The Bride Wore Black Leather

growing piles of food. They didn’t even have to fight over it; there was more than enough for everyone.
    Julien looked at me. “All right . . . First, how the hell did you do that? And second, since when did you become altruistic?”
    “First,” I said, “I am known for my useful little tricks. And second, I have been down and out in my time and know what it is to be hungry. And lost, and desperate. There was a time I looked a lot like them, and you would have walked right past me in the street, carefully not making eye contact. Always put a penny in the blind man’s hat, Julien, because the wheel always turns, and it turns for you as for anyone else.”
    “You never cease to amaze me, John,” said Julien. “But this is no time to be getting soft.”
    “Not going to happen,” I said. I turned away from him to study the alcove carefully. “Tell me about the Garden of Green Henge. You know more about the history of this place than I do. You know everything about the Nightside’s history.”
    “No-one knows everything about the Nightside,” said Julien. “But Green Henge has always been an interest of mine . . . Yes. Well . . . Of course the Nightside would have its own Stonehenge, its very own Circle of Sacred Standing Stones. The Nightside has pretty much one of everything from all of recorded human history. And a whole lot of things it shouldn’t have, that got edited out of history, or written over. Palimpsests cover a multitude of sins. Except this particular item is a fake. A folly. It was constructed back in Victorian times, as part of the fashion. Society was very big on fake but picturesque ruins, back then, expertly designed to look dark and Gothic and battered by the weather, as though they were ready to fall apart or fall down at any moment.”
    “That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
    “It was a fad,” Julien said patiently. “It didn’t have to make sense. It was the fashion, to have half a barn or a decrepit old water-wheel in your back garden, or to have an exact copy of some famous house or monument, so you could visit it without having to track half-way across the countryside. And the Nightside has never been a stranger to strange fads and fancies. Remember the craze for Pet Rocks?”
    “Ah yes,” I said. “Just the things—for people with rocks in their heads.”
    “How about the pet alien fad, from the eighties? You were nobody then, if you didn’t have your very own pet BEM, to parade through the park on a leash and make do tricks . . . to the admiring or at the very least envious gazes of all. I remember a whole bunch of complaints about that, from the various Alien embassies in the Nightside.”
    “There aren’t any Alien embassies in the Nightside,” I said.
    “Not any more, there aren’t. Apparently just because something is small, green, and cute doesn’t mean it isn’t some race’s Most Honoured Ambassador, who got a collar snapped round his neck when he was out taking a stroll. It also turned out that a lot of the little beggars were actually alien sociology students, observing Humanity. They decided the collars and leashes meant we were all serious S&M freaks, and called for their Home Bases to mount an Intervention, on moral-health grounds. The previous Walker put an end to that by taking them to the Pit night-club and showing them what real S&M looks like. Never heard another word from them, after that. They’re probably still holed up in their other-dimensional universities, writing very deep psychological papers about us. And don’t even get me started on the Great Tamaguchi Rebellion . . .”
    “The things you know,” I said, admiringly.
    “Mind full of trivia,” he said, grandly.
    We broke off and looked around sharply as loud cracking and groaning noises filled the alcove, and one whole section of it opened inwards, forming a doorway into darkness. We both leaned in close for a better look, but there was no sign of any Garden beyond; only an impenetrable blackness.
    “Are you sure you couldn’t have found that?” said Julien.
    “What?” I said. “And miss out on your fascinating and enlightening briefing? You know you love to lecture people.”
    “I do, don’t I?” said Julien.
    A Druidic Sister stepped abruptly out of the darkness to stand before us, resplendent in pristine white robes and wearing a crown of plaited mistletoe. She was a tall, powerfully built woman, with a calm, serene face. She projected a natural