Page 70 of Fortune's Blade

The dining hall was both familiar and very much not.

The bones of it were pretty standard, if one’s standard was a massive medieval hall. Heavy old timbers separated stretches of stone reaching up to another ceiling that disappeared into darkness; colossal wooden beams spanned the space from perhaps three floors up, supporting huge iron candelabras that nonetheless did little to displace the dark; flagstone flooring with a few withered rushes were scattered about, along with some old bones that a few dogs were gnawing in the corners; and a greatly oversized fireplace occupied the right hand wall, with more carved stone ravens framing the lintel, which was burning what appeared to be an entire tree. But it was the people who really caught the eye.

The tables for the pixie contingent were essentially small wooden planks coming out of the walls on either side of the room, complete with attached benches. They were off the ground to keep them out of the way of heavy boots and inconsiderate elbows, some at troll height, others even higher. This, of course, did not inconvenience the diners, who could fly.

There were boughs of greenery, mostly pine from the scent, either growing out of the walls along with the tables or secured around them somehow, creating a sort of floor on which the diners could walk to visit friends at neighboring tables. And forming islands of floating greenery along the walls that helped to perfume the space.

There were also small lanterns set amongst the branches and drooping down from the ones above, and glimmering softly. And showing me hundreds of small, animated faces enjoying their meal. I wanted to go see what they were eating, as I found pixies fascinating, but had the vague idea that that might be considered rude.

The big slabs of what looked like oak in the middle of the floor, on the other hand, that were masquerading as tables, were occupied by trolls, their size straining even the thick bench seats. Ogres, shorter and stockier but no less solid, were also there in numbers, eating around their massive tusks. As were duergars, a type of dwarf.

I knew little about them as they were a secretive bunch, half the size of a man but twice as strong, with large noses and bright eyes, the latter visible as they peered distrustfully out of the hoods they had not bothered to pull down. The rest of the crowd seemed to be primarily human and part-human hybrids, except for a group of brownies at a few tables to the left. They looked like short, stick-thin humans with dark skins and oversized heads, or essentially anything else they liked since they were shapeshifters. That might explain why a few satyrs were dancing a jig by the fire, or perhaps they were really there.

I didn’t know anymore.

But they fit right in, as it was a rowdy crowd, something only added to by the swarms of pixie waiters flying about, trying to keep everyone satisfied. And carrying more of the tiny lanterns under their trays, I supposed to keep anyone from stumbling into them. Or hitting them when the diners slammed their tankards down onto the tables rhythmically, in time to the band that was playing to the left of the fire.

They were out of tune and had a mishmash of instruments that didn’t necessarily complement one another, but nobody seemed to mind. And I found that I didn’t, either. The tiny lanterns whizzing by and the scents of food and pine reminded me of a feast in a forest surrounded by fireflies. It was even more amazing when you considered what was happening outside, where the cold, conjured winds howled as we were blown across the sky.

Yet, in here, it was warm and cozy and loud and happy, and suddenly, I was, too. If I’d been in my body, I’d have wanted to dance right along with the satyrs. The band’s artistry might be suspect, but its rhythm was infectious.

But I wasn’t in my body, and we had a job to do.

Ray thought the same, and tugged on my mental hand a little. “Okay. Nice and subtle. Remember, we’re just looking for a table.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see it, and we started forward. I spotted his boys on the other side of the room, where a couple of doors had been set into the patchwork of wood and stone that made up the walls. The smaller of the two, on the left at perhaps troll height, led to the kitchen, which was somehow keeping up with the preferences of so many different creatures. The other was our target, although I wasn’t sure that “door” was the right word there.

It was a huge thing composed of planks of wood three times as wide as me and with the biggest hinges I had ever seen. They were the strap type in some kind of dark metal, hand hammered and full of scrollwork that scrawled across much of the surface of the wood. They were also easily twelve feet across, which wasn’t surprising as the door itself was almost as tall as the cavernous ceiling.

They were a bit intimidating, and I wondered whether they were opened much. Maybe not as there was a smaller door set into them, which was more practical for the staff, who had to fly in and out with every course. For those doors led to the royal dining room, as the queen did not partake among her court except on special occasions.

Otherwise, she dined with her senior advisors or favored guests. Like tonight, when father, the Pythia and Senator Marlowe were joining her. I knew that because Ray had entertained a guest of his own while I was sleeping.

If I had been more myself, I would have scented our caller as soon as I awoke, or noticed that the cigarettes in the little bowl on the balcony table weren’t all Ray’s. Most were the ones he favored, but others were small, slim, dark things, cigarillos rather than true cigarettes, hand rolled and slightly lumpy, and made in one particular factory in Spain. I knew of only one person who used them, especially here in Faerie.

My father had dropped by for a visit.

Ray said that they’d talked for a while, because Mircea was a diplomat these days and liked the pleasantries. There had been a lot of those, and a lot of catching up on how we came to be here. But he was also a warrior and his direct nature had never been entirely eclipsed by the demands of his office.

It hadn’t taken him long to get to the point.

He wanted Ray to get me out of this world, along a route that he had thoughtfully marked on a map. It was supposed to be the safest way and ended at a trusted portal, possibly the one that he and Marlowe had used because it was senate controlled. Or perhaps they had more than one; I didn’t know.

I wasn’t sure why he was so insistent; he knew who I was now, after that display in the arena. There simply couldn’t be any confusion. And if there had been, Ray had cleared it up.

But perhaps he was worried about Dory without me there to protect her.

He really should know her better.

Or perhaps he was concerned that our senate seat would be revoked, should she try to hold it on her own. The senate kept making the mistake of thinking that I was Dory’s vampire half, and that she was the more human part of us. And treated us accordingly.

I could not really fault them, for even she and I had long thought that way. But in truth, she was the dhampir—I was something very different. But they did not understand that, and I couldn’t explain it since I didn’t completely understand it myself.

But whatever his motivation, Ray said that he had been insistent. And Ray hadn’t argued, since getting me out of here was also his goal and I believe he felt conflicted. But he had pointed out that I might not be entirely in favor of father’s plan.

Mircea had then asked if he would like some help, which Ray had taken to mean help knocking me out and “stuffing my ass through a portal,” as he had colorfully described it. And he was likely right. Father looked and talked like a diplomat, but he acted like a prince, and one used to being obeyed.

And in Ray’s case, he had every right to expect compliance. Mircea was head of House Basarab, which Ray was now part of as my and Dory’s Second. But father had underestimated him, as people so often did.

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