"Yeah... Yeah. I'll see you then, Thorn!"

Lenora shows herself out.

"See you, Lenora!" 

Thorn checks the time. 

It's about 7:15 PM.

She goes down to Abraham's Engineering and sees if they're still open. If they are, she asks after the price of an engine - the thing that goes in a hull and makes it run. 

They're open eighteen hours a day! Well, if she needs the whole thing and not just some valves or gearing or a boiler, a refurbished used Jemmy series would run about 350 for parts and 150 for installation. It'll suffice and get you to your destination eventually. A nice, newer Britomart-type with a good bit more power and better fuel economy runs 950 for parts and 250 for installation.

She thanks the clerk and heads back to her rooms. There's not much more to do in the day. 

Before bed, she goes back to counting her money. She has… Her gold. The remnants of her "trip to london" fund, almost cleared out by sky-gear just today. What's left? Twenty-seven sovereigns, ten pence. Despite her lack of a chart, she's still managed to spend most of her small budget. 

It's a shame she can't simply resort to counterfeiting, but Eva is right that she should be wary of becoming a criminal. Even if she was just doing the equivalent of selling her gold coins. Sigh. 

However, she has a better idea of her finances now. Each day's food costs about seven shillings. Add an hour of singing lessons, fifteen shillings. Add good lodgings, thirty-one shillings. That comes to a little over a sovereign and a half a day. Call it exactly a sovereign and a half a day because saturday and sunday are free stays at the inn if she pays upfront and the Manic Dilettante is not going to be reliably present every day. How long can she stay? 

Well, this week's got five more days left in it. The total cost for that is thirty-five shillings plus forty shillings - a little less than four sovereign. Twenty-seven minus four, twenty-three, divided by one and a half… double both sides. Forty six divided by three. Ten, plus five is fifteen, plus a bit left over. Plus the five days that are part of this week makes twenty. She can afford to stay for twenty days on what's left in her jewellery-box. For every sovereign and a half she spends on other items, she can stay one day less. 

Seeing the cold numbers laid out in front of her makes her regret the two sovereign she spent so casually on her bronzewood jewellery-box. She wants every day here she can get, damn it, and if she starts digging into her engine funds it might risk the entire operation. She doesn't want to do anything drastic. 

Speaking of her engine funds, she knows something about supplies now. Travel from Regent's Falls to Port Avon took three days. Travel from Port Avon to New Winchester took one. So even without consulting a chart, she knows that supplies will be reasonably affordable. She could make a round-trip from here to Regent's Falls (eight days) for fifteen - no, call it thirteen - people and a single crate of food would suffice. That's forty Sovereigns. Double that for safety, eighty Sovereigns. Double it again for better range, one hundred and sixty Sovereigns. So okay, maybe less reasonable than she expected. But not outside her budget, not alone.

What about fuel? At five sovereigns a barrel, and one running day a barrel, that's forty sovereigns to get to Regent's Falls and back. Quadruple it for safety and range, and that's one hundred and sixty sovereigns as well. 

Then there's crew pay to consider. She would want at least six crew, based on her experiences aboard the Bramble and the advice she got from Abraham's Engineering. She's one; what about the other five? Each would want at least 1 sovereign a day; five sovereigns per day times eight days' range is forty sovereign, double it for safety, by which she means quality of sailors hired, and double it for range, and it's one hundred and sixty again. What is with this number? It's stalking her. 

As for uniforms and skysuits, that would be six times three eighteen sovereign for uniforms plus another twelve sovereign for another two skysuits is thirty.

Finally there's the cost of the engine itself. A Spatchcock, at five hundred sovereign, plus Lenora's gun, nothing, plus the cost of an engine, five hundred, sums to one thousand exactly. Lenora was right. 

One hundred sixty times three plus thirty plus one thousand equals… one thousand five hundred and ten.

And she has one thousand, four hundred and seventy nine Sovereigns in gold. 

Those two numbers are far too close for comfort, and in the wrong direction. 

She goes and takes a shower. 

If she cuts on safety margin, she's an idiot. But she has room to cut on range. If she only goes as far out as four days, that subtracts… two hundred and forty. Which is within striking distance. Assuming there aren't more costs, like the scout. And now she's regretting the coin she tipped Primrose. It was the right thing to do, but she could have come back to do it so as not to so seriously overtip her. 

No, she's kidding herself. It was overtip or no tip at all. She'll just have to live with her decisions like a big girl. 

She towels off, changes, and goes back up to her room to do more math. She's calculating supplies for thirteen people currently, which is twice her number of crew, so she can save another forty sovereigns by committing to not take passengers. One thousand five hundred and ten minus two hundred and eighty is… one thousand two hundred thirty. Subtract from one thousand four hundred and seventy nine… That's two hundred and fifty sovereigns of leeway. Just a bit more than three gold coins. 

She'll take it.  

She takes out her journal and writes by starlight, her catlike eyes letting her see the page even without a lamp lit. Lustrum. Titania. The Eleutheria Transfer Relay. How far away are these places? She writes down her singing lessons for easy reference. She doesn't practice, not this late at night. 

She writes more star-marked fiction, making up places entirely now. She takes her stained-glass binoculars out to look at the stars. In a quiet moment, she lets herself wonder: If she told Lenora the whole truth, would it help or hurt her?

She goes to bed, and sleeps on it. 

The city continues its daily cycle. There's some kind of scuffle outside at the trainyard early in the morning, and two police officers are interviewing the weird guy with the 'I BUY EGGS' sign when she goes out.

She goes and has bacon and eggs for breakfast at the pub, then heads back to the Manic Dilettante's to hopefully have singing lessons. 

He is on his roof, doing something involving mirrors. Experiments with light? Dangerous, passersby mutter.

She calls up to him. "What's the muse call you to today, Dilettante?" 

"I read a scientific paper on possible beneficial effects of the light of particular stars on cats! But I must say, my cat is not enthused! Perhaps I must give it up."

"Have time for a singing lesson? I'm still hungry for more!" 

"Bah! Fine. Help me get these back inside first, then!"

"Certainly! Which way to the stairs?" 

He shouts down directions, then takes her to the music room again after they return the mirrors to various bedrooms and bathrooms. "The neighbors complain more when I'm loud out of doors. Now, where did we leave off?"

She reminds him of the exercises they did last time; the scales, the backup singing, and so on.

He is just as enthusiastic this time, but a bit less sporadic. He'll let the lesson continue for almost two hours today if not interrupted. He also teaches her a series of hand signs a conductor or fellow singer shows to guide one's voice, then keeps using them through the rest of the lesson.

"You do need to practice on your own too, you know. I can tell you didn't. Here, take this for now." He tosses a pamphlet of sheet music they worked from earlier. "The third and fifth ones are good all-round practice. And you need to get your pitches right first time! Do you have a phonograph? Tuning forks? Metronome?" (All of the named devices featured in the lesson.)

"No, I don't have any of those. I'll have to purchase some tuning forks and a metronome at least; I don't think I have anywhere for a phonograph." 

She pays sixteen shillings for a two-hour lesson and returns to her rooms at the inn, where she picks up her pack and makes another trek out to the abandoned house at the edge of town.

There's a pack of wild cats hanging around in the general area this time. Several of them follow her for a while.

She's not too worried about a few cats, though the possibility of shapeshifters is potentially alarming. She makes sure she's not followed all the way, at least.

She sets up her portal again, and steps through the doorway.

Eva waves from behind her black-hawthorn desk. "Hello again, Thorn. What's the plan this time?" 

"I need reloads for my gun, a number sixty combo, a table and chairs that'll fit through the door, tuning forks for each pitch in the scale, a metronome, and a ceramic four-liter of this." 

She sets down her ampoule of Chorister honey on the counter. 

"Don't judge me on my life choices please and thank you." 

"... oh, now that's an interesting intoxicant. Like liquid poetry. Go ahead and have your romance dear, just remember to drink responsibly. We can't afford the Wish Time for you to get a habit." 

"I did say not to judge me on my life choices."

Eva's desk populates with ammo, a brown paper bag, a set of tuning forks, a metronome, and after a few seconds, a four-liter ceramic jug of Chorister honey. A small table and two chairs in victorian style appear as well.