Henrik had a perverse desire to taunt her with the nudity that she was clearly appalled by, but he swiftly realized that this was only going to backfire; she must have cast some kind of seduction over her flawless skin and entrancing figure and shape-hugging breeches.
The woman—Gwen—was staring at his chest as if she’d never seen one before, and the world around them was so strange and unexpected that Henrik could not discount the possibility. They were in a fancy sleeping chamber of some kind, hung with fine fabrics and finished in metal and materials that Henrik could not identify, smooth and unmarred. Strange, smokeless lamps lit the room quite brightly, and the floor beneath his bare feet was curiously plush. A strange construct perched on a small table glared at him with what looked like blocky red numbers.
“Where am I?” he asked. Having fingers again was unsettling, and he flexed them experimentally, rolling his shoulders and testing his range of motion.
Gwen’s eyes got larger, something that Henrik had not thought possible, then screwed shut as she spun around. “Clothes!” she squeaked, pointing back at a pile of folded cloth. “There!”
Henrik could not make sense of this witch casting a seduction on him but not acting on it, but she had named his shieldmates; he would go along with her at least until he found them and got answers to his many questions.
The top garment was a simple, short-sleeved tunic in black. Holding it up, he feared it was tailored too small, but the black fabric was unexpectedly stretchy and he was able to pull it over his head and down his chest without trouble. The undergarments were similarly constructed, and more comfortable than he expected. Over this went a pair of heavy pants in a regal blue. It took him a moment to figure out the curious combination of zipper and button. There were even socks, knitted from some of the finest wool he had ever seen.
Whatever fate the witch Gwen had in mind, he would go to it well-dressed.
“I am dressed,” he growled.
“Thank goodness,” Gwen said, turning back. “Oh my God.”
She did not look much more settled, but after a moment of gaping at him, she managed a breathless laugh. “Well, that didn’t help as much as I was hoping it would. Okay, then. I’m Gwen. Right, I already introduced myself. You’re Henrik, welcome to Wimberlette.”
“I do not know this Wimberlette,” Henrik grumbled. He had considered himself proficient in geography, but he’d never heard of a place with that name, or seen people wearing clothing like this.
“You’re in another world,” Gwen explained, sounding sympathetic. “You came to this place, Earth, almost two years ago, in some kind of battle, and you’ve been imprisoned in an ornament for all that time. Robin could tell you better than I could. I’m kind of new to all the magic and enchantment stuff myself. Not as new as Heather, of course, but um...yeah.”
Henrik reached again to control the lines of magic with his will and counter the spell she’d cast, because he was feeling not only base attraction to her, which might be explained by her beauty, but also a strange sense of tenderness. It must be a complicated spell indeed.
But there was simply no power, anywhere that he could sense. It was a curious and unsettling curse indeed, like being wrapped in cotton. “You said you were a...key.”
Gwen drew in a shaky breath. “Yeah, a key. Your key. Your key to power here, I guess. I mean, Heather and Daniella are, for Rez and Trey. I’m supposed to be yours. Robin said I was. And...I mean, here you are.” She laughed and gestured to him in awe. “All of you.” She licked her lips. “Anyway.”
“My key.”
“Yeah. Kind of like your anchor in this world. We’re supposed to...um...you know what, let’s go find the others and maybe they can explain it all better than I can.” She backed away into the door behind her and then turned to open it.
Henrik bowed his head to her. “I am at your command,” he said, resigned.
“No,” she said, turning swiftly to face him. “Not like that,” she insisted, looking up fiercely. “We’re supposed to be partners. Equals. I don’t command, you don’t follow.”
“Partners,” Henrik echoed.
Gwen gazed at him, looking full of longing, much as he was, and also just as confused. “Come on,” she said, and she led the way out of the incredibly smoothly-hinged door to a sunny hallway and a stairway down. He followed her hesitantly, pausing at the curious view out one of the crystal-clear windows over strange large houses in straight lines. There was light snow on the ground.
They were greeted at the bottom of the stairs by two hounds, one tall and gloriously golden, the other very small, silvery, and nervous. Both barked, clearly guarding their domain, but they retreated briefly at the call of women’s voices. Then Trey and Rez were enfolding him in back-pounding embraces as the dogs swirled and barked again. For a moment, Henrik felt nothing but relief and they leaned their foreheads against each other in turn.
“My shieldmates,” he said. “I see you with pleasure, though this place is very strange.”
“You have only just begun to appreciate how strange,” Trey told him. “Wait until you see the amazing technology they have. They have wardrobes of cold, and amazing entertainment devices. There are slots in the floor that make warm air. And perhaps oddest of all, cylinders of thin metal filled with beer.”
“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.