around, as if trying to get comfortable on the bare rocks. It did not seem to be working.
“Instead of a fishtail, she coulda offered you a damned tent!” he said.
“We have shelter,” I pointed out, looking up at the fingers, which were starting to glow once more. But he shook his head.
“I didn’t mean a regular tent. Fey nobles, when they travel, use a special kind.”
“How special?”
“Very. It seems tiny, just a regular old thing on the outside, but when you go in . . .”
“Yes?”
He grinned, probably because he knew he had me. I was quickly becoming fascinated with Faerie. I wanted to know about everything, even their tents.
“It’s like back at Dory’s house. You ever been in one of those little two-man things the fey parked in the garden? The ones they act like such martyrs over—oh, no, how could anybody be so cruel as to make us sleep outside?”
I shook my head. I assumed he was talking about Claire’s fey bodyguards, who had indeed been banished to the garden, because the house did not have room for them and they were messy. They had pitched small tents back there, bivouacking in in the backyard.
“Well, I have,” Ray said. “Not that I needed to; I recognized the type. I knew this orc chieftain once, and he’d taken one off some Green Fey idiot who’d ventured into his lands. The boy had a bet with some friends that he’d bring back an ogre’s tusks. Instead, he didn’t come back at all and the ogre ended up with his tent. I was there to trade and I guess the chief wanted to impress me, so I got the grand tour.”
“What was it like?” I asked eagerly.
“It was freaking awesome,” Ray said, his eyes shining in the firelight. “First, ‘cause they’re not really tents at all. They’re the entrances to portals—”
“That go where?”
“Nowhere. That’s the point. They fold back on themselves, creating a stable little pocket in non-space. The same kind that supernatural Hong Kong exists in, you know? They phased that thing so they could park it in the same space as regular old Hong Kong. But the two never touch—well, almost never—cause one is in real space and one in non-space, like the ley lines.”
“Or Louis-Cesare’s Veil.”
“Yeah. Or a fey tent.”
“So, what do they put in there?” I asked curiously, lying down beside him.
“Anything they want. Most of the time, its just to give ‘em more space, like a lot more. But some really slut ‘em up. The ogre had lucked out and ended up with a mansion with a couple dozen rooms, all of them filled with gorgeous fabrics, finely made furniture, crystal stemware, and opulent dishes . . . you name it. He even got the kid’s wardrobe. Of course, none of it fit . . .”
I laughed.
“But he paraded around in it anyway, until the predictable happened.”
“His trousers split?” I asked.
Ray turned his head to blink at me. For a moment, his expression reminded me of Nimue. “No.”
“Oh.”
“Well, I mean, they probably did, but that’s not the point. A portal is like any other spell: it needs magic to keep running. I guess it had some kind of talisman powering it, but those are just long-term batteries. They can soak up magic from the natural world, to extend their lives, but sooner or later, you gotta replace ‘em or they stop working.”
“What happens if they stop working?”
“Nobody knows, ‘cause nobody that it happened to ever came back to tell anyone. But most think that it’s one of two things: either the whole thing collapses and you’re compacted into a tiny, tiny speck of dust, or . . .”
“Or?”
“Or the portal closes up, but the room inside remains in a bubble of non-space, only with no way out. Leaving whoever is in there trapped and floating around forever. Or, you know, until the air runs out.”
I thought about it. “I think I would like a fey tent.”
“And take the risk?”
“I would remember to change the battery.”
Ray laughed. And then his expression faded to something more serious. “I thought you didn’t want things.”
I looked up at the fingers. They were glowing gold again, giving our tiny encampment a cozy feel. The fire seemed to banish the winds, enveloping us in warmth. It made me sleepy, something I could hear in my voice when I replied.
“I did once, when I was young.”
“Young as in, before the split, or . . .”
“Both. Before the split I mostly wanted food. Venice