Sunday, February 24, 2019

Not Even Not Zen 154: A Bandit Accountant, 26.3

A Bandit Accountant

Chapter Sporadic Groups

Scene Three: That's Good

“No, there’s no paper.” The mayor raised his hands as they marched. It was as if he were holding bags of something in the air. “The accounts aren’t on parchment, either.”

“Seidel,” Denario remonstrated. “We are in West Ogglia now. All modern records, by law, are kept in one of the four systems approved by the Accounting Guild.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard. And I’ve heard my knight’s response to your rule many times. The same law that mandates written systems also allows for traditional systems to be maintained.”

“That is technically true. But ...” Now the accountant found himself grabbing at the air but he observed the difference between his gestures and those of the mayor. “The accounting law is three generations old, Seidel. How long has your town been using a mechanical system?”

“I wouldn’t call it mechanical, exactly.”

“It’s bags of something, isn’t it?” he said, cynically.

“How did you know?” Seidel’s eyes widened.

“So the guild would classify your method as mechanical.” Denario withheld his sigh. He waved off the explanation of how he knew. It had been by guessing the worst method possible. “You know, just because you’re allowed to do something in a bad way that doesn’t mean you should.”

Seidel frown grew so pronounced that Denario worried that the fellow was about to cry.

“We’ve had gentlemen killed over this, if you must know. Peasants have died, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rather belatedly, he understood that Seidel’s life had to be on the line. He was an older fellow, at least thirty, but his teeth looked strong. He was many years away from the pains of age and longing for death. When he’d let his friends vote him into this position, he’d taken a risk. He’d made a bet on himself and his ability to put the town right.

“Would you be willing to put your words in writing?” Seidel asked. “For our knight, I mean. He’s not a literate man. That’s why he doesn’t trust ledgers. But his attendants can read and write. They’ll tell him what you say. Who knows? They might persuade him to listen.”

“I know Sir Negri.” He was a tall, brown-eyed man with a scar on his nose and a thick beard. Negri’s hair was mostly black with a few strands of gray. He was a stout knight, a loyalist and a traditionalist. “I’ll compose a reminder from the guild.”

“You know a knight?” Brand, the dread land pirate, stepped away from the group as if offended.

“I know many knights, Brand,” Denario said, glad to irritate the man a bit more. He hadn’t asked for him to come along. “I’ve met those who’ve come to the court in Oggli. They are the most important ones who aren’t free lances.”

After a moment of thought, the other men gave him extra room on the path. In this countryside, even knowing a knight was a dangerous thing. The beer vendor, Bitten, trembled. That was the way he regarded the mention of nobility. Denario was coming to realize that Bitten might be a good example of the remaining East Hogsli peasants. After all, the best and bravest had been killed. The rest lived in fear of their masters, who had executed so many, and of the monster upstream, who had slaughtered them when some knight or squire ordered them into battle against it.

That meant Mayor Seidel, although he seemed to be an ordinary fellow, might prove to be a fount of courage compared to his peers.

In a few minutes, the town of East Hogsli came into view. There were eight buildings made of of split wood or logs, two of them churches, and there were eleven thatch houses visible. Razed plots off to the northeast turned out to be, on closer inspection, places where another pair of thatch houses had stood until recently. They’d been burnt to the ground. In the center of town, a courthouse stood with a gallows in front. Three bodies hung from the rafters.

A pig roamed along the main street, apparently loose from its pen. To the west, one of the wooden houses fronted a fenced yard with animals. There were goats visible, chickens, and another pig.

“Stinking farm town,” Brand muttered. Since Jack wouldn’t leave his rafts, he’d sent the former caravan captain into East Hogsli as the sole human guard. Brand towered above the other men in the group. Even in his faded greatcoat, there was an air of superiority and sophistication about him, a bit like a wine that had gone slightly bad.

“For what gods are the churches?” Denario asked the mayor.

“The big one is for Contadin, our farm god,” Seidel responded as he directed a scowl at Brand. “We need a better harvest this year, urgently, so we can pay our tax. That’s the spire.”

“Humph.” Brand made a disgusted noise.

“The smaller one,” the mayor continued with a gesture, “is for the traveling gods. It has no spire. It gets the same priest. We can only afford the one.”

“I may want to visit the traveling gods.”

“Yes, sir.” Seidel nodded with approval. He liked his visitors to be religious, it seemed. That made sense from a practical point of view. If the town was dying, it would have a harder and harder time getting the attention of local gods. Any sort of worship probably seemed worth a try. “I think the location should be convenient to you, accountant.”

“Damn.” Denario thought for a moment. “You’re about to say that the mechanical book keeping system is kept there, aren’t you? In bags.”

The mayor and the beer man exchanged a glance.

“Why isn’t it kept in the town hall?”

“It was. The former mayor ordered it moved when it started taking up too much room.”

That was likely when the worst of the cheating started, Denario realized.

“When was that?” he asked.

“Back in the double harvest, wasn’t it?” Seidel conferred with Bitten for a while. After they counted multiple summers, witches hanged, duels among the local gentry, visits by their knight, and differently unusual pigs berths, including a litter of one, they at last decided that the book keeping move must have happened fifteen years ago.

“Wonderful,” Denario said.

“That’s good, is it?” asked the mayor in a hopeful tone.

Out of the corner of his vision, the accountant caught Brand rolling his eyes.

Sunday, February 17, 2019

Not Even Not Zen 153: A Bandit Accountant, 26.2

A Bandit Accountant

Chapter Sporadic Groups

Scene Two: This is the Trap

At the dock in front of East Hogsli, the accountant found himself sniffing suspiciously at a cup of peach beer that Clever Jack had handed to him. He and the boatman were discussing what could be done about Goyle. The fellow’s right leg looked hopeless. Even if it didn’t need cut off, Goyle wouldn’t be able to walk. When the rafts arrived in Oupenli only two towns downstream, the crippled man would be stranded.

“Brand says he’s going to take his other man, Schmurter, and follow the dwarfs west from the city.”

“That’s back up the road that my carriage took to Zeigeburg.”

“Right, there’s only one good way. They’ll travel on foot.”

“Definitely no Goyle, then.” When a sigh, Denario leaned back and took a swig of beer. His tongue rolled around in his mouth. It was an odd taste, more sour than a beer made from peaches should be. But it was better than the local water.

A broad-shouldered man strolled up to them on the chalky path. The metal buttons on his tunic marked him as important. His beard, although short, covered most of his face. It was entirely unlike a dwarf beard, Denario mused. Trailing behind this important man came the short, pot-bellied vendor who had sold them the beer barrels.

“Are you Jack’s accountant?” the larger man boomed. He snapped out his right hand to shake.

“Denario,” he replied. He switched his beer between hands and reached to accept the welcome. “Accountant of Oggli, yes.”

“It’s true!” The shake became almost furious. “My name is Jakob Seidel. I’m the mayor of East Hogsli.”

“What happened to the old mayor, Dickie Muller?” Jack interjected.

Jakob hesitated. “He died. Our knight didn’t appoint anyone to replace him, either, although his squire was there at the time to do it. Instead, the town voted me in, those in the town hall anyway, and Sir Negri’s secretary wrote to me to say that the knight would likely approve. It depends on the tax rolls this fall.”

“If you need the accountant for taxes, forget it.” Jack waved off the idea. “He can’t stay.”

“I only need him to take a look at our records. Really, I need a book keeper, not a full accountant. The Oggli Accounting Guild wage is terrible, too high for the likes of small towns.”

“Are we interested, Jack?” Denario smiled to his friend and business agent.

“Nah.” Jack clapped the mayor on the shoulder. “This is the best accountant in the land, Seidel. He doesn’t work for book keeper wages. Anyway, he’s rich. One of these rafts is his.”

The mayor grimaced at the heavily laden barges. The accountant noted that Jack didn’t reveal the fact that the cargo on every raft belonged to the senior riverman.

“It’s life or death.” The mayor’s lips tightened. “Doesn’t the Oggli guild take an interest in the reckoners living in Ogglian territories?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, Sir Negri’s secretary wants me to fix our records or hang our reckoner. I would swear our man, Koen, is harmless. And honest. It’s just that the system he inherited is old. There seems to be a way to cheat it. Would you audit Koen? It would clear my conscience one way or the other.”

Denario had to set his drink down. This was guild business. He paced for a few seconds, away from the other two men and back.

From the first they’d met, Winkel had insisted that reckoners, computers, clerks, book keepers, and accountants should never be punished except as the result of an audit. It was technically a rule of the land. It had been decreed by the Duke of Faschnaught and Ogglia, back when that had been one person, and it had been verified in this generation by the Marquis.

Master Winkel had enforced the rule by filing suit against the Count of West Ogglia for hanging a book keeper. In a horrible surprise for the nobility, Winkel had won. He’d argued to the point of law, which was indisputable, and he got the benefit of the count turning in an undersized tax collection to the Marquis de Oggli that year. The case had been heard in the court of the marquis.

As trials went, this one was brief. The marquis had sat in. He’d spent most of his time berating the solicitor for the Count of West Ogglia, referring to his various counts and barons as idiots, incompetents, half-wits, and criminals, and he concluded that they all deserved a stiff fine or a hard ass-kicking, maybe both. The judge, who was sitting on the left of the marquis, got the message and ruled correctly. After a glance at his boss, he’d also ordered an ‘audit of the count, the entire county, and all of his barons.’

That, oddly enough, had not resulted in additional enemies for the accounting guild. Instead of slandering guild members, the barons at the state dinner that night poked fun at their own count and sang a rude song about him. They explained to his face that he should have settled with Winkel before the matter came to trial. Then they would be in no trouble. The count’s face flushed and he tried to shove one of the barons, who promptly pushed back and knocked the older fellow back into his seat. Then the count, humiliated, hadn’t even threatened them. He left with his two senior knights as soon as he could find an excuse. His remaining staff stayed for the juggling acts and the music. They drank, sang, and danced with the impertinent barons and their knights.

“Jack,” Denario hissed. “I have to go.”

“Don’t be daft.” The taller man leaned his bald head close. He breathed his words. “Remember what our sireni friend said.”

“I know that this is the trap.” The accountant shook his head over his own foolishness. “But I can’t let them hang a reckoner without a guild audit. We’re in West Ogglia. This is serious. The town can’t overturn a rule my master fought to uphold.”

“Damn right it’s serious.” Jack found that he had to put down his drink, too. It took him visible effort to not slam the mug on the stump. “These aren’t back-woods, mayor’s-cousin bean counters. This town has connections to power. When the folks don’t like you, and they won’t, they’ll write to their knight. The knight will call on his baron. You could be arrested anywhere between here and home.”

“If they tell their knight that I turned down the offer to audit, that’s going to be seen as permission to convict and hang reckoners, computers, clerks, and book keepers all over this barony.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“I’m the accountant on the spot. Look, I see you follow the rules of the riverman’s guild. You made me set aside a tenth of my rower’s pay for them.”

“I had to, since we’re going to Oupenli. They collect the dues there. But otherwise I don’t stay within the guild laws so much. I follow them when I have to do it or get caught.”

“I’m the first member of the accounting guild to pass through East Hogsli. What do you think will happen if I turn down the audit? Don’t you think news will get back and I’ll be caught?”

“Well, could be.” Jack tilted his head, his eye sockets in shadow as he considered the consequences. In West Ogglia, laws were complicated. Denario could tell that they were both trying to figure out the legal and human entanglements. He sighed at the prospect of a trap. It seemed all too likely. But he shook himself and gave up worrying.

“Besides,” he said with a wave of his hand. “It’s the right thing.”

“There!” Jack jabbed the air. His face rose to the light. His eyes glinted. “That’s the real reason. It worries me, Den. Men get killed doing the right thing.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“I’m your agent. I set the price.”

“But,” the accountant insisted, “I’ve got to go.”

“Maybe. I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

Clever Jack ambled over to the mayor of East Hogsli and hitched up the rope that served as his belt. His hand went to the docking stump to find his cup. He nodded to the beer man as he sipped. Jack didn’t even have to start the negotiation with Jakob Seidel. Seidel made an opening offer. The riverman merely shook his head no.

Within a minute, Seidel’s face started to turn pink. His arms cut through the air to emphasize his declarations of poverty. Maybe that was just Seidel being a good negotiator. But if so, he was out-classed and out-maneuvered by Jack. The boatman had a better position. He could set the price for what the mayor wanted and he didn’t mind saying no. With a calm expression, he shook his head, a sad grin on his face.

Denario leaned close enough to overhear the first round of bickering, during which Seidel agreed to the full price of the audit. The fellow walked away when Jack demanded the money up front. But in less than a minute, he returned for a second round. In that one, Clever Jack demanded the money plus a town guard for the accountant plus free room and board, to which the mayor agreed immediately. Denario listened to those details as he started to unpack and re-pack his accounting supplies. Then the boatman said the town would have to provide room and board for three accounting assistants appointed by Jack from his crew.

At that, the mayor stomped away again. Denario didn’t stop his packing. He wasn’t fooled. Sure enough, Seidel didn’t even get out of sight before he turned around. He marched back with the pale beer man trembling, wide-eyed in astonishment, behind him.

As the negotiations continued, Denario decided that he should take Jack and two dwarfs. The dwarf chief had sidled up to the corner of the raft so as to overhear as clearly as the accountant. Denario stepped in his direction.

“Boldor,” he said. “Could you spare Ulf and Torgrim for this?”

“Hmph.” The stout fellow stroked his beard. He had learned something of human bargaining. “Ulf can provide protection. But the other will be Ragna if our master boatman permits.”

“Ragna?” the accountant stood straight for a moment. He tried to understand.

“He is a great healer. He has business in town. If you must go despite the warning you’ve been given, master accountant, we must think about everyone’s protection. Ragna will improve the health of East Hogsli. That will win a few hearts. He may also save your life, of course, if it comes to violence, but he would do it in a different way from your other assistants.”

The accountant bowed. “You are a wise chief.”

“Now, now.” The dwarf spread out his hand in a magnanimous gesture. Although he seemed to be brushing off thanks, there was a smile on his lips. “It’s not a finished arrangement. If we are to stay even for a single night, we should do it with our truest intent. Jofrid will set up his forge. The local smith will pay for special knowledge or for special tools, I’m sure.”

“What should we do about the trap?” Denario didn’t feel any shame in asking. He had acted strategically once or twice but Boldor might be the better thinker in that respect.

“Tarktich is shrewd.” The chief sighed. “Unlike Jack, the siren lives in this area and can see things that the river master does not.”

“That’s my thought, yes. He’s got to be right. Yet I can’t let the reckoner be hung.”

Boldor gave the briefest glance to his own clothes, which were as good as armor to anyone but a dwarf. The steel bands in his brigandine looked perfect. Then his discerning eye fell to the accountant. Perhaps Denario wasn’t wearing the proper gear or something about his tunic looked slipshod. The chief motioned to Dodni, who caught the eye of another dwarf. They came over and, after a glance from their leader, turned to give the accountant similar inspections. They tugged their beards, looking skeptical.

“None of us know the situation in town,” Boldor continued. He motioned to the others. “We must equip ourselves. And we must have a method of sending messages. Our priest understands such codes. So does Dodni. Speak to them before you leave.”

“Yes, chief.” That was sensible.

Dodni left for a moment to fetch his brother, the dark dwarf, whom Boldor had learned to call ‘the priest,’ although not because he was one. Heilgar couldn’t be an actual dwarf priest anymore, apparently, because he had come above ground. That was the rule. But Heilgar had been studying for the dwarfish priesthood and Boldor had learned to ignore the dwarf rules for the sake of giving his companion respect as they traveled. Humans understood the title of priest, whereas the dwarf clerical positions of Light-Bringer, Breather, and Contemplator, among others, didn’t seem to have matches in the above-ground world.

On the shore, behind Boldor, the negotiations ended. Mayor Seidel nodded. His pale lips pressed tight. He was resolved. Next to him, the curly-headed beer man stood, mouth open. Clever Jack didn’t move.

Seidel stuck out his arm. Jack sighed. He glanced at his right hand. Then he lifted it and shook with the mayor. He nodded. The mayor gave him a smile that didn’t look entirely forced. The two of them, together, turned their heads toward the rafts.

The river master noticed the accountant. He released the mayor’s hand and waved. The deal was done.

Sunday, February 10, 2019

Not Even Not Zen 152: A Bandit Accountant, 26.1

A Bandit Accountant

Chapter Sporadic Groups

Scene One: First Warning

Boldor, Dodni, and Jack conferred about the gifts due to their host. As the accountant expected, they set their offerings on the stump. Their assortment included three stone spear points and one of bronze, plus food, wine, and blankets.

Setting up camp went as it always did except for Dodni asking the accountant to light the fire. Usually, Denario let the dwarfs do it. But everyone else had already grabbed duties such as finding firewood or cutting up ingredients for the stewpot. Jofrid had given himself the job of making another spear head for Barkbark. It would have looked strange for Denario to avoid the easiest chore. He trudged back to the raft, dug into the bottom of his travel bag, and found his flint and his quartz. On the seventh strike, he got a flame going, briefly. On the eighth, he kept it burning. He built the flame with dried twigs until the edge of a log caught. In a few minutes, he’d made a real fire. One of the men, Goyle, built a pot hanger over it.

No one had laughed at him. No one seemed to think his method was odd. They cooked during the long sunset through the trees. Between light peeking through branches overhead and the glowing of two cooking fires, the clearing turned shades of orange and brown.

It wasn't until after Barkbark returned, accepted the gifts, and granted them the right to eat that they relaxed. Members of the rafting group shoveled warm food in their mouths and gazed outward at the dusk. The foliage above had darkened to shades of orange and black. Denario remembered that he’d received a warning.

“Yes, yes. You maybe should skip the next town, accountant.” Barkbark had resumed his throne-like seat. His arm swung out to encompass the crews of the three vessels in his ruling. “Others, too.”

“Nah,” said one of the men, Schmurter.

“What's this all about?” asked Jack.

“And what's with the new tattoo on your shoulder?” asked Schmurter. “It’s still bleeding. It is related? Is it a magic charm?”

“Odd, no.” The thought derailed Barkbark for a moment. His gaze fell to his left shoulder. His right hand found a dark, green triangle there about the size of his fingertip. As Schmurter had noticed, that particular spot was fresh. “Each scale is drawn by a wife.”

“Just now?”

“Yes.” The siren sighed. “There is one for each of the large magical creatures I have killed and fed to my wives. The spell long ago, the one that cursed our women, hurts their stomachs. When I feed them magic, they feel better.”

“So is this a mark of honor?” said Dodni from the other side of the fire.

“It is.”

Everyone murmured or nodded in thought. Denario did a quick re-count of the crude tattoos. Even in the dim light, he saw thirty-seven. There were as many small marks on the back of the fellow's shoulder, too, he remembered.

“I told you all,” Jack said to the crowd. He shook the chunk of bread he'd dipped in the stew. “Barkbark is why we didn't see many flying alligators. He's been working hard. Always has. And as always, he has my thanks. He should have yours, too.”

The dwarfs, of course, stood and responded, each in turn, with polite bows and acknowledgements of their host's hunting prowess.

“For a second time, I must warn the accountant,” the siren continued after the last dwarf sat back down.

“Okay, let's hear it,” said Brand. As the man next to him, Schmurter, started to speak, Brand punched him. The smaller man winced and closed his mouth.

“In the town,” said Barkbark. He paused to clench his hands into fists. He struggled for the common tongue words. “You will all look to trade. You make food by selling skills. Now I have heard that the East Hogsli town wants the accountant. Other towns, too.”

“Aha.”

“Many men desire this particular one.” The siren scratched his ear. He shook his head as if he couldn't believe his own words. His gaze fell on Denario. “No such numbers man has traveled here. So many messages have come down the river about him. Some go up the river about special kinds of counting needed. There are good men who carry and read those messages. There are some bad men who carry them, too. And there are bad men who read.”

“Are you saying that East Hogsli has gone bad? I traded there a few months ago.”

“With a new man?”

“Yes. That happens.”

“You are clever, Jack. But you did not see far enough.” Barbark rose. He gazed downstream, past the dock and into the unseen twists and bends. As he turned his back on them, Denario counted the tattoo scales for flying alligators killed. There were at least forty-seven visible from that side. “There is a cheating, a stealing in the town. Soon, there will be another hanging or a fight. They will call on the accountant to fix it. I do not trust them.”

He turned to face the assembled men and dwarfs again. His hands went to his hips.

“Another hanging?” Brand had done business there too, surely. “How many have they had?”

“They are not good people.” Barkbark shrugged. “The ones across the water are good. The ones to the west are few, but good. Not those in the south town, the one called East Hogsli. They are cheats.”

“Did they steal from you?” Jack asked.

“I insisted they keep their bargains with me. Instead, they sent a knight man. I killed him. Many other men came, after, and I killed them each in turn.” Barkbark sighed. “I may have killed too many that were good. Now the town itself is bad. Only coward men and cheating men live there. In my defense,” he said, leaning back, one elbow on a knee, as if trying out the phrase, “it is hard to tell the difference between good and bad without time. Those who came were trying to kill me.”

“This is our experience, too.” Boldor nodded seriously. “Not the killing but the rest. There are fine men and evil ones, maybe more so in the extremes than with other races.”

For the rest of the the meal, the siren and the dwarfs compared their experiences with humans. Some of their anecdotes were funny. Mostly, the stories played up the worst of humanity. Clever Jack glowered but he held his peace. Brand turned red in his cheeks and ears. By oath, he couldn't strike the dwarfs and, by strength, he was no match for Barkbark He and Schmurter, the shorter and hairier man, took their food bowls to the edge of the tree hall where they wouldn't have to listen to such truthful slanders. Goyle, although adept on a raft, was too crippled to move without help so he had to stay with Jack at the south of the semi-circle.

Denario, alone of all of the humans, remained next to the campfire. Dinner tasted good. He wanted to keep the stewpot within reach. He enjoyed the company of the dwarfs. Perhaps his time as a slave gave him a different perspective on humankind. He wasn't offended by the judgments he heard. If anything, he felt the dwarfs were still too kindly disposed. Barkbark seemed to agree. He finished the conversation by warning Boldor against the towns downstream, especially those of East Hogsli, Fat Turnip, and Oupenli. He reckoned that the barons and knights who owned the lands were crooked. Their thefts turned the citizens crooked, too, until cheating seemed normal.

The accountant sighed. In his profession, he encountered cheaters every month, at least, sometimes every week. When his master had lived, Denario hadn’t paid much attention to them. They were Winkel’s responsibility.

At the end of the evening, as he rested his head on his pack and tried to sleep on the cold ground, Denario mentally reviewed the math he’d done in the temple. The steps in kis proof seemed complete. What he’d witnessed at the side of the goddesses, though, was better, more interesting math in its way. It was the math of the emptiness between matter. Higher up, there was more math, too, in human blood. Two different base four systems. He shook his head. The systems converted messages between them. What could the numbers have to say to one another so deep inside a human body? This is the process of your life, the goddess had said. Perhaps Ruffina had exerted her influence to let him know.

As he considered the old priestess, he slipped into other thoughts about the temple. Laying naked on a floor covered in goosedown. A room that smelled like a thousand extinguished candle wicks. Embarrassed, he brushed his memories aside.

He tried to look forward to East Hogsli. He only had Barkbark’s word that there was a trap. Maybe there wasn’t. And anyway, the other men and the dwarfs wouldn’t want to skip the place if there was work. If they did bypass the town, that would bring up Oupenli a day or two sooner. When they finally reached the big city, Denario could sell his raft, collect his wages, and buy a coach ride for the rest of the way to home. The idea frightened him. He didn’t feel ready.

For a long while, he couldn’t sleep. He considered all of the math in his life that was missing, hidden from view, and all of his questions that would go unanswered. There was at least one question that had bothered him to which there was an answer, he was sure.

Denario roused himself. Propped on an elbow, he leaned to the man closest.

“Jack,” he whispered. “Did you have a child by accident?”

The boatman had gone to rest with a hat over his face. He pulled it off. His eyes fluttered and, after a few seconds, they opened. Jack considered the question.

“Ah.” He smacked his lips. “I see why you ask. No, bless my wife. My boys were meant to be. By her, by me, by the gods, by everything. What I didn’t want to say around the dwarfs was that I was one, though. I was an accident.”

“Nice accident,” said Denario, a bit sorry he’d brought it up.

“Lucky for me, at least.” The boatman gave the accountant a not-unkind smile, closed his eyes, and pulled the hat back over his face.

Sunday, February 3, 2019

A Nerd in a Warrior Culture - Twenty-Two Chapters

A Bandit Accountant

Chapter Thirty-Two Minus Thirty-One


Chapter Root Two Squared

Chapter Pi, Roughly 


Chapter Two Pair


Chapter Full Hand


Chapter Half Dozen


Chapter Fourth Prime


Chapter Two Cubed


Chapter Three Quarters of Twelve


Chapter Binary Two


Chapter Red, Green, Yellow


Chapter Square Root of Gross


Chapter Baker's Dozen


Chapter Pair of Sevens


Chapter Fifth Triangular Number


Chapter Twice Eight

Chapter Seventh Prime


Chapter Third Semiperfect


Chapter Normal Magic Hexagon


Chapter Score


Chapter Octagonal Number Three


Chapter Pi Times Seven Approximately



Saturday, February 2, 2019