The roads were cobblestone. The one who projected them was a great romantic, for they were so narrow and impractical, that only two average size people could walk side by side, or arm-in-arm, though there was enough space in the village to build something bigger.

The houses with perlaceous roofs looked neat and nice. Each of them had porches that were looking kitchen gardens with plenty of tall flowers with blood-red, pink, and mauve heads, fluffy bushes, cortaderias and other rustling whisks of bent grass. Different spidery plants were creeping around, spreading their tendrils on the porches and rails. The owners had no fences or walls. Sometimes one small garden walked smoothly into another and you can guess which is which only by the dominance of some plants over the others.

People were busy with their work. On my way I noticed mostly elders, pregnant or young women with toddlers or infants, and kids in their early teens. Adult men and women must be working somewhere away in vast fields behind the village or inside the houses. Locals’ clothes were simple: women had beige or cream dresses with ruffled collars, leg of mutton sleeves with cuffs, and aprons but not so fancy and crispy lacy like Selina’s one. For men they had short linen tunics and casual straight brown or grey pants.

Fortunately, their work was in full swing and his friends and neighbours nodded Robin or waved him but didn’t stop to talk. My little helper kept his mouth shut and didn’t advertise my "triumphant" return. That made our life easier so far, and yet people cast their glances at me or, far more likely, at my clothes. But seeing Robin walking in my company, they felt no threat and lost interest in an outlander.

The boy knew where to go exactly, and I followed him like a duckling, admiring everything with my eyes wide open. I almost run into his back, when he stopped dead.

In one of the kitchen gardens I saw a young woman. She was wearing a long blue tunic with two side slits and skinny pants. A light breeze was ruffling her curly dark mane, but she didn’t stir to fix it, probably, keeping her eyes for something on the porch. Even with her back turned, I recognized marigold immediately. Some villagers were hiding behind wooden barrels, porches, luscious bushes or standing away enough to keep a distance from the very garden and the blue tunic.

I strode decidedly across the road when the boy pulled my sleeve:

“Mage Avis, don’t come closer!” he said plaintively. “You’ve just returned and might not fully recover after the villain’s spell. If anything happens to you, I won’t forgive myself!”

Don’t go here! Don’t go there! Please, stay! Please, go... I’m sick and tired of it! I’ll do whatever I want to do!

“Leave my sleeve and mind your own business, kid.” I looked angrily at marigold and headed towards her.

Suddenly I felt like I have an invisible web on my face; in disgust I brushed my fingers against my face to throw it away, but actually there was nothing.

“Hey!” I called Zarya. She turned in amazement and stared at me as if she saw a ghost:

“Leave this place!” she gasped.

“Why should I? I came here to talk. It’s illegal to traffic people. Who gave you the right to bring me here?”

“Watch out!” she didn’t give me a chance to finish my rant. I turned my head and my head turned: above the shoulder I saw a pale-grey male figure, which seemed slightly see-through. He was more scaring then a solid monster I was able to see in the mirror. His eye pits were black and hollow; he was slowly opening and closing his terribly big mouth.

That must be Jay’s troublesome father-in-law…

“Stay still!” commanded marigold.

I’m already as stiff as a nail! Don’t you see? What is she going to do?

Orange wave of light from her fingers was the answer. Zarya put me behind, pushing closer to the porch, and throw something into a twisting, blurring monster. The sound of breaking glass was heard. The ghost wailed and started slowly dissolving in sweet, herbal air. I felt nervous pain in my chest and stomach.

People started closing around us with cheers and words of gratitude to noble Mage Zarya.

“You must be in bed now!”

“I must be with my parents now eating pancakes and jam, but here I am!” I said, looking straight in her unusual eyes.

“How do you feel?” she was out of breath after a short fight with the ghost.

“I feel pretty insane, thanks to you and Hamlet’s father,” I nodded in the direction of the place where the specter used to chill out. “Where is our blondie buddy?”

Marigold was genuinely perplexed, “Wasn’t it Kal who brought you here? He promised me to stay with you!”

“Selina threw him from the balcony.”