“Hello, Shaman Calaren,” Freya said, putting on her most diplomatic smile.

“Freya! My dearest! How are you? Oh, how I’ve missed you so!”

Shaman Calaren let his shop door slam behind him, holding his arms out to wrap Freya in a hug. He almost conked himself in the head with his shaman’s staff as he hugged her. His wavy brown hair looked shorter than the last time Freya saw him, but other than that, he was exactly as she remembered.

Letting her go, he continued rambling, “How was your walk here? See anything unusual? Isn’t it wonderful to visit Einskin again!”

Straining her smile, Freya replied, “Yes, it’s good to be here. So what magical malaise does the child you mentioned have?”

She held up the letter.

Shaman Calaren laughed, “Always straight to business. Well, let’s go see them. We can walk through town while we’re at it!”

With a heavy sigh, Freya followed him out of his shop and into the streets of Einskin. The enchanted lights on the town’s main street were just beginning to turn on as the sun set.

“Beautiful isn’t it,” Shaman Calaren said. “All the blue lights,”

“It’s unique,” she admitted.

Unlike most enchanted lights, the city of Einskin opted for blue-colored lights instead of the traditional yellow. Freya thought the blue color didn’t produce enough visibility, but it did create a different ambiance to the town.

“Ah Calvo, you roped Miss Evenkey here again?” said a man brushing down a horse outside of a shop.

Freya glanced at the text box above the man’s head.

[Evrim Ceret]

[Lvl 5 Wool Trader]

Shaman Calaren chuckled, “No, no, she’s here on serious business. I’m getting her opinion on some shaman matters.”

The man laughed and went back to work. Freya glared at him, but he pretended not to notice. She didn’t know the wool trader, but apparently she visited Einskin enough for all the townsfolk to recognize her.

Winding through the streets to another sector of the town, she noticed some porch lights broke the blue color scheme. The smell of wood fires filled the early evening air. Finally, Shaman Calaren walked up to the porch of a small two-story house. He knocked on the door.

The old wooden door opened a crack to reveal a tall woman.

“Oh, Shaman Calaren. What brings you here?”

“Hello Mrs. Latorre, I have a special surprise. I got Shaman Evenkey from Safka to come and see Penya.”

Mrs. Latorre opened the door further and peered out at Freya, “Shaman Evenkey! Thank you so much for coming. Please come in.”

She ushered them inside. A pleasant aroma of cooked chicken filled the house. An older man wearing an apron turned around from stirring a pot on the stove, “Oh my, Shaman Evenkey! Thank you for coming all the way out here.”

Freya waved her hands, “It’s no problem. I’m always happy to help.”

Mrs. Latorre picked up a small bundle from the crib near the fireplace. Swaddled inside, the pudgy face of a newborn peeked out.

“He was born just a week ago,” Mrs. Latorre said, gently rocking the baby in her arms. “But his eyes... I’ve never seen anything like them. Do you think something is wrong with him?”

Freya peered down at the child. His chubby cheeks almost obscured his eyes as he sleepily opened them. One eye was a brilliant blue color. The other was a murky brown. She cocked her head to the side, “Do you mind if I hold him?”

“No, no please,” Mrs. Latorre passed the child off to Freya.

Freya supported his head with one arm and wrapped her other around his body. She touched her hand to his forehead, examing his meridian lines.

“Has he done anything unusual?”

Mrs. Latorre shook her head. The man with the apron came up to them, “He hasn’t done anything odd, but we’re just worried. My sister had a child with malaise, they didn’t do anything about it and the child died in a month! If he needs something-”

“Hold on, hold on,” Freya said. “I don’t think he has any kind of magical malaise.”

“Really!? You really think so,” Mrs. Latorre said, her eyes shining with hope.

“Yes, his eyes are different colors. But I don’t sense anything to suggest a magical malaise.”

“See, see!” Shaman Calaren said happily. “I told you nothing is wrong with Penya.”

Mrs. Latorre nodded and wiped her teary eyes, “I know, but I was so worried. With what happened to Feli…”

Shaman Calaren put a comforting arm around the older woman, “Sh, sh it’s okay. Penya is going to be just fine! I’m sure he’ll grow up to be super handsome and catch the hearts of all sorts of ladies with his eyes.”

Mrs. Latorre continued to cry and mumble, “Thank the maker.”

Feeling awkward still holding the baby, Freya tried to pass him off to the man she assumed was his father, but the man joined in the group hug around Mrs. Latorre. Freya sighed. As she suspected, Shaman Calaren had lied or at least exaggerated the situation. But her second opinion had reassured the concerned parents, so she couldn’t be that mad.

Still, she wished Shaman Calaren had just told the truth. Why did he always have to lie?

Finally, after more reassurances and a free dinner that Freya much appreciated, they left the house. It was completely dark now save for the enchanted lights.

“I’ll pay for your inn room,” Shaman Calaren said. “If you would like company…”

“No thank you.”

He laughed merrily, “Just kidding. I’ll still pay for the room as always. The innkeeper should let you stay for free! It’s not every day that we get the Shaman of Safka here.”

Freya half-smiled at his jest, “I’m no one special.”

“Oh, but I disagree! You could have gone on to be the shaman of a big city. But no! You chose to be the shaman of the little town of Safka!”

“I’m just more well known because of my master.”

“Deny it all you want,” he said, clapping her on the back. “But I’m glad to have you close by.”

He smiled and pulled her onwards. Freya gave up and allowed herself to be pulled along. Then she remembered something, “Actually, I have a question for you.”

“Oh? My dear Shaman Evenkey has a question for me?”

“I’m just curious, has anyone unusual asked you to make them your apprentice?”

“Anyone unusual? Hm, no. I have been getting a lot of people asking me to make them apprentices, but they all lack potential.”

“Really?” Freya remarked, her heartbeat rising. “Do you remember what any of them looked like?”

Shaman Calaren scratched his head, ruffling his brown hair.

“Hmm, HMMM, hmmm... No, I can’t remember what they looked like. I think they just looked like regular people. Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Oh? How intriguing.”

Freya could feel his anticipation for her to explain, but she didn’t say more. Theories swirled in her head.

How long was I blind to the game before I picked up that playing card?