'Not a chance. The frame, maybe. We'll salvage what we can.'
'Look, I'm so sorry--'
'Not your fault,' said the dwarf, kicking at a smoking can. 'And look on the bright side... we still owe Harry King a lot of money.'
'Don't remind me...'
'I don't need to. He'll remind you. Us, rather.'
William wrapped his jacket around his sleeve and pushed aside some of the roof.
'The desks are still here!'
'Fire can be funny like that,' said Goodmountain gloomily. 'And the roof probably kept the worst of it away.'
'I mean, they're half charred but they're still usable!'
'Oh, well, we're home and dry, then,' said the dwarf, now sliding towards 'glumly'. 'How soon do you want the next edition?'
'Look, even the spike... there's even bits of paper that are hardly charred!'
'Life is full of unexpected treasure,' said Goodmountain. 'I don't think you should come in here, miss!'
This was to Sacharissa, who was picking her way across the smouldering ruins.
'It's where I work,' she said. 'Can you repair the press?'
'No! It's... done for! It's scrap! We've got no press and no type and no metal! Can you both hear me?'
'Okay, so we've got to get another press,' said Sacharissa evenly.
'Even an old scrap one would cost a thousand dollars!' said Goodmountain. 'Look, it's over. There is nothing leftY
'I've got some savings,' said Sacharissa, pushing the rubble off her desk. 'Perhaps we can get one of those little hand presses to be going on with.'
'I'm in debt,' said William, 'but I could probably go into debt another few hundred dollars.'
'Do you think we could go on working if we put a tarpaulin over the roof, or should we move to somewhere else?' said Sacharissa.
'I don't want to move. A few days' work should get this place in shape,' said William.
Goodmountain cupped his hands around his mouth. 'Hel-looo! This is sanity calling! We have no money.'
'There's not much room to expand, though,' said Sacharissa.
'In what way?'
'Magazines,' said Sacharissa, as the sleet settled in her hair. Around her the other dwarfs spread out on a hopeless salvage operation. 'Yes, I know the paper's important, but there's a lot of dead time on the press and, well, I'm sure there'd be a market for something like, well, a magazine for ladies
'Dead time on the press?' said Goodmountain. The press is deadV
'What about?' said William, completely ignoring him.
'Oh... fashion. Pictures of women wearing new clothes. Knitting. That sort of thing. And don't you go telling me it's too dull. People will buy it,'
'Clothes? Knitting?'
'People are interested in that sort of thing.'