by Zoe Chant
“Cars,” Rez interjected. “Cars are the most astonishing things.”
“Cellphones,” Trey suggested in reply. “Like tiny portals with whole libraries at your fingertips.”
“And many mesmerizing likenesses of cats,” Rez added.
The words meant nothing to Henrik. He caught himself looking around for Gwen, seeking the comfort of her closeness, and he had to stop and examine the impulse. She was, after all, a stranger to him.
He frowned. If he could sense magic, he would be able to stop the power she had over him. Power that she denied.
“This is my key,” Trey introduced, drawing a young woman with pale skin and long dark brown hair forward. The larger dog was pressed up against her knees, his tail wagging eagerly. “Her name is Daniella. The hound is Fabio.”
Daniella extended her hand and Henrik obediently took it and kissed her knuckles. “Oh,” she said, smiling and looking amused. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Henrik.”
When Rez did the same with his key, a brown-skinned beauty named Heather, she forestalled his respectful kiss and explained, “We shake hands, we don’t kiss them.” She demonstrated.
Henrik went along with the odd gesture; it seemed impolite, but was clearly more normal in this world.
“This is Ansel,” Trey introduced. “Our very generous landholder.”
Ansel had the same sepia skin and deep eyes as Heather, but a shock of orange-blonde hair. “Welcome to Earth,” he said with a crooked smile. A handshake was apparently common across gender, and the man’s grip was firm and brief.
The small gray hound was introduced as Vesta and she danced fearlessly at Henrik’s feet despite her diminutive size. It wasn’t until he was kneeling to greet her that he spotted Robin. “Master...Robin? You are...”
Their mentor was not the tall, powerful leader that Henrik knew. Though they had the same long dark locks and black eyes as ever, and the same long-feathered wings, they were not even the size of a child; Henrik’s gaze had gone over them several times without recognition, and he saw at once that Robin had observed him doing it.
They were standing on a low table, arms folded in a familiar way. “I am diminished in this world,” they said flatly.
Henrik was already kneeling, so he remained low. “This is a strange world indeed,” he said mournfully.
“Well, this is great,” the key Daniella said brightly. “We’re really glad we found you, Henrik. Gwen especially, I’m sure.”
Gwen didn’t look especially glad, her arms folded in a mirror of Robin’s. She looked shy and uncertain, and flushed at the regard of the other people in the room. She swiftly suggested, “Does anyone else want lunch? It’s been like two years since Henrik last ate, he’s probably hungry.”
Indeed, at the mention of food, Henrik’s stomach gave a grumble to remind him of his neglect. “I would appreciate that,” he said courteously.
“I will show you the kitchen!” Trey volunteered. “It is full of wonders, and the variety of foods is quite boggling.”
There was another large room through a broad arch, divided into two spaces by a low counter surrounded by tall stools. In one half was a large, finely-crafted table, surrounded by chairs. In the other half…
“This is a refrigerator,” Trey said, opening a tall white door to reveal a cabinet filled with chilled food.
“A microwave!” Rez showed him. “Er, do not place metal objects within it and engage it.” There was clearly a story behind this warning.
“In fact, kindly do not use any of the appliances until you have been trained in them,” Ansel said sensibly.
They showed him the water faucet, and instructed him in the changing of its temperature. Astonishingly, it got hot enough to scald, and cold enough to chill.
“You will delight in their drink of coffee,” Trey promised, pointing out a glass carafe in a domed black structure. Everything beeped, or lit up, or blinked incomprehensible letters and numbers at Henrik.
“We’re having pizza for dinner,” Daniella said, edging past Trey to close the door to the refrigerator. “How about sandwiches for lunch?”
Sandwiches proved to be a variation of what Henrik knew as a stackmeal: two pieces of bread around a selection of thin-sliced meat and cheeses, with green lettuce that was unexpectedly fresh for the cold weather apparent outside the amazing windows. There was a decadent choice of sauces to apply to it as well, and Rez and Trey convinced him to try all of them. It made for a very rich and spicy sandwich, if slightly messy.
They ate it around the large formal table, with Robin sitting at a place fashioned for just their small size atop it. Henrik was placed unsubtly next to Gwen, and he could not decide which was more distracting, the very unusual food, or the close proximity of the woman who was meant to be his destiny.
4
Gwen stared at her sandwich and made herself eat it, hungry in completely different ways. She hated the way her eyes wanted to stray to see how Henrik was eating—even his hands were sexy!—and she was keenly aware of the way that everyone was pretending not to stare at the two of them. There was a knowing smile at Daniella’s mouth and Heather’s eyes were entirely too blinky to be innocent.
Rez and Trey were both grinning in joy and relief that was refreshingly uncomplicated, but they too smirked every time that she said anything or accidentally jostled Henrik’s elbow.
If it weren’t for their regard, Gwen wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat anything. She was a tangle of emotions and desires. She wanted to show Henrik everything, tell him everything, sidle over in his lap and see what it was like to kiss him when he wasn’t glass. He was so beautiful, and trying so hard to absorb everything they were showing and explaining.
He was enraptured by the potato chips that were served with the sandwich, and Gwen could not help laughing with the others as he waxed eloquently about their crunch and saltiness.
His pickle seemed to impress him less than the chips, but he still ate it with relish that was almost embarrassing. Gwen was mortified to find that she could not even look at hers without considering body parts that had similar shapes.
“Did you get some of these potato chips?” he asked her politely. His shieldmates vouching for her seemed to have set his fears to rest, at least, so they didn’t also have that awkwardness to traverse.
“I ate mine,” Gwen said, feeling ridiculously shy.
He proceeded to pile more on her plate from the bowl before she could mount a protest. “They are an amazing delicacy.”
“They’re pretty good for generic,” she said, instead of politely thanking him like she immediately thought she should have.
That led to having to explain, with the help of the knights and their keys, the idea that not only did such an amazing food exist, but that there were multiple options and grades for it.
“They have places called supermarkets,” Rez said eagerly. “Bigger and grander and more orderly than any market I have ever seen, all owned by a single powerful merchant, with such wonders.” He sighed.
“There are cheese-powdered chips that look like tiny clubs,” Trey added. “And chips of corn in four colors.”
“The cheese-powdered chips are Fabio’s favorite,” Daniella chuckled. “But you shouldn’t give them too many treats.”
Henrik nodded gravely. “This world is rich beyond measure,” he said admiringly. “I am, however, puzzled by the lack of magic.”
Gwen was trying so hard not to crane her head to stare at Henrik that instead she caught the expression of guilt and grief that crossed Robin’s face. She didn’t think anyone else noticed.
“About that magic,” she said cautiously.
Henrik turned towards her, and since they were actively talking, Gwen didn’t have an excuse to look elsewhere.
He was so golden. His hair was long, thick curls of dark gold streaked with white gold highlights. His skin was pale gold underlaid with roses, and his eyes were brown, flecked with gold. He looked like a lion. Or a gryphon.
Or a fae knight gryphon shifter straight out of a fairy tale.
“You said you were my key.” Even his voice was golden.
“Yeah,” Gwen said, only hearing after she said it how besotted it sound. She probably had the stupidest smile in the world on her face.
“I don’t know what that means,” he confessed.
“She is your match in this world,” Robin explained, when Gwen struggled to find words. “The magic here is strange and considerably less than in ours. It has a different frequency, and you are not able to manipulate it directly. As a native of this world, she can be the bridge to your power here.”
“You are a witch,” Henrik said, as if a suspicion had been confirmed.
“Not really,” Gwen protested.
“They don’t use magic here,” Rez said patiently.
“Though much of their technology is wondrous indeed,” Trey added.
Henrik looked around at the table. Trey and Daniella were conspicuously holding hands, and Heather was fussing with Rez’s hair.
“Very well,” he said, and he turned to Gwen and nodded. “I will accept your power.”
Gwen opened her mouth and closed it again before she could answer, “I don’t know how to do that.”
Henrik’s look turned doubtful. “But you are a conduit?”
“I...I guess?”
“It may take some time, shieldmate,” Trey told him.
“How does it work?” Henrik asked. “Are there components to this bond?”
“It’s different for each of us,” Daniella tried to explain. “With us, I hear the magic and sing a harmony that allows Trey to tap the power.”
Heather grinned. “I knit.”
Henrik managed to look even more gorgeous when he was confused. “This is a weaving of yarn with rods, I believe?”
“I see the magic like threads of power, and I can reach up and pull them into place for Rez.”
Gwen had seen it in action several times now, and it still sounded ridiculous.
Henrik turned his gaze to her as she tried to take a sip of her iced tea and she nearly wore it. She was uncomfortably aware of how close he was sitting, and how touchable his hair looked.
“How will you assist me?” he wanted to know.
Gwen shrugged and swallowed. “The only thing I’m good at is sword fighting. Robin thinks that’s going to be the key to...ah...me being a key.” She wasn’t sure how she could possibly sound more idiotic. Daniella and Heather were both smirking at her.
Henrik looked impressed, and that had more of an effect on Gwen than she wanted to admit. “A sword fighter,” he said eagerly. “I did not realize you were a warrior.”
“It’s...ah...a technique called martial arts,” she explained haltingly. “Tang Soo Do, to be specific. I’ve been training since I was a kid. I always liked the sword best.”
“I have always preferred a battle axe,” Henrik said.
“We can spar after lunch,” Trey suggested. “We do not have an axe for your use, but Heather has communication with a blacksmith in the land of Georgia who will provide one.”
“I am eager to cross blades with you again,” Henrik said, nodding.
Gwen took another long sip of her tea, thinking entirely too hard about other kinds of blades.
5
The dishes from the meal were put into a large cabinet low to the ground that Rez explained would wash them. “Water spurts from the sides, with soap, and they emerge quite sparkling.”
“Tough on grease!” Trey said, most mysteriously. “No streaks!”
“You watch too much television,” his key protested.
Henrik wasn’t sure what television was and he didn’t want to ask. Everything here was so different and unexpected, and he felt like he was playing the fool on a stage. Everyone knew more about everything than he did, and he feared that he looked slow-headed and unworthy in front of Gwen.
He wasn’t sure why he wanted to impress her so badly, but if Master Robin and his shieldmates vouched for her and vowed that she was connected to him, he had to trust it was the truth and that the confused things he was feeling would make sense eventually.
It was certainly no particular hardship to imagine the woman as his partner. She was lovely and graceful and the smile at her mouth was full of life. He wished he could kiss that mouth, see how it felt under his own, and find out if she fit as well into his arms as he guessed she would.
“Come and spar, if you are not too full and lazy now,” Rez challenged, to his disappointment.
“You will find your key quite skilled,” Trey warned him. “Her sword technique is excellent and her hand-to-hand fighting is beyond anything I’ve seen.”
“I’m a black belt,” Gwen said shyly.
Henrik guessed from her tone that this was a distinction of some honor, just as Gwen added, “It’s...ah...a fighting rank that requires a great deal of discipline and training.”
“I would be honored to spar with you,” Henrik said formally.
“Come, we’ll show you the garage where we practice,” Trey invited, and he took Daniella’s hand in his. Rez put his arm around Heather, leaving Henrick to stare at Gwen, who looked back at him with as much alarm as he was feeling. It didn’t feel appropriate to take her hand or touch her, no matter how much he wanted to.
They fell awkwardly into step and followed the others out to a large attached room that was clearly set up as a sparring space, Robin flying behind.
There was a massive wheeled machine with windows showing plush couches at the far end of the space. A conveyance, clearly, but it didn’t have an obvious way to hitch beasts to it, and it appeared to be pointing backwards. Beyond it was a hulking, cloth-covered shape that might have been another similar conveyance, and shelves filled with boxes.
Henrik tore his eyes away from the carriage, trying not to stare at the other strange items all around. There were curious lights and a workbench with bizarre tools, things mounted to the wall with cables and tubes that dove into the plaster walls. Above were even odder things: curved rails, and chains, and more of the smokeless lights.
There were weapons on one wall, and here at last, Henrik had a touch of familiarity. They weren’t quite like the swords and staffs he knew, but they were close enough for comfort. There were no axes, but Trey picked him a sword that fit his hand and had reassuring heft. Gwen took up her own weapon, a small, thin sword with a long grip and very little guard.
“Heather knows some weapon-makers in the land of Georgia that were able to get us real swords,” Rez explained, smiling at his key. “They are not common in this world. We have selected weapons for you and Tadra and they should be here in a week or so.”
“This type of sword is more common?” Henrik asked, gesturing to Gwen’s strange blade.
“Swords in general are very rare,” Gwen said. “We have more range weapons. And not a lot of personal combat, honestly.”
“Let us spar.” The sword that Trey gravely gave him had good balance, and if it wasn’t as comfortable as his preferred axe, Henrik had trained thoroughly with such a weapon.
They began with a bow, and Gwen raised her blade and waited, feet apart, knees loose. She stood like a warrior, even if she looked harmlessly soft.
Henrik gave a careful feint forward and she melted back easily and smacked back at his thrust, her blade ringing against his with more strength than he expected. The sword in her hand was held easily; she neither clutched it nor let it hang loose.
He caught himself smiling as he stepped forward again, more swiftly, and gave two quick swings in succession.
She blocked them both, her feet quick and her arm strong, and responded with a thrust that Henrik had to step back from.
Back and forth they tested each other. She had excellent command of her weapon, but he didn’t fall for her obvious traps, and she was appropriately cautious against an enemy of greater power and reach. Blade rang against blade. She always drew away first; she could never best him in a test of
strength alone, but she was fast and moved in ways that Henrik didn’t expect, sending flashing steel to slip past his guard.
She was a beautiful fighter, he found himself thinking. She didn’t isolate her action in her arms or her feet, but was constantly in fluid motion with her entire body, moving from one thrust to a block to slip sideways out of range with a practiced dance. She used all of her weight to her advantage, always in perfect control. And she was grinning now, more relaxed than Henrik had yet seen her, which was both energizing and distracting.
He realized that he was beaming back at her, and when they ended locked against each other a moment, they both staggered back instead of pressing for advantage.
A scattering of applause made him remember that they had an audience, and Henrik dragged his eyes from Gwen and made a show of inspecting his blade, pulling his mouth into a frown.
“You are very skilled,” he conceded, without meeting her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, every bit as formally. Then, nervously, “Did it...ah…?”
“I felt no hint of magic,” he said regretfully. He’d certainly felt other things, heat rising in his veins, in his…
“A shame!” Trey said laughingly. “But perhaps if they were alone?”
Heather and Daniella smothered giggles.
“Perhaps if they are fighting together against a common enemy?” Robin suggested with a note of disapproval in their voice. Disapproval for the teasing? For his failure to tap into the power of this world? Henrik was unsure.
Robin was perched on a metal cylinder bristling with pipes and wires, legs folded beneath them. Henrik had still not gotten used to their diminutive size in this world. “That does seem to be how the rest of you established your bonds,” they said thoughtfully.
“I would welcome a chance to cross blades with both of you,” Trey said with a grin. He took down a two-handed sword and went to face Henrik across the mat.