In a warehouse near Baton Rouge, Rodrigo and I walked between vehicles. The Conestoga trailer was going to be too long to manage, and I wasn’t sure if Rodrigo knew how to operate a big rig. The small trucks would probably do, but the walls were going to be difficult.

I ended up deciding to use a flatbed tow truck since the back could be lowered, and we could probably match the height of the stage. I needed to spend a few days in Real making more gateways to place in convenient places.

I said, “Sorry, Rodrigo, I’m going to need to shadow step to get a gateway to a good place to bring the truck out. The drive from here would take too long.”

Rodrigo asked, “Can I see the tree you want to move?”

I got up on the back of the tow truck and shifted gateways so I had an overlay from Snipsnort and made a new tree with a few changes I’d been thinking about. Mostly to give it secure spots for tying it down to a truck bed. The tree was only six feet tall the way I used it and that was the lowest setting, so tying it down was going to be easy.

Rodrigo got up on the back of the truck and said, “Go shadow step, I can secure it.”

I sailed through shadow and stopped to summon Vic.

Vic answered, “We were just talking about you. Mr. Gibbs and I are about to leave the music store.”

I said, “I’m coming in a truck. I’ll meet you there.”

Vic said, “Mr. Gibbs, Phil has a ride.”

Vic paused for a moment. “Phil, Mr. Gibbs said he looks forward to seeing you and will miss the conversation we might have had while driving.”

I nodded, but nods don’t transmit unless you have viewing established in a summons so I said, “Okay. Later, then. I have to arrange a few things.”

#

After setting up a gateway to bring the truck out on a road near the old abandoned airport we were heading to, I opened the gateway and connected another gateway so I had passage to the warehouse where Rodrigo and the truck were.

Rodrigo had extended the tree to full height, and he was playing it. “Sorry, Phil, I couldn’t resist. This is so beautiful and wonderful. With no magic at all, it is a magical thing.”

He adjusted it to the lowest setting, and we tied it down and put a tarp over it. We secured the tarp with rubber straps. I shifted the gateway around, and Rodrigo drove the truck through. I ran through the gateway, closed it, and got into the truck.

Rodrigo asked, “Can you adjust the mirror on your side and give me directions?”

I nodded and after he was happy with the mirror, we started driving.

Rodrigo was smiling as he drove. “That’s a wonderful thing you made. Art, visual, ergonomic, and musical. It’s also solid without being heavy. I do have a few ideas for it, if you are interested. I don’t want to offend your artistic sensibilities, though.”

I looked out at the Spanish moss-covered oaks we were passing and the grapevine-covered trees farther in the distance. “No offense at all. I just realized that a lot of music imitates traffic noise or factory work or trains. Some of it is pastoral, and some evokes the sound of birds. I wanted some ambiance like cicadas and frogs, brooks, and wind-blown leaves. That sort of thing.”

Rodrigo said, “My only real advice would be to arrange pickups so the sounds could be amplified. There are a few odd instruments I would love to see incorporated as well. This may be your goal, but it also kind of hides the musician from the listener. I am not sure how to change that, but I think it will also isolate the musician from the rest of the musicians.”

I nodded. “I didn’t think of that. I love playing with others. Really, I prefer it, but most of the time I’m just pounding on anything near and playing by myself. Tapping out a rhythm helps me to think.”

Rodrigo said, “I feel the same way, but most Giants would feel that way.”

We got to the old cracked, grass-invaded runway. There was no way to get a large truck close to the stage in the front of the Quonset hut. I couldn’t use gateways because the drummer and Jake the guitarist were at the grills and cooking.

Rodrigo looked at me. “I don’t think they are Goblins. Should we get the tree to the stage quickly?”

I nodded and shifted so to me with the bag with my cajon in it and got out of the truck.

Jake shouted, “Rougarou Phil!”

I shouted to Jake, “Overkill Jones!” Then I felt kind of bad since I didn’t know the name of the drummer, so I waved and went to help Rodrigo unstrap the tree.

After pulling back the tarp, the sunlight hit the colorful mix of anodized aluminum leaves, and I realized how pretty the musical tree really was. I looked at the stage and had that sinking revelation that reminded me that sometimes my mental age was a match to my physical age despite the fifty year discrepancy. I’d made a musical instrument and wanted to show it off, but this was a jam and not a show-and-tell for a small boy who’d made something shiny.

Rodrigo whispered to me, “What’s wrong?”

I said, “As far as anyone here knows, I’m as poor as dirt. I didn’t even think how much I was showing off something that a cajon-playing son of the swamps wouldn’t be able to have, make, or even dream of.”

Rodrigo was smiling and then making gestures with his face and head while I said that. Then I realized I had doubly put my foot in my mouth. While we had been unstrapping the tree, the drummer had walked up behind me, and he’d heard everything I’d said.

The drummer whispered, “You made this?”

I nodded.

He said, “Yeah, I come from money, too. Don’t tell anyone.”

Rodrigo lifted the tree and it made several musical sounds at once.

The drummer gasped. “Its a percussion cage. Wait, no, a cage is to control sound. This is a rack. Did you really make it?”

I nodded.

Rodrigo started carrying it to the stage. “Don’t lie to them. Just tell them this was made by an artist, and you are testing it out and learning to play it. Phil, I’m rather amused by this so I am wondering what you would charge to make me one.”

I blurted out, “Do you really want one?” Then I drew a breath and quietly whispered, “Are you serious?”

Rodrigo said, “It’s a wonderful thing, but I want to wait and see what it evolves into. No, now that I think about it, I will want more than one as you make them. Think very hard on what you might charge for them.”

Rodrigo set it up on the stage where I pointed, behind the area where the rest of the musicians sat because I didn’t want to interrupt the playing.

Rodrigo said, “I should go now. Call me when you need to be picked up.”

I nodded and waved as Rodrigo went to the truck.

The drummer asked, “What all does it do? Oh, my name is Jeremy, by the way.”

We shook hands and I took out my cajon and sat. After adjusting the positions of the control arms and pedals built into the branches and roots, I started improvising a rhythm and incorporating the various sounds. Here on the stage showing it off and trying to use it as my main instrument and not a collection of sound effects, I wanted it all back in Fairy so I could alter it.

I stopped when another car drove up.

Jeremy said, “We’ll talk later.”

The music set went well enough, everyone was interested in the tree and wanted to know the name of the artist, but I told them he didn’t want his identity revealed. Mr. Gibbs was clearly frustrated by the impossibility of recording and balancing the sounds the tree made.

When we played, the music was great, but I was at the back hidden in my cage and separate from the other musicians. There was never a moment when I felt totally in the groove and united in the musical moment. I felt like the triangle player in an orchestra and not a triangle player in Cajun or Creole music where you are part of the rhythm and make the dance happen. I added effects, but the tunes would have still been the same tunes without me.

Instead of a weeping willow, I imagined a mimosa tree. One of the ones that grew like a small acacia. Open with layers that other musicians could gather in next to you and play in the shade of.

When the music wound down, Mr. Gibbs asked, “Do you need a ride?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Gibbs. I’ll need to call and have the truck come to take this back. Can I lock up the hangar when I leave?”

Mr. Gibbs said, “I was kind of hoping you would leave it here so I could play with it and figure out how to mike it. How did you find this?”

I said, “The artist wanted it tested. He doesn’t really want any attention, though.”

Mr. Gibbs asked, “Ask him if he would be okay with displaying it in the front window of a music store. We have a few instruments that are heavily insured, so we could arrange for it to be covered.”

Jeremy said, “You would need to insure it. If it was in the front window, I would try to sneak in and play it. Any percussionist would.”

Mr. Gibbs said, “Jeremy, it’s got a broad range of volumes and little control over each of the volumes. Do you think many percussionists would really go for it?”

Jeremy said, “Lots of things we hold up to mikes. Shakers and such, but some things you can’t just pin a mike to and sometimes pure acoustic is what you want. Not everything needs to have a hybrid drum trigger adding effects.”

I got up and put away my cajon. I didn’t want to share my cajon, but the tree was just a prototype. After I put up my cajon, I raised the height on the tree and gestured for Jeremy to try it out. Mr. Gibbs and several others took that as an open invitation. I was glad I’d made it sturdy.

I went down to the food area as the last of the group continued to abuse my poor tree.

I sat with a glass of lemonade, some sausage, and potato salad and watched as some of the group would come down to get more beer from the keg near me and then go back up on stage to mess with the tree and play music along with it. I clearly needed to add a cowbell, probably a range of cowbells.

I was feeling left out again. If I went in to play it with them that might take away the fun, and if I set up my cajon beside it and played, it might seem odd.

Jeremy came down from the stage, got some of the sausage and some potato salad and sat across the table from me. “I sent a video of it to an uncle. He wants to talk to you.”

I finished chewing and nodded.

Jeremy handed me his cell phone. A man said, “Call the artist that made that thing. I’ll give him ten thousand for it, but first get all those drunk hooligans away from it so they don’t break it.”

I was kind of offended by the man’s voice, so I said, “The artist has a few odd opinions. He thinks if it were worn, broken, and even repaired, it would be a better work of art. Do you really think ten thousand would pay for the time and materials used? He’ll make more, but this is the first one he felt like letting anyone see.”

The man on the other end said, “Give me the artist’s number.”

It was like an order, so I said, “He doesn’t want to be bothered. You know how artists can be. He would rather have it trashed than sell out and go commercial with it.”

The man on the other end said, “Ask him how much aluminum and piano wire he can get with five hundred thousand dollars.”

I took out my cell phone and looked up the spot price of gold and compared it to the weight of the tree. Gold prices were down and dropping, but I could have gotten millions if I’d been making gold.

Jeremy had taken his phone back. “He’s checking something, probably messaging.”

I said, “Tell him that the artist isn’t strongly attached to this piece so he would be willing to let it go for three million.”

Jeremy said, “Uncle Reardon just offered eight hundred thousand.”

I smiled. I didn’t like his uncle, but suddenly I felt like all my art gifting wasn’t entirely wasted. I looked up modern art and how much it went for. After looking at a few works, my heart dropped. Some were great, but being worth eight hundred thousand wasn’t proof my art showed talent, taste, or anything, really.

I shook my head. “Sorry, the artist is busy and doesn’t want to bothered right now.”

Jeremy winked at me and got up. He walked with his cell phone held out as he filmed the scene of the near-drunk musicians playing and experimenting with and around the tree.

He came back after a bit and sat down. “You just made three million, if you want it.”

I asked, “Is he serious?”

Jeremy nodded. “He invests in art. When you said you didn’t want to be bothered after he offered eight hundred thousand, that got him hooked. Last thing he wants is an artist he has invested in to ever let a work go for less than he paid. Odds are good he will want more from you. Are you prolific?”

I shrugged.

Jeremy said, “He’s gonna want to meet you.”

I said, “For three million? Tell him I charge for more for performance art, and if I have to dance like a monkey for him, it starts at three million.”

Jeremy said, “You could lose the sale.”

I smiled and pointed to the stage where the tree had gotten nearly tipped over, and they were adjusting the height of it, and one of them had nearly gotten hurt under it as it slid down. “You may have noticed that I’m not cringing as they—”

I stood up, worried, but saw that none of them seemed hurt from it falling over, so I sat back down.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Jeremy said, “The value of the tree is going down as we speak.”

I shook my head. “Not in my opinion. I’m currently valuing it at four million. They can’t leave it alone. I should probably try and get them away from it, though, before someone puts out an eye out on it.”

I went up on the stage. “Please, I want it to stay in one piece and not get covered with blood. You all need to go down and eat and stop drinking. It’s going to be dark soon. Are any of you safe to drive?”

I wasn’t making myself popular, but they were leaving the tree alone. I went back down, and one of the musicians was complaining the spigot was gone.

Jeremy gestured so I went over to him. “Phil, I let my uncle watch you shoo everyone away from the tree. He cussed at me and told me to buy it. I’m sorry I slipped up and gave away that you are the artist.”

Jeremy handed me the spigot from the beer tap. “Hide it. They’re going to suspect me. If I can get together three million by Wednesday, can I buy the tree from you? I can’t manage four million.”

I asked, “Are you going to sell it to your uncle?”

He smiled. “I might even double my money. It may take a while, but if I play it at one of his events, he may even have competition over it. You could be a famous artist in a year or so.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m total recluse. I never want anyone to know who I am.”

Jeremy grinned. “Like Banksy. I think that’ll make Uncle Reardon even more interested. Give me your number so I can contact you. Don’t worry, I won’t share it with anyone.”

#

Swampy leaned against me as I sat on the pier slowly jiggling my feet in the water.

She looked up from the ripples I was making. “You need an art studio in Real.”

I said. “I have one in Hubert’s house.”

She looked back down at the ripples. “You have a place in Baton Rouge. The drummer boy is going want to visit your studio.”

I asked, “Jeremy?”

She took her stick and stirred the water. “Jeremy. He will open doors for you. Sneak him some food from Snipsnort just in case he dies.”

I shook my head. “I’ll feed him food from Snipsnort, but if I’m going to endanger him, I shouldn’t see him again.”

Swampy said, “No, he dies for certain without you. You must travel with him. He will open the doors, and you will be the flame that catches moths.”

I gave her a sour look. “Suddenly you are talking in riddles. I though you were a better prophet than that.”

Swampy shrugged. “Other seers are trying to see what I see. If I say it clearly, they might see it clearly.”

I said, “Phil Thibodeaux has a few places in Baton Rouge, but I have seen two of them and neither one would make a good studio.”

Swampy lay back on the plank she’d been sitting on. “Check the rest, make one into a studio. Get Caerwyn to help you.”

#

After looking through the papers and locating the six properties I had not yet been to in Baton Rouge, I shadow stepped from Hubert’s mansion to Phil Thibodeaux’s mansion. The walls around the mansion were warded, but I used a copy of the dagger Caerwyn had given me and went past the wards and over a wall where a tree gave me shadows.

A pair of Black Goblins were sitting under a canopy in front of the swimming pool. They noticed my slide through shadows, but they didn’t get up.

I slid out of shadow and walked to the glass table.

The Goblins’ ears were obvious. They had caps on the table beside their beer cans.

The girl said, “Got past the wards. Pretty clever, I never found a flaw in them, but now you’re trespassing.”

I said, “No, this is my place.”

The girl said, “No, the owner’s a clean freak and wears a mask. Plus, you’re a Goblin. Nice ear work, but still a Goblin.”

The fellow with her said, “Doesn’t feel like a Goblin. But he does shadows well enough. My name’s Teller, this is Maud.”

I pointed at myself. “Phil. Do you stay here?”

Maud shook her head. “My brother and I stay in the loft over one of the garages. We have a long-term arrangement with the management. Look, clever as you are getting in, you need to get out. Thibodeaux’s a wizard and he doesn’t socialize. If and when he comes, you don’t want to be here. We don’t want to be here either, but at least we have the right to be.”

I nodded. “You’re part of the company?”

Teller said, “When they plowed down our shack, we decided we had enough and haunted their machine operators. We had been good little Goblins for ninety years, but we kind of got tired of it and decided to make things expensive for them.”

Maud said, “We fought the company and a pair of skinny white Goblin girls came to negotiate with us. We told them where we stood.

“We told them, ‘Before we were Goblins, we lost our parents in the Thibodeaux Massacre. We don’t plan to run so a pair of smart little girls might want to skip shadow before we finish what the companies started.’

“The Goblin girls made us an offer. If we protected it, we could dwell in a place we would never, ever be able to afford. Now this is our place as long as we keep the riffraff out. That would be you.”

I asked, “Thibodeaux Massacre? When was that?”

Teller said, “Look it up.”

I had a laptop in a backpack in a version of me with the Phil Thibodeaux mask and gloves, so I changed forms and took out the laptop. The Goblins watched as I turned the laptop on and linked it with the wireless connection and looked up the Thibodeaux Massacre.

I figured I was given the name Thibodeaux as joke, since there are a lot of backwoods jokes about Thibodeaux. After reading a few internet articles, I was probably given the name as a sort of respect for the Black sugarcane workers who had died in the massacre. That and it’s a fairly common name in the area.

Maud asked, “You’re really Thibodeaux?”

Oddly reading about the massacre and having her ask my name made me decide it wasn’t just a joke, and I might as well accept it as my name. I nodded. “You don’t have to run off when I’m here. Just keep taking care of the place.”

Teller said, “Wizard or not, we don’t know if you really are Phil Thibodeaux.”

I summoned my contact in Baton Rouge.

“Yes, sir. One moment while I get my mask and gloves.”

I said, “Don’t worry, I’m already in Baton Rouge. Just let people know that I’ll be visiting.”

“Yes, sir. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you. I will.”

I disconnected the summons.

I smiled at the Goblins as several lights turned on at the top of the mansion.

Teller pointed to one of the floodlights. “That’s the signal that you’re coming. Sorry for questioning you.”

I shook my head. “I guess I need to thank you for being diligent. So what’s my new hobby?”

They both gave me a blank stare.

I started putting away the laptop. “Never been here before, but you would know that. In all my places, I have a theme or more like an obsession, really.”

Teller said, “Your parents doted on you. Everyone knows that. They probably wanted you to do more than just business.”

I smiled. “Did you ever meet my parents?”

Maud said, “He’s a Goblin. There’s more to the story.”

Teller shook his head. “There’s always more to the story. The girls who persuaded us to stop messing with the heavy equipment did magic.”

I got up. “No offense, but I probably should keep a few things secret. I don’t want to scare off any employees.”

They followed me as I walked toward the mansion. I took to shadows since it was clear that it was always a slow day here at the Thibodeaux house.

I stepped out of shadows next to some buildings. A garage with a few expensive cars and a garage with several trucks, a pair of tractors, and stuff like box blades and mowers. A barn that had been soundproofed and turned into a music studio. From that, I suspected the house would be filled with musical instruments. Everything was carefully placed for easy shadow stepping, so it was easy to check out the house. My guess was right, but the emphasis was guitars. There were drums and pianos, but someone had made sure to collect guitars whenever a new one came out.

Seven more Thibodeaux properties were located in and around Baton Rouge. I’d checked out two of them when I’d needed a truck, so I had five more to explore. I didn’t have any issue with the two Goblins at the mansion, but I didn’t want them to be prying at the edges of my disguise and possibly uncovering secrets my benefactors wanted to stay secret. So I took to shadow and took a shortcut using the Mississippi River to be sure no one followed me.

#

I had a warehouse full of boats on a site that repaired boats, cars, and heavy equipment. It looked more like a place that mothballed heavy equipment, but when I studied the accounts for this business, I saw that this place made serious money from time to time.

I stopped at the next business. This one had been set up to mass produce a few parts and then when the demand was met, the employees were all transferred to other locations. There was a hangar where a large aircraft could have been built but never was. CNC machines were set up in soundproofed rooms, and the robotics to take parts from one CNC to the next. A computer room with a raised floor and computers and computer-controlled machines was geared to welding, cutting, and shaping materials in a number of ways. I looked at the large empty areas, and I couldn’t keep from smiling. This was going to be Phil Thibodeaux’s new art studio.

The tragically departed imaginary parents of Phil Thibodeaux clearly wanted Phil to be able to pursue his wildest dreams. In this location, Phil Thibodeaux could make a stainless steel blimp if he wanted to.

Swampy had mentioned getting Caerwyn to help me. If there was ever a place that needed Caerwyn, it was this crazy collection of CNC machines.

#

In an office with windows on one side that looked into the hangar and windows on the other side that looked out to the walls around the factory, Caerwyn stretched and looked down at the couple of large metal trees I’d made. The trees looked tiny inside the giant hangar.

Caerwyn and I sat surrounded by a new set of laptops while the old laptops were transferring files. Caerwyn was going to use the old ones to expand his rendering farm. I didn’t want to say anything, but I already missed the old laptop.

Caerwyn said, “You can keep the old laptops. I gave them to you. But give the new ones a chance.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks, sorry about being an old fuddy-duddy.”

Caerwyn said, “If you don’t wear down the inner curmudgeon, you won’t last three hundred years. At a hundred years, you’ll be peeking through the blinds worried that the kids are taking a shortcut through your lawn, and that will be the end of you.”

I asked, “Is that why Daemons all have walls around their mansions?”

Caerwyn looked out the office window. “Pretty much.”

I said, “Man, reality’s confused. I’m looking up drum and percussion stuff. And a lot of other things. Tone wood opinions and the like. So, I’m looking at local plants. A lot of folk say mimosa is a trash tree, short-lived, messy, invasive, and non-native. But it’s pretty and I have seen it around and only occasionally see it wild. I’ve never seen a field of it. Seems like willow and oak would be what they should be calling invasive.”

Caerwyn said, “A lot of trees are short-lived. A lot of the dwarf fruit trees die pretty young. Mimosas are pretty. But you know a lot of folk say cedar is an invasive and it isn’t native, but it has been around for a lot longer than the grasses they plant everywhere, and those really are invasive. My advice is that there’s no point in arguing with fools, but you’ll end up feeling bad as every idea you don’t argue becomes something everyone knows is true without any evidence.”

I nodded. “You know, I was thinking my next percussion tree should be shaped like one of the mimosas that looks like an acacia. Come to find out the native mimosa is an acacia.

“Then I was looking up Banksy, the British artist guy. I’m convinced he has to be a Goblin or maybe even a Fairy King.”

Caerwyn said, “I always figured he was probably a Daemon and had something noticeable like my albinism so he had to hide. He probably has someone ready to summon him the moment he might get caught.”

I nodded, but I thought the Goblin theory was better. “Caerwyn, Rodrigo thinks he can cure albinism. He’s just worried about offending you.”

Caerwyn nodded. “A lot of folk have had plans for cures in the past. Fairies traditionally have the cure for everything, but then if you look online in Real, you’ll find that just about everything cures male dysfunction, hair loss, obesity, and grants you immortality. Until I see a doctor cure something, I pretty much consider it fake.”

I said, “Honestly, it makes you look pretty amazing, so I can imagine you might regret it if you had it fixed.”

Caerwyn said, “Well, here is the thing. Never getting to go to a party is worse than not being the prettiest thing at the party. I’ve had girls develop crushes on me and still be scared to touch me ‘cause it might be contagious. While, yes, I am the most handsome male that has ever existed, the stress of it tires me, and I would be happy for a change.

“Don’t tell Mom about the possible cure. The list of horrid potions I’ve had to swallow to try and cure this condition would fill ten scrolls. She never gives up hope.”

Caerwyn frowned at the screen. “I think Archer suspects his data is being read. This feels like a sandbox. I’m being passive and making sure my searches look like the sort a random hacker would make. He has gotten quite a bit more subtle, so I think someone is coaching him.”

I said, “Maybe we can locate him by other methods. He seems to have an affinity for robbing salvage yards. I could hide runes in the more valuable materials.”

Caerwyn shook his head. “Runes can be reversed and tracked back on you. I have some plans for a few systems we could use to track with if you are up to making some microchips.”

#

Rodrigo summoned me. “As far as I can tell, Archer has disappeared. Anything on your side?”

Caerwyn was looking over my shoulder, so I opened a text file and typed, “Rodrigo summoned me.”

I answered Rodrigo, “Nothing new. We’ve been monitoring the salvage yards closely for two weeks, and he hasn’t show up. My sources think he’s still going to be trouble in the future. but right now we don’t have any leads.”

Caerwyn said, “Tell him Caerwyn says ‘Hi.’”

Rodrigo said, “Tell Caerwyn ‘Hi’ for me. Okay, just checking. If you do get any leads, be sure to let me know.”

I answered, “Will do.”

He disconnected.

I asked Caerwyn, “Do you know of anyone else who can hear past you on a summons without your opening it up?”

Caerwyn said, “I have been thinking about that one. There are spells that will set things to where you can see or hear things when certain criteria are met. Like if you whisper their name in darkness, they can see you, and some can even come to you. It’s like a summons used for spying, sort of. If he set it up to see who he summoned, that’s pretty clever.

“But his letting clues drop are not the sort of thing you should do if you’re being clever like that. Does Rodrigo seem that clueless?”

I said, “Somehow I think he has decided to trust and be open with us, but I feel like that may be a rare thing. I’m not really sure. I think he’s pretty clever, but he has mentioned not having his full mind.”

I took out my phone. Jeremy was calling, “Phil, can I come look at the tree? I have three million I can spend on it, but now I want to look at it again. My uncle says, ‘Buy it,’ but unless I turn it around quick, I may end up as broke as I pretend I am when I play gigs.”

I said, “Jeremy, I don’t want to break you. I got no need to sell it. I’ll sell it if you want it, and I’m fine with you selling it again for a profit, but seriously, I don’t want to rob you.”

Jeremy said, “Can I come look at it?”

I muted the call. “Caerwyn, a human drummer wants to come see my tree. Are you okay with that?”

Caerwyn nodded. “As long as I don’t get out in public, and no pictures of me survive, I’ll be fine.”

I gave Jeremy the address and called down to the gatehouse so the guard would know Jeremy was coming.

#

After I told Caerwyn that Jeremy was coming to see my art studio in twenty minutes, Caerwyn got up.

“Phil, that’s barely any time. Bring as much of your art as you can to the hangar. Seriously, this needs to look like you actually make these things by normal means. You need scaffolds and carving tools and power tools around large rocks half carved into sculptures. You need finished sculptures, painting, and sketches. We only have twenty minutes. Go to Fairy, speed things up and figure out how to make this look like a real studio, only crazy big. Then come back and help me get some of the CNC machines going so it looks like your output is justifiable.”

#

We let Jeremy into the warehouse. We had a few machines shaping leaves and branches. Nothing like the entire factory, but it was late and this at least made it look like work was going on.

Jeremy walked in and stared up at the rows of Goldilock’s statues. He walked around the scaffolding surrounding the nearest one.

I said, “Jeremy, this is my partner in crime, Caerwyn. Caerwyn this is Jeremy, the drummer I was telling you about.”

Jeremy looked at me and then Caerwyn and smiled. “Sorry about my manners, I was just amazed by the statues. Are they for sale?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, they’re spoken for.”

Jeremy asked, “Where are they going?”

Caerwyn said, “Private collector. The public will never see them.”

Jeremy said, “Well, then, I guess we should look at the tree.”

#

Caerwyn asked, “Are you still planning to fly to Morocco?”

I answered, “My prognosticators think I should. Jeremy bought me a ticket. He ended up selling the tree to an art collector who collects musical instruments and a friend of that collector wants me to make him one. I would blow it all off if Jeremy wasn’t so excited to take a friend with him. I barely know him, and he has latched onto me like I’m his best friend in the world.

“It sounds like the art collector wants to commission me to make something expensive and fancy. I know it sounds boring sitting for hours in one place, but I’ve never been on a plane and for years I’ve thought it was the fastest way to travel. I never realized that shadow stepping was so much faster, and with summoning, there’s no point in flying, but I’m still excited to get on a plane.”

Anthony came up the stairs. “I’m ready for my next lesson, Caerwyn.”

Caerwyn said, “Good, I’m passively sniffing my way through a chain of IP addresses and trying to make a map. Well, not me, I have programs doing it, but I think with some tweaking I can get some better data. Then I will bring my proxy swarm active and do some more testing. Phil, what are you doing?”

I shook my head. “Since Archer has a sandbox on his server, I’m trying to build a good fake myself. When I was playing around at the salvage yards, I found an old server rack, and it still had an old version of Apache on it. So I’m making what appears to be a dated system and putting a few modern patches on it so it still looks like attempts at security were made.

“If I get someone interested and digging around, maybe we can follow their trail and track them. Later, when it’s ready, I want you to explore it and tell me how to make it more real and more interesting.”

Anthony asked, “Phil, did you get all of that from gifting?”

I nodded. “Pretty much everything I got was gifted. When I go deep into this stuff, sometimes I wonder if I’m me anymore.”

Anthony gestured with his head. “Hubert is down in the kitchen getting ready to test some new recipes.”

I got up. “Later, Anthony, Caerwyn. Hubert has been talking about putting in a new smokehouse so I may be a while.”

#

In the kitchen, Hubert turned. “Phil, when you make your jaw different, you don’t resonate the same.”

I nodded. “Let’s try out the forms.”

After I transformed a few times, we discovered that my baby face version and original version were the only ones that were consistently tuned properly, so I would need to be in those forms when I made sculptures or they wouldn’t resonate for Hubert.

I said, “I can set up the original tuning system and fix this so all my forms work.”

Hubert shook his head. “If I can feel the resonances, someone else might be able to. You said that the Efreets immediately detected and located you. I have met Efreets in the past, and they didn’t seem to notice me as anything special. I have heard of some that had possessed wizards and others that wouldn’t even go to Fairy. Maybe there are breeds of them or distinctions. I have heard of Blue Djinn and other distinctions, but I wonder how much of that is modern Fairytale. Al-Shaytan is supposed to lead the Shaytan’s and that may be a better term for them than Efreets since efreet is more of an adjective describing certain sort of Djinn.”

I shook my head. “Some have felt different from others, the first one was definitely worse. All of them have an angry and prideful feeling to them. I have heard that it takes high ethics or a strong will to resist them. They possess me without even trying, so I am probably the weakest willed and least ethical being you know.”

Hubert smiled at me. “You are a puzzle. Fairy Kings don’t suffer from lack of willpower. You are tough and stubborn. Even stubborn about keeping an open mind. You have always felt like a spirit to me. Not a Goblin, not a dead person, more like a Fairy, but one of the old kind.”

Hubert shrugged. “If you are going to Morocco, and you are going to hobnob with the rich on their yachts, the odds are good you’ll meet one. If they are detecting resonances, you might want to be in one of the other forms. Since we don’t know all that much about them, you might be able to learn something before you destroy them.”