Zoya closed the door to her room and leaned against it, closing her eyes. With a mental sensation analogous to peeling away dead skin, she removed the Mask and set it to repair itself while she rested. She sagged slightly, sighing softly. Wearing the Mask was like swimming in cold, fast water - it numbed quickly, leaving only vague tensions to hint at the currents underneath. Only her Master's warnings of the dangers of prolonged use forced her to remove it when she was alone.

"Why, Master?" she whispered into the dimly-lit room. "Why this?" She impatiently blinked away the tears that had risen. There were duties still to perform. She washed carefully, checking for damage, sighing with relief when there was none. Taval had been right - it was only a matter of adjustment.

As she was drying, the cook brought her a tray with her dinner. She grimaced at the bitter herb tea and poured a large dollop of honey in it before gulping it down quickly. The food didn't interest her much, although she ate several bites of cheese to cleanse her mouth of the taste of the tea.

She picked up the sweet-roll and carried it with her to the window seat. She looked out over the brothel's courtyard for a while, analytically identifying the flowering vines and broad-leaved trees while at the same time feeling the pang of loss. Once more, she would have to try to go to sleep without talking over the day's lessons with her Master.

She blinked away the tears again and picked up the book he had brought on his last visit. She idly scanned the sections she had already read as she nibbled at the roll, then became absorbed in a new section. When she looked up again, the moon had risen over the far wall, and the place was quiet. A breeze stirred the leaves of the courtyard's great central tree, a pattern forming briefly in its branches. "Master, did you see-" Zoya stopped, struck once again with the realization that her Master was not with her. This time, she let the tears flow, leaning her head on her knees and shaking with sobs.

Eventually, exhausted from the emotional drain, she climbed out of the window seat and laid down on the enormous bed. A few more tears wet the pillow before she dropped into sleep.

"It's okay," the voice whispered. "You're out now."

Zoya opened her eyes to a muddy darkness and unfamiliar green eyes watching her from only a few feet away.

"H'lat i gavalur!" Zoya gasped, scrambling away in panic. Her movement allowed the lantern light behind her to fall on her captor's face, and she stared at it in shock for a moment before looking at her surroundings.

She was in Anano's stable, a small outbuilding with room for perhaps half a dozen beasts. Her captor was the younger of the two slaves Anano kept to care for the horses. "I didn't mean to frighten you," he said softly. "Are you all right?"

Zoya frowned at him. "What am I doing here?"

The boy blushed. "I... saw you. In your window. Crying. I wanted to help."

Zoya looked around. They were alone in the stable, the brothel building quiet, the snores of the other stable slave barely audible from their small shack. She looked back at the slave. "Help? How is this help?"

He looked taken aback. "I... thought I could help you run away."

"I don't want to run away!" Zoya stormed.

"Quite right," came a deep, soft voice - a beloved voice - from the stable door. Zoya turned gratefully. "Master!" She stood and ran to him.

Zoya's Master looked around carefully, then turned a slight frown on his apprentice. "You were only to use that spell in an emergency," he said mildly. "I see no desperate straights, here. Only a single ragged boy, frightened half out of his mind." The slave had cowered back into the furthest corner of the stable at her Master's entrance.

"I'm sorry, Master," Zoya said contritely. "I went to sleep in my room, and woke up here - I don't know how! I... panicked a bit, I think."

"Mmm." Her Master was still staring thoughtfully at the boy. "Well. There are worse responses you could have made, Zoya. I see we need to work a little further on assessing a situation before reacting, but at least you showed enough restraint not to burn the building down around you."

Zoya flushed at the mix of criticism and praise, vowing silently to work again on her assessment skills. Her Master took a few steps toward the slave boy, who suddenly let out a quiet groan and threw himself at the mage's feet. "Forgive me, Lord," the boy moaned. "I didn't know she was yours."

"I imagine not." Zoya's Master sounded stern, but she detected a hint of amusement lurking behind the iron. "Stand up, boy. I can't talk to you while you're down on the ground like that."

Hesitantly, the slave climbed to his feet. He stared resolutely at the floor near their feet for a long moment as Zoya's Master studied him. Zoya looked him over curiously herself, wondering what her Master found so interesting.

Now that she was looking, she could see that he was about her own age, although so short she doubted he could summon even enough magic for a minor cantrip - she towered over him. He was fairly average in appearance - short brown hair, beard just beginning to show on his cheeks, pale skin darkened by outdoor work and dirt, a thin but strong frame... Zoya's Master reached down and lifted the boy's chin, and Zoya saw that the green eyes were filled with tears.

"What's your name?" her Master asked quietly.

"D-Darin, my lord," the slave whispered. His face was flushed and his breathing fast. Zoya felt a stir of pity for him. Anano was an easy master, but this had surely earned him a terrible beating.

Zoya's Master released Darin's chin, and the boy dropped his gaze back to the floor. "All right, Darin. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

The slave glanced up at Zoya quickly, then looked down again. "Y-yes, my lord. I was... in the courtyard," he whispered. "I was supposed to be asleep, but... I..."

"Go on, Darin," Zoya's Master prompted gently. "The courtyard."

"I... I was looking around. Up. At the..." Darin blushed furiously.

"I understand. Go on."

Darin glanced at Zoya again, then looked straight up at her Master. "She was... she was sitting there, crying... like her heart was breaking." He looked down again. "M-Master Anano doesn't keep anyone who... hates it. But I thought maybe she didn't... didn't know, or maybe..." He swallowed. "I don't know, my lord. I just... wanted to help her."

"An admirable goal," Zoya's Master said dispassionately. "And how did you go about doing it?"

Darin blushed again. "She went to bed a little later. I climbed up and got her, and brought her back here."

"More detail, please."

"Yes, Lord. I... I climbed up the tree outside, and out onto... There's a branch that almost touches the roof." He glanced up doubtfully. "And then I leaned down and opened her window, and climbed in... She was already asleep, so I picked her up and carried her over my shoulder... Getting down is easier than going up."

Zoya's Master stood in silence, staring at the boy for so long that he finally looked up, looking first at Zoya and then at her Master again. "Lord," he whispered, even quieter. "Please, please... Don't tell Master Anano. He... he'll sell me away."

Zoya's Master folded his arms and looked at him sternly. Darin cringed. "I know, I should be punished," he said, his voice breaking. "Beat me yourself, Lord. Or... whatever you... you think I should... I swear, I'll never... Just don't..." He choked back a sob and fell silent before the mage's immobile face.

Zoya couldn't take her eyes from Darin. She wanted to say something to help him. She wanted to reach down and take the hateful collar off his throat. She couldn't move. "It is important," her Master had told her, "That you respect the laws of the places you visit, no matter how repugnant they may be to you. The Chained are recognized and accepted as a largely neutral body because we do not tamper with peoples' customs or laws."

By law, Darin was a slave: Anano's property, to do with as he would. By law, Darin could only be freed by his master. By custom, what Darin had done this night warranted severe and terrible punishments... And almost certainly a new master. Who would want to keep property that behaved so poorly? Even kindhearted Anano could not afford to keep a slave who stole the girls from his brothel.

And yet... Zoya's Master was Chained to the Heart. She knew this, even if she could not speak the words. And Darin's heart was plain to see, writ large enough in his tear-filled eyes that even Zoya could read it. Surely, her Master would not be so cruel?

"Why," her Master suddenly intoned, "do you wish to remain here? What does it matter?"

Darin didn't look up. His voice shook as he whispered, "Master Xenfali has offered to purchase me twice before."

Xenfali, Zoya knew from the courtesans' gossip, was every slave's nightmare. Temperamental and rapacious, his slaves constantly sported numerous bruises and burns, and male and female alike dreaded the summons to his bedchamber. If he had cast his eye upon Darin, for whatever reason... Zoya gripped her Master's sleeve. "Master," she whispered desperately.

"I know, Zoya," he said calmly. "Hush. I'm thinking." She nearly sighed in relief. "All right, Darin," he said calmly. "I won't tell Anano about this." Darin's breath caught, and he looked up at Zoya's Master again, the light of hope rekindled in his face. "Zoya will not say a word of this, to anyone." He eyed her significantly, and she nodded her understanding. "You will take Zoya back to her room, and then go back to yours. If you get caught, understand I may not be able to help you."

Darin sighed. "Thank you, my lord." He dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of the mage's robe. "Thank you." He turned his liquid gaze on Zoya for a moment before bowing to her, as well. He looked back up at Zoya's Master somewhat apprehensively. "And my... punishment, Lord?"

He smiled, slightly. "Deferred. But I will be back, and I expect to see you then. You will give Anano no excuse to sell you before Zoya's year is over, do you understand?"

Darin ducked his head nervously. "I understand, my lord. Thank you."

Zoya's Master turned to her. "I know it is hard, but you need to learn to do without me. I am not immortal."

Zoya bowed her head. "I will try, Master."

"Good." He touched her head, and then slipped out the stable door and was gone, leaving Zoya to look at Darin.

Zoya saw little of Darin during her remaining time at Anano's brothel. The courtesans and their trainees had little occasion to visit the stables, and Darin kept to them scrupulously.

The first time she saw him after that first meeting, she was accompanying one of her instructors to a customer's home for a revel, her Mask firmly in place. He held the horses' bridles as Zoya and her instructor climbed into the carriage that had been sent for them, smiling tentatively as Zoya passed. His look turned to confusion as she passed without apparently noticing him.

Hours later, back in the privacy of her room, Zoya removed the Mask and felt a gentle sorrow lingering in her thoughts. She realized she wanted to find Darin, to explain about the Mask and its purpose. She went to her window, almost hoping... But it was late, and Darin had stayed out of the courtyard since her Master's visit.

She rose early the next morning, and waited, watching for the moment when the other slave left to buy grain. She contrived some excuse - a dropped earring, or was it a bracelet? - and slipped into the stable. Darin was cleaning out the stalls.

"Darin?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice and spun. "Mistress?" he asked, looking at her, caution warring with curiosity. "What are y- what do you need?"

"Darin, I..." She shook her head. "I wanted to apologize. For yesterday."

Darin's eyes widened. "I don't... understand, Mistress."

Zoya shook her head, annoyed. "Please don't call me that. I'm bonded to Anano, too."

Darin flushed and looked away. "Only for a year. And you belong to one of the Great Lords."

"But-"

"What if someone heard? I don't want to get in trouble for being disrespectful." He glanced at her briefly, then resumed his work. "I promised your Master I'd stay out of trouble," he said quietly.

Zoya frowned, then sighed. She would not willingly disobey her Master - how could she fault Darin for the same? She nodded reluctantly, then returned to the thing she had come to say. "Yesterday, when I... ignored you. I'm sorry if it hurt you."

Darin stopped working again to look at her incredulously. "Mistress, a slave like me spends half his life praying to be ignored. I just... thought you'd forgotten."

Zoya smiled slightly. "How could I forget?" She looked at him soberly. "I have a Mask," she whispered, not knowing why she was suddenly shaking. "To hide my... feelings."

"Every slave does," he answered blandly, shifting the shovel in his hands.

"But mine is magical," she said, not knowing why it was so important that he believe her, that he understand. "It... it works both ways."

He thought about it, then nodded. "It must come in handy. Not having to feel, sometimes."

She felt absurd relief. "Sometimes," she agreed. She watched him work a moment longer, then asked, "What do you pray for the rest of the time?"

He blinked at her. "Mistress?"

"You said... you pray half the time to be ignored. What do you pray for the rest of the time?"

Darin didn't answer for a moment. Finally, he asked, "Is it true you're not really a slave?"

Zoya frowned slightly, confused. "By Karand law, I am."

He glanced up from his work. "But when you leave, you're not?"

She shrugged slightly. "I'm still bound to my Master, but... most other places, I'm lawfully an apprentice, not a slave."

He sighed. "That's what I pray for the other half of the time, Mistress." He glanced at her quickly, flushed, and whispered, "Not to be a slave." He turned back to his work with a determined look.

Zoya opened her mouth to ask more, but they heard a voice in the forecourt - the other slave, returning. "Go!" Darin whispered tightly. "If they find you here-" Zoya understood, and ran quickly out the side door.

Not wanting to get Darin in trouble, Zoya invented no more excuses. When their paths happened to cross, he would meet her gaze and smile slightly. If she was not Masked, she would return the smile, and he no longer looked upon her Mask with confusion.

She learned quite a bit from the gossip-loving courtesans, though. He'd been with the brothel longer than any of them - Anano's courtesans tended to retire or buy out their bonds early. The women and men who trained Zoya had been there no longer than ten years. The older ones remembered when he'd been sent to the stables at about the age of seven.

They described him as a good slave - obedient, hard-working, inclined to neither rebellion nor sullen despair. He'd only gotten in serious trouble once before - Anano had discovered him having an affair with one of the men. The beatings (administered not by Anano, but their angry superiors) had put both of them in the infirmary for a week, and left Darin limping for nearly a month. His lover had left the brothel a few months later to join a customer's household. This incident had been only half a year before Zoya came, and was still a frequent topic of discussion.

Zoya pretended no special interest, but stored up all she learned for her Master. It was obvious he intended some use for the boy, and she felt good, certain that somehow he would answer Darin's prayer for freedom.

The weeks turned into months, and eventually, Zoya's year was over. When the appointed day arrived, her Master collected her from her room and led her to Anano's plush office.

Anano stood and bowed, Alani-fashion, to her Master. "Chained Antonov," he said. "The days move with the speed of lightning."

Zoya's Master offered Anano a shallow bow. "Our contract comes to an end, Master Anano. I have another proposition for you."

Anano smiled smoothly. "Yes? Another year? Specialized training? I can offer-"

"Not Zoya," her Master interrupted. Anano fell silent and gestured to indicate he was listening. "I want to buy your stableboy."

Anano blinked in surprise. "My... stableboy, Chained?" He looked at Zoya's Master uncomprehendingly.

"Yes. The younger one."

Anano laughed. "Surely you jest! He has no training, his stock isn't worth breeding-"

"Anano," Zoya's Master interrupted, "You owe me. You damaged my apprentice. I could have you run-"

Anano lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "Peace! The boy means little to me; I was only..." He shrugged. "Well. If you buy him, at least Xenfali will have to stop pestering me." Anano looked up at Zoya's Master shrewdly. "How much, Chained?"

He turned to Zoya before answering. "Go and bring him, Zoya. Don't tell anyone why. Have him bring his things, if he has any." She nodded and left her Master to dicker with Anano. She didn't really want to know the worth of Darin's life, anyhow.

She went into the stable. "Darin."

"Mistress?"

"Come. Anano wants to see you."

He looked at her with doubt and fear. "M-me?"

The other slave was looking at them, so Zoya could not even smile reassuringly at Darin. "Clean up first," she told him calmly.

He nodded shakily and headed past her toward the door. "Do you have any possessions of your own?" she asked.

He turned to look at her, suddenly pale and shaking. "I... a little..."

She glanced back at the other slave, whose face had sobered, then looked back at Darin. "Bring them with you. I'll wait in the forecourt."

He joined her in a very short time, his face and hands rinsed clean, and a pathetic bundle of belongings under his arm. He was still pale. "M-mistress, what does he want?"

Zoya shook her head, mindful of potential ears. "I was told not to say." She led him into the main building and toward Anano's office.

Darin looked down at his bundle and whispered, "I'm being sold, aren't I?" Zoya did not answer. He glanced up at her. "Just tell me if it's Xenfali," he begged.

She glanced at him pityingly. "It's not Xenfali," she assured him quietly. His relief was almost palpable.

They stepped into Anano's office just in time to see Anano counting the last few gold coins into a purse. He glanced up at them dismissively, then nodded to Zoya's Master. "It is correct, Chained."

"Good," Zoya's Master said. "The document, then."

Anano lifted a crisp piece of paper from his desk and offered it to Zoya's Master, who read it carefully before folding it and putting it into his pouch. He turned to face Darin, whose face had become carefully neutral in his master's presence. "You are mine now," he said quietly. "Do you understand?"

Darin stared at him, then belatedly dropped his gaze to the floor. "Yes, L- Master."

Zoya's Master looked at Darin for a long moment, then nodded. "Come, then. We're going." Without another word, he strode from the chamber, leaving Zoya and Darin to follow in his wake.

Zoya's Master travelled quickly when he wanted to. By the time he called a halt - just as the sun touched the horizon - they were out of sight of Karandistahn's high walls. With the force of long habit, Zoya automatically began clearing a place for their fire. Darin looked around nervously. "What should I do, Mistress?" he asked.

"We're not in Karandistahn any more, Darin," she told him. "My name is Zoya, and you're not going to get in trouble for using it."

He flushed. "Z-Zoya, then. What should I do?"

Zoya looked at her Master, but he was using the last of the sun's light to read, seemingly deeply absorbed. She directed Darin in helping her set up their camp. She was showing him how to measure grain for porridge when her Master called quietly, "Darin."

They both looked up. Zoya's Master was rummaging through one of the horses' saddlebags. He emerged with a short, sharp knife, then looked at them. "Come here."

Darin glanced at Zoya, and she nodded reassuringly at him as she picked up the spoon to stir the porridge. They were still in Karand, but far enough from Karandistahn that it wouldn't matter, she thought. She watched Darin cross to stand before her Master, his head bowed and his hands shaking.

He didn't understand, she realized suddenly, about borders and laws and the Chained. He couldn't read the glint in her Master's eye. How could he? she reasoned. He was bright, but slaves were rarely educated. He hadn't known her Master, to read his stance or face. She wondered what Darin thought the knife was for. A sacrifice? Some blood ritual? She shuddered at the thought.

Zoya's Master put a hand on Darin's shoulder. "Look at me," he commanded. Darin's gaze rose hesitantly. Zoya's Master held the knife up in front of Darin's face. "I don't want to hurt you, Darin," he said softly. "I need you to hold as still as possible. Do you understand?"

Darin nodded shakily, then closed his eyes, balling his hands into fists to still them. Zoya's Master looked at him carefully, then gently pushed Darin's head to one side and began carefully sawing at the collar with the knife.

It took a while - the leather was hard and old, the seam specially designed to be hard to break. By the time the last strand parted, the sun had fully set, and the porridge was ready to eat. Zoya's Master uncurled the ruined collar and pulled it from Darin's neck.

"All right, Darin. You can relax now." Darin opened first one eye and then the other. Zoya's Master was holding the collar out to him. Darin's hand rose and tentatively touched his throat as he stared at the collar. He reached out slowly and took the collar, turning it over in his hands with a look of wonder.

After a long moment, he looked back up, his eyes filled with tears. "I release you," Zoya's Master said softly. "You are free." He laid a hand briefly on Darin's shoulder, then walked over to sit next to Zoya, leaving Darin standing, staring at the ruined scrap of leather in his hands.

Zoya handed her Master a plate of food. "What next?" she asked quietly, glancing at Darin.

"It depends on him. He may have dreams he wishes to follow immediately. In that case, we will give him what we can and point him in the right direction."

"What if he doesn't know what he wants?"

"I have some suggestions," her Master answered briefly. He looked at Zoya with a smile and changed the subject. "It was a hard year for both of us. We're going to Alanis for a rest."

Zoya nodded. Her Master's Master had been Alani, and the wealthy, colorful city with its beautiful, open-hearted people was her Master's favorite place - the calm port in the storm of his life. Zoya was uneasy with the sheer passion of the place, hated being so far from water and ships - but where her Master commanded her, she would go willingly.

Darin approached the fire slowly. Standing opposite Zoya and her Master, he laid the remnants of his slave's collar in the fire with something like reverence. He watched unmoving while the leather blackened and curled, then walked slowly around the fire.

He knelt before Zoya's Master and bowed until his head touched the ground. Zoya's Master touched his hair gently. "Darin. Free men do not kneel or bow to vagabond mages."

Darin looked up and for the first time Zoya saw fire in his eyes. "Free men," he said softly, "do what they choose to do, and serve whom they wish to serve."

Zoya's Master stared at him for a long moment, then laughed aloud. "So they do," he chuckled. "Though that is a sophisticated observation for someone who has only been free for half an hour."

Darin shrugged. "I know what I know." He sat up, shifted to a more comfortable position. "I know you freed me, and for that I owe you a greater debt than I can ever pay."

Zoya's Master shook his head. "Darin, I did not free you only to bind you again. You are free now. I will give you what I can to help you, if you wish to leave - and ask no return for it other than that you live your life as a good man. Or, if you wish, you may accompany Zoya and I to Alanis, where I have a friend who may be willing to employ you."

Darin considered. "I will accompany you. Perhaps the time will come when I may begin to repay my debt."