Let him stay out there in the cold all night if he wanted. He couldn’t get in here. There was a security keypad downstairs and a dead bolt on her door. The fire escapes didn’t pass her apartment. And if push came to shove, there was Medraut’s big sword.
“Do you have food here, witch?”
She blinked. Medraut must be famished. She was hungry, too, now that he brought it up. “Yes. Yes of course. Sit here while I prepare some.” She pointed to the comfortable leather chair next to the desk. He eased himself down into it. She could tell he was in pain. First things first. She poured a glass of water from the tap and ripped open the bag from the pharmacy. She shook out some pills. His eyes were big as she handed them to him.
“Where does the water come from?” he asked.
“A lake outside the city. Pumps bring it to each house.”Did she get the word for “pumps” right? “Do you know pumps?’
He nodded, thoughtful, and downed the pills. “Tell me where I am.” His voice was a command. “To what world have you taken me, witch?”
Well, he had to know sometime. “The name is Diana. And I’m not a witch.” He might need a drink for this. She opened a Ruston Syrah from the little wine rack she kept at the end of the counter and poured him a glass. He took the wineglass she’d gotten from Cost Plus because you could put them in the dishwasher as if it were a chalice encrusted with jewels. Yeah, glass was precious back then. He brought it to his lips but hesitated.
“It isn’t poison,” she said. Though with the Vicodin, it might send him a little loopy. “Why would I save your life, just to kill you?”
He grimaced in acknowledgment and sipped. He looked surprised. “This is good.”
Better than the wine they had back then. Everything would have had to be shipped in from the vines the Romans planted in France. (Best gift from an invading army ever, better even than roads and bridges and aqueducts.)
He looked up in speculation. “You must be wealthy, witch.”
She took a breath. “You are in the future. More than fifteen centuries in the future. The metal machine . . . the machine you saw travels through time. I live here. This place is not magic to me. And I am not a witch.”
“Can this be true?” He spoke more to himself than her.
“Yup.” Let him chew on that for a minute. What was she going to feed him? She didn’t think he’d be wild about the Lean Cuisine that filled the freezer. Or the Kraft Macaroni & Cheese she kept on hand for comfort-food emergencies. She opened the fridge. Chicken breasts. She had a package of those. And she always had pasta and saladstuff. She clipped some sage from the little pot in her kitchen window. Sage pasta, a broiled chicken breast, and a salad. Not exactly Julia Child, but . . . nourishing.
“I would know more of your world,” Medraut said as they sat to eat. And all the questions he had been hoarding silently came rushing out. He marveled at the salt and savored every taste. When she brought out some Sara Lee chocolate cake, she realized someone enjoyed her guilty pleasure as much as she did.
“What weapons do you have in this time? No one wears swords.”
“Uh . . . swords have been . . . uh . . . replaced.”
“By something which deals death more quickly?” he asked, his expression sharpening.
“Yes. Unfortunately. We call them guns. They . . . fling a small piece of metal called a bullet through the air.” She had no word for “shoot.” “It does great damage to a body.”
“I would like such a weapon.”
“That is not a good idea.”
“I would study everything about your time,” he said, changing the subject. She was willing to bet he wasn’t giving up on guns. Warrior and all. “My time can learn much from it. Then you will come back with me. My knowledge and your magic will make me the greatest king.”
“I do not wish to go back there.” Still . . . there were things she wanted to know. “Was the