"Negotiation isn't about getting what you want at the expense of others. It's about clearly communicating your needs and expectations and collaboratively crafting win-win solutions."― Hendrith Vanlon Smith Jr.

Apparently, I was working with a stronger hand than I had known. Speaking with Janelle, I got the impression that a printing press with movable type was a relatively recent invention (or maybe reinvention, given the apparent rise and fall of civilizations in this world). Publishing houses existed, but while some works were apparently hand set and printed using a simple press, most works were simply duplicated by magic on demand, which took less time on the front end, but typically limited production runs to fairly small numbers, meaning literacy wasn't all that widespread in many parts of the world, and books were more expensive than I'd realized.

Having established fairly rapidly that we were both deeply invested in reaching a deal that benefitted us both, all that remained was to work out some of the details of how it would all work. Janelle began the process by bringing out the divine artifact that she was intending for me to use to convey my works to her central archives. In form and function, it was fairly simple; in my mana sight, the thing lit up like a divine searchlight. I had to literally restrict my vision to the visible spectrum around it to prevent it from blinding me to everything else going on in the area. In that light, it was simply an expandable frame that could expand out to a maximum of about 50 cm X 50 cm, and collapse down to about 10 cm X 10 cm. Any book passed through the frame would have its contents effectively digitized, passed to the Goddess of Knowledge's domain, and subsequently transmitted to the archives where a separate device would produce a hard copy. It was, sort of, a divine fax machine, which took me back in memory to older days. I had her fetch down the copy of The Georgics to show me how it worked, and it was just as simple as I'd thought. It would also, apparently, register a total word count to my account, and that would be the basis for negotiating compensation. As a shorter work, The Georgics registered about 24,000 words not previously contained by the archives, so that was my starting point.

**Okay, so I have about 24,000 words credit. How would I make use of that credit?**

Janelle grinned at me. "Well, that depends on the conversion rate we settle on, but in essence, that credit would provide you with access to level one texts within the archive. Which, in my great insight, I can make accessible to you through an inspired last minute gift idea I came up with! Having heard that you had a scholarly bent, I sprang for a classic student's splurge – an archival reader's slate. These are enchanted devices linked directly to the archival index, and which will enable verified, paid owners to access up to 250,000 words from the base level index (if they have sufficient credit) which can be kept for up to a month or exchanged once a week."

I translated in my head. Roughly an e-reader equivalent to two novel length books once a week – not great, but better than nothing. **That's a very thoughtful gift, and much appreciated – but is it possible to either increase the word count or speed up the exchange?**

She winced a bit at that question. "Well... Yes, but not with the device I brought. I wasn't really anticipating either your needs or your capabilities correctly, I'm afraid. You'd need an institutional slate, meant for larger schools and research institutions – which is out of my price range, I'm afraid. I'm sure we can negotiate access to one for you, but it won't get to you any time soon. You're a rather special case, since most readers pay in cash, rather than original work transmitted to the archives."

**Hmm, I see. Well, I'd definitely be interested in the institutional slate. Also, you mentioned a 'base level'? What does that indicate?**

Her smile grew a bit fixed. "Well, the base level includes the vast majority of published works, and it's generally going to cover anything broadly accessible to the public. There are several other levels of classification depending on the nature and content of the works in question. Most notably, any works providing magical knowledge have a restricted circulation, as do works with protected technical knowledge in other fields. Some texts are restricted due to religious protections or due to sensitive political knowledge. Some of those works may be accessible at a different conversion rate but would need to be evaluated on a case-by-case basis and would be restricted from duplication by divine fiat. If nothing else, if you build goodwill with the Goddess of Knowledge, as I suspect you will, chances are good you'll be given access to most of the things you are likely to be interested in."

**Ah, not unreasonable, I suppose. Would it be possible to get access to at least a curated list of titles from those works? So I'd be able to tell if I needed to negotiate access?**

"Possibly? It's likely if you told them the nature of the research you are pursuing, they'd be likely to examine those listings for you. The central archives do have specialized research librarians who are experts in that kind of work."

**Something to consider then as I progress on my divine quest.**

"Sure, and if the goddess verifies that your request is tied to your divine quest, your odds of getting access to restricted works will go up significantly."

**I guess I can see that. Professional courtesy and all. Oh! I noticed that you don't seem to have any issue with the books I provide being written in an outworld language. Are your translation tools that good?**

"Well, we do, obviously, have access to the top of the line translation tools, but critically we've already received at least some books written in English already. That will make the translation much easier and won't require us building a vocabulary from scratch."

**Wait. Really? How do you have books in English? Other outworlders like me?**

Janelle smiled a bit sadly. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Vay. The last book written in English entered the archive over a century ago. We seem to have had Outworlders from your world in the past, but I don't know of any others currently. It also seems like there's a significant time dilation in play; That last outworlder's book was dated a few years after the one you just submitted – I did a little research on that when we determined the language your titles were in."

I cast my mind back over the book I'd submitted. The Georgics may have been written a few decades BCE but the translation I'd turned in was from 2011. That suggested that over a century had passed in this world in probably less than a decade in mine. Always assuming our time flows were linked at all, of course. I relinquished the faint hope I'd held of encountering someone else from my world and tried to go back to practical considerations.

**I understand. Can you provide me with a list of the titles you have in English, so that I don't waste time recreating them? If nothing else, there might be a few works I'd like to read myself.** I suspect my tone sounded a bit wistful to her, as her response was framed rather kindly.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Of course, Vay. There are under a hundred of them, so you know. But I'll make a note to make sure you get a copy if we ever get more."

**Assuming we come to an agreement, Janelle, are there any kinds of books in particular you'd have me produce for you? Or a timeline for production you'd want to see met?**

"There's not really any way for us to enforce anything like that. Obviously, we'd like to see you producing works regularly, but we won't apply any pressure on you to do so. The goddess is a devotee of all knowledge, so the topic of your work doesn't really matter a lot to her as far as I know. You could spend your days cranking out trashy romance novels, if that's what you want. That said, once knowledge of you and your outworlder status becomes a bit more widespread, it's likely that people will issue knowledge requests to the archives that will be targeted to you. Answers to those questions will offer a premium in credit to your account but are open for you to respond to or not. I will say that outworlder fiction is in particular demand within a defined segment of upper-class society curious about life in other worlds. Part of that audience would be the ones wanting your trashy romances!"

She grinned at me, unaware that I did, in fact, have a certain store of trashy romances built up in my youth from reading books brought home by my mother and sisters. My continuing inability to recall much about them was both a blessing and a curse, and I think my nostalgic pause concerned Janelle, who felt the need to apologize.

"Sorry, Vay! I just realized that it might be kind of insensitive to raise the topic of romance to a dungeon core; I don't imagine there's much of a dating scene for you."

I snapped out of my mood before it developed too darkly. **Oh, that's not really it. Was just remembering some things from my old world. Or really, not remembering. Despite my perfect recall, most of my more personal memories have been redacted – I assume to make the sudden break less traumatic. But no, no dating scene for me so far, and none of the hormonal drives that would push me in that direction either. It's become a bit distant, sadly.**

Not long after that, we broke for the night, as Janelle was becoming transparently tired. I offered to put her up in one of the manor bedrooms, but reasonably enough, she opted to return to her campsite.

"For a couple of reasons, Vay. Not that I don't trust you, but the thought of sleeping in a skeleton's bed is a bit creepy, on the one hand. On the other hand, if I don't emerge and check in with the crew of the skyship, they're likely to worry about me being killed – if only because they won't get the rest of their pay until I get back!"

And with that, she rose from the table and headed back the way she came. She had no difficulty retracing her steps back to the airship and her bedroll, though I kept an eye on her from a polite distance.

****************************

I had spent the overnight hours in archaeology once again, following brief check-ins with my longer-term residents and some time spent preparing a book as a gift for the librarian. Most of the Redcrests had gone to bed, but Glynesha, Orentha, and Kragosh were still up, and appreciated that I stopped by to update them on the new visitor. They were still getting the wrinkles ironed out of their new lifestyle, but the adjustments today had been small enough to handle on their own – and in fact, they appreciated that I was letting people deal with their own issues. From here on out, the plan was for me to intervene only if larger issues cropped up and after consultation with the clan elders. That was fine with me; I'd had enough experience with landlords to recognize that you really only wanted them around when something had gone wrong or you were planning a significant change.

Hakdrilda was a tad grumpier, and I didn't know if that was a dwarven thing, or just an overtired, academic sort facing minor delays (even if they were to be expected). Realistically, there was still plenty for her to do on her own, even if the more interesting things would need my active participation. For the moment, I simply had too much to do all around to make anyone entirely happy – myself included. I was hopeful that things would settle down a bit in the near future, though I wasn't sure I'd ever get a real routine going.

In any event, I put a few hours into expanding my push from the gnomish village towards the center. The passageway itself wasn't all that interesting, but I was kind of hoping to get a better look at whatever had been inspecting my progress. There were some signs to indicate these tunnels had been long occupied, but the more recent signs seemed more animal than sapient creature.

I'd managed to integrate another 100 m or so along the path by dawn, mostly because I really hadn't found much of interest. There were really only two "major" finds of the night. First were the desiccated remains of a large bat, which was a bit surprising this deep, but I assumed it may have been sick and confused and headed down and in, rather than up and out.

Blueprint acquired: Nomadic Flying Fox

It seemed to have been a basic T1 creature, and primarily frugivorous. It wasn't ever going to be a staple of my dungeon, but I might spawn in a few as pollinators for the orchard.

Second, and at least arguably more productive, was a small storage cache of dried mushrooms, nuts, seeds. This looked considerably more recent and may well have belonged to whatever had been nudging up against my boundaries as they expanded. Perhaps not, though, as the cache wasn't large, and the sense I'd had of my visitor was that whatever it was, it wasn't small.

Most of the selection fell into categories I'd previously encountered, but I did pick up a few new blueprints – again, nothing world shaking, but helpful in building both better diversity and an understanding of the ecology of the island, both above and below ground.

Blueprint Acquired: Angel's Trumpet Mushroom

Blueprint Acquired: Queen Oyster Mushroom

Blueprint Acquired: Wood Quail Fungus

Blueprint Acquired: Pink Butternut Tree

I'd encountered that cache late in the night (or early in the morning, depending on one's viewpoint), so I called it quits there and spent the last couple of hours starting to absorb some of the runic knowledge I'd gained with my new skill. It had been cropping up enough that it really felt like I needed to explore it. The Dungeon Air Magic book was a help with that, and while the Dwarven Air Magic texts used a different system, I could at least absorb some of the common structures of how runic magic worked. Probably I should consult with the Redcrests as well about their Air Magic, though I got the sense it didn't typically involve runes.

I'd made at least some progress in at least getting a basic grounding in runic magic, but it wasn't something I was going to master overnight, and I shifted focus once again when my observers let me know that the librarian had gotten an early start and was on her way.

*****************************************

Negotiations resumed in a more convivial manner than they'd begun yesterday. I had a pot of hot tea waiting for her, as well as some sweet crumbly Maple scones whose blueprints I'd lifted from the Redcrests that very morning. She nibbled one with a smile.

"Thank you, Vay. These are much tastier than the oatmeal I made for myself."

**All part of my plan to soften up your mood for the negotiations,** I joked.

"MMm. Well, mission accomplished then. Shall we get back to it? As I recall, we mostly had an agreement in principle worked out, so now it's mostly determining a few specific points."

**Right. Most notably the conversion rate for outworld knowledge – how much credit I get per word, as I understand it. As well as the rate for special requests, both yours and mine. Plus any bonuses that might be available for specific production rates. Oh, and the cost for the delivery and subscription for an institutional level reader.**

She shook her head tiredly, "Yeah. All of those things."

**Well, there's no need to make this any harder than it has to be. Why don't you begin by telling me what the standard rates are for new works by mid-sized publishing houses? That will give us a basis for comparison, since it sounds like my production levels are likely to be fairly equivalent.**

The negotiations proceeded apace for a couple of hours, as she explained standard payment structures, before noting that mostly publishing houses wanted gold, rather than credit, which required her to go over how much buying credit on the reader cost (a surprisingly significant amount). That said, the Goddess of Knowledge did tend to use access to her archives as a way to incentivize the production of new works as well – originals submitted by others were typically given what amounted to access to five times as many words by other authors when they submitted their own work.

In the end, she talked me down from triple that amount to only double with the provision of an institutional reader and a free, indefinite subscription (as long as I continued to provide at least one new book per month). We haggled over the other points as a matter of principle, but the various discounts and bonus structures aren't really worth much attention.

Once we had a formal agreement worked out, it was basically lunchtime for her, and I could tell she was itching to start heading home. That said, there were a couple of hoops yet to jump through, and some social niceties to complete...

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