The silver dome lifted, and the banquet hall Rudra and Ainen had just left kept going.
It kept going in every direction. Long tables stretched off into gold haze on all sides, each one set for a feast that had no end and no beginning, dish after dish steaming under a sky made of chandelier light instead of stars.
"Well," Ainen said, turning a slow circle. "I've died and gone to a kitchen."
"Don't tempt it," Rudra said. "This place has rules like every other one. We just haven't found them yet."
They found the first rule the way they found most things, by watching what tried to kill them.
A roast the size of a wagon rose off its platter three tables down, wood-carved bones cracking into a shape that stood on four legs and turned two smoldering eye-sockets on the pair of them.
"Course guardian," Ainen said, already moving. "Every proper feast has a running order. Soup, then roast, then something sweet to finish. I'd guess this whole hall follows the same shape."
