Mr. Handy wrote: ↑Sat May 15, 2021 3:51 am "I'm afraid I only have British money," says Henry, "but one of your American dollars has about the same silver content as four shillings, or about five dollars to a pound sterling. If a 'buck' is American vernacular for a dollar, then ten of them would equate to two pounds sterling." He produces eight crowns. "Will these do?"
Looking at the coins, the fellow known as Sparks nods.
"Cool. I'm into old money, too. It's a deal, pal."
"A pleasure doing business with you, sir," says Henry, shaking his hand and exchanging the money for the machine. The transaction completes, he goes over to see what's happening with Ivan and what he can do to help.
"Back off, Pops," one of the men says, approaching Lepus with a short length of chain, although there does not appear to be anything needed to be secured in the vicinity. "We're just having some fun."
The imprisoned Russian continues to struggle against his jailers, cursing them in his own tongue.
"Approach not, Master," he warns Doctor North, when he catches sight of him. "I would not have you suffer such indignity."
“Fun for thee, aye, but not for him,” growls Lepus
“Release the fellow I say.”
He mutters to his invisible servant to find an open tube of liquid and pour it over the thug’s head.
The task being undertaken, the fellow sputters in surprise, cursing in a manner that would arouse the indignity of the roughest pirate or highwayman. His fellows find the situation, albeit inexplicable, amusing, roaring with unrestrained laughter. They release Ivan and toss several of the empty metal containers at the newly anointed victim.
"Hey, that's a good trick, man," says one. "Howdja do it?"
"Release my servant!" demands Henry. "If you do, I will pay you money. If you do not, you will regret it."
Having already let the Russian go free, the ruffians do not, as honest men would, consider Doctor North's offer, as men of law say, null and void. Having heard the word money, more seductive than any siren's song, several of the men draw near, hands out in the universal gesture of alms-seeking.
"Cough it up, dude," one of the roughest-looking men says. "Let's see some long green, or we won't be the ones doin' the regrettin'."
The mixture of satisfied greed and vulgar amusement appears to calm the savage nature of the men, who smirk at the newcomers as if they have outfoxed them by wit, and not merely might and numbers.
"Let's cut out," the evident leader says. "'Bout time for the big concert. We suppose to be the see-cure-itty, right?"
Each member of the group mounts a curious mechanism, bearing two wheels. Theses device bear them away at great speed, accompanied by extremely loud noises.
The fellow who invited Eliza to the dance watches them leave. "Got a bad feelin' about that," he remarks.
No doubt bemused by their strange experience among these eccentric people, the adventurers return to the stones. (It is a notable fact that, some casual remark having been made in passing about said structure, the person addressed displayed no knowledge that it existed, although it was clearly in plain sight.) Once within, the passage through which they have just passed grows misty. Experimental touch reveals that this fog-like phenomenon is as solid as rock, forbidding passage through it ever again. More remarkable is the fact that the interior of the structure now echoes with the voice of an unseen female of imperious tone, expressed more in sorrow than anger.
failure
The single word seems to pierce into the very marrow of those present. Not yet fully recovered from this eerie experience, they next experience the appearance from nowhere of a small slip of paper, bearing printed words in an unusually spare and simple typeface.
4 DEATHS MAR ROCK CONCERT
This vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and the adventurers are left with the remaining three entryways into unknown worlds.
"We left too soon," says Henry, his voice full of sorrow, "but all hope is not lost. Those events are yet future, and they can still be changed even if we cannot return through the stones. I shall write all the details in my memoirs. Hopefully there will be enough information that one of my descendants can prevent the tragedy. In the meantime, we must be more careful with the other three. Shall we try the one with the metal next?"
“Aye, thou speakest sense. Seems we will not be able to leave these stones ‘til all wrongs set before us are put right. Let us proceed to yon place of metal then.”
The adventurers proceed to pass through the portal -- for so we shall name it -- leading to what is revealed to be, once one is sufficiently within it to determine its true nature, a vast room, nearly bereft of décor or furnishing. It is as if one were to enter the famed palace of the martyred King of France, remove all the luxurious items therein, break down all walls, and produce one single vast chamber. Illumination for this enormous room comes solely from the roof, which consists of a single pane of perfectly transparent glass; a prodigious masterpiece of the glazier's art. Within the chamber are a large number of what seem to be curiously wrought automata, cunning in operation yet far less representative of Nature than this level of sophistication suggests. That is to say, these devices ambulate about and manipulate other constructions, in a most lifelike way, and yet do not appear to be intended as counterfeits of animals. They are of many different designs, some walking upon multiple insectile limbs, other equipped with wheels, some as small as housecats, others as large as oxen. Whoever might have created these devices, or who is directing their activity -- for it does indeed seem purposeful and not merely chaotic, though the purpose be difficult to perceive -- is not evident, there being no person in immediate sight.
"Fascinating," says Henry, observing the automata. "This may be even further into the future. As interesting as these machines are, I think we're going to have to find some people in order to learn what is happening here and what we are here to do." He looks around for any exits from the chamber - other than the skylight, which they cannot reach.
