county plus the area around Duisburg you are requesting is absurd for just 17,360 guilders a year."

Graswinckel and Gerard looked at each other.

There was opportunity here, thought Graswinckel, but danger as well. Best to mix the truth with a few lies.

Dirck arched an eyebrow at Steven and understanding passed between them. Dirck would take the lead.

"Have you heard of this new town in Thuringia? Grantville?"

Von Schwarzenberg started in surprise. He hadn't expected this turn in the conversation.

"Yes," he replied warily. "But the stories are probably just peasant lies."

Dirck shook his head. "They aren't lies, we've been there."

Schwarzenberg's eyes brightened. "Tell me."

Graswinckel told Schwarzenberg about their time in Grantville, carefully editing his conversation. Schwarzenberg seemed fascinated. "So they are really from the future?"

"Apparently so." Gerard shrugged. "We saw several books with dates indicating they were published in the 1990's, more than three hundred fifty years from now. Many of the processes my brother-in-law wishes to establish in Amsterdam require coal of a particular kind that is found in the western parts of County Mark. The area around Duisburg will function as the port for shipping until locks are built on the Ruhr."

"Locks, I might add," Gerard said slowly, "that will open up more than just the western portions of County Mark. There are other areas in Europe with this kind of coal, of course, but … "

Schwarzenberg nodded. Better and better. The Dutch would prefer the County Mark location, obviously. But the message was clear. The price had to be right.

Three days later Dirck Graswinckel and Steven Gerard rode out of Berlin.

"Now that wasn't so bad."

"Won't Louis be upset?" Dirck asked. "We paid more than we were authorized to offer."

Gerard shrugged. "Not by much. Louis expected us to use our judgment. Once it became clear that Schwarzenberg wanted a cut, I knew we'd have to pay a bit more. Ten thousand guilders to Schwarzenberg isn't bad considering it's a one time payment. I think Schwarzenberg is looking to invest anyway. And we got much of the county west of Dortmund above the Ruhr, as well as Duisburg. Louis will be pleased."

"I wonder how he's doing?" Graswinckel murmured.

* * *

At that moment, far to the southwest in Düsseldorf, Louis de Geer was doing just fine. In fact, he had had a much easier time than Graswinckel and Gerard. After a brief stopover in Mainz to talk to Axel Oxenstierna, he had traveled down the Rhine to Düsseldorf, sending Jan de Vries ahead to investigate the state of Wolfgang Wilhelm's finances. As with most German counts and princes, Wilhelm was deeply in debt. The price he had settled for was fifteen thousand guilders, but the piece of Berg that De Geer needed was relatively small and mostly north of the Ruhr River. When Wilhelm had hesitated at the last minute De Geer had casually let drop that he was on his way to see the new Dutch commander at Wesel. The hint was immediately understood: balk at the deal and Dutch troops might pay a visit to Düsseldorf. Not that Louis had been lying; he was indeed on his way to Wesel to see his old friend, Lieutenant General Hermann Otto, Count of Limburg-Styrum.

When he walked into Otto's office in Wesel a week later and told him what he had done, Otto laughed uproariously. "Ha! Did he turn white?"

De Geer grinned. "As a bed sheet."

"Not that I'm allowed to sally from Wesel, of course," grumbled Otto. "Frederik Hendrik wants a firm flank to protect him as he drives down upon Maastricht. But what am I doing here? I'm a cavalry general, damn it!"

"Frederik Hendrik needs someone he can trust," replied De Geer.

"I know, I know. But still … " Otto looked up at De Geer. "Now, what really brings you here my friend?"

De Geer smiled. "I'm forming a company you might be interested in."

After De Geer had explained the formation of his new company and what it would do, Otto smiled. "So, at last Styrum will be important again?"

Herrschaft Styrum was a small, strategically located property near Muelheim. It had grown up around a ford across the Ruhr River along a branch of the old royal road, the Hellweg.

De Geer nodded. "We will be putting in a lock at Muelheim and other fords up river to help make the Ruhr navigable. That is something we can get started with right away. With your permission, of course."

Otto grinned. "No need letting troops idle in garrison around Essen. You will pay for the labor of course?"

De Geer nodded again. "Certainly. And I hope you will want to become one of the investors in Essen Steel. We will need iron workers as well. Isn't Limburg known for its wire pulling mills?"

Otto laughed. "Indeed. And if what you say about the new pistons for air blast is true, we will have extra iron to provide your iron and steel complex. But you mentioned the possibility of new cannon?"

Otto's voice was eager. Hermann Otto and Louis De Geer had first met in 1625 when Otto was looking for light cannon to keep up with his cavalry. De Geer motioned to Jan De Vries who had been sitting with them.

"Jan can tell you more about that. He loves to ferret out information and he found a gold mine of it in Grantville while he waited for us to arrive."

Jan De Vries smiled. "I was bored by the middle of February so I decided to look for information on the history of fortifications and artillery in the up-time universe, since those were my specialties in the army. That was when I met Oliver Edgerton."

"Oliver Edgerton? A military officer?" Hermann Otto asked.

De Vries shook his head. "Something much better. A historian. With an interest in their civil war. We made a bargain. In return for telling stories in his history class at Grantville High School, he taught me much about the American Civil War. He was obviously a lonely old man with not many friends in Grantville. Apparently he and his wife had spent most of their time in a town called Fairmont, to the east. At the end he even gave me this."

De Vries carefully unwrapped a musket-like weapon on the floor and handed it to Hermann Otto. "This is called a Sharps rifle. It was used by a military unit called the Berdan sharpshooters."

Hermann Otto admired the rifle and then looked at Jan de Vries. "Can we make these?"

De Vries shrugged. "Probably. But it is a replica, so the parts are actually steel, not iron as most of the original Sharps rifle would be. The hardest part will be making the machinery to make the percussion caps, once we understand how to make the mercury fulminate. And that will take a considerable amount of trial and error. Still, making the minié bullets used in the American Civil War should not be difficult. I have several pages of diagrams with different bullet types. The impression I got from my reading is that forty-five caliber is the most ballistically efficient." De Vries smiled. "But let me tell you about the artillery."

Two hours later Lieutenant General Hermann Otto, Count of Limburg-Styrum, had the biggest smile on his face that De Geer had ever seen. De Vries winked at him. What was the American expression? Hook, line and sinker. Hermann Otto was on their side.

"Real, effective horse artillery! At last!" Hermann Otto was almost dancing with glee.

Chapter Four

August, 1632

The last piece of the Essen puzzle fell into place. It happened in Grantville, ten days after the Croat raid.

"But I don't understand, Axel." Gustavus Adolphus snorted. "Why just the mineral rights? Since I'm Emperor, I can simply declare him Baron of Essen. The man deserves it after all these years."

Axel shook his head. "No. Louis is right. If you start secularizing all the ecclesiastical territories in your new domain it will make a lot of princes nervous. But doling out mineral rights … " Axel waved his hand. "That will be expected."

"Well, then." Gustavus Adolphus grinned. "Let's surprise De Geer for once. We'll add Werden Stift as well."

* * *

When word of that decision reached Amsterdam, the Essen Steel Company was formed. Its initial capitalization was 2.8 million guilders.

The celebration of the company's founding took place in the mansion of Balthasar Coymans, one of Amsterdam's richest merchant bankers. It was late in the afternoon when Steven Gerard came across his brother-in-law. Louis was staring out the library window.

"Balthasar's been looking for you, Louis. He wants to discuss setting up a branch of his bank in Essen."

Louis de Geer smiled. "I'm coming. I just stopped to watch the butterflies."

"Butterflies?"

De Geer nodded. "Did I every tell you what Colette told me about the 'butterfly effect?'"

Gerard shook his head.

"Apparently, up-time mathematicians theorized that many different parts of the world are very sensitive to initial conditions. So much so, that the flapping of a butterfly's wings could change the weather on the other side of the world."

Gerard laughed. "Absurd!"

"Perhaps." De Geer looked out the window again. "But if it is even partly true, think about what the arrival of Grantville means. Not just a single butterfly. Thousands of people. Dozens of square miles of terrain. Machines, books, and an accumulated knowledge hundreds of years more advanced than our own. The scientific method. Vatican II. Evolution."

For a moment Gerard was silent. "That's a pretty big butterfly, isn't it?"

In Louis de Geer's mind a butterfly the size of the sun began to fold its wings around the earth.

"Indeed."

Part Three: Trip to Paris

Chapter One

October 1632 was an eventful month for Josh and Colette Modi. Their first wedding anniversary prompted Colette to make an appointment with Doctor Adams for her first ever gynecological exam, but it was early October of 1632 before the doctor could fit her into his schedule.

"So," Doc Adams said after the exam, "everything seems to be in working order. Any questions?"

Colette nodded. "If everything is in working order, why have I not become pregnant?"

"Have you ever been pregnant before?" Adams asked.

"Yes," said Colette, "about seven years ago. My son Jacques. He died when he was six months old." Colette's face took on a momentary sadness.

Doc Adams patted her arm. "I'm sorry, Colette. I know that happened frequently down-time. Were there any complications with the birth? Any fevers or infections?"

Colette nodded. "Yes, I had an infection as well as a fever that lasted several days. But it was gone in less than a week. Why?"

"You may not be able to have children, Colette," replied Doc Adams gently. "Before we learned about the relationship between bacteria and infections, most doctors didn't understand the importance of washing their hands when dealing with their patients. This is especially important when dealing with the birth of children. Many women died because of infections they got from the dirty hands of the doctors or mid-wives assisting with the birth."

Seeing the look of devastation on her face he put his hand on her shoulder. "Colette, it's just one possibility. It may be that Josh has a low sperm count. Sometimes it's just a biological incompatibility between partners. There is no way to tell without diagnostic equipment we don't have right now. All I can tell you is to keep trying."

Colette gave him a wan smile. "Thank you, doctor."

That night she cried as she told Josh.

He hugged her to him. "It's okay, Colette. I didn't marry you because of the children I thought you could bear me."

Colette sniffled and hugged him closer. "Then why did you marry me?" She knew the answer, but she needed to hear him say it.

"I married you because I love you, sweetheart. Not for children, not for money, not even for sex. For you. Till the stars grow cold and we grow old, I will love you. Forever."

Colette rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her nightshirt and smiled at him. "I had no idea you were such a poet."

"You bring out the best in me, darling," Josh said. He looked down at himself. "Speaking of which … "

Colette laughed and pulled the nightshirt over her head. "We must do something about that!"

Later, when Josh was asleep, Colette got out of bed to pray.

Dear God, she thought. If this is a punishment for my sins, then I accept it as your will. If it is not, please give me the strength and the courage to persevere. Amen.

For several minutes she remained on her knees, repeating the prayer several times. When she crawled back into bed Josh mumbled, "cold feet, cold feet."

She laughed quietly and found herself at peace. Thank you, God.

* * *

It had taken some time for the Crucibellus Manuscripts to filter their way back to Grantville from France and England, but when they did reporters began inquiring at the Inn of the Maddened Queen, the address given in the Manuscripts. At first Colette was amused, but it quickly turned annoying and to get rid of the reporters she finally gave Joe Buckley an exclusive interview. Joe Buckley sensationalized the story, even including the dream that Colette had unwisely told him about, but eventually the furor died down and the press moved on to other issues. It was toward the end of October when her authorship of the Manuscripts brought her into contact with Henning and Regina Kniphoff.

As Colette passed through the common room of the inn, a man and a young girl rose from a table.

"Madame Modi? My name is Henning Kniphoff." The man standing in front of her was tall and well-dressed. "And this is my daughter Regina." Henning waved his hand in the young girl's direction.

Regina Kniphoff was dressed in a dark brown ankle-length skirt. Her eyes were alive with energy and intelligence and she seemed in awe of Colette when she shook her hand.

"Are you really the author of the Crucibellus Manuscripts?" whispered Regina.

Colette nodded. "Have you read them?"

"Oh, yes," Regina said, "but only the first two so far. My stepmother keeps throwing out the new ones I purchase," she said matter-of-factly. "She doesn't believe women should concern themselves with mathematics."

Henning Kniphoff winced. "Could we talk to you in private, Madame Modi? I would like to discuss my daughter with you."

Colette escorted Henning and Regina to her office.

"I believe my husband has met you? You are the chairman of the city council in Erfurt are you not?"

Henning Kniphoff nodded. "Yes. How are those four young men that your husband hired doing? I believe I heard that they are still working for him."

"Yes. They are journeymen now and doing quite well. I believe two of them even have fiancées." Colette smoothed her skirt. "How can I help you?"

Henning Kniphoff cleared his throat. "Well, I was wondering … "

Regina Kniphoff suddenly broke in. "Oh, Daddy. Just ask her." She turned to Colette. "I would like to come live with you in Grantville and be your kammerjungfer. My father wants me out of the house because my stepmother and I do not get along."

Regina rubbed her nose vigorously. "Excuse me. Itchy. We do not get along at all, and she is pregnant. Again." Regina rolled her eyes.

Despite herself Colette laughed. "And exactly why should I let you come live with me?"

"Because I'm smart," Regina said. "And in a world like this one I will not be educated unless I do it myself or find a good mentor. Like you."

"Bold, too, I see," murmured Colette.

Henning shrugged helplessly. He was clearly embarrassed by his daughter. "I apologize for my daughter, Madame Modi. But ever since she discovered you were the author of the Crucibellus Manuscripts, she has talked of nothing else but meeting you. I thought perhaps by coming to Grantville we could talk to you and dispense with this dream of hers. I thank you for your time." Kniphoff began to rise but stopped when Colette waved him back to his chair.

"Let's talk about this," she said. She turned to Regina. "Tell me about yourself."

As Regina chattered, Colette began to identify with the young girl. Like Colette, Regina thought differently. She was highly intelligent and seemed to have a gift for mathematics, if not quite as strongly as Colette. She also spoke several languages fluently. Regina's intelligence was clearly causing difficulties within the home of Henning Kniphoff. For the daughters of wealthy and powerful men like Henning Kniphoff, it was customary for young women Regina's age to be placed in the homes of noblemen or powerful merchant families so they could receive an education and perform duties similar to that of a page. The difference here was that Regina wanted more control over who she was placed with.

She looked at Regina as the young girl finally fell silent. A strand of Regina's blonde hair had escaped from under her cap and she played with it absent-mindedly. For a second a flash of loneliness sped across Regina's face.

Colette recognized that look. She'd seen it enough times in the mirror when she was Regina's age. The look of a young girl with no friends because she was different. Colette made up her mind. "Let's discuss the terms of your service." When she saw the sunburst smile on Regina's face she knew she'd made the right decision.

* * *

As October turned into November, the last two events of a hectic month dropped into place. It was a Thursday evening and Josh decided to attend the weekly meeting of the Grantville Chess Club. It was his first chance to go in over a month and he was pleased to see that Greg Ferrara had made it as well. When he caught Greg's eye and motioned to a corner table, Greg nodded and came over.

"You been busy too, Greg? Seems like I haven't seen you in months."

Greg laughed as he helped set up the chessmen. "Yeah, busy as hell. What about you? How's the crucible steel plant coming?"

"We're at full production now, two tons a week. I'm glad we did some advertising and free samples in the summer time, though. It's hard to break into a market with a new product. Everyone wants the other guy to try it first in case it's no good. But we've got some contracts now with several cutlery makers and inquiries from Solingen. Since the machine shops are starting to buy quite a bit we broke ground on the second plant last week. It's been a busy month."

After playing several games Josh asked Greg about the chemical plant.

"We're doing okay, but the big holdup is the lack of stainless steel. It's pretty critical if we want to produce large amounts of nitric acid. Not to mention antibiotics, DDT and sulfa drugs. Right now we are barely at the bucket stage."

Josh shook his head. "Well, if you can get me some chromite I could probably come up with some chemically resistant steel. Wouldn't be as good or last as long as stainless, but it might be good enough to break through your production bottlenecks for awhile."

Greg nodded. "We're going to ask Gustavus Adolphus to send an expedition to Finland to look for chromite at Kemi. But Kemi is going to require a lot of work even when we do find it."

"What about Maryland?" Josh asked. "From the information Vince had it looked like it would be pretty easy to spot and not difficult at all to mine."

Greg smiled. "But like you said at that first meeting, three thousand miles of ocean. Might be kind of a tough sell."

Still, thought Josh, both the Dutch and the English are in that general area.

Maybe Louis De Geer could be convinced to mount an expedition. It wouldn't take more than one or two hundred tons of chromite to get things rolling. He resolved to write De Geer the next day with a proposal.

Two days later Josh came home from work to find his wife sitting at the kitchen table with a letter in her lap and a stunned expression on her face. Regina was running about the room like a madwoman. She dashed up to Josh and gave him a hug. "Josh, wait till you hear the news! It's so fantastic!"

"What?" Josh asked. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Colette waved the letter at him. "I've been invited to give a lecture in Paris at the Petit Luxembourg on the Crucibellus Manuscripts. Apparently Marie de Gournay told her patroness I was the author."

"That's great! When are we going?" Josh said.

Colette laughed. "Josh, we have commitments, obligations! We promised my uncle we would help with the iron and steel plants in Essen next spring. The earliest we could get to Paris would be August."

Josh nodded. "August is fine with me. I'd love to go to Paris. Besides, don't you want to meet Marin Mersenne? And Pascal? And Roberval? You've talked about them often enough. I bet they'd love to meet the author of the Crucibellus Manuscripts. Write this patroness back, whoever she is, and tell her you can't be there until August of next year. She'll understand."

Colette laughed, but her laugh seemed a bit hysterical. "Will she? We are talking about the marquise de Combalet, Josh!"

"So?" Josh looked puzzled.

Colette sighed. Men. "She's the niece of Richelieu."

"Oh," said Josh. "THE Richelieu? As in the-de-facto-ruler-of-France Richelieu?"

Colette nodded.

"Oh, my," said Josh.

The next day Colette sent her apologies and explained that the earliest she could arrive in Paris would be August. The reply came back several weeks later. The marquise de Combalet would be delighted to offer her and her family rooms to stay at the Petit Luxembourg in August.

Chapter Two

Louis De Geer received Josh Modi's proposal for an expedition to Maryland early in 1633. After reading over the proposal he smiled.

Already on it, nephew-in-law, he thought, already on it. He chuckled to himself. Some of these American phrases were addicting.

* * *

When De Geer had toured the crucible steel plant in April of 1632, Josh Modi had explained that steel was simply a carbon alloy of iron, as was cast iron. Changing the percentage of carbon combined with proper heat treatment would allow the steel maker to tailor specific steel for specific uses, from cutlery to cannon.

"It's all just a matter of understanding the chemistry," Josh said.

De Geer staggered.

It was as if a lightning bolt had run through his body from head to toe.

For almost thirty years he had been involved with blast furnaces, gun foundries, and cast iron cannon. He owned iron mines, tin mines, calamine ovens, brassworks and numerous foundries. But never had there been an adequate explanation for the different kinds of iron that he dealt with every day. All the questions and thoughts he had ever had about iron coalesced suddenly into a coherent whole.

"And red shortness?" De Geer asked.

"Too much sulfur," Josh replied. "Any time you get poor quality iron, it's due to some contaminating element. The two major ones are sulfur and phosphorus. Even then, if you add just the right percentages you can get a different alloy steel with properties you might want. It's all just a matter … "

"Of understanding the chemistry," finished De Geer.

Josh nodded and smiled. "Correct. The interesting thing of course, is that the chemistry will change with different types of alloys and different percentages of alloys, as will how you need to heat treat the steel or iron. Up-time it had become pretty much of an exact science, whereas down-time everyone is still groping in the dark and doing all kinds of strange things, some of which waste a lot of time and money."

"Besides carbon," De Geer asked, "which types of alloys are most important for iron and steel?"

Josh stopped to ponder the question. "For steel right now I think tungsten and chromium are the most important. Tungsten would allow you to make a steel close to what was called 'hi-speed tool steel.' With proper heat treatment it allowed you to machine metal and parts at high temperatures. It was at least six times as good as regular carbon tool steel. Chromium would give you a better structural steel and at high percentages provides a lot of corrosion resistance to the steel. With around twelve to twenty percent chromium, if you could get the carbon part of the steel down low enough, say below two tenths of one percent, you would have what we call 'stainless steel.' But this will be pretty difficult until we can build induction furnaces and get pure chromium metal. Not impossible, just very difficult. Four-forty types of stainless actually contain from seven-tenths up to one percent carbon.

"For cast iron," continued Josh, "silicon is the most important alloy, I would say. Higher silicon content makes for a more homogenous cast iron that is less likely to crack and have holes and gaps, especially if you heat treat it properly."

As they continued the tour, De Geer motioned to De Vries who had been standing nearby. "Find out everything you can about steel alloys, especially tungsten, chromium and silicon. Locations, uses, everything."

On the day before their departure from Grantville, De Vries met with De Geer to go over what he had discovered.

"So tungsten can be found in the tailings of tin mines?" De Geer asked in surprise.

De Vries nodded. "The mineral is called wolframite and will be found in ores in combination with another mineral called cassiterite."

"And chromium?" De Geer asked.

"Easiest to use form would be chromite. The Americans have identified the locations in general terms: Kemi in Finland, Bursa in Russia, the Ottoman Empire and Maryland in North America. Kemi may be difficult because of the rock overburden. Maryland was the world supplier of chromite for many years in the up-time early 1800's. The formations occur in what are called 'Serpentine Barrens' which will actually be easy to find because they have a different ground cover than the surrounding forest. One of Josh Modi's friends, Vince Masaniello, showed me a copy of a brochure with a simple map of an area called Soldier's Delight where some of the chromite was mined. While it was used as an alloy for steel eventually, most of its early use was for producing a yellow dye."

De Geer grunted. If chromite in the up-time universe was used for a dye, he might be able to use that fact to enlist Amsterdam dye makers in an expedition. But something nagged him. "Maryland? Where have I heard that name?"

De Vries smiled. "I looked up the history. Does the name Lord Baltimore sound familiar?"

De Geer snapped his fingers. "Of course, Lord Baltimore. George Calvert."

Late in the winter of 1631 De Geer had attended a meeting hosted by Philip Burlamachi who had been the financial agent in Amsterdam for the English Crown for almost twenty years. As usual they gossiped about the kings they represented and Burlamachi had told him about Lord Baltimore's latest land venture.

Despite the fact that George Calvert was a Catholic, he was a favorite of Charles I. In 1625 Charles had given George Calvert the title of Baron of Baltimore in the kingdom of Ireland for services rendered to the crown. Due to the pressure Calvert felt because of his Catholicism, he kept founding colonies or obtaining land grants in the New World, hoping to persuade the king to legalize the practice of Catholicism in the colonies. His latest attempt was a charter granting him palatine rights to millions of acres north of Virginia. He had wanted to call the colony Cresentia, but Charles I insisted, said Burlamachi, on having it named after his Queen, Marieland. In order to interest people in coming to Marieland, said Burlamachi, Lord Baltimore intended to offer a variety of rewards, including large land grants, government appointments, and noble titles. Those who transported sufficient numbers of colonists could have their tract designated as a manor.

De Geer smiled. "When we return to Amsterdam, remind me to send you to England to see Lord Baltimore. I'll offer to supply a ship with colonists. Miners, of course."

De Vries laughed. "Perhaps you can be the count of Soldier's Delight?"

* * *

But the Maryland expedition had been complicated by the fact of George Calvert's death in London on April 15, 1632 while De Geer was in Grantville. De Geer waited until he had heard that Cecil Calvert, the new Lord Baltimore, had obtained another charter which had gone into effect on June 20, 1632. He then dispatched De Vries to London along with Dirck Graswinckel to negotiate a land grant in the northern part of the colony that contained the serpentine barrens.

"Tell him I will transport a ship full of colonists on the Dragon," De Geer told them. "Attempt to get at least one hundred thousand acres in the area we want."

Chapter Three

For Louis De Geer, the spring of 1633 was a boom time for his armament business. Everyone seemed to be buying. The French, the Danes, the States General, even the English. The Spanish too had approached him, but he had never knowingly armed an enemy of The United Provinces, unlike Elias Trip. It was the English purchases that surprised De Geer the most. Rumors in the winter of 1632 had indicated that Philip Burlamachi was close to bankruptcy and that there had been a serious disagreement between Burlamachi and his brother-in-law and major creditor, Philip Calandrini. Then, as if by magic, Burlamachi seemed to be as wealthy as Midas. Longstanding debts going back as far as a decade had been paid off and Burlamachi was purchasing war material and recruiting mercenaries. A lot of mercenaries.

The question was, where was the money coming from?

There was only one reasonable answer.

France.

The question then became, what did Richelieu get out of it? What did the English have that Richelieu would want? And who would know the answer?

There was one major source of information that De Geer could count on. Jean Hoeufft. Through his brother, Mathieu Hoeufft, Jean Hoeufft was one of two agents that Richelieu used to obtain credit and purchase war material in Amsterdam. Earlier in the 1630's Jean Hoeufft had been the conduit for French money sent to Gustavus Adolphus through De Geer. If anyone would know what Richelieu had received for pouring silver into the hands of Charles I, it would be Hoeufft. De Geer sent for Jan de Vries. "I want you to go to Paris. Talk to Jean Hoeufft and see if you can discover what the French got for the money they're pouring down the English rat hole."

De Vries nodded. "By land or by sea?"

De Geer smiled. "By sea. It will be quicker."

Five weeks later De Geer received three separate dispatches from Jan de Vries over the space of a week. Clearly, De Vries wanted to make sure the message got through. Each had been encoded using the cipher system given them by Colette, and each had the same message once decoded.

NORTH AMERICA.

Oh ho, thought De Geer when he read the message. Lord Baltimore is going to be unpleasantly surprised, if he doesn't already know.

De Geer shook his head. No, if Cecil Calvert knew then the news would have leaked by now. So both the English and the French were keeping this a secret. Which, given the nature of the royal courts in both countries, astonished him. In fact, it made De Geer uneasy. If they could keep something this momentous secret, what else might be going on?

But the most immediate concern was what to do about the Dragon and the expedition to Maryland.

De Geer smiled. The French and Dutch were allies, were they not? It should be a simple matter to negotiate for the land grants needed to mine the chromite in the Baltimore area. Perhaps Colette and Josh could leave early for their trip to Paris.

Then De Geer remembered who they would be staying with. Richelieu's niece, the marquise de Combalet. Perfect!

But they would need legal advice. He sent for Dirck Graswinckel.

Graswinckel was enthusiastic. He had enjoyed his stay in Paris with Hugo Grotius and had numerous contacts there.

"You will be arriving early, so I will arrange some funds with a bill of exchange sent to Jean Hoeufft. Be careful. We don't want the French to know we are looking for chromite. Just ask for a general mining concession in the area. Better yet, ask for several mining concessions and let them negotiate you down to the ones we want. Explain everything to Josh and Colette. If they impress the marquise de Combalet it would ease the way for a meeting with Richelieu if that is needed."

After Graswinckel left De Geer sat back in his chair. Every business instinct he had told him there was something deeper going on. But what?

* * *

The first ten days of their stay in Paris were a whirlwind of activity for Colette and Joshua Modi. They arrived at the Petit Luxembourg on a sunny afternoon. The ride through Paris had been disconcerting for Josh, with constant déj à vu flashes as he caught glimpses of street patterns or buildings.

The marquise de Combalet waited for them in the foyer of the Petit Luxembourg having been warned of their arrival by the courier they had sent ahead on reaching the gates of Paris. She wore an elegant green dress and had a string of pearls around her neck although she wore very little make-up. She had black hair and black eyebrows and a small receding chin. She was not very pretty, but to Josh she seemed to exude a presence of serenity and confidence.

She knows who she is, thought Josh, and she's happy with herself.

To her right were two old women, one dressed in serviceable brown and white clothing and the other in black. Both women had canes and were watching him and Colette with intelligent intensity. They were so much alike that they looked like bookends.

After the initial introductions, the marquise, who insisted they simply call her Lady Marie, turned to the two old women. "Colette, I believe you know Marie de Gournay?" She motioned to the woman in black.

Colette smiled and moved to hug the older woman. "I am so happy to meet you at last, Marie! But you weren't supposed to tell on me!"

Marie de Gournay laughed. "I was too proud of you, my dear. And I couldn't stand the men at the salon going on and on how Crucibellus was obviously a man and how no woman could possibly write in such a concise and intelligent manner. Ha! Weren't they surprised!"

Marie turned to the woman next to her. "This is my friend, Louise Bourgeois. She insisted on meeting you and Josh. She was the royal midwife for many years and teaches at the school for midwives at the Hotel Dieu across from Notre Dame Cathedral."

Louise smiled. She too seemed to exude the same serenity and confidence exhibited by Lady Marie. "I hope you can tell me something about the medical practices in Grantville. We have heard many rumors here in Paris but very few facts."

Colette shrugged. "I do not know much, but my husband was born in what we call the 'up-time universe' where Grantville came from. He may be able to help you."

Inside Josh cringed. Oh boy, he thought, I wish I had paid more attention in biology now. "I don't know if I can be of much help, Madame Bourgeois, but I will do what I can. My major at Ohio State University was business history."

Marie de Gournay suddenly poked him with her cane. "And how has this husband of yours been treating you? With the respect due your intelligence and education, I hope!"

Colette laughed. "Oh, yes. He has been an excellent husband!" She patted him on the arm affectionately. "But he does spend too much time with his business."

The two old women scowled at him.

Great, Josh thought, now they look like two little pit bulls.

"Life is too short, young man!" said Louise Bourgeois. "Your wife is more important than any business!"

Next to him Colette grinned.

"And who is this young lady?" the marquise asked, indicating Regina.

"This is my kammerjungfer, Regina Kniphoff," Colette said. "The nearest translation in French would be that of a young lady-in-waiting. She is also my business assistant."

The marquise smiled as Regina curtsied.

"I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Marie," Regina said.

"Since I knew you would have a young girl with you, Colette, I asked Louise if she would be willing to have one of her granddaughters act as a guide and companion for Regina. Catherine?" A young girl Regina's age came shyly forward. "Regina? This is Catherine Luynes. Catherine, Regina Kniphoff, Colette's … kammerjungfer?" She looked at Colette, who nodded.

The two girls moved off to the side and began chatting with each other.

"I knew you would be tired from your trip," the marquise said, "so I scheduled no lectures until the day after tomorrow. But I must tell you that many people are very jealous of me." She motioned to a corridor and they all began walking down the hallway.

"Why is that?" Colette asked.

"We have had very few people from Grantville come to Paris. Oh, there was the diplomatic delegation recently, but they spent very little time here and did not participate in any salon meetings. All of Paris was rather disappointed."

"Really? Why?" Josh asked.

"The salons of Paris are where many women learn about new events in science, art, literature and mathematics Josh," said the marquise. "Grantville has been on everyone's lips for months but most of what we hear is outlandish rumor." She smiled. "I am afraid you will be as much in demand as Colette for giving lectures. I hope you don't mind."

Time to be diplomatic, thought Josh. "I would be delighted to assist you in any way I can, Lady Marie."

This time when the marquise smiled it was as brilliant as the sun. "I hoped you would say that!" She chuckled. "The marquise de Rambouillet will simply die of envy!"

"Marquise de Rambouillet?" Colette asked.

Lady Marie seemed to wave her hand in dismissal. "The marquise de Rambouillet began the tradition of the salons of Paris in the early 1600's. Hers is still the most famous. She tends to focus more on art and literature, while I try to attract those of science and mathematics." She laughed. "But she will try to steal you away soon enough." She stopped in front of a doorway. "This will be your room. The windows look out towards the garden."

The room was huge, with a large bed, fireplace, and elegant furniture stylishly placed. A connecting door led into a smaller room that would be Regina's.

Colette smiled. "This is lovely, Lady Marie. We will be quite happy here."

Lady Marie smiled back. "Dinner will be at eight. My cook is Lorenzo Stornato from Florence and I asked him to prepare something special tonight. I think he is planning either goose or swan. I invited a few guests, so Marie and Louise will be there, and Vincent de Paul. Until then."

She swept out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

Colette flopped on the bed. "Paris!"

Josh laughed and flopped beside her. "I think this is going to be fun. I hope Dirck and Jan can take care of the Maryland business on their own. I'd hate to have to spoil all this by having to get involved in negotiating a business deal."

Then it hit him. Vincent de Paul. Saint Vincent de Paul? "Oh my God."

* * *

Despite Josh's apprehension at meeting a real saint (Josh had to keep reminding himself that Vincent de Paul had not been canonized yet), the dinner was quite enjoyable. Colette and Josh found Vincent de Paul's stories about his time as a slave after being captured by Turkish pirates in 1605 particularly fascinating.

"So you and your master both escaped?" Colette asked.

Vincent de Paul nodded. "Only after I converted him to Catholicism. He was a simple but good man."

It was at that moment that an unexpected guest walked into the room. The marquise hurried over and kissed the man on the cheek. "Theo, I thought you said you couldn't come!"

The man's voice rumbled deep in his chest. "I finished this week's issue of the Gazette early just so I could meet your new guests."

The marquise brought the man over and Colette and Josh stood to introduce themselves. As the man came closer Josh tried not to stare. Now if that isn't the perfect description of butt-ugly, he thought, I don't know what is.

The man approaching them on the arm of the marquise was not just ugly. He was enormously ugly. He had huge, misshapen hands. His nose was short and squashed and his sunken eyes and narrow mouth made his face into that of a monster. His thin hair revealed and accentuated the ugliness of the face rather than softening it.

But then you looked into the eyes and you forgot the face, for the eyes burned with curiosity and intelligence. Like lasers, thought Josh, they burn right through you. Laser eyes.

"Colette, Josh, this is my good friend Theophraste Renaudot. Theo, Colette and Josh Modi, from Grantville."

Renaudot shook their hands gently. "A pleasure to finally meet people from the mythical town of Grantville. You must tell me all about it."

Renaudot seated himself next to Josh and Colette. "Will you be with us long?"

Josh smiled. "The marquise has us booked for at least two weeks of lectures. We had planned to come in August but things went very well with our business and we were able to come to Paris earlier than we expected. We hope to be able to stay a month."

"Excellent," Renaudot said. "May I interview you for my newspaper? I am the publisher of the weekly Gazette du France. The latest issue is at the printers, but I am already looking for stories for next week's issue and it would be a pleasure to interview you and your wife." Renaudot looked over at Colette and smiled. "It would be especially delightful to interview Crucibellus. Was Joe Buckley's story true? Your pen name came to you in a dream?"

Colette blushed. "Yes. I had asked Mr. Buckley not to publish that part of the story, but he did anyway."

"And you felt you were touched by God, did you not?" Renaudot's voice was soft and low.

Colette nodded.

"And He has touched you before, hasn't He?" Renaudot asked.

Everyone around the table was silent, listening.

Colette nodded again, jerkily, and a single tear began to drip very slowly down her cheek. Renaudot reached across and gently wiped the tear away.

"I only ask, Colette, because I too have felt the hand of God on my soul, and He changed my life as much as I believe He changed yours. Perhaps someday you can tell me your story." Renaudot grinned, breaking the spell of the moment. "Not for publication of course. I am not Joe Buckley."

The conversation continued for another hour before the marquise laughed and said it was time to let her guests rest.

"What happened to Theo?" Colette asked as the marquise escorted them to their room.

"You mean why did he say he had been touched by God?"

Colette nodded.

"You noticed that Theo is not the handsomest of men?"

"Yes," Josh said, "But his eyes … "

"Women are not attracted to men's eyes, Josh, especially at first. And Theo's father was a handsome man. So Theo always felt alone and ostracized, especially as a young boy. It was when he was ten that he came across an old man lying in the street, clutching a loaf of bread. People began to gather around the old man, screaming and beating him, accusing him of theft. Theo could see that that the old man was starving, that he had stolen the bread to survive, not to sell. But the crowd had no empathy. No mercy. For one brief second God connected their souls. He showed Theo what he must do if he was to relieve the suffering of the poor." The marquise smiled sadly. "From that day forward, Theo dedicated his life to helping the poor. Both my uncle and Father Joseph support him in this endeavor, as do I. In addition to publishing the Gazette du France, he is the commissioner-general to the poor. He is trying to organize an information center where the poor can find out about jobs. He is also attempting to recruit doctors to provide free clinics for those who are sick."

The marquise smiled at them. "He is a very good man. And he loves to hear about new and interesting things. He seems to absorb new information like a sponge, nothing is forgotten. If you could talk to him in the next few days, I would be very appreciative."

"We will, Lady Marie. I promise," Colette said.

The marquise left and they entered their room and prepared for bed.

"They are not what I expected," Josh said, cuddling with Colette in the bed.

"What do you mean?"

Josh nuzzled her neck. "I don't know, I thought the niece of Richelieu would be more, more … "

"Evil? Machiavellian?"

Josh nodded.

"People are complex creatures, Josh. Everyone has good and bad qualities. From what Marie de Gournay has written me, Lady Marie has many more good than bad qualities. I like her."

"So do I. Since we are her guests, let's try to be as diplomatic as we can in the weeks ahead."

They fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

A week after their arrival they were able to watch the latest play by Pierre Corneille, La Veuve. When Colette expressed her enthusiasm for the play, the marquise encouraged them to use her box at the Hotel de Bourgogne where Corneille's tragedy, Clitandre, was still playing.

"I've already seen it twice, but it is excellent. It closes in three days, however, so you should plan on seeing it soon. Perhaps the evening after tomorrow? I have finally scheduled a night off for you." She chuckled. "You have been wonderful guests, hardly any complaints at all."

"It has been great, Lady Marie," Josh said, "no complaints here. Except for breakfast, of course."

Josh and Colette had been trying for days to convince Stornato to experiment with waffles but without success.

Lady Marie laughed. "I am sure Stornato will succumb eventually."

* * *

Their presence, of course, was discovered by others shortly after their arrival.

"So, Cazet," Cardinal Richelieu said, "the Modis have arrived early?"

Cazet de Vautorte, one of his most trusted intendants along with Etienne Servien, nodded. "Yes. They arrived with Dirck Graswinckel, who is an agent for Louis De Geer. Graswinckel is staying at other lodging, however, with a second agent of De Geer's, Jan de Vries, an ex-artillery officer in the Dutch Army. Your niece has the Modis fully occupied. It is what Graswinckel and De Vries are doing that is disturbing and which prompted me to report."

"And that is?" Richelieu stroked the cat in his lap. It purred and rolled over on its back. He smiled and began rubbing its belly gently.

"Apparently," Cazet said, "they wish to negotiate for mining contracts in North America. In Maryland."

For a second Richelieu stopped rubbing the cat's belly. It batted at his fingers and he resumed his stroking. "So, apparently Louis De Geer has discovered part of our plans. Do we know how?"

Cazet shook his head. "Not positively, but I suspect Jean Houefft revealed something. He and De Geer have extensive business dealings since we often purchase war material in Amsterdam. And De Geer has agents or connections all over Europe. It is difficult to hide anything involving armaments or troops from him."

"True," Richelieu said.

"Do you want me to take care of them?"

Richelieu waved his hand. "We were bound to be discovered, Cazet. At this late date I hardly think it matters. And I certainly don't want De Geer's focus to shift to other issues in the weeks ahead. So it would be best, I think, if negotiations were delayed, don't you?"

Cazet smiled. "As Your Eminence wishes."

* * *

It was upon their return from watching Clitandre at the Hotel Bourgogne that Josh and Colette found a depressed Dirck Graswinckel waiting for them.

Dirck waited until the doors had shut on their room before venting his frustration over the negotiations. "Which aren't even really negotiations," Dirck complained. "Jean Hoeufft is being singularly uncooperative. No minister will talk to us. Those who do talk to us tell us to go to some office where another minister is busy or has already left. Noblemen that I knew when I was here with Hugo Grotius simply shrug and say they can do nothing without permission from Richelieu."

"Have you tried getting an audience with Richelieu?" Josh asked.

Dirck nodded. "Of course, but it is impossible to cut through all the layers. I did get to speak to one of his intendants, a Cazet Vautorte, but he told me that Richelieu was ill and could not be disturbed. Whether that was true or not, I don't know, but it seems we are being thwarted at every turn. Do you think perhaps … "

"What, Dirck?" said Colette.

"Perhaps you could speak to the marquise? Appeal to her? Get her to arrange a meeting with Richelieu? She is his favorite niece."

Colette shook her head. "I think that would be inappropriate, Dirck. We were invited to give lectures, not to negotiate business deals."

Dirck sighed. "I know that, Colette. But we may be here for months at this rate."

"He has a point, Colette," argued Josh, "The sooner we get the chromite, the sooner we can get some chemically resistant steel. Remember what I told you Greg Ferrara said. Without some kind of stainless steel no sulfa drugs for infections, no DDT, no chloramphenicol to cure diseases like typhoid and typhus. Or at least not enough to do most of Europe any good."

"We must not presume on our friendship with the marquise, Josh," replied Colette. "Perhaps if things have not changed in two weeks, then we can discuss it again." She turned to Dirck and smiled. "I'm sorry, Dirck. But you'll just have to keep trying on your own for now."

Dirck sighed and shrugged. "All right, but don't be surprised to see me back here in two weeks begging you to reconsider."

* * *

There the matter would have rested but for the sneaky curiosity of two little mice who went by the names of Regina and Catherine.

In the ten days since her arrival, Regina and Catherine had become the best of friends. They had explored every room, hallway, and closet of the Petit Luxembourg. They had eavesdropped on dozens of adult conversations, giggling behind their hands as they did so. Catherine's grandmother took them on tours of Paris by carriage and Regina saw the sights that Josh had told her so much about: The Louvre, Notre Dame, and the Palais Royale. She was disappointed there was no Eiffel Tower, however.

The night that Josh and Colette went off to see Clitandre she had invited Catherine to her room for a slumber party. "The bed is big enough for both of us," Regina told her friend. "And your granmama is staying the night at the Petit Luxembourg as well."

When they had heard the adults returning they scampered under the covers just before Colette peeked her head in the room to check on them. Giggling quietly, they snuck up to the partly open door and listened as Dirck Graswinckel complained about the negotiations.

"Who is that?" whispered Catherine. "He's handsome."

Regina snickered behind her hand. "Dirck Graswinckel. He works for Colette's uncle."

When Catherine heard the part of the conversation about stainless steel and drugs she turned to Regina, her eyes wide. "Can they really do that?" she whispered. Like her mother and grandmother before her she was interested in being a midwife.

"What?" Regina said.

"Stop infections and cure diseases with chloro whatsits."

Regina giggled again. "Chloramphenicol. Yes, the Americans are wonderful chemists."

The two girls tiptoed back into bed when Dirck Graswinckel left. Regina was soon asleep but Catherine lay awake, thinking about infections and disease.

As wonderful as her grandmother was, she could not cure many infections. Oh, there were poultices and different medicinal plants that seemed to help, but often they did nothing. And as for typhus … Catherine shuddered. Her grandmother had told her stories of what plague and typhus epidemics could be like. With sudden resolve, she got out of bed quietly so she would not wake Regina. She moved silently down the hallways of the Petit Luxembourg on her bare feet to her grandmother's room.

Louise Bourgeois was a light sleeper and smiled when her granddaughter slid into bed beside her. "What is it little one, a bad dream?"

Catherine snuggled up to her grandmother. She always enjoyed sleeping with her. It felt so warm and safe. Catherine told her grandmother about the conversation she had overheard.

Louise Bourgeois frowned. "Eavesdropping is a sin, young lady. Shame on you."

Catherine lowered her head to her grandmother's shoulder. "I am sorry granmama. Forgive me?"

Louise sighed. "Yes, my dear, I forgive you. But do not forget to confess your sin in church. Now sleep."

Louise stroked Catherine's head and thought about what she had said. So Grantville could cure diseases with chemicals, but they needed material from some mine that the French owned. She would have to talk to the marquise.

* * *

The next evening Josh and Colette dined at the Petit Luxembourg with the marquise, Louise Bourgeois, Marie de Gournay and Theo Renaudot. The after-dinner conversation quickly turned to the morning conference at Renaudot's mansion in which the main subject for discussion had been the admission of women into universities.

"I must admit," Theo said, "that I took a great deal of pleasure in your response to the Comte de Avignon."

Colette laughed. "He just made me so angry! 'Women are too delicate.' 'Women are not the intellectual equals of men.' Ha!"

Josh smiled. "It was Marie I was worried about. I thought for sure she was going to march over and start beating him with her cane."

"That man has been an insufferable bigot for a decade," sniffed Marie. "I just pity his poor wife."

The marquise laughed. "I wish I could have been there. But I did have an interesting conversation with Louise this afternoon." She turned to Josh. "So tell me, what is chromite?"

Oh, oh, thought Josh. Now how did she find out about that?

"Who told you?" Colette asked. She seemed embarrassed.

"Let us just say that the walls have mice," the marquise said, smiling. "Little girl mice with big ears."

Josh explained what chromite was and its importance for making stainless steel and the importance of stainless steel for manufacturing large quantities of drugs and other chemicals.

"Would your government allow you to sell such drugs to France?" Theo asked.

"If we could produce the drugs I've mentioned in large quantities, I'd bet Mike Stearns would be willing to give them away at cost," Josh said. "The only way to prevent epidemics is to vaccinate if you can, and control the disease at the source if you can't. If Paris had the plague or typhus, it would be in our own interest to send the drugs to combat them if we could. You can't put up a steel wall against disease, it just won't work."

The marquise looked thoughtful, then smiled. "So tell me, how does Louis De Geer feel about women as business associates?"

* * *

"Uncle, it is so good to see you again!"

The marquise de Combalet approached Richelieu and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Behind her Cazet de Vautorte seemed to shrug helplessly. Obviously he had been as surprised as Richelieu to see that she had brought additional guests for her visit.

"You know Theo, of course, and Marie de Gournay and Louise Bourgeois, but may I introduce Colette and Josh Modi? They have been the talk of Paris all week. Josh and Colette, this is my uncle, Cardinal Richelieu."

Colette curtsied deeply and Josh bowed. "Your Eminence, it is a pleasure to meet you," they both said.

Inside Richelieu sighed. This would be an interesting meeting. "Cazet, would you have Desbournais bring some extra chairs for our guests?"

* * *

Richelieu's fingers were steepled as he pondered what he had heard. There were many advantages here for France. And in the end, what did it matter who helped to develop North America so long as control was maintained by France?

"So you, my niece, will assume the same palatine rights for Maryland as Lord Baltimore had? And you agree to finance its colonization?"

The marquise nodded. "In addition, I will contact Lord Baltimore. Why waste the ships which were being prepared if we don't have to? According to what we were told by Dirck Graswinckel, Lord Baltimore was prepared to spend almost five hundred thousand livres in support of the colony. So long as the colonists are willing to swear allegiance to France, why not make use of them? Any replacements we need can come from France. We should have time to make the arrangements; the expedition was not supposed to sail until November, anyway."

"And you will grant Louis De Geer the mining concessions he wants?"

The marquise smiled. "Yes."

"Think of how this can be used in the Gazette, Your Eminence," Theo said. "Through the benevolence of Cardinal Richelieu, the people of Europe will be saved from disease."

Richelieu smiled. Theophraste Renaudot had always been good at finding ways to praise his patron. "Do you wish a title to go with this, Marie? Perhaps the Duchess of Maryland?"

The marquise gave him a brilliant smile. "If you can convince the king, I would not reject it."

* * *

Two weeks later Josh and Colette Modi said their goodbyes and left for Essen.

As they rode through the streets Josh could see that Colette was in a pensive mood. "Guilder for your thoughts."

Colette laughed. "I thought it was supposed to be only a penny."

"Well, I don't want you to think I don't value your thoughts you know. Anything you want to talk about?"

They were approaching the final gate leading out of Paris and Colette motioned around her. "I think I've fallen in love."

"With Paris?"

Colette nodded.

"Well," Josh said, "we could always move to Essen. That would put us much closer. Besides, then we would be close to Amsterdam as well, and I loved that city up-time. Something about the canals … "

Colette's eyes sparkled. "You would do that? For me?"

Josh smiled. "For us, darling. Always for us."

Side by side, they rode out of Paris toward their future.