“They’re talking about me,” Jix said. “They’re saying that I look familiar, yet very suspicious. . . . Now they’re talking about Nick. They say that you are made of rotten tree-resin, and you’re highly suspicious. . . . Now they’re talking about you, Mikey. They seem to like you.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” said Jix, “but they’re very suspicious of spirits they like.”

The song continued, and the army, which was apparently used to this, waited with practiced patience.

“Now they’re debating whether or not you should be thrown into the Cenote,” Jix explained. “That’s a bottomless pool that goes to Xibalba, the Mayan underworld . . . although I suspect it really just goes to the center of the Earth.”

“Thanks for sharing,” said Mikey.

That made Nick laugh, which was something, because Mikey was never known to make anyone laugh.

The strange song of the wailers soon changed, becoming more melodic, building toward a crescendo. “They’re singing the song of opening,” Jix told them. “When they’re done, the guards will open the gates.”

“How long will this take?” asked Mikey.

“As long as they feel like,” said Jix. “The wailers are a pain.”

And sure enough they went on singing for another half hour, until finally they reached the last note which, since Afterlights need no air to sing, lasted four whole minutes. Then the song came to a dramatic end and the gates began to swing open. Immediately Nick and Mikey were struck by light and color so bright they had to look away.

“Welcome,” said Jix, a little bit proud, and a little embarrassed, “to the City of Souls.”

No one who has seen the City of Souls is ever the same. There are sights and sounds to boggle the most worldly mind and fill it with both elation and terror. Spirits with the colorful wings of parrots soared overhead in formation, dancing in the sky, while on the ground below, Afterlights adorned with gold, jade, onyx, and impossibly bright feathers engaged in all sorts of joyous activities. Troops of dancers stomped and gyrated in circles everywhere. Crowds moved in swarms, seeming to have no purpose other than moving and swarming. Magicians performed amazing feats and jugglers hurled balls of flame high into the sky. The entire city was a single massive party that had raged for eons and showed no signs of slowing.

“As I told you,” Jix said, “the king likes excess.”

“Right. More is more,” said Mikey.

“No,” said Jix, “as far as His Excellency is concerned, ‘more’ is not nearly enough.”