It was a transparent glass house in the sky. Clouds drifted outside, and through the glass beneath her feet she could see the thousand-some cloud whales gliding by and the endless ocean beyond.
She stood at the edge of the room. Two meters ahead rose a vertical sheet of magic light shooting to the ceiling. Beyond that curtain lay four corridors carved out by blue filaments of magic, each about three meters wide. You could see only a sliver of each entrance; most of what lay within was swallowed by shadow.
Between Rita and the light wall sat a square magic mahjong table. Four neat racks of tiles stood at the edges, thirteen tiles per rack. In the center, mahjong tiles were stacked in careful walls, ready for someone to draw a fourteenth tile so the hand could begin.
The tranquil, tea-house stillness almost made Rita think she had stepped into the wrong place.
At the table's lower right corner, each player's name was inked next to a rack.
