“You can take a plane to the cities, yes. But we restrict airplanes to certain areas of the sky, so the sound of their engines doesn't bother people who live below.”
“How loud are these machines?”
“Very. Much louder than that horn you heard earlier.” I turned into my driveway. “This is it.”
My craftsman stood about forty feet back from the road with an attached garage. I pulled into the garage slowly, so Kaspian could get a look at the simple but sturdy architecture and the green color scheme I'd opted for. He didn't say anything, and I suddenly wished I had the opposite of a craftsman—a Victorian. My house was part of the Arts & Crafts movement that had been a big middle finger to the Victorian age of excess.
Why do people have to go to such extremes? Maybe we just get sick of things and need to do the opposite for a bit. So, all that frilly, ornate Victorian stuff literally went out the window in the late 1800s and gave birth to homes like mine. Simple lines. Practical designs. Built-in shelves and double-hung windows. As I said, I loved my home. But would it impress a king? Hardly.
With a sigh, I parked my Ford and pushed the button on my seatbelt. At least I had a nice truck. When I looked up at Kaspian, I found him smiling.
“I like the look of your home, Demetrius. The beams are strong, and your roof has very interesting covers.”
“Oh, the, uh, shingles. You like those? I had to get a new roof put on last year. Fucking expensive, but what are you gonna do? A house needs a roof. If you leave it to leak, you run the risk of damage or electrical issues. The house could burn down because the damn roof is leaking.”
Kaspian blinked.
“Sorry. That was too much. I'm glad you like it. Come on.” I got out of the truck, hiding my smile, and grabbed his shopping bag. It was just the outside of the house. He hadn't seen inside yet. He could quickly change his mind.
I let us in through the garage door. It opened onto the laundry room, with a little sink, washer, dryer, and a table. A step up took us into the kitchen. I tossed my keys into a bowl near the door, set the bag on the floor, and went to the fridge. After grabbing a couple of beers, I closed the fridge and noticed that Kaspian was still in the laundry room, peering into the washing machine.
He looked up. “What is this contraption?”
I popped the caps off the bottles and went to lean in the doorway. With one shoulder propped against the frame, I passed him a bottle. “That washes my clothes. The one next to it dries my clothes after I wash them.” I clicked my bottle against his and took a swig.
“Amazing,” Kaspian murmured, then took a drink. His eyes widened, and he lifted the bottle to peer at it. “What is this? It reminds me of a beverage we have on Serai, but this is . . . there are flavors in it I've never tasted in our drink.”
“It's beer. I splurge and get the good stuff. That one's made here, in Oregon. Up in Portland.”
“Portland?”
I shook my head and headed through the kitchen. “At this rate, we'll never finish a conversation. Come on. I'll show you around.”
“Beer? This is ale? So, it is the same drink we make on Serai. But what is this flavor?”
I looked down at the bottle and grimaced. “Uh, raspberries.”
“What?”
“The beer has berries in it. I like a little fruitiness. I think it tones down the hops.”
“It's amazing. Thank you.” He took another sip. Then he noticed the fridge and opened it. Glaring at me, he declared, “It's cold! You have Water Magic!”
“That would bescienceagain.” I shut the fridge door. “This is a refrigerator. We keep food in it. It's where I got the beers from.”
“Yes, we have a similar device. It's called a cold cabinet. But it runs on magic.”
“You have refrigerators? Huh. Well, this one runs on electricity. Remember the lightning? It goes into this thing through a cord and powers the motor, which then sets these coils to cooling. Again, I don't know the specifics of how it works. I don't make them. I just buy them.”
“How can you have such devices and not know how they work?”
“I do know how it works. I just told you. But it's a complicated thing. Could you explain how magic works?”
Kaspian cocked his head. “Huh. Well, I suppose I couldn't. I call upon it, and it comes to me. I know what it does, but nothowit does it.”
“There you go.” I waved at him, then at the sink. “That's a sink. Water comes through pipes and out of the faucet.”
Kas rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know about plumbing.”
