Steel Time

BEFORE-3

Liam checked his wristwatch and tapped the face once. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to rush you. But we are on a bit of a schedule. I don’t want to keep Mr. Ainsworth waiting.”

Toria followed Liam down the museum steps and kept close to his heels as he turned onto the sidewalk. The magnificent façade of the museum gave way to a garden filled with a riot of spring colors, and she spotted hints of statuary hidden among the greenery. “Your boss?”

Liam paused next to one of the steel giants parked along the street. “No, not at all. Your host. He said he’d have a spot of dinner waiting.” He opened the passenger door of the deep blue sedan for her.

She searched for a seat belt while Liam crossed to the driver’s side. There was none.

But she was supposed to have never seen a car in her life. As Liam settled himself and adjusted the rearview mirror, she slid her hands over the luxurious leather of the bench seat. If she wanted to get technical, she hadn’t seen a vehicle like this before. It had little in common with the compact electric town-cars of her own time.

She didn’t fake her startled exclamation at the gasoline engine’s rumble when Liam turned the ignition. She gripped the seat in both hands as Liam pulled into traffic. Though both polite and deferential so far, this time he flashed her a mischievous grin. “Scared?”

“Never!” Toria foresaw a lot of explanation of the obvious in her future as Liam “educated” her about this new time, and the sooner she convinced him nothing fazed her, the better. She appreciated this glimpse of his silliness though, evidence the man was more than a stodgy academic. She wasn’t sure she could be friends with someone so one-dimensional.

She spent the rest of the ride gazing in honest wonder as Liam delivered on the promised abbreviated tour of Nacostina, rambling about the history of the area. He swung by the Governor-General’s Monument, white marble shimmering in the setting sun and the skyscraping phallic symbol even more impressive in person than through black-and-white photographs. As they drove along the tidal basin of the Patowmeck River, Liam pointed out the cherry trees, a gift from the Qin Empire about thirty years ago. “It’s a shame you missed the Cherry Blossom Festival last month,” he said. “But there’s always next year.”

Curious how Liam didn’t mention the current conflict out west, where the British contested the Qin over control of the Magnus River.

The Qin, who would destroy Nacostina soon.

She dug her nails into the seat leather as she forced her breathing even. Either Liam didn’t notice her stillness while he described various places they passed, or he was content to fill the silence and assume Toria needed time to get her bearings. They soon pulled in front of a large house in a quiet neighborhood. The sun had almost set behind the houses, and antique streetlamps flickered between the giant sycamores along the street.

To be fair, antiquity surrounded her. Toria needed to re-evaluate how she labeled things. The world descended into silence as Liam shut off the car’s engine. She inhaled for a count of five, then exhaled for another count of five as Liam passed in front of the car to open her door.

Toria allowed Liam to take her hand to escort her out of the vehicle. His grip was warm and firm, and her rough callouses from years of sword work scraped against his smooth academic’s palm. He released her to shut the door, and Toria resettled her sword belt around her hips. Windows in the three-story house spilled light across the manicured front lawn. “This is where I’ll be staying?”

It didn’t compare in size to Victory’s manor house where Toria had grown up, or to the sprawling estate of the mage school in Limani where she kept a small set of rooms between mercenary contracts, but it was still a grander dwelling than she’d expected. Unless Liam forgot to mention the horde of relatives who lived with Mr. Ainsworth? Or worse, servants? All of whom for which she would have to keep up the façade of being from the past.

Liam pointed to a sign post in the landscaping and chuckled. “Mr. Ainsworth retired from the museum to open a bed and breakfast about two years ago and has been refurbishing this place ever since. Maybe having his first guest will help him speed along the construction process.”

She tried to return his smile as they mounted the steps of the wraparound porch, even if she didn’t get the humor. White shutters gleamed against the stonework exterior even at dusk. The wooden porch was painted the same bright white, and she envisioned herself relaxing in one of the rocking chairs with a cool drink on a hot summer’s day.

An older gentleman flung open the front door as Liam lifted his hand to knock. “Come in, come in! Supper is on the table.” Despite his balding head fringed with short graying hair, and a few age spots faded into his tanned hands, there was nothing frail about the human who herded them inside. He towered a few inches over Liam, and the width of his chest could be described as muscular rather than portly. After exchanging a handshake with Liam, he turned his sharp gaze to Toria. “You must be Ms. Connor, my first tenant! Please call me Hugh. I hope you can excuse the mess.” He shook Toria’s hand with a firm grip, acknowledging the sword at her waist without batting an eyelash. His paint-stained canvas pants and rumpled shirt also led Toria to relax, despite the grandeur of the foyer. But though the hanging chandelier gleamed, the wooden floors and staircases needed a desperate polish and half the atrocious floral wallpaper remained unstripped.

His good humor was infectious. She returned a genuine smile. “Thank you. And call me Toria, please.”

Liam shut the front door behind them. “Hopefully she’s your first tenant of many. How long since your retirement party?”

“Now, now,” Hugh said. “You can’t rush a man’s labor of love.”

They followed Hugh down a long hall toward the rear of the house, and Toria glimpsed more half-finished rooms and sheet-covered furniture. She saw a lot of renovation work in her future to repay this kindness, at least until… until… too many thoughts crashed about in her head, too many possibilities to contemplate now. Her stomach gnawed at her spine.

Their final destination was a welcoming kitchen, filled with warm woods and gleaming, brand-new appliances. Toria assumed the range and refrigerator were state-of-the-art, even as the absence of a microwave struck her. Hugh had placed three silverware settings at a trestle table, and he bustled around the kitchen filling water glasses and retrieving a basket of steaming rolls from the oven. Toria unbuckled her sword belt and leaned the weapon against the wall, and she and Liam settled on opposite benches.

It was simple bachelor’s fare—the long pasta in a red sauce hinted at Roman influence despite Hugh’s very British name. But once the food sat before Toria, the outside world all but disappeared. Liam and Hugh seemed amiable to gossip about current and former museum coworkers while she inhaled the pasta and worked her way through half the basket of rolls. Once she couldn’t eat another bite and pushed her plate away, Liam offered to help with cleanup.

“Thank you for the kind offer, but we’ll manage.” Hugh cleared his dishes from the table and piled them on the counter next to the sink. “You’ll be back tomorrow?”

“Yes. Toria had good timing in arriving during the weekend.” Liam leaned against the counter as Toria finished her glass of water and Hugh started on the dishes.

“I do what I can?” It wasn’t as if Toria had intended to trip over a magical artifact and end up in a world poised for catastrophe. She carried her empty glass to the sink and retrieved the dishtowel Hugh pointed out to dry the clean dishes.

“Well, I’ll be here around eleven in the morning. I’ll treat you both to lunch and we can put together a curriculum of things you need to know. Perhaps show you around the city a bit more?” Liam pushed off the counter.

“I can loan a shirt for you to sleep in tonight, but some clothes shopping would also not go amiss.” Hugh c****d his head at Toria, and her face heated when both men appraised her garb.

“Yes, right. I suppose we’ll manage something.” All of a sudden, Liam seemed in a rush to leave, checking his watch and glancing at the darkness outside the kitchen window. Hugh wiped a hand dry to exchange a handshake. Liam assured them he could show himself out and fled from the kitchen.

“What the hell was that about?” Toria wiped dry the final glass and set it on the counter. Too late, she hoped her language didn’t offend Hugh.

Hugh tossed his head with a laugh. “My fault, there. I reminded the kid that you’re a person instead of an academic curiosity.”

Toria handed over dishes, paying attention to where Hugh placed each item in cupboards. “He’s an elf. Not much of a kid.” Estimation became difficult after a certain point, but Liam might be Hugh’s elder by at least a hundred years.

“But not my boss anymore, so I’ll call him what I want.”

During dinner, Toria learned Hugh had worked at the museum in an artistic capacity, designing and building exhibits based on the curators’ needs. It explained why he thought house renovation counted as a relaxing retirement, she supposed.

Hugh closed a final cupboard. “Let me show you around the place. Don’t worry, the third floor is finished, like this kitchen. I’m only taking my sweet time with the guest areas.”

Toria leaned against the counter and tried to act casual. “I thought I’d explore the neighborhood a bit first, before it gets too late. Check out the shops we passed around the corner.”

Hugh mirrored her position, hip c****d against counter and arms crossed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” His lips pressed into a fine line.

She bristled. “Why not? I can take care of myself.” Did she give the impression of fragility? She’d crashed into this time period wearing a sword and declared herself a master-level mage, for crying out loud. Except she’d told Liam the rapier was nothing more than a magical focus. Keeping this straight was a nightmare.

Hugh lifted his hands. “That’s not what I meant at all. Call me old-fashioned, but you might get more attention than you bargained for in that get-up. And I think you’re looking to scope the place out, not become the talk of the town.”

Astute, and yet another reminder of the drastic societal changes after the Last War. Hugh might be older, but he was no fool. Toria sagged against the counter, the adrenaline crash sapping her energy. “I can deal with the fancy tops, but please tell me that some women in this time period wear pants.”

“I promise pants in your future.” Hugh placed one hand over his heart in vow. His eyes shot to Toria’s rapier for a split second before settling on her. “Now, I’m not used to seeing ladies with their arms uncovered unless they’re in a ball gown, but something tells me by the state of your muscles you know how to use that pointy toy over there.”

“You could say that.” Toria crossed to the table and hefted the sword. It wasn’t a crutch, but having contact with it soothed something in her. “It’s not exactly a toy.”

“I might not be a fancy curator like Liam, but I’ve enough experience to see it’s the real thing.” Toria’s opinion of Hugh increased yet another few notches when he made no move toward the sword, but seemed content to admire from afar. “You mentioned during dinner that you’re also a mage?”

“Correct.” Further elaboration didn’t seem necessary, but she braced for a barrage of questions. She wanted to like and trust this man, but magic could throw a wrench into anything.

“Don’t suppose you know any magic spells for removing wallpaper older than my mother?”

Her optimism lasted until Hugh left Toria in her new bedroom, wishing her a good night and agreeing whoever woke first made the coffee.

She prowled the room beneath the eaves in the rear of the house. A small bed tucked against the wall where the ceiling sloped the farthest. The bedside lamp cast shadows against the irregular angles of the room. Empty wardrobe. No surprises.

Toria loosened the laces of her boots and tugged them off. Her hiking socks followed, and her toes sank into the plush area rug over the refinished hardwood floor.