Shadow stepping through Lisbon was like New Orleans only more so. New Orleans had buildings that are almost three hundred years old, areas that let you see slices of time, side by side. Lisbon was like this but even more so, ancient buildings scattered around that are wonderful, with a lot more tile on the roofs, walkways, and walls than in New Orleans.
I sat on a red tile roof and looked at the city lights. The busy night spots weren’t going to welcome someone who looked nine years old, but I was old enough and had seen enough to have no urge to ever “party” in one of those bars or night spots. Play music, listen to music, dance to music, yes, but shouting over the music and drinking didn’t seem like it would ever interest me.
Caerwyn would warn me that getting set in my ways and becoming an old man was a folly as bad as staying a child. Apart from having interests and wanting to learn and see things, I couldn’t really see a way to stay young mentally.
I wasn’t usually judgmental so maybe I was safe, but my love of fishing was clearly not something that’d keep me young since a lot of crusty characters are also old fishermen and they get more crusty every day. My love of percussion maybe helps. From the drummers I’d seen, some lived to be old in age, but stayed young at heart. Art and sculpture may help, but even when I was still just ten years old, Brad had accused me of being an old man.
The face I saw in the mirror was around eight or nine, but I’d been around for sixty or so years. Caerwyn is a little older in appearance and a lot older in actual age, but he still seemed young to me.
In any case, I needed to start having more fun. I thought about it and decided to explore.
I took to the air as an owl. Flying over Lisbon, my perspective was different. Staying in shadows means staying at the borders of light and dark and risking shadow burn. As an owl, I sailed over and by ancient, Gothic, Neogothic, Art Deco, and modern buildings.
Perched on a castle tower, I tried to get a feel for the city of Lisbon, a living town that had preserved some of the ancient. Commercial areas had built up to sell things to tourists, but they also served the community. While tourists could go to these areas, there were places like the castle I rested on.
A voice asked, “Can I ask what breed of owl that is?”
A young man in a black trench coat was sitting on the wall about fifteen feet away. I hadn’t heard him approach.
He said, “Not an owl we see in Portugal.”
He was talking in Fairy speech, so I turned into myself. “I’m not sure what owl it is. I have a friend that thinks the breed is probably extinct or really rare.”
The man said, “Call me Pedro. I’m an Ankou, how would you describe yourself?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what an Ankou is, and I have no idea what to call myself.”
Pedro nodded. “The Ankou were originally a temporary militia formed by inducting the last person to die in the previous year. There were local representatives in most areas and towns, and the turnover was seen as a way to prevent corruption. Didn’t work that well but most other systems were a lot worse.
“That was up in Brittany. Witch hunters and the Inquisition kept us local. Funny that. Our job was to round up the dead and send then along to where they were supposed to go and the religious just got in our way. So I am a psycopomp, I urge, and sometimes force, spirits to depart the living realm.”
I nodded. “I’m still alive. Am I in trouble?”
Pedro shook his head. “No, not really. We don’t usually go after a spirit or a supernatural being unless it is causing trouble. So what do they call you?”
I took a deep breath. “Phil. That or King Snipsnort. I’m a fishmonger, Fairy king, Goblin, musician, or sculptor depending on who you’re talking to.”
Pedro gave me a nod. “Fairy king explains it. I think I have heard of Snipsnort. One of the nicer ones, as I recall. What are you doing in Lisbon?”
“I was in Casablanca when a suspicion developed that a man who had stolen artwork from me might use his connections to get me in trouble. I was going to visit France, but the flight to Lisbon was a better flight for getting out of the country fast.”
Pedro said, “That’s perhaps a little suspicious. Since you can transform and probably shadow step, why would you need to fly? Are you really an artist?”
I looked over at him and moved gateways. I shifted them around me so I was partially in Snipsnort and made an illusion of him, added a bit of dramatic flair and then made a small statue in gold.
I closed the gateways and set the statue down on the parapet beside me before hitting my palm against my head.
“Sorry, I keep doing that. I didn’t get your permission first. Honestly, I need to start carrying release forms around so I remember to ask.”
He smiled. “Nice, is that Fairy gold?”
I said, “It’s yours. About a pound and a half of gold. 18 carat so it will hold up a bit better. You can test it with steel if you want.”
Pedro said, “About that, I can’t take it, but thanks. It proves your point. It also says you are not stealing or terribly greedy. If you can make gold, and you would be willing to reduce its value in order to make it stronger, I suspect you’re honest. You could have left here by using the gateway, so I think I trust you. Why did you take a plane?”
I winced. “I’m with a mortal who knows nothing about Fairy or magic. We both play percussion, and he has artistic contacts.”
Pedro looked at the statue. “If you can make gold, why do you want to sell your art? Oh, I see now.” Pedro sighed. “Don’t go seeking accolades. It’s a hollow search. Your artwork is brilliant. You don’t need the accolades. Seriously, I paint. I know art. There’s no need for you to get approval from living art critics.”
I nodded. “I wouldn’t bother, normally. Some of the stuff that passes as art makes me think Earthly recognition has nothing to do with quality. Think about it. If you can make a unique painting and pass it off as an old master, doesn’t that mean you are as good as the old master himself?”
Pedro said, “The old master did it first. Some value has to go to the one that innovated and created the original style, but I see your point.”
Pedro smiled. “Please take your statue back. Don’t tempt me. I would rather not get into trouble and it’s pretty cool. Since you do art, and dark doesn’t bother you, would you like a private tour of some of the museums and private collections? I can show you things the public will never see or even hear about.”
#
In a museum filled with old carriages, Pedro pointed to an old carriage. “That was popular among psycopomps years ago. Classic lines, room for a casket, reasonable comfort.”
I crouched to examine the suspension. “Why a casket? If they are dead, they leave the body behind.”
Pedro laughed. “A lot of them just lie there for a few days. Easier to move them to a casket when you haul them off. We Ankou don’t bother anymore. Most spirits wander where they need to. We leave them alone unless they are suffering or going to cause suffering. It took us a long time to come to the conclusion, but for the most part, psycopomps aren’t needed anymore. It’s the ones that’d argue with Jesus that make the most trouble, anyway.”
I asked, “Who would argue with Jesus?”
Pedro led me further down the row of carriages. “That’s what we say about the folk that die and insist on imposing their beliefs instead of accepting how things are. A lot of them are nice enough, but they end up in the worst Fairylands. They reject everything ‘til they find a group of other Fairies that believe the same sort of nonsense, and then they get suckered into someone’s Fairyland nightmare.
“You want to help them, but you never can. Not really. They are too stubborn and think if they drop any of their beliefs, they have lost faith, and will go to Hell. The sort of folk that were mostly functional when they were alive, if you kept from talking politics or religion. Once they get on the other side, they get dysfunctional. Don’t get me started on how bad politics work when you try to carry it to the afterlife. When a recently dead member of the CDS starts in on their right to life, it gets pretty awkward.”
I winced. “Sorry, I don’t follow politics.”
Pedro shook his head. “It wasn’t really a good joke. But when a person’s stubborn about how things are and ignore the facts in front of them, it doesn’t bode well for their continued existence in the afterlife. Even the nicest people who have been decent in life can get off to a bad start. An open mind when you face the next stage of existence is a strength worth cultivating in my opinion.”
I smiled at that. “I’ve always felt that it takes a strong mind to be open-minded, but I’m not so sure I’m open-minded or have a strong mind these days. I always figured I was, but now I’m not so sure.”
Pedro asked, “Are you really a Fairy king? No, you are, I saw you move gateways in Real and materialize an object. You didn’t spend all day chanting, either, so you have a strong mind. Without a strong mind, that stuff is impossible.”
I nodded. “Maybe. So how many museums are left?”
Pedro said, “If you visit two or three during the day, and then we visit two or three at night, we might get to visit most of them in a bit over two weeks.”
I asked, “Really? Are there that many?”
Pedro nodded. “Really.”
I smiled, “We probably won’t stay that long, but I can come back in the evenings. You won’t take the gold statue, but I can afford quite a bit. Can I pay you to be a tour guide?”
Pedro said, “As long as you don’t mind an occasional interruption. Sometimes I have to guide a spirit. It’s a different sort of tour. Before I take the job, let me find out what the going rates are first.”
I nodded. “Go high end. On another note, since we are sneaking into these places, should I pay the entry fees?”
Pedro nodded. “That would be good of you.”
#
At the hotel, Jeremy was sleeping late, and I didn’t want to bother him so I went to the mansion in Snipsnort.
Anthony was talking to Mrs. Nelson. “I like the idea of fruit trees, a few in the yard is a good idea, but if we extend walls around an orchard, we are going to seem greedy.”
I stepped out of shadow. “This is probably the worst area to plant fruit trees. I’m told that they keep the worst folk around here. If we plant somewhere else, people might act differently. I don’t really know the rules.”
Mrs. Nelson said, “Good to see you, Phil. We have a lot of fruit trees in the time lockers, and I was wondering where to plant them. I’m not sure about chill hours in this Fairyland so I don’t know what will grow.”
I summoned Lord Loadstone. “Lord Loadstone is there a good place for us to plant fruit trees?”
Loadstone answered, “Tropical fruit would do well in the gardens around Bogview Castle. Brightstone is unfinished, so it might be ideal for fruit that need a colder clime.”
I asked, “Where is Brightstone?”
Loadstone said, “It’s at the base of the Bone Mountains. No one has lived near the unfinished castle for ages, but the nobles go there for egg fights.”
I asked, “Egg fights?”
Loadstone said, “Yes, but it’s pretty far up into the barren area. We usually have someone go up there and summon us. The nearest town is two hours of fast flying away. This is the wrong season for planting trees, in any case.”
I said, “Mrs. Nelson, this is the wrong season for planting trees.”
Mrs. Nelson nodded.
I said, “Thank you, Lord Loadstone. I’m currently visiting Portugal. Is there anything you might want?”
Loadstone said, “No, but, thank you.”
I said, “Later then. Thank you for your help and sorry about the interruption.”
Loadstone said, “Always here to serve, Your Highness.”
I disconnected the summons and Mrs. Nelson said, “Phil, you left Morocco too soon to have practiced any of the languages.”
I nodded. “Sorry, there were complications.”
Mrs. Nelson said, “Sadly, my Portuguese is a few hundred years out of date. How long are you going to stay in Portugal?”
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I said, “I’m not sure. We may be in France soon.”
Mrs. Nelson said, “Wonderful. I could gift you, and you could practice French with Caerwyn. I’ll have to re-gift him. He speaks it but not fluently. I can also gift you with written French, but you’ll have to read several books to secure your gifting.”
I winced. “I think I speak French. I am not sure I can read it.”
Mrs. Nelson said, “I'll gift you. Be sure to let me know if you need a touch up.”
#
Jeremy wasn’t awake yet, so I shadow stepped to the airport and got a few Lisboa cards, water bottles, and some guides and maps to the attractions in Lisbon and Portugal. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be in Portugal, but if I was going to visit the museums, buying the cards seemed like the right thing to do.
At breakfast, I took my bundle of guides and maps from my backpack and gave Jeremy his Lisboa card and water bottle. “This gets us into thirty-seven museums, free rides on public transport, and discounts.”
Jeremy paused eating. “We never got to explore the markets in Morocco, and we left most of our luggage. I like to collect small percussion instruments, so the first thing I want to do is visit music stores.”
I nodded in agreement since I wanted to see if there were more instruments I could mount in a percussion tree.
The first music store we went to had instruments like guitars with more strings and fancy adjusters. Jeremy went right to the percussion area. I caught up with him as he started to turn over a rain maker. There were a few square drums like I’d seen in the market in Casablanca. An attendant had followed me. I looked at the cajons on the floor, but they were close together so I couldn’t easily sit on one and play it.
I pointed to one of the drums and before I could ask if I could try it, he shook his head and spoke in English. “It’s considered a woman’s instrument.”
Jeremy put down the rain maker. “Can I examine it?”
The attendant smiled and gestured with an open hand for Jeremy to try it. Once again the disadvantage of eternal preadolescence made me sympathetic to the Goblins who had decided to stay in Fairy and abandon Real. No one wanted a third grader to handle their merchandise.
Jeremy asked, “Is it really a woman’s instrument?”
The attendant nodded. “There are men who play it, but it is traditional for women.”
Jeremy held it in a hand and hit it. It had a good tone. Then he handed it to me. I didn’t know how to use it so I just held it gently in two hands and tapped the drum with fingers like I did on my crate. It was upside down in comparison with a leather head instead of wood, but it sounded good. I adjusted my hold on it and found there was some something inside that made noise when you shook it. I tried a few adjustments on my grip and tested the sound of striking the drum as far as my fingers could reach and close to the frame. It responded to cupped hands and the sound changed near the corners so it was easy to come up with a range of sounds.
Trying to hold it where I could strike it by the corner, it slipped and I almost dropped it. The attendant took it away and put it back up. I hadn’t even beaten a rhythm on it and now it was gone. I was tempted to buy it, but because of the way I’d been treated, I didn’t want to spend any money at this shop. The attendant was probably right to be nervous about a child my age dressed like a rich kid off a yacht. Flashing money wasn’t going to help.
Jeremy must’ve read my expression. He nodded to me. “We don’t want to carry anything that large around as we shop anyway. We can always come back later.”
We walked out of the shop and Jeremy paused. “At the next shop, can I tell them you are my cousin and a musical prodigy?”
I nodded.
#
At the next music shop, Jeremy asked me, “Phil, are there any instruments that interest you?”
I wobbled my hand since I didn’t see any of the square drums. The guitar-like instruments were cool, but I didn’t know them. “I’m always interested in stuff I could put in a percussion tree.”
An attendant came over. It was clear he was there to make sure that I didn’t decide to ruin the nicest instrument in the shop.
Jeremy said to the attendant, “Phil is a musical prodigy. We never know what instrument might interest him.”
I said, “I don’t see any of the square drums.”
The attendant said, “No, we don’t have an adufe, sorry.”
Jeremy started trying out some of the larger drums so I asked him, “Can you call me when you are done? I want to look at the buildings.”
Jeremy nodded. “If we can’t make contact, let’s meet back at the hotel.”
#
In the marketplace in Casablanca, I asked the man, “How do you play the square drums?”
He took one and held it and started playing the rhythm I had heard two days before as we drove through Casablanca. Then he played two more rhythms and I asked him, “How much?”
I probably should have tried to barter for a lower price, but I was too excited by the adufe.
#
With time sped up, I stood at the seven-way crossroads and played my new adufe. Playing it was like having a cajon I could carry and dance with. It was far from small, but it was more portable than a cajon. This one had a sort of bell inside it. The last one had something like a shaker.
A man with a pushcart came and stopped to listen as I played. He smiled when I looked at him. He clearly didn’t recognize me as the king, and I didn’t want to say anything. I played a bit longer, and he sat down to listen.
After a while, I slowed time, nodded to him, and went to a transport Fairyland. I put the adufe in another form and returned to Lisbon.
Jeremy was at a counter buying a pair of maracas. After we left, he smiled. “I spent a while on their drums and felt guilty about leaving without anything. Shall we try another shop or look for some food?”
I shrugged. “Your choice, Jeremy.”
In the next shop, they had an adufe. I pointed to it, asked the price, and got it. As we walked to the next shop, I explored rhythms on it.
Jeremy said, “After the next shop, we eat.”
I pointed to a nice place where we could sit outside and eat.
He shook his head. “Someplace cooler and I want to get an adufe. If you’re going to be playing it while we wait for food, I’ll be miserable.”
I said, “You have maracas.”
He shook his head. “I want an adufe.”
I said, “I’m a kid. I can get away with it. You don’t want to be caught playing a woman’s instrument.”
He kept walking. “It’s got some serious tone and range. I’m not sexist about instruments.”
#
I was nervous about carrying my adufe into the shop.
Jeremy came back out. “They don’t have adufes so you can bring it in.”
The shopkeeper stepped out. “It’s risky busking in Lisbon. I don’t mind, you might bring in customers, but the undercover police could take your instrument and fine you.”
I stopped playing. “I’m not asking for money, and I don’t have a hat out.”
The shopkeeper said, “Good. Don’t take money or sell anything. That will probably keep you out of trouble. You are welcome to bring it in and play inside.”
We went in and another man led us to the percussion instruments. In the corner with the drums and cajons, there was a large clay jug with an extra hole in the side.
I pointed to it. “What’s that for?”
The attendant moved a cajon out and then stepped into the space he had cleared and picked up the jug. “This is an udu or udu drum. They originated in Nigeria.”
He sat on the cajon and held the jug in his lap and started beating on it. He wasn’t a percussionist, but he knew to hit and hold his palm over the hole and hit and lift his palm. He knew to strike the large clay jug in various places for different sounds.
I handed my adufe to Jeremy. After sitting with the jug and playing it for a bit, I realized I was going to be torn between the adufe, cajon and udu.
I looked up at the attendant. “Sold.” Then I looked at Jeremy. “You can play my adufe until we get you one. Let’s pay for this and go eat.”
We found a place that was cool enough for Jeremy as I carefully carried my new jug. Jeremy got permission for us to play, so we sat and improvised around the music the restaurant was playing until a man that was probably the owner came out, smiled at us, and turned the music off. He gestured for us to continue playing so we sat and explored percussion with the adufe, a pair of marachas, the udu, and a rainmaker Jeremy bought when I got the udu. I just stuck to the udu and kept exploring the sound.
#
Sitting on a bus going back to the hotel, Jeremy said, “I need to go more places with you. I’ve seen both of these drums before, but I never saw the range they were capable of. You have an open-minded way of looking at things that I need to learn. Maybe it’s just your youth. Sometimes you feel older than me, but then you turn around and show those open eyes ready to see things from a different angle.”
I smiled at him. “It seems like this trip is teaching me about having an open mind. You know a lot of closed-minded people will say you have an open mind if you agree with them. A lot of times people with closed minds think they have the only open minds. I wonder that maybe your seeing an open mind when you look at me indicates that you are the one with a truly open mind.”
Jeremy looked past me to the window and pointed to a picture made of tiles on the wall of a building where we where stopped. “There you go, sounding like a wise old man. I don’t know. I have been using a drum set and just thinking about the next drum to add, or if I needed to add anything. You can take a wooden box and do just about everything I do with a drum set. Not as bright a sound, maybe. Not as much splash, but mellow and rounded somehow. Now you’re doing the same sort of magic with a single square drum or a clay pot.
“By following you, I have found that I can play almost as if I have a full drum set with a single instrument. I think I need an udu like that one. You know, I saw a shop with a range of udus and some that were fiberglass. That might be better to carry around. Lighter and tougher. As long as it has the sound.
“The advantage of the udu is clear. After we figure out the best way to put a mike in it, and we figure out how to transport it safely, it’s a perfect instrument to play in a hotel room. No one is going to complain you’re making too much noise. At least not if you don’t play it long into the night.
“With a mike, you’ll still be able to play it in a group.”
In the hotel, I looked up udus and adufes. My udu looked like a mass produced one, and there were a lot of others available. I emailed Phil Thibodeaux’s office in Baton Rouge and gave them links to the udus and adufes I wanted them to order. I learned a few more methods of playing while watching online videos.
Jeremy knocked on the door between our rooms. I opened it and he said, “I found a place with two models of udu, and it’s cooled down a bit. You interested?”
I put my laptop back in my backpack and got up. “Sure, let’s do it.”
#
At the music store, there was an English family dressed like they had gotten off a yacht. I was dressed the same, but their little girl that looked two years older than me was comparing two double basses and trying to decide between them. I remembered my Goblin friend Dan thumping out rhythms on the double bass, and I remembered Lady Kissykiss having me practice with one that the cleaning Fairy decided to take away. I also remembered that I knew how to make one. Several of them. I went over and listened to the girl playing and decided to try out the one she wasn’t playing. I didn’t want to ask the attendant for a bow, so I just started in playing softly and doing a few exploratory thumps on the instrument.
I knew the double bass better than I knew that I knew it. I knew almost all of Dan’s moves and more. So many of my methods were identical to Dan’s, so I suspected that Lady Kissykiss might have gifted him. I got into it and forgot myself playing. When I realized what I was doing, everyone in the shop was staring at me, Jeremy included.
I wanted to step into shadow and leave. I exchanged a smile with the girl and said to Jeremy, “I’ll be outside at the coffee shop waiting. I’ll get you something.”
I went out to the street and ordered a seafood and potato dish for the both of us that I didn’t recognize, but it looked good. It was a bit soon to eat again, but I’d read a warning that restaurants in Lisbon were closed when we would normally be eating. I waved to Jeremy and he came and sat down.
Jeremy said, “When I was planning to tell everyone you were a child prodigy, I was thinking about art and percussion. I didn’t know you played the double bass.”
I said, “I don’t play it often. I was debating what would end up being my favorite instrument. The cajon, udu or adufe. I can’t decide, but maybe it’s the double bass. Problem is, the double bass is too big to carry around.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Phil, I was thinking of having us take a train and start heading to France tomorrow, but now I need to get luggage so I can safely pack my adufe and udu. That’s the problem with travel. I always end up with too much stuff too early. Then I have to pass on everything that isn’t tiny.”
I nodded and slid a gateway under the table. “Was I dancing too much as I played?”
Jeremy shook his head. “I wouldn’t put it that way. You were definitely into the music. What was the piece you were playing?”
I shook my head. “Nothing really. I heard the girl play a few things, and I just sort of took off with the theme.”
Jeremy asked, “Back on the subject of travel, I have a friend in Marseilles that would love for us to stay for a while.”
I shrugged. “Our plans failed in Morocco, I don’t really have any strong plans, but don’t plan anything for Sunday.”
Jeremy nodded. “The plan was to introduce you to friends and some art collectors, but without your art, that’s fallen through. Tell me what you want to do. We could head back, spend a few days here, or got to France or whatever. I’ve gotten shopping out of the way, so I’m open to anything.”
#
In the Jerónimos Monastery was a naval museum, the Museu de Marinha. It was there that I fell in love with model ships. The perpetual eight-year-old within me wanted to live in this museum. I hid several gateways. My plan to see as many museums as I could in a few days fell through. I wanted to spend days in the Jerónimos Monastery.
Looking at a large mural made of tiles Jeremy said, “I think they lay out the lines where they’re going to cut on dry green clay and then draw the sketch on clay. Then they paint and glaze before cutting it up and firing it.”
I nodded. “That or Fairies made it.”
Jeremy said, “Some of the statues were probably made by Fairies. Imagine carving that much stone that perfect and not making a single mistake.”
I smiled at him. He was joking. Maybe. I wasn’t entirely sure.
Jeremy gestured to another tile mural. “I bet we can find out exactly how these were made at the National Tile Museum.”
I shrugged. “Tomorrow morning then. After we finish, we can come back and examine these tiles with a better understanding.”
#
While I was sitting on a battlement looking over the towns evening lights, Pedro and another fellow appeared and sat down nearby.
Pedro said, “Phil, this is Lucas. If I am going to take payment from you I need a witness that it is okay.”
I held out a pair of Lisboa cards. “I got some extras. Just for three days. I have euros we can give as donations when we visit a museum that the card doesn’t entirely cover.”
Lucas said, “We figure a guide is probably 150 euro for the day.”
I shook my head. “No, I looked it up, and they can be a lot more expensive. This is a unique tour that no one else gets, and you have more history and access. How about twice that?”
Lucas asked, “And with this hiring, do you affirm that in no way are you trying to gain information potentially embarrassing or harmful to Portugal, you expect no token exchanges, and you have no associations with art thieves.”
I winced. “I’m an artist. I probably know several. I am the apprentice of a person that may or may not have had a history of art theft. Is that a problem?”
Pedro looked back and forth between us. “It changes a bit. No private property tours and you can expect us to show up whenever you enter Portugal. We take art seriously.”
Lucas nodded. “Very seriously. Are you really an artist?”
I offered him the statuette I had made of Pedro the other day.
Lucas reached over Pedro and took it. “Pedro, you never looked this heroic.”
Lucas held it back out to me.
I shook my head. “If you can’t keep it, sneak it into a display case somewhere. Tell me where later so I can brag without lying that one of my pieces is in a museum in Lisbon.”
Lucas examined the statuette. “I know several places this might be fun to sneak into a display.”
Pedro asked, “What museums did you visit today?”
I said, “Jerónimos Monastery, I could spend a week there. The ships are amazing. Tomorrow, we plan to visit the Tile Museum for a bit and then go back to the Monastery to examine the amazing tile murals.”
Lucas said, “Expect to stay at the Museu Nacional do Azulejo for the day. If you like tile murals, there is a tile panorama of Lisbon from the mid-seventeen hundreds.”
Pedro laughed, “Fronteira Palace, if you want to see tiles, you have to see the Fronteira Palace.”
I asked, “What’s your favorite place?”
Lucas said, “Pedro likes Fado, I like the Aquarium.”
I asked, “Fado?”
Lucas said, “The night is young, we should go to the Old Walls.”
Pedro asked, “Can you summon me in five minutes?”
I nodded and both of them disappeared.
#
By the light of a candle, I could see Pedro and Lucas in an arched tunnel with tiles on the floor and walls. The candle was on a candle holder that matched with the tiles it projected from. On the floor below it was a mound of layered and multicolored wax where ages of candles had dripped to the tiles below.
In the distance, there was another candle, and from somewhere past that, came the distant music of a man singing and guitars playing.
I followed Pedro and Lucas followed me as we approached a cross section in the tunnel. There was an illusion on the path ahead and on the left turn.
Lucas whispered, “This was hidden by the rubble from the earthquake. It was built over, and this became a haunt for Goblins and the like. Now, the various creatures that Pedro and I find it easier to allow than discourage gather here and draw others. As far as most of them are concerned, if you are with us, you will be with the police and conversations will stop when they see us. Whatever means you use to get around, this is the place to arrange it. This is the place where your kind, our kind really, meet in Lisbon.”
Pedro said, “We’ll go ahead. You might not want to be seen with us.”
Lucas nodded and they both walked further down the tunnel.
I found a crack to hide a gateway in and decided to follow at a distance in shadow.