Grantville Gazette.Volume VII

by Eric Flint

  Dr. Phillip Theophrastus Gribbleflotz returned his attention to the up-time science book. The large printing and colorful pictures gave clear directions on the process and explained everything in the simplest of English. Just what was needed for the World's Greatest Alchemist, especially as he had only learnt English because those silly up-time females from the town of Grantville could only provide reference material in English.

  Phillip looked back at his "wet cell battery." The zinc electrode was wasting away before his very eyes. He had been warned about this. He pulled the electrodes from the oil of vitriol and wiped them with a rag. Then he turned to the collection of chemicals the Grantville females had given him when they presented him with the up-time science books. One jar caught his eye. It was labeled "Zinc Zn." There was less than half a jar of the precious metal left.

  With a heavy heart he turned back to survey his laboratory. There were a number of electricity experiments that really needed zinc. However, zinc was not available in Europe except as an expensive import from the distant East Indies.

  Dragging his feet, Phillip made his way to his study. In there were all of his reference books. Maybe there was something in there about zinc.

  ***

  There was nothing on sources of zinc in his library. He sighed heavily. He had been afraid that would be the case. He moved over to the window and looked out over the crowded streets of Jena towards the university. No. That would never do. He would not go begging those people for help. Phillip conceded defeat. He collapsed into his chair. Reached for his pens and ink. Pulled a sheet of paper from a drawer and sat and chewed the end of the iron tipped pen while he debated how to start the letter to Frau Kubiak. If any of the up-timers knew how to get zinc, he was sure Frau Kubiak would be able to obtain the necessary information. His only worry was what the dratted woman would ask in return.

  Grantville Canvas and Outdoor, Mahan Run

  Tracy Kubiak carefully placed the letter from Dr. Gribbleflotz on the kitchen table. She stepped back from it and walked around the kitchen. All the while, she kept an eye on the letter, expecting it to get up and bite her, or try to escape. She had had sufficient dealings with Dr. Gribbleflotz to know just how hard he must have found it to write that letter. The fact that there were no errors or blots suggested that it wasn't a first draft. A lot of care and attention had been invested in it.

  Tracy searched high and low for her husband, calling out as she searched. She finally ran him to ground in his workshop. "Ted. There you are. Why didn't you answer when I called?"

  Ted very carefully didn't say that he had answered. "What's the problem, Trace?"

  "I just got a letter from Dr. Phil. He wants to know about zinc. What do we know about zinc?"

  Ted smiled at his wife and shrugged his shoulders. "Somewhere between nothing and not a lot. What does he want to know?"

  "He says he's afraid of running out of zinc for his electricity experiments. I think he wants us to find him some more."

  "That's not going to happen. Every bit of spare zinc, even up-time coins, is being melted down for use in industry. They don't make it in Europe yet. They import it from the Far East, as far as I know. Do you want me to check out the library?"

  "Please. If there's nothing else you need to do, I'd like you to see what you can find."

  Ted smiled wryly. "So, what is it you want from Dr. Phil this time?"

  "Actually…" She smiled back. "Nothing. I can't think of a thing, but it won't hurt to have Dr. Phil owe us. You never know. Maybe one day we'll get something really good out of him."

  "Yeah, right." There was only a hint of skepticism in his voice. "I'll finish cleaning up in here then head over to the library. While I'm out that way, I might as well drop in on the ammonia plant and see how Dr. Phil's crew are doing."

  HDG Enterprizes, Jena

  Dr. Gribbleflotz and his personal laborant, Hans Saltzman, carefully read over the large bundle of notes Tracy Kubiak had sent. They described zinc and the extraction process, but the notes created more questions than they answered.

  "I shall have to journey to Grantville and examine the research material myself, Hans. Please see that everything is made ready."

  "Of course, Herr Doctor. Will you be visiting the spirits of hartshorn facility?"

  Phillip paused to think for a moment. "Yes. If I include an inspection of the facility, I will be able to claim the cost of the trip against the company."

  "Very reasonable, Herr Doctor. Will you be requiring my presence on this journey?"

  "No." Phillip shook his head. "Not unless you wish to come. You could visit some of the up-time facilities if you wish. I am sure Michael Siebenhorn and Kurt Stoltz will be only too happy to make arrangements."

  ***

  Once in Grantville, his duty visit to the spirits of hartshorn plant complete, Phillip had set out to complete his real mission. Michael Siebenhorn, the ex-laborant in charge of the facility, had introduced Phillip to a most excellent specialist library researcher and a copyist to do the hard work of the actual library search and the taking of notes. While the two specialists visited the various libraries around Grantville, Phillip, with time heavy on his hands, had taken the opportunity to investigate the clothing and shoe stores of Grantville. Hans was left to amuse himself touring some of the up-time facilities

  ***

  Jena

  The copious notes assembled by the researcher and copyist sat in piles on Dr. Gribbleflotz' desk. Both Phillip and Hans worked away in silence, reading and taking notes.

  "'Both sphalerite and calamine are ores of zinc.' Well, that is old news." Phillip looked across to Hans, a look of disgust on his face. "You would think, for the exorbitant fees those leeches charged, that they would tell me something I didn't already know. Why, I've made brass using both of those self same ores many a time."

  "But, Herr Doctor. Read this." Hans waved the sheet he had just finished reading. "It says here that it is from the vapors of those ores that one can obtain the zinc."

  "What? Let me see that." Phillip grabbed the sheet and quickly read it. He dropped his head into his hands. "So close." He looked up at Hans. "So many times I have been so close to discovering zinc. If only I had thought to trap the vapors. I would have earned my rightful place beside my great grandfather, the great Paracelsus."

  "Herr Doctor, one of the notes says that the great Paracelsus named the metal zinken." Hans hurriedly flicked through the researcher's notes. "Yes, here it is."

  Phillip read the note. "Then in honor of my great grandfather, from now on, I shall call the metal zinken."

  Phillip started to walk around his study. "We will need to prove that we can isolate the zinken. Either of the ores will do for that. However…" Phillip paused to read from the sheet he held. " It appears that 'pure' oil of vitriol can be made by catching the vapors from the zinken ore sphalerite. As the process to isolate zinken is the same for both ores, we shall experiment with sphalerite."

  Phillip stopped to read further. "I believe ten thousand Pfennige should be enough. According to this paper, that is sufficient to produce four thousand Pfennige of metallic zinken and two gallons of strong oil of vitriol."

  Phillip made for the door. "Hans, start making a list of what else we will need while I instruct Frau Mittelhausen to place an order for some sphalerite. We will start designing the new retorts we will need when I return."

  ***

  Phillip found his housekeeper-cum-business-manager in the kitchen. After stopping to slip a couple of cookies out of the cookie barrel, he approached her. "Frau Mittelhausen."

  "Yes, Herr Doctor?"

  "Frau Mittelhausen, please place an order of ten thousand Pfennige of sphalerite ore. I believe it should come from the Harz region. Please be sure to insist on only the best quality ore, and ask that it be delivered as soon as possible. For such a trifling amount the transport cost should not be excessive."

  "I will pass on the order to Herr Ostermann when I collect the bread and
pies from the bakery, Herr Doctor." Frau Mittelhausen added a note to her shopping list.

  Ostermann Transport, Jena

  "Good afternoon, Frau Mittelhausen. What can we do for you today?" Joachim Ostermann asked.

  "Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz wishes to purchase some material from Harz." Frau Mittelhausen checked her shopping list. "Ten thousand Pfennige of sphalerite."

  "Sphalerite, ten thousand Pfennige?" Herr Ostermann checked to confirm he had heard correctly.

  "Yes. Only the best premium grade ore mind, Herr Ostermann."

  "Of course, Frau. For the good Herr Doctor, only the best of the best. For such a small amount the supplier might charge a premium price. Will that be agreeable?"

  "Yes, Herr Ostermann. If you would prepare a contract, I will sign it when I return from the bakery."

  December 1633, Ostermann Transport, Jena

  Joachim Ostermann passed a horrified gaze along lines of pack mules carrying what the mule skinner leading them claimed was Dr. Gribbleflotz' order of sphalerite. "How did it happen?" he demanded of the world.

  Hans Ostermann, his son, checked the bill of lading the skinner had presented. Confused, he looked at his father. "What is the problem, Papa? The order was for ten thousand Pfundt of premium ore, to be delivered as soon as possible. That is exactly what we have here."

  "Let me see that." Joachim grabbed the bill of lading from his son's hand. A quick glance confirmed what his son had said. Someone, somewhere, had converted the order from Pfennige to Pfundt.

  "How did you pay for the ore, Hans?"

  "I sent a signed money order, Papa. Just like we always do. You saw me collect Frau Mittelhausen's signature before I took the authorization to the banker."

  Joachim slumped against the first of the more than fifty pack mules that carried the premium quality ore and sighed. "Hans, my son. We have a problem. We could be bankrupted over this error."

  "Bankrupted? But the Frau signed for it. We have a signed contract." Hans took time to have another look at the bill of lading. He waved it like a talisman towards his father. "Yes, Dieter correctly calculated the estimated cost of freight. So even the freight has been mostly paid. How can we be bankrupted?"

  Joachim mopped his sweating forehead. "Hans…" He paused as he struggled to find the words. "Hans, the order should have been for ten thousand Pfennige, a little less than twenty Pfundt. Not ten thousand Pfundt. We have over-ordered by a factor of more than five hundred, and the freight is inflated more than a thousand fold. I do not know that Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz will accept the mistake."

  "But Frau Mittelhausen signed confirming the order, Papa."

  "Yes." Joachim shook his head. "Someone made a mistake. Somehow the order was prepared using Pfundt rather than Pfennige." Suddenly Joachim jerked upright. His eyes opened wide. "That fool Beyer. It must have been him. Dr. Gribbleflotz' order was the last one he processed before he became so ill he had to be taken to Saint Jakob's infirmary. Come, let's check his desk."

  ***

  Hans passed a sheaf of papers towards his father. "Papa, I think this explains what happened."

  Joachim read the notes taken by the late Dieter Beyer. He could only nod his head in agreement. "It is obvious what happened. There is a drop of something, I hope it is just water and not whatever killed Dieter, on the word Pfennige. It is smudged so badly that it could be read as either Pfennige or Pfundt."

  Hans nodded. "He hadn't been with us long enough to be aware of the small units Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz uses and read it as ten thousand Pfundt."

  Father and son exchanged grim looks. "Well, we know how the mistake was made, but that doesn't get us any further forward. There is no way we can repay the cost of the ore and its priority transport."

  "But, Papa! It was an honest mistake, and we have a signed contract."

  "I know, son. But a signed contract will not save our reputation. I will have to go to him, cap in hand, and ask for understanding."

  HDG Enterprizes, Jena

  "Ten thousand Pfundt? How is this possible? What was the cost?" Frau Mittelhausen all but roared.

  Originally, when he discovered that Dr. Gribbleflotz was out of town, Joachim Ostermann had felt happily confident to be dealing with the housekeeper. However, that was before he felt the full force of an outraged Frau Mittelhausen. Anybody would have thought the money spent had been her own.

  "Frau, it was an honest mistake. My clerk was ill when he prepared the contract. However." Joachim was careful to emphasis this part. "The contract you signed clearly stated ten thousand Pfundt. If you had read the contract before signing it, the problem would have been detected and easily corrected before the order was sent out."

  Miffed at being blamed for someone else's mistake, Frau Mittelhausen looked down her nose at Joachim. "And where is this clerk who so conveniently made such a mistake?"

  "Dead. Dead of fever at the infirmary that same night."

  Stymied, Frau Mittelhausen sighed heavily. "Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz will not like this."

  Joachim nodded his head in agreement. "No, he will not be happy. However, I am hoping that we may come to some kind of arrangement. If Dr. Gribbleflotz were to honor the contract, I am willing to refund some of the cost of transporting the ore. I am sorry, Frau, but that is the best I can do. The only other alternative is I try to sell the excess ore elsewhere. There have been rumors that the staff at the University might be interested."

  Joachim sneaked a quick look at her when he said that last. There were no such rumors, yet. However, if necessary, he would start one himself. One never knew. The university faculty might even want to buy the ore. The animosity between Dr. Gribbleflotz and the faculty of the University was well known and a source of constant amusement to the good people of Jena.

  "Humph!" Frau Mittelhausen eyed Joachim skeptically. "I will leave it for Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz to decide."

  "That is all I ask, Frau. A fair hearing with Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz."

  ***

  "Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz. Herr Ostermann has the sphalerite ore you ordered." Frau Mittelhausen had been waiting for Phillip to return to his office.

  "At last. What took so long? I expected delivery weeks ago."

  "There has been a slight mix up, Herr Doctor."

  "What? A mix up? It is the ore I ordered?"

  "I believe the ore is sphalerite, Herr Doctor, and all premium quality. The problem is the quantity. There is significantly more than you asked for."

  "Where is it? Where is my ore? I wish to start my experiments immediately."

  "Herr Doctor, Please listen to me. The ore is still at Herr Ostermann's. I have declined to take delivery of it."

  "Declined to take delivery? Why ever not?"

  Frau Mittelhausen sighed heavily. Getting through to Herr Doctor Gribbleflotz was often a trial. "Because it is significantly more than you asked for, Herr Doctor. I felt that only you could acknowledge delivery."

  "Only I could acknowledge delivery?" Phillip paused, something of the sense of what Frau Mittelhausen was trying to say finally penetrated. "How much ore did Herr Ostermann try to deliver?"

  "Enough to require some fifty pack mules, Herr Doctor. Ten thousand Pfundt."

  "But that's…" Phillip looked at Frau Mittelhausen in shock. If Herr Ostermann had tried to deliver that much ore… "You haven't already paid for the ore yet? Have you?"

  "Yes, Herr Doctor. I signed the contract and the request for the banker's draft at Herr Ostermann's at the time of ordering. Apparently, they were correct for the amount of ore delivered."

  "Didn't you…" Phillip started, only to stop. Of course Frau Mittelhausen hadn't checked the documents. If she had, she would have detected the mistake. He couldn't really blame her for not checking. He himself usually signed without really confirming that the amounts were correct. It wasn't as if Joachim would have deliberately inflated the order. His livelihood depended on his honesty.

  "Someone at Herr Ostermann's made a mistake processing
the order?"

  His housekeeper nodded. "Herr Ostermann says it was a new clerk, ill with fever. The order form was smudged and the clerk calculated the order based on quantities he normally dealt with."

  Phillip collapsed into a chair opposite Frau Mittelhausen and buried his head in his hands. "With a signed contract Herr Ostermann is legally entitled to keep our payment, unless…" Phillip looked up hopefully. "Unless Herr Ostermann can find an alternative buyer. Is there a chance that Herr Ostermann can find a buyer for the excess ore?"

  "Herr Ostermann suggested that there were rumors that the Jena faculty might be interested, Herr Doctor."

  Shocked, Phillip shot to his feet. " No. I will not let them get ahead of me in the discovery of zinken."

  "Herr Doctor, I suspect your reaction is exactly what Herr Ostermann is hoping for."

  Phillip nodded agreement and lowered himself back into his chair. "Yes. He is probably hoping that I will not take the risk." He slammed his fist onto the arm of his chair. "He is right. I am unwilling to risk that the university might be interested. If Herr Ostermann is willing to keep the mistake secret, I will accept the ore. Please confirm delivery with Herr Ostermann, Frau Mittelhausen."

  Frau Mittelhausen issued a loud sniff of disgust. "You shouldn't let Herr Ostermann get away with his incompetence so easily, Herr Doctor."

  "You may renegotiate a new price if that will make you feel better, Frau. But please take delivery of the ore. My research is already much delayed. Why, there is the chance that someone else, maybe even from the university, might isolate the zinken before I do."

  "If you insist, Herr Doctor. But what are you going to do about the drain on company finances? Frau Kubiak is sure to question the magnitude of the expenditure."

  "How much did the ore cost, Frau?" Phillip had an idea that it was going to be a truly terrifying amount.