Chapter 9

Anissa looked at her hands to discover she held a tunic much like the one David was wearing and a similar pair of thick, wooly stockings. The style was hideous but the material was as soft as it looked and heavy enough to be warm. How funny that he wished to cover her up, when he was one of the first masters she would have willingly stripped naked for. Still, she was intrigued enough to follow his lead. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull on the stockings. He had not been jesting. The heels came halfway up her calves but her toes curled gratefully into the soft, fluffy warmth. The tunic was black with red letters emblazoned on the front and when she stood, it reached mid-thigh. It bore a faint trace of male scent under the fragrance of soap and she snuggled into its warmth for a second, before rolling up the sleeves to expose her hands.

"Thank you." She stood to follow as he held open the door to a hallway, then she glanced down at her tunic. "What is a smu? I am unfamiliar with the word."

His laugh was warm and sounded genuine. He flicked a switch with his finger and light flooded the hallway. Ah, electricity. She recognized that from her last - assignment. They'd obviously improved the process since then. These were much brighter and cleaner-looking than she remembered. "SMU. It stands for Southern Michigan University, the college where I teach."

Ah. A university. She remembered a master in Edinburgh who had been a scholar at the university there. It had been many years, though, so things had probably changed. And Michigan was in America, she was sure of that. She hadn't come too far geographically this time. Her last master had been in Chicago.

A lovely wooden staircase led down into another large room, the parlor, perhaps. The furniture here was of a style she didn't recognize but the stuffed navy blue seating area looked new and comfortable as did a brown leather easy chair. A pair of mismatched swords hung on one wall and a large, surprisingly lovely, painting of a dragon was centered above the fireplace. Another shelf held more of the large strange boxes, including one fronted with an enormous glass panel.

"Kitchen's through here." Her master led her through an archway. She recognized stove and sink and the large metal icebox. There were other strange devices, some new, some old. A rickety looking table with a patterned top sat in the middle of the room, flanked by two chairs, one metal, one wood. David pulled out the wooden chair and gestured for her to sit. He moved over to the icebox and opened the larger of the two doors.

"I've got orange juice, Mountain Dew, water and beer. For beer, there's an Irish porter, some India Pale Ale and a winter wheat lager. What would you like?"

Most of the words were unfamiliar to Anissa. Orange juice she recognized but the beer had smelled so good. "A beer, please. Any kind."

He studied her for a moment, then pulled two bottles out of the icebox. Cold air wafted from the doorway and there was an electric light inside the cabinet. She blinked when he closed the door and used a small metal tool to remove the tops from the bottles, before handing her one. He sat across from her in the other chair and held up his beer.

"Cheers."

She allowed him to tap the necks of their bottles together and repeated the toast. "Cheers."

The pale ale, as the printed label called it, was cold and smooth and Anissa had to force herself to drink slowly, to sip instead of guzzling the flavorful liquid. She'd never had much of a head for strong drink but after years, even decades of deprivation, her senses relished the tastes and textures of freedom.

"Hungry?"

She started to shake her head but at the very thought, her stomach growled in a most unladylike fashion. She felt her face flame and peered down at her hands to hide the blush. "I am sorry."

"Don't be. Being hungry is nothing to be ashamed of. How long since you last ate?" He'd stood again, was rummaging through the icebox before she could even answer.

"I don't know. What year is it?"

"Two thousand nineteen." He looked back over his shoulder. "Do you like roast beef?"

"Very much." She performed the calculations in her head. "ninety-three years."

"What?" He straightened so fast he banged his head on the icebox and Anissa waited for the explosion. Men always managed to blame a woman when they erred. But he just shook his head and laid a clear packet of beef on the table. "Ninety-three years? Damn. We're gonna need more food." He turned back to the icebox.

"In the box, I do not require food or water," she explained. "Only when I am out. And it has been a long time since anyone solved the puzzle."

"I guess so." He piled more foodstuffs on the table in front of her. "Good thing I had the guys over for poker yesterday. If you had to rely on my normal cooking, you wouldn't be eating nearly this well. How hungry are you?"

"Very," she admitted in a tiny voice.

He transferred the entire packet of beef to a plate, then pulled open a glass-paneled box. The plate went in, then he punched a couple of numbered buttons and the box began to hum. While that continued, he pulled a block of yellow cheese out of the icebox and a large covered bowl. The humming stopped, the box chirped and David removed the plate of now steaming beef. When he laid it on the table, Anissa held her hand a few inches above the meat, felt the hot steam curl around her fingers. "'Tis hot." She tipped her head to study her host, who now placed the bowl in the box. "You lied to me. You are a mage."

He laughed, a warm, sensual sound and re-started the device. "No. This is a microwave oven, a triumph of science, not magic. It's powered by electricity, the same as the lights."

"But it heats so quickly."

"Yep. You like chili?"

The beef, bean and tomato stew was unfamiliar but Anissa was hungry enough to try anything. The spices in it smelled strong but the blend was wonderful. Within minutes, everything had been warmed and a veritable feast was spread out on the table between them. David brought two plates and two bowls to the table and she watched him check them before handing her the less chipped of each pair. "Dig in."