“Bullseye,” Jack said, drawing a raised eyebrow from the Doctor and a glare from Eliza. Now that he knew the Doctor spoke English, it was all Jack could do to limit himself to that one word-he wanted to talk, talk, talk-to make jests*and to voice his opinions on diverse subjects, relate certain anecdotes, et cetera. He said “Bullseye” because he was afraid Eliza might try to brazen it out by claiming to be from some odd corner of France, and Jack, who had much experience in brazening, and attempting to sustain elaborate lies, sensed that this would be a losing bet with the annoyingly perceptive Doctor.
“When you have resolved your differences with the Oriental gentleman, I should like to take you up on the subject of Kuxen, ” said Eliza.
A double eye-brow raise greeted this news, causing the topheavy wig to pitch alarmingly. “Oh, I’m free immediately, ” he said, “this Mandarin seems to have no desire to refine his philosophickal position-to disentangle the worthy science of number theory from the base superstition of numerology- most unfortunate for him and the rest of his race.”
“I am not well versed in any of those subjects,” Eliza began, obviously (to Jack) making an heroic bid to change the subject, and obviously (to the Doctor) begging to be given an advanced course of instruction.
“Fortune-tellers frequently make use of a random element, such as cards or tea-leaves,” the Doctor began. “This fellow tosses sticks on the ground and reads them, never mind exactly how-all I’m interested in is the end result-a set of half a dozen lines, each of which is either solid or broken. We could do the same thing by flipping six coins- videlicet…” and here he went into a performance of slapping himself all over, like a man who has a mouse in his clothing, and whenever he detected a coin in one of the manifold pockets of his many garments, he scooped it out and flipped it into the air, letting it clang like a Chinese gong (for the coins tended to be big ones-many of them gold) on the paving-stones. “He’s rich,” Jack muttered to Eliza, “or connected with rich persons.”
“Yes-the clothes, the coins…”
“All fakeable.”
“How do you know him to be rich, then?”
“In the wilderness, only the most terrible beasts of prey cavort and gambol. Deer and rabbits play no games.”
“Very well, then,” said the Doctor, bending to peer at the fallen coins. “We have heads, tails, tails, tails, heads, and tails.” He straightened up. “To the Chinese mystic this pattern has some great significance which he will, for a small fee, look up in a book, jammed with heathen claptrap, and read to you.” The Doctor had forgotten about the coins, and about the circle of fun-fair habitues closing in on it like a noose, each making his best guess (as they lacked scales and books) as to which of them was most valuable. Jack stepped in, using his thumb to nudge his sword a hand’s breadth out of its scabbard. Their reaction made it plain they were all keeping one eye on him. He picked up the coins, which he would return to the Doctor in a tremendously impressive display of honesty and sound moral character whenever he snapped out of his rant. “To me, on the other hand, this pattern means: seventeen.”
“Seventeen?” Jack and Eliza said in unison-both of them had to step lively, now, to keep pace with the Doctor as he stomped out of the Jahrmarkt making good time on those high heels. He wasn’t a big man but he had a fine set of calves on him, which his stockings showed off nicely.
“Dyadic, or binary numbers-old news,” the Doctor said, waving a hand in the air so that the lace cuff flopped around. “My late friend and colleague Mr. John Wilkins published a cryptographic system based on this more than forty years ago in his great Cryptonomicon -unauthorized Dutch editions of it are still available over yonder in the Booksellers’ Quarter should you desire. But what I take away from the Chinese method of fortune-telling is the notion of producing random numbers by the dyadic technique, and by this Wilkins’s system could be incomparably strengthened.” All of which was like the baying of hounds to Jack.
“Crypto, graphy… writing of secrets?” Eliza guessed.
“Yes-an unfortunate necessity in these times,” the Doctor said.
About now, they escaped the closeness of the Fun Fair and stopped in an open square near a church. “Nicolaikirche-I was baptized there,” the Doctor said. “ Kuxen!A topic strangely related to dyadic numbers in that the number of Kuxen in a particular mine is always a power of two, videlicet: one, two, four, eight, sixteen… But that is a mathematical curiosity in which you’ll have little interest. I am selling them. Should you buy them? Formerly a prosperous industry, upon which the fortunes of great families such as the Fuggers and Hacklhebers were founded, silver mining was laid low by the Thirty Years’ War and the discovery, by the Spaniards, of very rich deposits at Potosi in Peru and Guanajuato in Mexico. Buying Kuxen in a European mine that is run along traditional lines, as is done in the Ore Range, would be a waste of the lady’s money. But my mines or I should say the mines of the House of Brunswick-Luneburg, which I have been given the responsibility to manage, will be, I think, a better investment.”
“Why?” Eliza asked.
“It is extremely difficult to explain.”
“Oh, but you’re so good at explaining things…”
“You really must leave the flattery to me, milady, as you are more deserving of it. No, it has to do with certain new sorts of engines, of my own design, and new techniques for extracting metal from ore, devised by a very wise and, as alchemists go, non-fraudulent alchemist of my acquaintance. But a woman of your conspicuous acumen would never exchange her coins-”
“Silk, actually,” Jack inserted, turning half round to flash the goods.
“Er… lovely silks, then, for Kuxen in my mine, just because I said these things in a market.”
“Probably true,” Eliza admitted.
“You would have to inspect the works first. Which I invite you to do… we leave tomorrow… but if you could exchange your goods for coin first it would be-”
“Wait!” Jack said, it being his personal duty to play the role of coarse, armed bumpkin. Giving Eliza the opportunity to say: “Good Doctor, my interest in the subject was just a womanish velleity-forgive me for wasting your time-”
“But why bother talking to me at all then? You must’ve had some reason. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Where is it?” Jack asked.
“The lovely Harz Mountains-a few days’ journey west of here.”
“That’d be in the general direction of Amsterdam, then?”
“Young sir, when I spied your Turkish sword, I took you for some sort of Janissary, but your knowledge of the lands to the West proves otherwise-even if your East London accent hadn’t already given you away.”
“Uh, okay, so that’s a yes, then,” Jack mumbled, leading Eliza a few paces away. “A free ride in the Doctor’s train-can’t be too much wrong with that.”
“He’s up to something,” Eliza protested.
“So are we, lass-it’s not a crime.”
Eventually she wafted back over to the Doctor and allowed as how she’d be willing to “leave my entourage behind” for a few days, with the exception of “my faithful manservant and bodyguard,” and “detour to the Harz Mountains” to inspect the works. They talked, for a while, in French.
“He says a lot in a hurry sometimes,” Eliza told Jack as they followed the Doctor, at a distance, down a street of great trading-houses. “I tried to find out approximately what a kux would cost-he said not to worry.”
“Funny, from a man who claims he’s trying to raise money…”
“He said that the reason he first took me for Parisian was that ostrich plumes, like the sample in my hat, are in high fashion there just now.”