The line remained exactly where he'd left it.
Common schooling?
Two words and a question mark. He used that mark whenever he recognized a problem before he understood how to solve it. He'd done the same beside steward the previous year, and again beside Sinbound on a page Aestrith had glanced over before either of them realized how much that single word would eventually mean.
Through the window, the printing press began its first run of the morning. It sat only a few streets away, close enough for him to picture the steady rhythm drifting across the still air. Most mornings, the remembrance faded into the background without him noticing.
Today it held his attention.
The press could reproduce anything he chose to write. The real question was what he wanted fifty thousand people to be able to read.
He picked up the quill and started a list beneath the waiting question mark.
