Then she passed by a shop advertising psychic surgery, and the boy who approached her on the street said she could come in and witness a healing session in progress. Turning her attention to the shop, she felt something powerful impinge on her shaman dream, and let the boy lead her inside. There was a man lying on a table, surrounded by several onlookers, with one who was obviously the practitioner hovering over him, passing his hands over the man's body, brushing it with handfuls of herbs much as the man on the street had done. This appeared to be a preliminary step, possibly leading up to a diagnosis.

When Dema entered, the man looked up at her, a question and a challenge in his eyes and in his mind. Dema understood that he was a true shaman, and had recognized her shaman nature. She looked at him and nodded, reassuring him that she was not there to challenge him or interfere, only to witness. He nodded back and returned his attention to the patient. Only one or two of the onlookers even glanced at Dema, the rest were unaware of the exchange.

The shaman spoke, telling the man his body's health was being threatened by a growth in his abdomen, and this was adversely affecting his energy and his overall well-being. He proposed to remove the growth and the man assented. The shaman nodded his acknowledgement, and looked around to admonish everyone to be silent, then he began a low droning hum, moving his hands over the man's abdomen, massaging it lightly. The hum became hypnotic, and Dema could tell the shaman was in his shaman-dream, and was gathering the agreement of the onlookers, setting their expectations.

He began kneading the man's abdomen deeply, until his fingers visibly sank into the man's flesh and, after a moment of manipulation, drew from it a largish lump of tissue, which he deposited in a ceramic mug. He wiped blood from his fingers, and began moving his hands lightly over the man's abdomen again, meanwhile continuing the droning hum. Then he stood back, pronounced the surgery a success, and told the man he should experience no more discomfort. There was no sign of any wound where the shaman's fingers appeared to have penetrated.

Dema realized that what had just happened was akin to her own shape-shifting, or perhaps more like shifting a book into a tumbler. The shaman had, through his shaman-dream, shifted expectations at a cellular level so that the tumor was no longer expected to be in the man's body. She also realized that the onlookers were there to intensify the agreement, which would help to maintain the new reality for the man.

The permanence of the result would depend almost entirely upon how well convinced the patient himself was that he was truly cured. She leant the power of her own shaman-dream to reinforce this aspect of the shaman's procedure, giving extra assurance that the man would remain healthy. The shaman recognized what she had done, and gave her an appreciative nod.

There was considerable commotion as the man's family gathered closer to congratulate him, examine his stomach, and inspect the lump in the mug. Dema drew back and left the shop. She now knew there was at least one true man of power in Catemaco. This one, though, was not evil. She sensed he was more like Juan in his outlook.

She still needed to track down the brujos, and Chaos, if she was there.