«That's the short of it," Cleveland replied with a shrug.
«Well … Rachelle is it? I suppose I should thank you for --» Bantam began
«Doctor Archenstone," Rachelle snapped with a twirl of her parasol.
«Doctor Archenstone," Bantam repeated slowly. «I wanted to thank you for fixing me up. I guess it was you who had me moved to that nice room and put that I.V. in my arm. Thanks.»
Rachelle blushed suddenly. «You're welcome. Well. I see now that your constitution has improved remarkably and my ministrations are no longer required.»
Bantam just smiled. “‘Your ministrations’ … hahahah you know, I just love the way all you people here talk.»
Rachelle cocked an eyebrow. «Oh? And just what is it that provokes such mirth?»
«I dunno. I just feel like you all just popped out of a Jane Austen novel or something,” Bantam replied.
«You’ve read Jane Austen?»
«Well — no. My speed’s more Steve Austin.» Bantam grinned broadly at what he thought was a clever joke and then his smile fell. «Uh … never mind.»
Rachelle nodded politely. «Well. I suppose shall endeavor to acquire one of his works.»
Bantam just nodded helplessly. «I do like to read though," he said, somewhat nervously.
Amused, Rachelle said, «Oh? Then tell me. What do you think of A Poor Boy's Hat?» she asked.
Bantam looked to Cleveland for help. Cleveland just let a low chuckle escape his lips.
«What? Have you not read A Poor Boy's Hat?» Rachelle asked. She sounded incredulous. Bantam shook his head. «Why, it's only the most widely-read novel in the world right now! Well. You remind me a bit of Willoughby Willoughby, the main character.»
Bantam cocked an eyebrow. «Willow … what? Why didn't the author just name him Repetitively Redundant?»
Rachelle laughed lightly. Gayly, Bantam corrected himself inside his head. One laughed gayly in this time and place.
«Oh, you are tinsel-toungued, that much is clear. But you are a rake.»
«A … what?» Bantam was confused. «Is that like … a thief?»
«Of a sort. A thief of hearts.»
Bantam grinned.
«Oh no, I do not mean it as a compliment Mr. Bantam. Quite to the contrary.»
«Oh. You think … you think I'm a player.»
«Yes," she agreed, with just a touch of horror.
«Nooo. You have me all wrong," Bantam insisted.
With great power comes great fun in abusing that great power!
«Oh, do I?»
«Absolutely.»
«Very well then. What was the name of your last female acquaintance?»
Bantam snapped his fingers. «Beth.»
«I see. And how long did you court?»
«Mmmmm. Well. Like … three months?»
«Before that, who? Quickly!»
Bantam panicked inwardly. Then: «Angela!»
«You're lying.»
«No. I'm definitely not.»
«You looked up and to the left. When you prevaricate, that is your mannerism.»
«No it isn't!»
«Oh, I'm afraid you did it again, just there.»
Bantam suddenly became conscious of his gaze. It was filled with the sky. Quickly, he snapped it back down and met Rachelle's.
«Quite," she said, smiling smugly.
Cliff Cleveland guffawed heartily. «Oh, you are poorly matched in wits here, my friend! This will be a sore hour for you!»
Rachelle turned to Cliff. «At least Mr. Bantam has the courage to engage, Mr. Cleveland. I believe this is the first time we've spoken in months?»
Cleveland's face fell. «Well — uh — given your situation I figured --»
«I speak only of polite hello's, Mr. Cleveland. If the Moon itself is within your grasp, surely such a pleasantry is not beyond your seemingly boundless abilities?»
«No, ma'am," Cleveland stammered, tipping an imaginary cap.
«And what is that?» Bantam said, looking pointedly at a decoration in Rachelle's hair. «Is that a … fascinator?»
Rachelle turned white as salt when he said this. Then: «Why … yes it is, Mr. Bantam.»
«A … a sapphire, right? Goes well the blue feather. From an ostrich, I'd guess?»
Rachelle could only nod, mute.
Cliff Cleveland, astronaut, watched, stunned. He'd never seen Rachelle mute.
«Can I … hold it?» Bantam said. «Do you mind?»
Rachelle removed the gold-encrusted sapphire from her hair and handed it to him.
«Here it is …» Bantam said, displaying it clearly. «And now it's …GONE!» Bantam opened both palms to reveal the jewel had in fact vanished.
Cleveland immediately grabbed both Bantam's hands violently and turned them over. Then, he thrust his hands into his sleeves. «Prisoner! You will return to object to the lady immediately!»
But Bantam only laughed. «Settle down, Beavis. She's got it back already — look at her hair!»
Rachelle's hand flew to her head — as Cleveland's eyes did the same. Sure enough, the sapphire was there in the fascinator, as though it had never left.
«I am not so lucky as to have jewels in my hair," Bantam said, his eyes burning into Rachelle's. «I have only the stars above. A Poor Boy's Hat.»
Rachelle gasped aloud. «That is … that is to say it is not … but that is the general … you have read it, have you not, Mr. Bantam?»
Bantam shook his head with a grin. «No. I haven't. I'm kind of ebook snob, and you don't have any of those here. But I figured that was the gist of it.»
«Well then. Good day to you both,” Rachelle said nervously and walked away.
«Good day,” Cleveland and Bantam both said.
As she walked up the path and over the stone bridge just ahead of them, the dappled sunlight wiggling through the leafy canopy above framed her form in the soft dewy light of morning.
And then the impossible happened: she turned, and looked right at Bantam, just for a second.
To Bantam it seemed like perfect moment, rehearsed or meant to be, burned into the fabric of reality from the beginning of time itself. It was like one of those movie-moments you never forget: when Rita Hayworth threw back her hair or Raquel Welch emerged from the ocean — except more subtle, more … well, more Jane Austen. It was the Jane Austen version of that.
He felt an actual zing run through him — and an overwhelming sense of deja-vu.
Like he’d lived this moment in time before …
Then, she turned away: possibly embarrassed or possibly not, and continued on her way.
Cleveland poked him in the shoulder. «Ohhhhhhh, you can get that out of your head right now.»
«What?» Bantam said.
«She’s engaged. To none other than General Veerspike.»
What?
«She’s an Archenstone. He’s a Veerspike. It was always to be.»
«An arranged marriage?» Cleveland nodded. «You actually do that here?»
«The old-money does. She’s old-money and so is he.»
Damn.
Though, of course: He was a prisoner in twirly-moustache-times.
Like he seriously had a chance with Victorian prom-queen Rachelle Archenstone.
Five: The Day of the Red Sun
BANTAM AND CLEVELAND continued their walk. At last the tree cover thinned and opened to clear sky, Bantam barely stifled a gasp at what he saw. There stood the massive black diamond pole, reaching like a laser-thin line of obsidian up, up, up into the forever blue above.
Cleveland smiled as he following the line of his gaze. «Ah, yes. ‘The Great Endeavor’. The bold challenge. All of the best Pencils in America came here to answer it.»
He turned to Bantam. «And you seriously don’t know about this.»
Bantam shook his head. «No. In my world — “ But then he stopped himself short of a longer explanation and said simply, «We used rockets.»
Cleveland’s eyes raised. «Rockets? You mean … projectiles?»
Bantam nodded.
«And men sit inside these projectiles?»
Bantam nodded again.
Cleveland burst out laughing. «Huzzah! Your astronauts truly are mad!»
«Okay,” Bantam said folding his arms. «So how does yours work?»
«Very simple: my Starcraft is raised up the Volzstrang Pin beyond the upper atmosphere. When it reaches — “