no foundry lexicons to experiment with in the Commons, I cannot give a definitive answer.”
The Michiel scrivers exchanged simpering smirks at that.
“We did, however, look at the second-biggest problem with lexicons,” said Orso. “For while constructing a lexicon is difficult and expensive, it’s a one-time cost. But constantly updating all the existing lexicons on your campo with all the latest scriving definitions…That gets pretty expensive, yes?”
The smirks vanished. All eyes were fixed on Orso, while Sancia and Berenice silently toiled away on the iron box like stage assistants before a conjuring trick.
“What do you mean?” said Moretti quickly.
“Well, as a former hypatus myself, I know that it takes days, weeks, or even months to fabricate a scriving definition,” said Orso. He tapped the lexicon holding the one he’d just shown them. “Having to carefully write each sigil of the argument perfectly on a bronze plate before placing it in the cradle of a foundry lexicon…And you can’t mass-produce them, since one sigil even slightly out of place in an active lexicon could cause absolute havoc. So you have to hand-make them all…Which means it can take more than a year for just one new definition to be fully implemented throughout a campo.”
“Yes,” said Moretti, impatient. “And?”
“Well, we found the cradle within a foundry lexicon…the bit that holds all the definitions…” Orso thoughtfully tapped his chin. Sancia thought he was milking it a bit much. “We found that could be twinned quite easily.”
The Michiel scrivers looked at one another.
“Are you saying that instead of writing out several hundred definition plates by hand,” said Moretti, glancing at the velvet-lined box, “for our several hundred foundries…”
“Yes?” said Orso.
“We…We could use your technique to twin all the cradles within our foundry lexicons…”
“Yes.”
“And then if you fed just one set of definition plates into one foundry lexicon…then all of them would just believe they contained those arguments?”
“Yes.”
“And then all the arguments that we’d written out…would apply everywhere?” asked Moretti.
Orso nodded like the idea had entirely been Moretti’s, rather than his. “That could definitely work, yes.”
The Michiel scrivers were not slouching in their chairs anymore. Most were sitting up, or sitting forward—and some were even standing.
Sancia could see the math taking place in their heads: the hours they’d save in sheer labor, and the efficiencies they’d gain, campo-wide. And it would also eliminate a whole host of security concerns, for scriving definitions were easily the most valuable things a campo owned: lexicons might be the heart of a campo, but the definitions were the blood. Even this small-scale application of Orso’s technique would be revolutionary for them.
“And it’s all here,” said Orso, placing a hand on the giant tome on the table. “I’ve no doubt such advanced minds as yours will make quick work of this…”
“After the demonstration,” said Moretti sharply. “I will want to make sure it works.”
Orso bowed. “Of course.”
Berenice and Sancia continued their work, carefully applying the appropriate markers on the iron box. Within half an hour, they were done.
“Finished,” said Berenice, stepping back and wiping sweat from her brow.
The Michiel scrivers rose, approached the stage, and studied the alterations they’d made to the test lexicon and its heating chamber, as well as the iron box. Their work was deceptively simple—no more than a bit of bronze, a few plates, and a few hand-wrought sigils, carefully etched.
“It’s not working now, is it?” said the scriver with the lisp warily.
Orso gave him a thin smile. “No. It won’t work until the lexicon is ramped up and turned on. Only then will we have successfully twinned reality.”
“But how shall you prove that it works?” asked the scriver with the lisp.
“Well,” said Orso, “there are several ways we coul—”
“No. We shall see to that,” said Moretti. He waved to one of the scrivers at the back of the room, who trotted forward with a box of their own—though this one was silver and bronze, as opposed to Orso’s dull wood.