Raine dangled at the end of Ma'am ireful glare like a fish at the end of a line. She shook, biting her lip, looking for an escape, but the only possible exit was blocked by Ma'am's broad, robed body. Raine had no choice but to try to defend herself from within the increasingly claustral office.

"I didn't agree to this," she squeaked.

Ma'am grinned mercilessly. "Agree to what? You agreed to work for me until a month after you turned fourteen. You're under contract."

"What you're doing isn't legal," Raine ventured, but she wasn't really sure. Ma'am seemed like a stickler for legality, since any slip-up would have her dubious institution shut down for good.

"It's legal once your birthday hits, regardless of whether or not your period hits first. No, I only do what is permitted by the state. I'm not some criminal, girl. You and your brother officially belong to me until then."

"I won't do it," Raine said. "I'm leaving."

Ma'am shrugged guiltlessly. "You can, but I wouldn't if I were you. Once you do, I can lawfully file a missing property report and put out a reward for you. Besides, your little brother is going to stay here. You can leave without him, but I can't guarantee his safety. After all, he's not worth much in this industry."

Raine clenched her fists, wishing she had some offensive magic at the end of them that she could throw Ma'am's way. "What did you do with him?"

Ma'am moved form the doorway, toward her desk. Raine slipped out of her reach, eyeing the now empty doorway. But now that Ma'am had brought Genis into this, both of them knew that Raine wasn't going to suddenly make a break for it.

Ma'am sat down at her desk and looked over the document. "I did nothing to him. I'm not some sort of monster. He'll just be under our care for the time being. Until you fulfill your contract." Ma'am sighed. "I knew this day would come. You're a smart little girl, Raine, but you don't know how the world works. I guess you're not technically an adult yet, at least not until your birthday. So let me give you a few pointers." Ma'am leaned over the desk, keeping Raine pinned to the floor with only her stare. "Adults live by rules. Not all the rules are fair, in fact, I'm fairly sure none are fair, but that's just how it is, love, nothing is fair. Nothing is just. Look at the Desians, the ranch. Look at the women around you. Do you think they did something to deserve this life? Plenty of them are just like Etta—guiltless, lovely girls who would make good wives and mothers and friends. But they were dealt a hand in life that stuck them here, just like you.

"But unlike you, they live with it. They deal with it. They make themselves useful. Because that's what builds a society—usefulness. If everyone were as selfish as you and ran away at the first sign of discomfort, our whole city would collapse, get it? You play your part in this establishment by being useful, Raine. You help out all the women here, you help yourself, you help your little brother. Who do you think puts food in his mouth? In your mouth? We don't get money for free, dear." Ma'am deigned to notice that Raine had begun to cry, and softened her tone of voice. "I know, it's not fair. But that's the biggest tip I have for you, love, nothing is fair. Life will hurt you, and that's all it will do. Now, are you willing to give back to the others around you who have also been hurt? Are you willing to contribute to the community that kept you and your brother alive for so many years? That allowed you to go to school?"

Raine sniffled but didn't answer. There was no one standing between her and the door now, but she just stood there, paralyzed.

"You may go, Raine," Ma'am said, almost kindly. "You have some thinking to do. You're a little emotional right now, but that's all right. We'll take care of Genis while you sort yourself out."

Against her will, Raine's legs took her to the door, down the stairs, back to her room. Predictably, Genis was absent. She wasn't sure who came down and got him or when; perhaps Ma'am had spied her snooping and got someone to nab him just in case. Perhaps she had always known Raine would discover what her contract entailed eventually, and she had prepared for this very scenario. Adults always seemed like they were one step ahead of Raine—always preparing for a future that she lacked the foresight to predict.

Well, now she was one of them. She would play their game, she would enter their world, outlast them, outsmart them.

She lay down on her bed, a tear dripping down her cheek. She wiped it away, swallowing her sobs. She would not cry. Crying was for children. She was not a child anymore.

She rolled on her side and stared at the wall, thinking deeply. She thought about what she could do, what she could say, to get Genis back and to get out of this place. She thought about Etta, and Candle, and the money she had stashed away under her bed. She wondered how much she could reveal to her without getting herself punished, without getting Genis punished.

She figured he must be somewhere within the establishment. Ma'am wouldn't dare do anything to harm him, if she wanted her money's worth out of Raine. So she didn't have to worry about him. He would take care of himself. She fretted momentarily how her absence might affect him at this crucial point in his development, but there wasn't much she could do at this juncture. She could keep an eye on him for abnormalities, when she got him back. But all that came later.

She thought about Etta. She wondered if Etta didn't know what Raine's contract included, or if she thought that Raine would be freed on the day of her birthday. Evidently, if Raine didn't know the fine print of her own agreement, Etta couldn't either. At least, that's what Raine wanted to think. She wanted to believe in Etta's ignorance because the alternative was much worse.

Raine lay in bed until Etta arrived at her door, carrying Candle, asking her if she was all right. "It's late, love," she said. "You want some breakfast?"

Raine tried to peer past Etta to see if anyone was listening. She saw no one. "Come in here," Raine said, with a tone of desperation that made Etta instinctively close the door behind her. Even though they were now alone, Raine wasn't sure how much she could say. "Etta… do you want to leave this place?"

"Every day, since the first day."

"Then let's do it."

Etta laughed. "Sorry, Raine, but I can't exactly just walk out. I'm under contract, I'm legally Sea Witch property until the end of… well, for another three years. Besides, if I somehow managed to weasel out of this arrangement, I have no skills. I wouldn't be able to find any other work. I can't even afford a ticket out of town, or a payment on an apartment... or anything."

Raine frowned. "I'm leaving soon, Etta. I want you to come with me."

Etta's smile disappeared. "Really?"

Raine nodded. "There's only one thing stopping me right now, and I'm going to take care of that."

Etta tilted her head, confused. "I don't… really…"

Raine got up and moved past her toward the door. "Keep this in mind: you can leave here with me, very soon. In a few weeks. I'll pay for our passage." Etta looked at her like she was absolutely insane.

"Wait…" Etta started. Raine opened the door and peeked outside. "Where are you going?"

"The library."

One of the many times Raine and her family had been forced to quit civilization due to the relentless pursuit of the University, she found herself on a sleepy riverbank. She stared into the current, watching the shadows of fish dart back and forth, and tried to force herself not to be scared of the water and whatever creatures lived under its surface. She tried to recall the enthralling tide pools, the joy and freedom of swimming, in order to quell her phobia. It didn't work.

She remembered her father, standing a few yards away, pants rolled up to his knees, current splashing at his calves. He stared down into the water like a man facing down death, primitive, hand-carved wooden spear hovering over his head, shaking only slightly.

"This," he started, almost too quietly for Raine to hear, "this is how real fishing gets done." He threw the spear into the water, where it landed with an ineffectual blub. He retrieved the spear to find its tip empty, so he stood back up, waiting for the scattered fish to forget about the danger and come swimming back into his vicinity. He again raised the spear above his head.

"What on earth are you doing?" Neither Raine nor her father had heard her mother emerge from the trees, firewood in hand. "You know we have fishing line."

"This is how the ancient Ko'an people of this region fished for thousands of years, dear. It is a sacred art, a pact between man and animal—" He threw the spear into the water, again missing his target.

"Buncha bunk, is what it is," her mother replied, sitting down, dropping the firewood beside her. "You know, if you want to go spearfishing, you really need a harpoon gun."

"That's downright cheating," he replied, retrieving his spear. "It violates the symbolic—and symbiotic—trust between people and nature to take advantage of technology to kill."

Raine was called over to her mother's side. "Okay, darling, we're going to show him how it's done. Since your father obviously isn't going to catch a fish, we're not eating tonight unless we get one. Do you want to eat tonight?"

Raine nodded. She would prefer it if she could eat every night, but she knew that was a bit too much to wish for.

"Okay then, do exactly as I tell you."

Raine stayed by her mother's side all afternoon, holding up the base of a piece of birch as she whittled away, tying knots in the fishing line exactly how her mother instructed, holding the bits of pieces of the nascent, primitive machine in place as it was slowly brought forth into the world. Occasionally her mother would step back, eyeball the device, twist it around in her hands to make sure the elasticity and tension was perfect, then pare it a bit at the edges to alter the variables just so.

As the sun touched the tips of the trees, her father was still trying to pit himself with only his instincts against the wily fish. As expected, he came up empty-handed. By the time dusk hit, the device had been shaped just to her mother's liking. They approached the riverside where man and fish kept up their eternal struggle.

"Hand me that thing, will you?" her mother said, practically grabbing the spear out of her husband's hands and placing it along the length of her wooden contrivance. She propped it up on her shoulder and aimed toward the water, shutting one eye to make sure everything was aligned just right. "This is how you catch a fish, dear husband."

Raine wasn't quite sure what happened in the next second. There was an ear-splitting twang, the loud creak of wood bending violently, and an upward explosion of foaming water. The spear floated to the surface, decorated at the tip with what may have once been a fish, but was now just a strip of shining flesh dangling loosely from the wood.

Her father stared at the water for a moment before howling, "Virginia, you're nuts! You decimated that poor animal! You mangled it!"

Virginia lowered her makeshift speargun and examined the damage. A small blotch of red bubbled to the surface, followed by tiny, broken bones. "Perhaps I did give it a little too much velocity. Next time I'll dial back on the tension. If I make the cross limbs a little thinner I might be able to…"

"Leave it to an engineer," her father muttered. "People like you are why there are mana shortages. Environmental disasters. Extinctions."

Virginia smiled. "Dear, you are so handsome when you start with your righteous indignation."

"What sort of attitude will our daughter develop toward the animal kingdom if she sees you indiscriminately slaughtering them all the time? Hunting is a give-and-take exercise; a game of wits, with respect necessary on both the part of the animal and the person…"

There had been no dinner that night. Raine's father spent the rest of their little ration of daylight trying to properly spear a fish, while her mother fiddled with her speargun, vowing to perfect it. Raine would've caught a fish herself had her mother not used up all the fishing line for her little project. Her father, too, was doing a spectacular job of scaring all of the creatures away.

So Raine's stomach had been rumbling angrily when she curled up between her parents' warm bodies, but that night, it was fine with her. The lively debate that had sparked that afternoon continued well into the dark, and fervent whispers darted above her for hours. Where conservation ends and necessity begins, advantages and ethics, evidence, appeals, facts, methods, justifications—it was the most interesting type of conversation her parents had, and she got to listen well into the early hours of the morning.

Raine exited the library that day with a shopping list.

She made her way back to the Sea Witch, tucking her leather notebook under her arm. She greeted no one, and kept silent; she instinctively walked up to her room to check on her little brother, and it took her a moment to realize that he wasn't there. She frowned, and instead decided to head directly to the dressing room. She had decided she wouldn't say anything important to Etta for a while. She didn't want Ma'am thinking that she had any plans.

That night, as the Sea Witch began to fill up with its usual clientele, Raine couldn't help but scan the crowd. She wondered what kind of man would pay so much for her, would waste away his savings just for a taste of something he may never have again. What sort of fool would go do that? Raine scanned the faces of the men around her, some drunk and lively, others sullen and desperate, and tried to guess which one she would have to keep company in the near future. Hopefully none of them.

While she was eyeing the crowd, she noticed Ma'am standing on the foyer's elaborate stairwell, dressed in a golden gown, hair done up, makeup perfected, talking with a gentleman in a fine suit. Without breaking her conversation, she turned her head slowly and glanced over her shoulder at Raine. They locked eyes for a moment, and Ma'am smiled at her.

Raine turned back to her novel, cheeks flushed, thinking desperately. She might know. She might suspect Raine would try something. Ma'am was a lot of things, but she wasn't stupid.

Raine knew she had a time limit. She had to find out where her brother was before she could even hope to escape. The Sea Witch was an ancient building—one of the oldest in the city, with hundreds of secrets and more than its fair share of hidden rooms, all relics from its past days as a hospital, a college, a theatre, a hotel... It might take her a while to locate her little brother, but she would. And then…

She buried her face in her novel, trying to look demure, defeated. She didn't really have to pretend. Raine knew she was generally helpless against Ma'am and her ilk—she had no authority, she had no offensive magic, she couldn't even throw a decent punch... at this point, she had no allies either. Etta was dangling from the same rope she was. All she had were her books, her memories, and the willingness to gamble on them both. More than once that night did she accuse herself of being insane.

The next day, she went down to the harbor and bought some wood. According to Varieties of Trees of Sylvarant, the most comprehensive guide to silviculture in the library, she had chosen a pretty durable type. She bought much more than she needed—it was cheap, and she knew that even in her masculine disguise, there may have been someone watching her on Ma'am's behalf. Any one of the hundreds of people crowding the harbor, if shown enough coin, would report what he or she had seen—Raine knew that if she had as much money at stake as Ma'am had in her, she would pay whatever it took to keep her investment safe.

So Raine took the wood to the school, and made a show of building an auxiliary bookshelf for one of the nooks in the library. She left books of carpentry open under the windows, well within view of any nosy passers-by. But in the shadows of the back of the library, in a cranny far out of sight, she began to carve a long shaft of wood, not in the shape of any viable bookcase.

Occasionally the old librarian would watch her, but not say a word. The only person who noticed her work was what she had come to think of as her old teacher, that bearded professor with such engaging lectures.

One day, while she was hewing ends of the shaft, working solely from memory, she looked up to find him hovering over her, head tilted curiously. She started, wondering if she should bolt, if she should kick him in the shins and make a run for it, and start from scratch later on.

"What are you working on there, young student?" he asked, not maliciously.

"I'm building a bookcase for the nook under the west window," Raine told him matter-of-factly. "The librarian hired me. You can see how the atlases are piling up over there."

He turned his head, examining her work. "That doesn't look like a bookcase."

Raine grit her teeth. "It's not the body. It's a… it's a decorative frame. Just for over the top shelf."

"Oh. Well, I guess I can see that." He gently lay a hand on Raine's shoulder, and a shiver ran through her. "I look forward to seeing how it turns out. Now that you mention it, it is quite cluttered over there."

She raised her eyes, and he smiled down at her briefly before turning to go. Raine wondered if he believed her, or if he was just kind enough to humor her. She watched him disappear between two bookshelves, leaving her alone, a tingling sensation still buzzing in her shoulder from where he had touched her.

Raine sat in her bedroom, in the quiet darkness of early morning, unable to sleep. She held her hands up before her face, summoning light to the tips of her fingers, reveling in its comforting warmth. She twisted her hands around, forming a bright sphere, and played with it for a few minutes, letting it bounce between her palms like a gentle little sun, lighting up her room.

Her birthday was still weeks away, but she was jittery and shaky as ever. She never knew how much she could miss Genis. He couldn't hold a decent conversation, he wasn't particularly helpful or insightful or even fun—so why did it suddenly feel like she was missing a limb?

Etta had asked about him. Raine had only said that he was sick and was being cared for in another part of the building for a little while, where he couldn't infect anyone. Etta thought it was nonsense, that no one could care for him better than Raine. And while she was right, Raine couldn't say anything that might let Ma'am know she was recruiting Etta to her side.

Now, in the quiet darkness of her room, as she played with the bright light between her fingers, all she wanted was her brother. She couldn't fathom why—so far he had only held her back. Without him, she would be well on her way to safety by now, never having to worry about being sold off to the highest bidder. But she couldn't leave without him.

A quiet knock to her door nearly stopped her heart. She extinguished the sphere of light dancing in her hands and lay back down on her bed, pretending to sleep. She opened one eye as the door creaked open, expecting the worst.

"Raine, dear," Etta's whisper brought a sigh of relief.

Raine sat up. "What is it? Aren't you working?"

"Officially, yes. But tonight was quick, thank Martel. I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Why? Things are the same as ever."

Raine could almost see Etta's look of disappointment in the darkness. "Raine, I'm illiterate, I'm not stupid. What happened? Why are you so distant all of a sudden? Is it about Genis?"

"Is… is the door closed?" Raine whispered. In this pitch-black darkness she couldn't be sure.

"Yes."

Raine again summoned her tiny sphere of light, illuminating Etta's poor face, concerned, worn-down with worry. "Remember when I told you that you could come with me when I left?"

"Yes, and there would be nothing I'd like more, but—"

"You'll break contract, I know. But I'll be breaking it too. I'm planning on leaving as soon as I get my brother back."

"Get… get him back?"

"Ma'am took him, as collateral."

"She what?"

"She's going to make sure I don't leave until it's legal for her to sell me."

Etta's silence was tense, heavy with rage. "That snake. That slithering piece of trash..."

Raine didn't let Etta follow her train of anger. "I'm going to get out of here," she said. "I have enough money for a fare out of town, on a ship. I checked at the harbor. I have enough for two tickets and some left over. They don't charge for infants."

Etta's breathing quickened, and her eyes darted back and forth, but Raine couldn't guess as to what she was trying to find in the thick darkness. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"When… would we leave?"

"I can't say. I might need a little while to find Genis. They probably have him locked up somewhere in the building, and I'll need to either get a key, or trick someone into opening the door for me… I really don't have a plan for that yet."

Etta frowned. "I'll look into it. There are plenty of hidden spaces in this old building."

"But… but don't let Ma'am think you're helping me. Don't let her suspect anything."

"I've known that woman for a long time, Raine. I think I can navigate my way around her."

"So… well…" Raine started, a little worried that she had officially spilled the beans and could never pick them back up again. "Be careful, don't do anything noticeable. Please."

Etta stroked Raine's cheek. "Raine. I might not be able to come with you when the time comes, but I promise that I will help you get your brother back. I won't let this place wear you down until you have nowhere else to go. I don't want you to go through what I did."

Raine fell into her arms, her tiny ball of light flickering out as her concentration was drawn away from her magic and onto Etta. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't mention it, love."

Raine bought some strong twine from a boy who played marbles at the harbor. She had thrust herself in his company a few weeks ago, condescending to forfeit a few games, hoping that he might be able to give her what she needed in secrecy, under the guise of children at play. He was a clever boy, a sailor's son, who was a few years younger than Raine and all too eager to play with a calm, collected child older than he was.

Raine knew she was too old for these types of games, and it might have been for this reason that the younger boy enjoyed her company so much. From what he casually told her over their games, he had an elder brother, but he was too mature and proud to play. He was always at sea with their father.

Raine said she wanted to buy some marbles from him. At the Sea Witch, it would be obvious that they would be for Genis or Candle, in case someone was watching her. Here at the harbor, they concealed some strong, thin rope curled at the bottom of the small burlap bag.

The boy hadn't asked any questions. Raine forked over what must've been a small fortune for a kid who was unemployed. She told him the conditions of their trade solemnly but fairly, hoping that he mistrusted adults as much as she did at this point. He did often keep company with smugglers and pirates and other bad examples, owing to his life at the seaside.

"The extra money is for you to buy me and my mother a fare out of town. We can't do it ourselves because my dad will find out," she said, hoping that her excuse was at least reasonably believable.

"Yeah, I heard that kinda story before," he said sympathetically. "My cousin had a dad like that."

"Get us onto a ship next week sometime," she said.

He nodded, handed her the marbles, pocketed her money and smiled. She hoped she hadn't given away her fortune to a swindler.

"If you don't deliver, I'll come find you, and I'll beat you up," she said, just to make sure he got the point.

"You take me for some kinda pirate?" he asked, clearly offended.

Raine bit her lip. "Sorry. I'm... somewhat desperate."

The kid sighed. "Yeah, I know. I won't say anything." He flashed his eyes up at her. "If I get to keep what's left after I buy the tickets."

"Yeah, sure. You can keep it. But if you rat me out, I'll break your arms."

He raised an eyebrow. "Got it, cap'n," he said.

Raine watched him go, holding the marbles to her chest, worrying that he could see right through her bluff, until she realized she wasn't even bluffing. She probably would beat him to a pulp if she found out he'd gone and wasted her opportunity to escape.

She still had a few hours before work, so she slipped back to the library, bag of marbles tucked under her coat. She had to finish this thing, soon, from memory… she only had two more weeks, and no inkling of where her brother was. She started to sweat just thinking about it.

Safe in the shadows of the empty library, she tucked herself into her usual corner and dug the twine out of the bag. She lay it across the bent beams of wood, stretching it, wrapping it, plucking it with a mildly satisfying twang. She knew that she wouldn't have enough time to actually test the thing—she could only hope her calculations had been correct, at least to a functional degree. Other than that, she would have to hope her errors were surmountable.

Her father's voice echoed in her head: If you err, darling, err on the side of the merciful.

And then her mother's voice came rushing in after his: No, Raine, that's nonsense. If you err, err on the side of the explosive.

You want to minimize damage in all acts.

Don't listen to him, dear, he thinks he's so wise. If you're going to fail (and you are, a lot), fail spectacularly. If you must screw up, make a good show of it.

But both of her parents could agree on one thing: try not to fail. Especially when it's important. Especially when life depends on it, when a single wrong move could get you killed, or worse, locked up as a slave in a basement at the University forever.

Raine was fairly sure she had nothing to fear from the University now. Not since they had been absent from her life for almost three years. But it always seemed that eliminating one fear only opened doors for another.

So Raine had to choose her fears carefully. If she wanted to follow her parents' advice, she had to choose her errors and mistakes and failures carefully.

Except she didn't really have a choice in those matters.

Her parents must've been crazy.