Arn found himself in a forest, trees covered in snow and not a sound to be heard. The crisp air hung about without as much as a breeze. He heard a low croaking sound in the distance - a raven, more than one? He looked around, not sure how to move forward. Soft steps caught his attention, he turned towards them but saw nothing. He felt them upon the snow more than he heard them - a distant curiosity brushed up to his consciousness, but it was too faint to break through. The steps grew louder and faster, he saw a large feline shape moving towards him through the trees, not disturbing a single branch. It was as though the trees grew precisely where they did in order to accommodate the passage of the animal.

The feline shape grew clearer, and a large snow leopard launched at him. He noted the distant echo of his fear somewhere outside himself, though it seemed to hesitate, uncertain, and dulled. The leopard's leap was slow and graceful, the beast soared, slowing down the closer it got to Arn. He finally raised his arms and felt something push at his shoulder.

He blinked and the forest faded, leaving only darkness in its stead. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw a shadow before him. It was backlit by a barely perceptible trickle of warm light from what looked like an ajar door.

“You’re finally awake” she said - a familiar feminine voice.

Arn felt a hard surface behind him. He raised himself up against it and shifted to the side. “What, what happened? Where am I?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, you are safe.”

“Someone attacked me” he touched the back of his head - it was tender, but there was no blood.

"Yes, I know."

"Where am I? What is this?"

"You're safe, that's all that matters."

"Can I leave?" he asked, though he could guess the answer.

“No, Arn.”

His stomach dropped, he looked around, blinking furiously, trying to see in the dim lighting. As far as he could tell he was in a small cell, the damp and mouldy aroma suddenly registered in his mind. “Am I your prisoner?” he asked, voice shaking.

“A prisoner? I hate that word” she said, “far too much weight for a word describing a temporary state of our relationship." She rose to her feet to loom over Arn, he looked up, but her face was still shadowed.

“You, you can’t, you don’t understand, someone will find me," he stammered.

"No one will find you," she said.

"Yes, they will, the Inspectorate - I bet you didn't know, did you - they will find me!" Arn said and his voice came out as a hiss.

His captor loomed over him silently for several long seconds. "No one will find you."

Arn's heart beat faster and he felt it in his chest and ears. He clenched his fist. "Let me go! I won't tell, just let me go and I will..." he trailed off as the woman turned away and walked a few steps.

“Oh, young and foolish Arn,” she said. "You and I will be good friends, in time." Just then a faint light flickered through a small opening beside the two of them, it illuminated her face enough for Arn to see. His stomach dropped when he recognized her. He knew her voice of course, but his mind refused to accept it, not until he saw her. “Rana?” he whispered, “why are you doing this?”

She smiled softly, almost in a motherly manner, "because I care about you, Arn. I care enough to help you." she said.

"You're crazy..." he whispered.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself” she said. "Everyone's a little off balance at first."

"Off balance? You knocked me out and abducted me!" he yelled; the sound echoed briefly in the empty room.

"I didn't abduct you, silly!” she smiled. "I am freeing you!"

A ball formed in his throat. Not now, he thought, she won't get the satisfaction. He bit his tongue, tasting copper - but the jolt of pain pushed the tears away. His fists clenched hard enough for the nails to dig into his skin.

“I think you’ll see the irony in this” Rana continued, her tone suggesting a light chat between two friends. “I am a liberator," she said and raised her arms. "You!" she pointed at him "you are closer to being free than you've ever been in your life."

Arn laughed despite himself. She joined him. "I know, it is quite funny - the beginning is always the hard part," she said and took a deep breath to calm herself. Rana took out something from her pocket and brought it to her lips - a small spark lit what turned out to be a pipe. She puffed it and let the smoke flow from her nostrils. “From Greyland." she said. "It's the country west of us, it's quite good - do you smoke?" Arn glared at her, his courage entirely fuelled by the pain from his injured tongue, his fists clenched harder.

"Suite yourself!" she said, and puffed it slowly, enjoying the flavour and sensation. "It's too cold here, the tobacco plant won't grow," she took a few steps across the room. By now the smoke reached Arn, he sensed the soft fruity smell of it. Rana must have noticed as she came closer and crouched before him, then blew the smoke in his face. The fruity taste was stronger, but it remained quite soft - far softer than the smoke from the pipes the old men in Nysaros used to smoke. Rana nodded at him and whispered, “it’s very soft, isn’t it?”. Arn glared at her - she held his gaze for a moment then stood back up.

“Do you know why I call myself a liberator?” she asked. When Arn didn’t respond she smirked, "you used to be a tad more talkative."

“You used to be a tad less,” he paused, "crazy." Arn shuddered and his own trembling voice.

“That wasn’t very nice,” she said and wagged her finger at him, then straightened herself, puffed up her chest and put her hands on her waist. "Don’t I look like the heroes of old?”

Arn continued to watch her but said nothing. "I think I came too soon,” she finally said and dropped her pose. "I was too excited to see you again! See what liking someone too much does?" she shook her head in mock disappointment, then walked towards the door. "Be sure to get in a chattier mood next time, won’t you dear?” With that, she left the cell and locked the door behind her.

The door had a small window at the top which let a dim flickering light into the cell. It was barely enough for Arn to see that the cell was small and dirty. He couldn’t move. The act of processing all that had happened sapped all energy from his body. The Inspectorate will have to come - they can’t leave one of their own inspectors. Can they? He wondered, vainly attempting to reassure himself. Arn had never heard of anything the Inspectorate did wrong - no one spoke ill of them. You just don’t do such things - you don’t jump off roofs, don’t try to breathe underwater, and don’t judge the actions of the Inspectorate. If they did leave him, no one would doubt that it was the right thing to do. Maybe it is the right thing to do, said a voice in the back of his mind, maybe they should leave you here - “No!” he hissed into the darkness.

Arn tried his arms and legs - bruised but nothing serious, no shackles either. He stood up gingerly and inspected his cell. Rana’s tobacco smoke still hung in the air but did little to mask the scent of sweat, dampness, and human waste.

He couldn’t tell how long Rana stayed away. No means by which to measure the passage of time were available to him. None aside from the food that was brought in - he’d eaten several times and so concluded that a few days at the very least had passed. Food was perhaps not the most appropriate word for what he was brought - a lumpy cold porridge. He was glad for the darkness as without it he may not have been able to force the vile thing down. He nearly threw up the first time - but hunger won out. The person who brought his food never stayed long and most of his time was spent in darkness, silence, and solitude. He found himself looking forward to seeing her again. To hear someone’s voice, and to speak. He’d decided to find out what she wanted of him, perhaps if he brought information to the Inspectorate, they would forgive him this blunder. Perhaps if he told her more information, she'd let him go.

Arn felt a hand on his shoulder. “Good morning!” Rana said cheerily. Arn blinked, the darkness of his cell was lessened by the light streaming from the partly opened door. She looked at the handful of bowls on the floor, most of them empty, and winked at him. She stood up and loomed over him. "Sit," she said as he tried to get up. She clasped her hands behind her back and paced about in the small cell. “Well, you’ve made it your own, haven’t you?” she quipped.

“What do you want?” Arn asked.

“Is this how you greet an old friend? Where are your manners, young man?” she wagged a finger at him.

“You're not my friend!” he replied.

"That hurts!" she mocked him. "I can leave, of course, if you'd rather have more time to yourself?"

"No," he said, unable to stop himself.

"What was that?"

"No."

"No, what?" she asked.

"Don't leave..." he whispered.

"Louder!"

"Don't leave." He said aloud.

“There it is," she smiled. "You misunderstand our relationship, Arn. I am making a significant effort to be nice - but you're right, I am not your friend.” She took out her pipe. Arn welcomed the soft fruity smoke that followed.

“I’m not your enemy either - I am your liberator!” she exclaimed triumphantly, raising her arms towards the ceiling as she did that first time. She looked down at him, “nothing? Maybe I should go.”

“No!” Arn yelped “you are the liberator, fine” he gave in. He desperately wished to keep her there, to not be alone, to smell the fruity smoke which masked the stench of the cell. “What,” he swallowed, “what am I liberated from?”

“A few days to cool off was just what the apothecary ordered!” she puffed her pipe and relished it for a moment. “That’s the right question, Arn. Very astute - what am I liberated from?” she spread her arms and looked at him. “You tell me!”

“What?” despite his exhaustion, the smallest of ambers reignited in his belly, “just tell me!”

“Hmm, time in the cell slowed you down - perhaps I should speak plainer." She ignored his grimace, “you only think that you’re a prisoner because you can see the cell - “she motioned around them “last week you were a prisoner in an invisible cell.”

“Invisible cell? Last week I wasn't in any cell, I could go where I wanted!”

“Oh, really, anywhere you wanted?” she leaned towards him. “Did you decide to visit Kalarhan of your own free will, to see the decrepit statues and unkempt architecture?”

“No, but -”

“It’s not an obvious cell - it’s a cell for your thoughts,” Rana cut him off.

“A cell for my mind?” Arn asked “what, like a skull?”

Rana blinked at him, then let out a loud guffaw and pointed “that’s more like it!” she laughed “clever boy!” she said and shook her head. “No, not a skull. It’s not a physical prison for your pink fleshy brain, it’s for your mind, your thoughts, your feelings. It’s worse than any physical cell you’ll ever visit because you take it with you wherever you go.”

“Last week I was free,” Arn protested.

“Oh?” she said with mock surprise “were you now?”

“Yes!” he replied.

“This feels like a Deja vu - let me see if I follow,” she puffed on her pipe. “One day you woke up and decided that it’s time to visit Kalarhan, pretend to be an historian in training, and take some notes of their activities - did I get it right?” she asked him.

“Well, no” he said, “the Inspectorate - “he stopped “everyone has to -” the words died before he could speak them.

“The best part of such a cell is that you feel free when inside of it, and you can’t see it unless it’s already breaking down.” She approached him and crouched down “I am here to put a few cracks into that cell of yours and give you a hand at breaking free from it.”

“But” he protested, “you imprisoned me.”

“And here I thought we were making progress,” she said. "Listen to me, Arn - until you are physically imprisoned,” she clenched her hand into a fist in front of him, “until you experience what it feels like to be in undeniable captivity,” she drew closer, “until you know the pain of it deep in your soul - you have no means by which to free yourself from your mind's prison.”

Rana drew from her pipe and blew the smoke in his face, Arn flinched but the scent was pleasant. She watched him for a moment, then stood up. “I will ask for better food for you - I think we’re making progress, you deserve it” she winked.

Arn watched her leave the small cell and heard the click of the lock. Darkness deepened around him as he heard her footsteps fade slowly. “Lies,” he whispered, “they are trying to make me believe in their stories.” Arn pulled his knees close and wrapped his arms around his legs. I - I just know it, he thought. The summons is an honour, a test for those who might join the Inspectorate for real. It’s not a prison. “She knows nothing!” he mumbled.

Arn shivered, he felt chills flow through him whenever Rana came to talk. I am angry with her, not afraid, it’s not from fear - but from anger! He tried reassuring himself. The next meal he ate was nearly identical to what he had at the inn - so she kept her word, doesn’t matter, she’s just trying to trick me, he thought. Arn ate the breakfast and set the plate aside, he slumped against one of the cell walls and forced himself to remember the food his mother packed for him. He thought of their talk, and how she insisted he take the food anyway - he tried to remember all the intricacies of the flavours and scents. Eyes closed he nearly forgot where he was - but the thoughts brought him peace. He knew one thing - he didn’t trust Rana. How could she have fooled him so easily back when she pretended to teach him? She was too good at lying - his father always said that those who excel at lying must have a great deal of practice, and that in itself is cause for caution. No, he wouldn’t believe her - but perhaps she could believe him. He had to learn more about what was going on - the Inspectorate would want to know.