Chris Karlsen - Knights in Time by Knight Blindness Page A

down the material feeling for a pair whose cloth had the same texture and weight.
    “They’re not damaged,” Alex told him from the doorway.
    Stephen turned and pointed to the area of the rip.
    “The metal-toothed device is called a zipper. Zip it up and the opening will close.”
    “Zip up?”
    “Yes, there’s a little metal tongue at the base. Pull on it.”
    A closure with a tongue and teeth. He sighed long and hard. Why must he be baffled by
    the tiniest of problems?
    “Why don’t the weavers who made these jeans just use buttons?” he mumbled.

He found the tongue and started to tug then stopped when the danger in doing so without
    care became evident. He took the precaution of readjusting his sensitive bits then slowly zipped the rest of the way.
    The shoes had a funny hard sole with a surprising amount of flexibility. Stephen bounced
    up and down on his toes, liking how the loafers bent with the curve of his foot.
    He shrugged into the suede jacket, which was snug across the shoulders but otherwise fit.
    The clothes were comfortable, especially the jeans. Did theylook as good as they felt? Did he look good?
    “Am I acceptable for this place we’re going?” he asked as he entered the drawing room.
    “Tuck your shirt in and you’re good as gold. The place we’re going to is called a
    restaurant. It’s better than the best inn you’ve ever been to but without the rooms where you can spend the night,” Alex said.
    “Are their cheeseburgers as tasty as on the plane?”
    “They don’t serve cheeseburgers. Tonight you’ll have filet mignon. You will fall in love
    with this cut of beef.”
    Stephen had no doubts he would. He’d had beef on many occasions and enjoyed it even
    when it was tough as a boot. The talk about the restaurant stirred a worry that troubled him while he’d readied.
    “Alex, the lady tutor, she knows I am not merely blind but scarred?”
    “Yes.”
    Stephen nodded, not truly reassured she wouldn’t be repulsed. A short time ago, he was a
    handsome knight. Now he was neither.
    Alex put a hand on his shoulder. “The scars are not as gruesome as you imagine. They
    will heal eventually and grow fainter with time.”
    “’Not as gruesome’ is a vague description. I hope the lady is of the same mind.” Even if
    she is not put off by his scars, he had nothing in common with her. “What will I talk to her about?”
    “She has a university degree. Talk to her about medieval history if the opportunity arises.”
    “What is medieval history?”
    “The modern world refers to the time we came from as the Medieval Period.”
    “They think us evil?”
    “No. As I recall, Miranda said the term was derivative of a Latin word for the time, which
    loosely translates to middle age. If not that, talk to her as you would any woman. Charm her. I’ve seen you do that many a time.”
    “How’s that going to work? I charmed ladies before a jousting challenge, or during a
    banquet, or while picking summer apples. None of those opportunities exist for me now.”
    “Why not talk about your jousting prowess? The tournaments you used to participate in
    and won. She already thinks you’re barmy. She’ll go along with whatever you want to discuss.”
    “In other words, it does not matter what I choose to say as no one cares what a blind, daft
    man speaks of?”
    “Basically.”
    #
    Ian, Miranda and the tutor were already at the restaurant when Stephen, Alex, and
    Shakira arrived.
    “Don’t you look nice,” Miranda said. “Let me introduce you and then we’ll go to the
    table.”
    He switched his cane to his left hand prepared to kiss the lady’s hand.
    “Stephen this is Esme Crippen. Esme—Stephen Palmer.”
    Esme put her palm to his. Instead of letting him bring her hand to his lips, she clasped and
    pumped his in a mannish manner.
    “What are you doing, milady?” he asked as he wrestled with her for control of her hand.
    “Shaking you hand.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s a form of