Appendix C

Starting Monday, Richard officially had an extra deluxe meal on his tray.

Warren was generous. As long as Richard could fit it in his stomach, he could order anything in the cafeteria.

Every bite of protein and fat Richard ate was putting substance back into his body, thin enough to seem translucent.

The terms of the exchange were fulfilled just as readily.

For twenty minutes after lunch, Richard would explain the key points from Latin class to Warren in a corner of the cafeteria.

He kept it simple, breaking down the roots, linking the logic of conjugations with the simplest framework, then having Warren repeat it back.

He also benefited from the teaching process.

Every time he wanted to explain something clearly, he had to sort through it from beginning to end himself first.

Teaching someone else, in turn, reinforced his own understanding.

The numbers on the panel gave the most honest feedback.

Every effective act of teaching made his Scholarship experience jump forward a little.

Not much, but it was roughly twenty percent faster than simply reading on his own.

Teaching and learning complemented each other. The ancients had not lied.

Of course, before teaching Warren, he had actually spent ten minutes explaining first-conjugation verbs to Hugh.

When he was done, he asked Hugh, "Do you understand?"

Hugh nodded earnestly. "I understand. Amo, amas, amat."

"Next, the second conjugation. Moneo, mones..."

"Wait." Hugh raised a hand to interrupt him. "What's the difference between amas and amat after amo again?"

"...I just spent ten minutes explaining exactly that difference."

"Did you?" Hugh tilted his head, his face full of nothing but confusion.

Richard patted him on the shoulder.

"Hugh, you're already doing pretty well as you are."

"That sounds like you're giving up on me."

"I am giving up on you."

"..."

He had given up on Hugh, but the benefits of teaching had already been proven.

He only needed to find a student with a somewhat better foundation, someone who could keep up with the pace.

Warren happened to come along at just the right time.

During the lunchtime tutoring sessions, Gray had always listened nearby with her ears perked.

She listened quietly, never interrupting or asking questions.

But Richard noticed that after he finished explaining, she would lower her head and write a few lines in the notebook she carried with her.

The next day, Gray turned to a fresh page in her notebook, looked up, and asked her first question.

"Williams, you said there were two overlaps between the endings of third-conjugation i-stem variants in the subjunctive and those of the fourth conjugation... Could you explain which two again?"

Richard glanced at her.

Anyone capable of asking a question with that degree of precision could not be slow-witted.

"Sure. Move a little closer. I'll draw a chart."

Gray brought her chair over.

From that day onward, the lunchtime tutoring session went from two people to three, and every morning she brought him breakfast.

Either a hot pie or a sandwich. In any case, the fillings were always generous.

Warren called it "Williams's after-school tutoring class."

Mason called it "A poor man teaching rich people how to read. Now that's something you don't see every day."

Richard paid no attention to that, but after Warren explained what had happened that night, his thoughts began to stir.

The fact that Warren's family was willing to make such a fuss over it showed that this "other world" carried considerable weight among the upper classes.

Then again, families able to invite a medium into their homes for an inspection were few to begin with among Briston's merchant class.

Warren occasionally mentioned things about his family.

His father's business, the tea parties his mother hosted, and the family "traditions" around Exorcism Day.

When he spoke of "traditions," he glossed over it in a vague tone.

But Richard's interest in the word medium took on a different shape.

Thursday afternoon, the final class was Mr. Hutton's.

It covered a comparative analysis of several controversial archaeological reports from the colonial era of the New Continent.

The content was dense enough that several boys in the back had already begun using their textbooks to hide their faces while they dozed off.

After the dismissal bell rang, chairs scraped across the classroom as the students started packing their bags.

Mr. Hutton stood at the podium, stacking the scattered lesson-plan pages one by one, his movements unhurried.

"Williams, stay behind."

His voice was not loud. Mixed in with the noise of students packing up, only the people in the nearest few rows heard it.

Warren passed by with his bag in hand and raised an eyebrow at Richard. "Why are you being kept behind again?"

Richard shook his head to signal that it was nothing.

Only after the classroom had emptied and the footsteps in the corridor gradually faded did Mr. Hutton rise from his chair.

"I heard from Holland that you're entering the Cicero Cup?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Light reflected off the old man's spectacles.

"You've changed a great deal lately. Holland has mentioned you to me several times."

Richard did not respond.

Mr. Hutton looked at him and suddenly said something entirely unrelated to their previous topic.

"Williams, do you like the library?"

"It's all right. I've been going often lately."

The old man put his hands into his pockets and shifted his gaze back outside the window.

"On the east side of the third floor, there's an inconspicuous bookshelf.

It's wedged between the geography and agriculture sections, with no category label."

"Fourth row, seventh compartment. There may be something in there that interests you."

Richard looked up, waiting for more.

Mr. Hutton took a small object from his inner breast pocket and placed it on the edge of the podium desk.

It was a thin slip of paper folded into quarters, yellowed with age, its corners worn smooth.

"Keep this for now." He lightly tapped the paper with a finger.

"When you get there, you'll know what it's for."

Richard walked over and pinched the paper between his fingers.

Even through his fingertips, he could feel that the paper was unusually thick, unlike an ordinary book page.

"Sir, this is..."

"It's just a piece of paper," Mr. Hutton said casually.

"Or maybe it's nothing at all. That depends on whether you can make use of it once you get there."

He sat back down behind his chair, picked up a pen, and began writing his lesson plan at an unhurried pace.

"Go on. Don't delay getting home."

Richard frowned, picked up his schoolbag, said, "Goodbye, sir," and left the classroom.

The next day, after finishing lunch and the tutoring session, Richard did not return to the classroom for a nap. Instead, he headed straight for the library.

Greenwood's library was a separate three-story red-brick building, connected to the teaching building by a covered corridor.

The first and second floors were well lit, with large south-facing windows, neatly arranged desks and chairs, and a desk lamp at every table.

During breaks and lunch, students would gather there in groups to do homework.

The third floor was clearly another world.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, the light had dimmed.

There were only two windows, and the side wall of the teaching building opposite blocked most of them. The air was filled with the sour, musty smell unique to old paper.

There was not a single person on the entire floor. Richard followed the shelf numbers farther in.

Large-format atlases in the geography section occupied two entire bookshelves, their covers printed with faded coastlines and contour lines.

Next to them were bound volumes of agricultural journals, rows upon rows of thick leather-covered books with years stamped along their spines.

Fourth row, seventh compartment. Richard reached inside and found his target.

The book was not thick, roughly two hundred pages.

Most of its gilded lettering had faded, and only by leaning close could he barely make it out.

The title was: <On the Organizational Forms of Early Agricultural Communities in the Western Continent and Their Relationship with Natural Cycles>

—A Comparative Study Based on Seven Field Cases

The author's Signature consisted of only one set of initials: E.V.M.

The publication information was printed in tiny type at the bottom of the title page: Royal Anthropological Society Press, New Calendar 1832.

It was probably a book from more than seventy years ago.