The year was the tenth in a row, and the fire festival engulfed the city and dyed it red for two whole days. The music and laughter in the streets left not a single soul untouched. When it finally ended, the paper dragons departed to wait for another decade.

Even the harbor guards and ship rats were late to their posts the next morning. For the first time, Matio was also late.

He ran down the hills as if chased by the fire itself, storming by merchants and beggars alike, finding the quickest way to the docks. He reached the door of the workshop without pausing to catch his breath. He could not wait to tell the Master what wonders he had seen the previous night.

He glanced at the clock tower that peaked over the northern rooftops. It was almost eleven. Late was too small a word for his situation.

"Master?" he called, pushing the heavy door aside. "You won’t believe the night I’ve had."

There was no reply, not even the familiar sound of metal digging into the wood. Nothing at all. The workshop was as old as the old town itself, and though tucked away between warehouses and offices, it still managed to preserve the charm of the old days. Such things were bound to disappear from the city, sooner or later, but its simplicity and age kept them hidden away from prying eyes.

"Master?" Matio called out again. "Are you there?"

Something felt wrong. He was unsure what to think, whether to panic or continue his day until the Master came out somewhere. Or maybe the old man had gotten drunk and danced with the dragons as well. He could still be napping somewhere, oblivious to time.

And yet Matio knew with absolute certainty that the Master hardly ever left the workshop. He no longer found pleasure in the rapidly changing face of the city that had always been his home.

Matio looked around, into the storeroom and the small backyard, only to go back inside without an answer. He sat down by the window and realized that the most obvious solution had to be the truth he was seeking.

Carefully, he observed the seven familiar sets of doors standing upright in a row, on metal pedestals, spaced a great distance apart. Each was different, in size, type of wood, shape and color. Some were simple, indistinguishable from the average door in almost any house. Others were masterpieces of complex carvings and colors, put together with unyielding precision.

One stood alone, closer to the edge of the room, out of place. Matio knew it as well as the back of his hand. The Master had had him working on it for months, always demanding that every piece, every letter and tendril be placed in exactly the right place. He could still smell the fresh blue paint.

"Where did you go?" he muttered when he saw that the door was open a crack. The portal was alive, that much he knew. It was the odds, however, that frightened him. The worlds had always been dangerous, more dangerous than anyone could predict. He could not imagine why the Master would want to go to the other side all by himself, without as much as a warning.

Matio weighed his options as he walked in circles around the blue door. Each time he reached for the knob, he withdrew his hand and made another turn.

"What if I’m wrong?" he said to himself. "It could really be nothing."

As he grew tired of walking, he pushed the door open with his foot, as if afraid something might grab him from the other side.

The door revealed a field covered with a thin layer of snow. Straight ahead led a set of footprints.

"Damn," he grumbled and strode through.

Soon he realized that he had just come out of a small hut. It looked pretty old, leaning to one side, waiting for the roof to slip off. Yet somehow it withstood both the wind and the cold.

The footprints on the snow led all the way to the east, where a line of trees marked the beginning of another field. He could still hear the pattern of hooves outside the workshop, and he wondered how different this new world would be.

The path led him to a road, muddy and uneven. It was marked by many tracks, of people, horses, and wheels, leading in both directions. He stood in the middle of the road, having no inkling which way the Master could have gone.

He was alone, in a strange land, one wrong decision away from never seeing his home again. Never before had he been more tempted to give something up. But he would not resign himself to the thought of losing the old Master through cowardice.

There was an important lesson about portals that he remembered as he desperately tried to hide from the cold. They were never in the wrong place.

"South," he said. "It better be south."

He kept his shoes off the mud and walked on with unwavering certainty. Sooner or later he was bound to find a sign of civilization, and hopefully what he was looking for.

Whatever resolve he had was gone within an hour. The road had no end, and the wind knew no mercy. He looked for a place to rest, but there was not a single tree or house in sight. He wondered if there was anything at all in that whole world.

Only then did he hear something approaching.

It was a single carriage draped in bright red, swaying side to side along the road. It stopped as it passed Matio, who waved at it joyfully.

"Where are you going?" asked a woman peeking through the carriage door.

"Where does this road lead to?" Matio replied, surprised that he could understand her strange accent.

"To the south is Ekanen and to the north are the swamps. There's still room if you want to ride with us. It wouldn’t be fair to let you freeze to death."

It seemed like a happy outcome after all. The swamps, he thought, did not sound promising.

"What's in Ekanen?" Matio asked, finding his place among five overly dressed people, even for such weather. Their faces were painted and their jewellery clinked with every little movement.

"Oh, just the queen's birthday, of course. And a hundred festivities. Did you not know?"

"I am not from around here," Matio returned, peeking under the feathered hat worn by one of the travellers.

"Well, everyone is welcome, I am sure," she returned. "We are artists. Musicians. By special invitation, from the queen herself, you know?"

"Do you want to hear a sonnet?" asked a musician, holding a small instrument in his hand with thin wires sticking out of it.

"I suppose," Matio replied as politely as possible, but a little afraid that he would regret it anyway.

It took several hours for the carriage to reach the high walls of Ekanen and join a long line that stretched all the way to the gates.

After an endless series of songs, both thrilling and tragic, Matio became restless, trapped in a cage of laced jackets and instruments. After mere minutes of waiting in line, he said goodbye to the troupe and decided to make his own way into the city.

Despite all the urgency, he could not help but marvel at the beauty of it all. He saw the tips of the white towers protruding over the walls and wondered just how much more there was to be seen inside.

He looked around for an opportunity and discovered a camp of colorful tents just below the walls. As he went past the cheese makers and the pillow merchants, Matio spotted a tent that stood on its own further away than the rest. It flew a banner of a black goose on yellow background. Most would not look twice and mistake it for another fortune teller or fire breather, but the symbol was that of the Magic Guild.

Matio rushed toward it, hoping for rescue, only to find that it was empty and reeking of wine and bad cheese.

"Who are you?" said a deep voice entering the tent. "What do you want? Go steal somewhere else, or I'll turn you into a cricket."

Matio turned and spotted a small man in an oversized crimson tunic. It dragged behind him, getting caught on everything it touched.

"I saw your banner, sir," Matio replied. "I am looking for someone, a portal master. I thought you might know something."

"No portal master ever goes missing, boy," the mage belched, picking up his tunic to move closer. "Now scatter, I have things to do."

"You don’t understand. I must find him. He's very old. He could be in serious danger."

"Can you make portals?"

"I am just an apprentice," Matio returned slightly dazzled.

"Then you are no good." He grabbed a bottle of wine from the table and drank it down in several gulps. He wiped his mouth on his tunic, cursing the fact that the red of the wine was slightly darker than the silk, and finally sat down in his small chair. "Tell you what. You help me with something, and I'll help you with your missing friend. How does that sound?"

"What exactly do you want me to help you with?"

"Nothing big. Just a little favor. See this?" The mage pulled a small crystal frog statue out of his pocket and held it up to the light. "You are to take it and put it in the fountain inside the palace. You are to place it in water, not drop it. It is blue and very big. You can not miss it."

"A frog? This is a serious matter. You are a member of the magic guild, it is your duty to help."

The mage laughed hysterically for almost a minute. He stopped only when he got tired. "You come from gods knows where to scold me about my duty. You? An apprentice? Bahhahah. What do you know about this world, huh?"

Suddenly, small embers appeared in the air around them, extinguished and reawakened as darkness swallowed the tent from above.

"Nothing!" replied Matio, feeling the menacing power that surrounded him, waiting to suffocate him at the magician's command. "How am I supposed to get into the palace? I’ve never even been here before."

"That's easy," the mage replied, letting the air return to normal. "I have a portal for that sort of thing. I'd do it myself, but I'm not exactly welcome in this nest of vipers. You, on the other hand, can sneak in and out without a problem."

"That's crazy," whispered Matio.

"Do you want to find the old man or what?"

The old mage unveiled a door made of oak and full of scratches and dents. Despite its excellent workmanship, it didn't draw the attention of the eye like the portals of the Master.

"Here. It'll lead you inside. Straight to the royal bath. From there, go left, then right, and eventually, you'll come to a balcony. Under that balcony is the fountain. Try not to wander off and get lost."

"And what if I get caught?"

"It's in your own interest not to do that. And in the odd chance you go, by no circumstance tell them you know me. Understood?"

"I don’t even know your name."

"That's right. Now in you go."

Matio found himself in a very large and richly decorated room. Each piece of it was a mosaic of unique patterns and colors that ran from one wall to the next. On the other side was a door, but there was also a hint of someone's presence. He could not see them from the steam but at least two people were in there with him.

Slowly, crouching as low as he could, Matio moved past the people in the stone baths, whose singing helped him hide the squeak of the heavy door.

The corridor was clear and his leather shoes made no noise on the marble. He kept to the left, eyeing the corners and listening to noises from behind the doors of the hallways. The few guards he had seen along the way barely noticed anything happening out of the corner of his eye.

And finally, he saw it, the blue fountain surrounded by a gallery and dozens of people above and below. The queen was speaking to her court.

Between the lavish dresses and the endless array of servants and guards, it was impossible to approach the gallery. Matio hadn't expected to be so suddenly caught in a crowd that could turn on him at any moment. In his simple clothes, which he often wore to the market and which were slightly better than the ones he wore to the workshop, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Stepping back into the hallway he decided to wait until the queen had finished her speech, hoping that people would find a better place to mingle. Just beyond the door to the gallery, he noticed a tall closet that at first glance seemed large enough to fit him. He was right, but at the cost of having to bend sideways.

He heard a tremendously loud applause and a hundred chattering voices that only seemed to gain momentum. Soon he was no longer able to curl up in the wooden box and began to lift the lid every now and then. Finally, an opening presented itself.

Matio gently slid out and crouching as low as possible headed to the stairs. He paced himself as quickly as he could hiding behind the skirts and keeping close to the fence.

"You!" someone shouted.

"There is an intruder," said the other.

"Guards," shouted the third.

Before he knew it, Matio was running back. He made his way through the crowd, knocking over the servants' trays and throwing a pile of people and debris behind him. A dozen guards rushed up the stairs, barely able to extricate themselves from the lace and velvet.

But then an unprecedented foot got in his way, and before he knew it, Matio was kissing the marble floor. The frog, however, tore out of his pocket and flew straight down to the fountain.

He got up and staggered, but he didn't give up. He pushed further into the hallways, not knowing which way to go. Behind him, an even worse kind of chaos erupted.

The guards he encountered along the way ignored him and ran straight for the crowd. The palace was infested with frogs.

●

"You did it!" the mage in the red tunic rejoiced. "I can hear the panic from here. Did you place it in, not throw it in like I told you?"

"Hmm, I think so," Matio said, trying to catch his breath. Mostly."

"You dropped it? Didn’t you?"

"It fell. I was almost caught. There were a lot of people there, the whole damn court. I didn't have a choice."

"Even better," the old man chuckled. Everything is going according to plan."

"Now you help me. Is there a door? Which one do I use?" Matio pointed to a row of doors stacked in the corner. Most of them were lying on the floor or missing pieces. None of them looked like the ones the Master would make.

"None. They're just for convenience. I don't have a portal that will take you where you want to go, because neither you nor I know where that is."

"Is that a joke? Did I just create an avalanche of frogs for you to trick me?

"No, no, no, young apprentice. I said I didn't have a portal, I didn't say I couldn't find one."

"Then where is it?"

"There’s a flower shop on the main street. There is a girl there named Hara or Hana, something with H, I always forget, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you ask her for a flower called the Night Flower. Remember, the Night Flower. She'll take care of the rest."

"Tremendeous," Matio replied before heading for the exit, but before touching the fabric of the yellow tent, he turned around and squinted his eyes. "If this doesn't work, I'll tell everyone about the frog."

"It’ll work. And you can try!"

●

The flower shop was packed with customers. Despite its seemingly limited dimensions, it could hold up to twenty people, as the sign on the door revealed. Strange, Matio thought, how great the demand for flowers was in that place. A line stretched from the street corner to the door of the shop. A line of impatient people, none more so than Matio.

It was already evening when he finally arrived at the door, but just as he wanted to go in, the door slammed in his face. CLOSED.

He knocked. Once, twice. No one answered. The shop seemed empty. He lost his nerve and kept knocking, over and over, until a young woman came to the door and shook her head from the other side of the glass. She pointed to a small board hanging outside that neatly listed the working hours.

Luck had failed him. He sat down on the white bench in front of the shop and looked at his shoes. He had bought them just a few days prior to break them in for when he finally passed the Master's final test. That seemed trivial to him now. Silly, even.

He heard the door squeak behind him and the wind chimes jingle.

"All right," said the woman's voice, "it must be really important for you to be so desperate."

"I just wanted the Night Flowers," Matio muttered with his fists under his chin without turning around.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place? Did Grigra send you here?"

"If that's the weird old drunk, then yes."

"Why were you waiting in line? I've never met anyone from the Magic Guild who does that. Specially portal makers. You people really like to cut corners."

Matio shrugged, "I'm just an apprentice."

"Never mind then. Come along." She led him to the back room, where dozens of plants and flowers were arranged by colour and family. Matio found the smell quite intoxicating, yet much more refreshing than anything he had ever known.

"How do you know what I do?", Matio asked as they descended the spiral staircase.

"Oh please, everyone in the Guild looks like confetti on fire. It’s incredibly easy to spot a carpenter among them. Besides, how do you think I get the rarest plants here? There are things that grow in the strangest places and the harshest of worlds. The Night Flowers, for example, are the most resilient thing I've ever seen, but they'll give you a good time in your head."

"Now I understand. And I bet it pays well."

"Can't complain. My name is Hellia, by the way."

"Matio."

He counted fifteen doors, each unique in both design and size, ranging from small simplicity to grand complexity.

"I assume you know where you're going?" Hellia asked, and immediately plunged Matio back into disarray.

He hadn't thought that far ahead.

He walked over to the portals, examining them one by one, reading the delicate inscriptions they had on the sides. The places they led to were so far apart that only a few people would know how to make them. One could be a portal builder and build a door to another house or a city, but to enter another world required no small amount of skill.

None of the fifteen portals resembled the work Matio could recognize. There was nothing that could give him a clue or at least point him in the right direction. He walked back and forward, thinking and devising small strategies. He could not afford to be wrong.

Then he spotted another one, peeking out from under a dusty cloth in the corner. His eyes glimmered at the sight of a new possibility.

"That is the Scrambler," Hellia said pointing at the forgotten door. "Not much good, that one. Ever since I got it, there's been something wrong with it. It just keeps taking me to random places, every single time."

Matio quickly pulled back the cover to reveal dozens of decorative inscriptions spread all over the rim, carved into the wood and sealed with copper. It was, without a doubt, the work of the Master.

"I don't recommend you go through this one. The last time the door opened on a lake and nearly flooded the shop" continued Hellia. "I wish I knew what was wrong with it."

Matio looked over the frame, touching each piece of it as if he could read the language of the intricate lines and carvings. "Where did you get this portal? he said. "If you don't mind me asking?"

"Came with the shop. It's the oldest one here really. My grandmother bought it from a portal master years ago. She said she got it awfully cheap, but I was never allowed to use it while she was alive. I guess I learned why."

"Well, I don't see anything wrong with it. Master Zeno made it, I’m sure of it, and he never makes mistakes. If anything, he might have done it that way on purpose."

"Why would someone build a portal to incredibly random places? And then sell it? To my grandmother, the florist?"

"The Master apparently. Unless…" Matio exclaimed, grabbed the knob and pulled on the door. "I knew it. That old miscreant."

"Are you insane?" Hella groaned, only to glance through the door and realize that on the other side was not the bottom of lake Luffon, but the streets of a city neither of them had ever seen. The salty smell of the sea and the soft music took over and bounced through the basement.

"Where is that?" Hellia tilted her head in great astonishment.

"I have no idea, but apparently it’s where I’m going."

"Wait, how did you do that?" she asked, leaning through the door, hesitant to go through as well.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"It takes you to any place you can think of," Matio grinned. "Oh, by the gods, you have no idea how valuable this one is. You must keep it safe. It's a treasure."

He stepped out into the street, out of what now looked like a front door of a building.

"Goodbye."

●

He stood in the street and thought of the Master. Before going through he was convinced that he would find him on the other side, somewhere nearby, and rescue him from whatever danger the old madman might have gotten himself into. But he deeply underestimated the sheer size of the place he arrived at.

He recognized it from stories he had heard. A city on an island, with glistening lights and uncanny inventions. Everywhere he looked there were new things, new interpretations of everything he had ever seen, and of much he had yet to understand. Metal and glass, all took on new forms and served a new purpose.

He also remembered that the master was weary of such places. It was not the ingenuity, he said, nor the new creative ways to do harm, but the people. He could never really explain what it was, except for the lack of fear in their eyes and their unrestrained greed.

Matio suddenly felt torn between the desire to explore and the urgency of his task. He stumbled around, letting his eyes wander over the rooftops and absorb the new world. People passed him by, and the streetlights began to light up on their own. Once again he was lost, between left and right.

Tired as he was, he sat down on a bench near the bay and looked out at the sea. There were almost a hundred vessels anchored in the harbor, from fishing boats to ships without sails. In some strange way, it reminded him of home.

"You," a voice shouted in his ear. "What do you think you’re doing? This bench is for decent folk to sit on, not for beggars to sleep on."

"Excuse me?" Matio rubbed his eyes and squinted at the guard.

"Go back to where you came from." the man in a blue uniform said, tapping the ground with a wooden mallet. "Did not you hear me? Go away," he said, pointing to the other end of the street, which appeared to get narrower as it climbed the hill.

Matio staggered back, trying to collect himself after falling asleep looking out at the sea. He did not know how long it had been, but the sun in the east told him enough.

Under the watchful eye of the guard, whose mallet thumped at precise intervals, Matio walked up the street. He heard the intense growling in his stomach, but the overwhelming need to get out of sight seemed more important.

He ran as fast as he could, up the stairs and all the way to the top. There, the street came to an abrupt end and turned to the left, under a row of trees hanging over a wall.

There were bricks missing from it and writings in black and white covered it from top to bottom. They were messages of hate and symbols of a society tearing itself apart. Matio did not understand what made him so conspicuous, what made them look at him that way, and he did not want to dwell on it for too long.

When the wall ended, one last symbol caught his eye. Yellow and black. The Guild was there after all.

The houses and stores on the other side of the wall lined up close together, looking quite charming despite their age. Matio looked at them all, searching for the corresponding sign, but none of them had it.

He wandered around until he stepped on a metal plate that rattled under his feet. There he found it.

●

The "undercity" was just below the surface. Hundreds of tunnels branching off from each other formed a network that had once been a necropolis and was then repurposed by those who did not want their business known.

Matio followed the small lamps anchored in the stones and bricks and soon came upon a heavy, black door. There were no windows and no way of knowing if he was in the right place, so he knocked and waited for whatever came next.

He was welcomed in by a woman whose eyesight was worse than her glasses revealed. She used a looking glass to read the papers on the counter and slammed each one of them with a stamp as though she was trying to kill an elephant on the page.

"Order or pick up?" she said in a squeaky voice.

"Sorry?" Matio asked scratching his ear.

"A portal? Are you ordering a new one or collecting an order?"

"Uh, neither. I am just looking for..."

"Neither ordering nor collecting," she mumbled and scribbled something down.

"Yes. No, wait. I was just wondering if you knew where to find Master Zeno." Matio said quickly before he was interrupted again.

"Zeno?" she peered at him through the thick glass that made her eyes look bigger than her face. "I'll have to ask Master Omafal about that. Stay here. Don’t touch anything."

After she disappeared behind a velvet curtain at the back of her desk, Matio was left alone in a small, stuffy room. A plate of pastries called out to him, and he took one and stuffed it in his mouth before anyone noticed.

"Zeno?" said a red-faced man that came out of the back room. "Haven’t seen him in a while. Been a few years I’d say."

His tiny glasses resided at the very tip of his nose, and his apron had long since been owed a wash. He did not look like an artist, much less a master, and was more like a butcher or a cook on a fishing boat.

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Matio asked, trying desperately to catch a glimpse behind the curtain. Something there caught his interest, but he could not make out what.

"And what business do you have with Zeno? You are a vulture, are not you? They must have gone desperate to be hiring the likes of you now," Omafal growled, smothering the small lamp with his head.

"What? No." Matio backed away, stepping over a wrinkled carpet that nearly knocked him off balance. "I am his apprentice, and I do not know where he is. I just wanted to know if someone could tell me where to find him."

Omafal crossed his arms and tilted his head without taking his eyes off his guest. "I do not know where he is, boy. But Kalda might."

"Who?"

"That way." He pointed back to the tunnel, "six doors down, to the left, and then further on to the end. Did you get that?"

"Yes," Matio replied and quickly left the shop.

As he followed the lights and counted the doors, a strange thought crossed his mind, like an uninvited guest. The people that hid under the city, in the dark, musty caverns of a necropolis were rejects. The world seemed to be turning away from those it thought was different, and magic was no longer an art, but a terrible crime.

"Kalda's Jewellery" was the inscription above the shop, which, despite its surroundings, rivalled those on the surface. It was full of things that were both pretty and sharp and caught the eye whether one wanted them to or not.

Kalda appeared to be a small woman with unnaturally red hair that all the glowing objects immediately caught. She climbed up on a platform behind the counter and looked the customer in the eye.

"What are you after?" she said. "Gold? Antiques perhaps? Special items? I have anything you may need."

"I was told you might know where I could find Master Zeno."

"Zeno?" she smirked. "You were told, ha? And what are you offering in return for this information?"

"I have nothing to offer. I need to find him, because his life could be in danger."

"So the old squirrel got himself into trouble?" She jumped on the floor and rummaged in the old boxes on the bottom shelf. She picked one up and dropped it on the glass counter in front of Matio.

"Tell you what, if you can pick the right key out of this box, I'll tell you where to find the right door."

Matio took the lid off and discovered that the box was filled to the brim with keys of all kinds, old, new, rusted or broken.

"I do not understand," he said. "You know where he is?"

"Everything has a price, my friend. Prove to me that you are who you say you are. Then we can talk. It's a simple deal."

Matio rummaged through the box and set the keys aside one by one. They could have come from anywhere in the many worlds, and none was more remarkable than the other. He looked at the way they were made, the shape of the bow, the complexity of the bit, and the metal they were made of. The pile grew, and the more he examined them, the better he understood what it was he was looking for.

Kalda stood in the corner polishing her collection of glass geese, all different sizes. She whistled as she did so, glancing back every now and again.

"I got it," he said, holding up a key. It was not as big as the others, made of iron, and had a loop in the shape of a pretzel. There was absolutely nothing special about it, nothing that made it stand out, but Matio knew Zeno’s signature better than anyone.

Kalda smiled and nodded. "All right then."

"Now tell me. Where am I supposed to go?" Matio asked impatiently.

"The door is red. Follow the tunnels to the left, the third exit from the one you came from. There’s a barbershop right above. The door is inside it. And uh, you can keep the key."

"Thank you."

"And give this to Zeno when you find him," she placed a small velvet pouch in Matio’s hand. "Tell him Kalda sends her regards."

Matio took the offering, even if he did not know what it meant, and quickened his pace toward the surface.

The barbershop was exactly where she had said it would be, and though the barbers yelled at him and tried to keep him from entering their back quarters, Matio did not care. He pushed past, excused himself, peered behind each curtain, and forced his way into all the rooms. The only red door he found was under a rug in the small restroom.

At first, it refused to open, and by the time he remembered the pretzel key in his pocket, two guards were already storming the barbershop and preparing to break his bones. Luckily, Matio was quicker than them and closed the small passageway before anyone noticed it was ever opened.

●

The portal led to what looked like a crowded basement. It reeked of rum and swayed back and forth along with the carts and barrels. The only light came through the cracks between the boards on the ceiling, where a throng of people moved and shouted.

It didn’t take long for Matio to realize he was on a ship.

He held on to whatever he could grab. The ropes were wet and the beams squeaked above his head. There was nowhere else to go but out. He pushed open the door that separated him from another chamber, and on the other side, he was greeted by the harmonious sounds of snoring sailors.

In a desperate attempt not to wake them, Matio skipped across the room and headed for the stairs. The morning had just dawned and the iodine was in the air. Slowly he stepped onto the upper deck, bowed his head and tried to keep to the shadows. He could not do much before he could be certain the ship did not belong to pirates of similarly inclined crews.

Matio squinted his eyes at the flat at the very top of the mast, but at the same moment, he was grabbed from both sides and pulled into the captain's quarters.

The captain was napping in his chair, holding a piece of paper tightly in his hand. As the door slammed, he tilted his chair back and lifted his hat to look at the intruder.

"What do ye want?" he asked.

"We found a stowaway, captain." said the sailor to his left, holding Matio firmly by the arm. "I knew I heard something in the hull."

The captain threw his hat on the table and fixed his hair. "Go and get me Ruggus. Tell him to bring the new map."

"And what about the fellow? Should we throw him to the sharks?"

"I'll take care of him," the captain returned, slightly unnamed.

The two sailors staggered out the door, disappointed with the thought that punishment wouldn't be carried out and no fun would be had that day.

"Name?" said the captain, pouring a glass of some murky brandy that without ice seemed rather unattractive.

"Matio."

"Captain Jagar of the Salamar," he returned and slumped back in his chair, gathering up the papers that lay on the desk. "Let's assume I know you're not a stowaway and I know very well how you got here. But, I also have to make you swear that you won't tell any of my crew about it. They're a superstitious bunch. Don’t sit well with magic and all that."

"Agreed," Matio said, relieved that sharks would never learn how he tasted.

"Right. To business then. Why have you come?"

"I'm looking for a portal master by the name of Zeno." The words he had repeated so many times began to lose their meaning. Matio was once again lost in a place that was just a passageway leading to another passageway. No one seemed interested in telling him anything but simply pointed him to another door.

"Well, he's not on my ship, I can tell you that."

"But you know him?" Matio began to see a pattern.

"Yeah, yeah, I know Zeno. He's probably in-" The door opened squeakily and a tall man came in, bending under the beam.

"Come in, Ruggus," the captain continued, "Let's see what you have for me."

Ruggus unfolded a freshly drawn map of the continent and all the seas surrounding it.

"Well done, old friend." said the captain, running his finger along the southern shores. He sent the great mapmaker away and called Matio closer to the table.

"This is where we'll land," he said, pointing to a small island just a rowing distance from a large bay. "They won't let us get any closer, but now that you're here, we might as well put your, uh, how do you say, disposition to good use." He poured another glass and drained it in a single gulp.

"What exactly is my disposition?" Matio inquired bending over. He knew very well there was nowhere to run, and he was once again at the mercy of someone else.

"You, young man, are going to deliver a letter for me."

"And what about Zeno?"

"You'll deliver the letter to someone named Graill. Remember that. You'll find her in the Shants. Don't forget that either. If you do this right, she'll show you the way."

"She also knows Zeno, I assume?" Matio already knew the answer.

"Everyone knows Zeno," said the captain.

●

They anchored the ship a distance away from the shore and took Matio to a rocky island that was conveniently hidden from view for everyone but the birds. They gave him a boat of his own and told him where to go ashore and how to find the infamous Shants.

What they didn't tell him was that the city that formed around the bay and plunged into the water like a great sea creature was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in his life.

He descended from the hill unable to take his eyes off the marble and the crimson streets that led to the palace at the other end. He knew the name of the palace from the stories the Master had told him, but he always imagined that the old man was exaggerating.

The shops and the people made him forget the peril that had brought him on the journey. He ate their food and listened to the street performers on the many stairs leading down. They reminded him of the Fire Festival, and until nightfall, he couldn't break away from their magic.

Only when he saw the ships in the harbor was he reminded of his task.

The Shants were not what he had expected. The farther he ventured in, the less inclined he felt to keep going. It leaned against the harbor and was populated mainly by sailors and the less fortunate, all of those who could not afford to live on the red streets.

Their eyes were on him, watching intently as a stranger entered their territory.

"Are you lost?" said a burly man that was missing a piece of his ear.

"I am looking for Graill," returned Matio.

"Are you now?"

Matio turned to see a small crowd forming. They cracked their necks and pulled their fingers, waiting for the smallest excuse to rain violence upon the intruder.

"What do we do with people looking for Graill?" asked the man without the ear. He threw away the broomstick he was holding and looked Matio dead in the eye.

"Break their little bones," said the first voice.

"Show them real pain," said the second.

"Let them bleed," said the third.

Before they had the chance to close in on him, Matio bolted and disappeared in the nearest ally, dodging drunks, empty barrels, contraband and stray dogs along the way. Without a plan in mind and on unfamiliar terrain, the odds were against him. His leather shoes could only carry him so far, and when he found himself alone in a dead-end street with a pile of empty barrels, there was only one thing left to do.

He heard their heavy footsteps and erratic breathing as more and more people gathered around. "He's still there," he heard them say. "The bastard's hiding."

It was not long before they toppled all the barrels on the ground and found the one that was not empty. With great cheers of victory, they rolled it through the streets, over the uneven stones and puddles, and let it roll downhill until someone caught it on the other side.

Their game went on all the way to the black brick house in the middle of the Shants. There, they fished Matio out and let him sit on the barrel until nausea subsided.

"Animals," he muttered and vomited to the side, dirtying the feet of several people.

They would have made him regret it if Graill herself didn’t show up at the door. She leaned on the wall with one arm, studying the loot her people had brought her.

"I heard you were looking for me," she said politely. "You should know that I don’t take kindly to uninvited guests."

Matio gathered himself and stood up, still unable to shake off the dizziness. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the letter he was supposed to deliver. To his surprise, it was still in good condition.

"Captain Jagar sends me," he said.

Her face changed, and she was no longer amused. She looked at the people and they knew they had made a terrible mistake. She grabbed Matio and brought him inside, slamming the door.

"Forgive me for the unsavouy welcome," she said. "But we can’t afford to trust everyone who comes in here." She broke the envelope's blue seal and began reading the information Matio had almost paid for with his head.

"Jagar said you could-."

"You don’t look like one of Jagar's crew." she interrupted him, narrowing her eyes. "You are not even a sailor. Are you?"

"That’s because I’m a carpenter. I am looking for Zeno," Matio said without enthusiasm. "Jagar told me you knew where I can find him. So, please, for goodness sake, whatever gods you worship, just tell me."

"Gold." she returned.

"What?"

"Gold is my god. And you just delivered me the most excellent news." She put the letter back in the envelope and threw it into the fire. Matio watched his last bargaining chip disappear into the embers.

"Zeno?" He raised his voice, but it sounded like a loud whisper. There was hardly any strength left in him.

"I heard you the first time," Graill returned. She grabbed a clean sheet of paper and began writing a letter of her own.

Matio sat quietly, watching the crowd still lingering outside as if waiting for the great unravelling of the mystery that was his arrival. It was clear to him that Graill was involved in a smuggling business that probably crossed the boundaries of a single world, and the city he had entered that morning was not the same one he was in now.

She poured blue wax onto the envelope and handed it to him. "This is for Zeno."

"Where is he? "

"There's only one place he can be. Come along."

She led him into a small library, with bookshelves covering the walls and stacks of books scattered on the floor. The only light came from a window in the roof and it hadn’t been cleaned in years.

"No one comes in here," Graill said, pulling on one of the shelves. It had small wheels under it and moved with ease. Behind it was a door, a thing of great beauty. Matio recognized the craftsmanship as that of the Master.

"Go," she yelled when she saw him hesitate.

●

There was music on the other side, and a pleasant smell of fresh stew and beer pulled him closer. He soon found that the other end was an inn.

It was full to the brim with people caught in conversation or dispute, playing cards or drinking themselves blind. Like a ghost, Matio moved through the rows of tables, not knowing what he was supposed to find, but happy that the place he’d arrived at did not seek to kill him.

"At last," called a familiar voice. Matio turned to see the Master eating a mouthful of cake and warming his feet by the fire. "What has taken you so long?"

"Master? You… you're all right. I've been looking everywhere for you. I thought something terrible had happened."

"But of course I'm," the old man smirked. "A portal master can't get lost. Have I thought you nothing?"

"Why didn't you tell me? The things I’ve been through." Matio hissed. He couldn't decide whether to be relieved or angry to see him.

"Come, sit down, you’re disturbing the guests," the master said and pointed with his fork to a chair next to him.

Feeling the warm fire on his face and smelling the delicious roast meat coming from somewhere, Matio managed to come back to his senses, even if only slightly.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Oh yes," the Master giggled. "But, in spite of everything you managed to track me down." He dropped the plate on the table and wiped his hands on his striped sweater. "I think you have something for me."

Matio froze for a moment as he realized how ordinary the situation turned out to be. He searched his pockets for a velvet pouch and a letter.

"Was this the test? " Matio finally asked, having pieced together the puzzle that should have been obvious from the start.

"Call it what you will, but it's a little trick we like to play on those we deem worthy to carry on our work in the right manner. Our profession is more than a craft. It's a lifetime of dedication. And you did well, my boy. You did well." He opened the pouch, pulled out a silver ring and handed it to Matio. "Welcome to the Guild, Master."

Matio blinked, pressed his cheek to keep it from twitching and accepted the gift. He put a lot of effort into maintaining a calm demeanor, even though he wanted to dance.

"So, what now?" Matio asked as Zeno read through Graill's letter with great delight.

"Well, first of all, you have to try the ale here. It's magical. And then we have work to do."