"That attitude is a healthy sense of self-preservation, really. So a great many academics and engineers have none of it."

He gives a name, the Gothic Calligrapher, and an address. For whatever addresses are worth around here; It's more like general directions.

"Thank you kindly, and I hope there are many profitable collaborations ahead of us."

She considers her priorities for a moment, then sets out to find the Calligrapher.

The place stands out pretty well. It's tall, architecturally detailed and centered on vertical design, absolutely no plants or decorations aside from the bare stonework, an arched window with delicate iron framing, and is painted black. Very black. The sign above the door says 'Calligraphy for Hire' in an honestly impressively sharp serif font, with a cursive inquire inside just as neatly below. A bell rings above the door as she enters. There's a small sitting room with neatly arranged painted signs, fancy contract letterheads, and illuminated manuscript pages on display.

A roll-up wall panel ascends a few moments after she enters, revealing a long-faced, thin-lipped man with dark circles under his eyes, wearing half-moon glasses and inkstained robes and holding a feather quill.

"How may I help you today, madam?"

"I am an accidental immigrant from a place with magic which works on nearly completely different principles from things here like the Correspondence. But only nearly, meaning that it does interact with Correspondence, so I believe I need to learn about it. You were suggested as someone who both might be able to teach me and would be likely to not, say, land us both in an explosion that left us unsure whether yesterday was to our left or our right."

"I shall require payment up front. I will warn you now that you will not learn to write in the language of the heavens without inviting disaster along the way. Learning to read... Perhaps safer."

"Actually, I already can read. Just a bit. I took a look at a tree marked "Garden-Pillar", with the senses mages of my variety normally use. I saw that it was, first, an incredibly powerful little nugget of all known types of magical energy - we typically refer to them as the 'colours' of 'mana' - and, second, that the translations given were not quite right. I stopped quickly, because I could feel fire in my mind, trying to push itself through my natural protections. I have no desire to repeat the experience untutored."

"Quite. Fire is the most common failure mode. This is hardly a secret. In fact, a basic safety precaution. Observe my sprinklers," he finishes with a dull droll, pointing to a small metal spigot on the ceiling. "Were you imagining a short session? A simple history lesson?"

"At minimum, whatever other warning signs are common. Perhaps whatever is considered common first experiments. The basics, in short. What would you consider to be the skills needed before you let someone off to study any particular application? At home, that would be the very basic theory of the coloured disciplines, sensing for energies, and mastering an elementary spell like light," and a small bobbing glow dances on her palm as a demonstration. "What are the basics here?"

"I would thank you not to perform magic near my books. Basics? The ability to discern communication from commandment. Recognition of the broadest major meaning groups. A sense for when combustion is imminent and when to stop asking questions. Introspection, of a sort. If one intends to write, exacting practice with a non-magical language."

"My continued existence is the result of ongoing magic. In several respects, but the one most likely to alarm you is that I can speak any ordinary language at least as well as any thinking being nearby, so I am in some sense interacting with the contents of your mind. Not directly, though, more 'zeitgeist' if that translates properly."

Siiigh. "I'm not concerned about that. Don't damage my books."

"Of course not. Right, then, meeting your standards for writing is probably impractical. I've been trying to trade services, since they have more comparative advantage, but you won't be interested; fortunately I do have some currency and trade goods as well. Elaborate slightly on communication versus commandment, please. Do you mean a tendency to comprehend a concept and take it as an instruction, or some other thing?"

"Something else," he deadpans, resisting the urge to sigh again.

"Very good. Just assessing urgency. How much time would you expect training those things to take, and for what consideration?"

"It's difficult to judge, some have greater talent. One hour will be sufficient to determine if you are entirely hopeless, or not. If you are a once in a generation genius, or your circumstances give you a unique advantage, that same hour would perhaps be sufficient, though at least a day is more likely. If I were you I would not wish to be just barely capable, rather than actually competent. And I do not say that to encourage additional lessons. I won't pretend teaching is my favorite job."

"Noted and understood, but that isn't currently my priority. I don't expect to do significant work without a collaborator."

"Very well. Now is when we circle back to payment."

"Indeed. Do you have a price in mind?"

"Given that you are asking for somewhat hazardous specialist knowledge. I believe fifteen Sovereigns an hour is reasonable."

"Your premium has a reasonable cause, and yet it seems to be remarkably large, even so. I'd pay eight an hour."

"You're welcome to return at a later time, I suppose."

He reaches for the pull-down wall.

"I believe you're the first person I've met here who doesn't default to haggling."

"I'm sure I've never heard that before. Do you think I need the money? I do not. The price I set is what is required to offset my reluctance and suspicion. I don't anticipate it changing."

"I assume you're better than others I could find; you came recommended and I can see why. I do not, however, know how much better. And your rate is surprising even for a skilled professional."

He lowers the dividing wall with a slam.