It was a warm summer night, just after sundown, when Garrett met Nannade for the first time. Back then, he didn’t know her name, not her real one at least, or whether she was a boy or a girl, butwhat was certainwas that she was a crolachan. Garrett had done his research on that peculiar race of non-humans. Few of them were left on the continent of Ackarom and they stayed huddled close together in coastal cities. Many ship captains had assured him that they made excellent sailors. They climbed faster than most humanswalked, they were small and agile and they were remarkably resilient when it came to blunt force or falls from up high. Ideal for what he had planned for the child.

He was sitting in an inn, chocked with smoky warmth, in one corner of the room. He didn't have his eyes on the maidens, the booze, or any companions as the rest of the tavern’s patrons did. He had his eyes fixed on the stairs leading up from the basement. A few moments ago, a man came from there, checked his belt buckle, and strolled over to his companions' table with a big smirk on his face. Down there had to be where the mother was, and the child.

Garrett had prepared for this night for a long time. He knew all the possible escape routes, he knew where he had a chance of getting out unseen and even if he was caught, he had a plan for that too. The planning had cost him very much. He wasn’t getting paid for this, so he had to hoard a substantial amount of gold to live off from, for the past months and many yet to come. Even his usually well kempt beard had gone raggle-taggle from neglect.

Garrett decided to go through his plan once more. He flipped open a small square notebook with a front and back made of leather and held together by a ring through a hole in one corner. The palm-sized pages were filled with all sorts of diagrams, formulas and geometries written in a dark and iridescent ink. He tore one out and put it face down on the table. The inn's hallways were tight, he might have to fight in confined spaces. One Fog Cloak. He knew he’d need some time alone and undisturbed to get through with his plan. He tore another paper in the same manner; one Door Seal, one more for safety. He knew the basement had one window with iron bars to the street. If he could remove one stone and take one bar out, he could climb out onto the street. One Stone Grind. He might also encounter unwelcome people and needed to incapacitate them, just for a while. Two Constrictors. If he ended up being followed by the guards outside, he needed some distraction to get them off his trail. One Needless Call. Three Fuses. And finally, he did what he always did, at least one for unexpected situations. One Invisible Fist.

He looked at the range of papers now laying on the table in front of him. Then he put them under his waistband in the same sequence, saying their names again in his head each time, he bound the leather envelope of the notebook closed. He checked a glass flask in a special pouch on his belt. A ring rested on its neck, attached to a string hanging into the flask. Its content was a precious dark iridescent liquid. With the pouch closed,no one would suspect such a flask to be inside. He was ready to make his move. For a final time, he collected his thoughts and headed over to the stairs. Down in the narrow hallway he could see three doors and a guard waiting there. Although "guard" was a generous term. More like a broad-built man with a whacking stick, about as wide and tall as Garrett himself, but more owed to fat and menial labour than training and hardening. Garrett gave the guard a silver coin and he opened the door to the right and let Garrett in.

Inside, Garrett saw what he had expected: three boxes like in a stable. The first stood open, inside a crolachan woman in a ragged dress on a pile of straw, chained to a wall. In the third, a small crolachan child, blindfolded and cloths over its ears, wearing a ragged tunica. The second box was empty. The woman looked like an average crolachan; she was a bit smaller than human women, about as wide, giving her a stout appearance, and covered in a very short but dense fur. Her eyes were golden, her ears long and mobile, between her legs a short, thin tail peeked forth. Probably an exotic beauty once, but now mostly worn down and covered in swellings and scabs, that much Garrett could tell even by the weak light of the candles on the wall. Her neck was branded with a collar of marks, glowing in a faint blue. Her eyes acknowledged him and filled with sorrow and shame, then she turned them away and slowly opened her legs. The stench of her previous patron filled the air. He couldn’t help but feel that someone else was in the room with him. He brushed it off as his usually vigilant mind, he was pressed for time, after all.

Garrett paid the woman little heed and instead looked at the child in the other corner. It breathed slowly but deeply, it knew someone had entered the room, knees drawn all the way close to its face. Its coat had no sheen or lustre to it, but no visible scabs or wounds, either.

He made his way over to the woman, knelt next to her and bent down to her ear. “I am here to make a trade with you.”

With a cautious voice she answered: “What do I have that I could trade?”

"That child in the corners is yours, yes?"

She nodded.

"and it too has the collar of slavery on its neck, yes?"

Again, she nodded.

"I have learned of a method to remove the collar."

The woman took a deep breath. "That would kill her, idiot."

"I know the blood magic of the sigils well enough to transfer the killing function of her collar to another slave collar of the same kind."

The woman seemed to take a while to understand, the swallowed and took another deep breath. "That would be mine, wouldn't it?"

"Yes. The collar needs to take a life in order to cease its function."

Another short pause.

"Why would you go to such lengths?"

"Ending injustice in rotten places like this is my profession, my calling. I intend to train her to one day do the same."

The woman took a deep and thoughtful look into Garrett’s eyes, their eyes only a few inches apart. He could feel the judgement of a mother weighing heavy on him.

"I will not use her as some sacrifice or put her to work in a brothel, that much I promise."

“Why her?”

“Because those of my profession must not suffer injustice by the hands of the powerful, their conviction must come from deep within.”

A pause. "Can I talk to her a last time?"

“Aye”

Garrett stood up and began pulling several objects from his pockets. A leather sheath with various small tools, a crystal glass vial as big as a thumb, an empty glass crystal inkwell, a metal quill on an ivory shaft, and a paper scroll. He took lock picks from the sheath and walked over to the child. First, he caressed her softly to sooth her, then picked the big padlock holding all the chains together. He took off the blindfolds. The girl looked at Garrett with perplexity. The mother spoke as loudly as she dared to. "It's alright sweetie. This man will take you away from here. He'll set you free. Come here to me!"

The girl, with disbelief in her eyes, crawled over to the mother. She cradled the girl and whispered things in herear, rocking back and forth.

It was taking quite some time and Garrett looked to the door. He reached into the pouch on his left hip and put the ring with the thread on his finger, then he took one paper from his waistband, put it over the gap between door and stone wall, imagined thumb and middle finger of a hand pressing against each other in his head and released them into a mental SNAP of the fingers. The ink lines flared up into fire and the paper quickly went up in a puff of flame. Where the paper had been, the formula had turned from ink into an apparition of glowing threads on the surface of the door and wall.

He turned around. Mother and child were still embracing each other. One of them did not seem to entirely grasp the gravity of this moment. When the mother saw Garrett standing next to her, his keen eyes piercing her teary eyes, she gave the child a last kiss and put the blindfold back on.

Garrett knelt down, unrolled the paper scroll and weighed the edges down with rocks. It had many diagrams and glyphs sketched on it with coal, much more than the spells on the little papers. He took the woman's hand and pricked her finger with his dagger. He guided her hand to put her finger into the inkwell and let the blood flow out. Then he dipped his quill into the blood and started tracing the coal lines.

It took a while and he had to open the woman's wound wider more than once. She did not let any sign of pain pass her lips for the entire ordeal. After all the lines were drawn with blood, he opened her wound up a last time, all the way down to the palm, held it above the vial and squeezed until it had filled completely, then he put the plug in and put it down in the middle of the paper. Her lips had been bitten bloody by her silent strain.

He reached for the child's head and pushed it on the paper, then did the same with the woman's on the opposing side of the paper. She whispered a "thank you." Then he started the incantation.

The marks on both necks began to glow brighter. The woman started to breathe heavily. Her hands shot to her neck, trying to free herself from its choking grasp. Garrett had to apply more and more force down on her head to keep her from struggling off the paper. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets, her mouth gaped wide. Where her skin was free of fur, such as in her ears and around her eyes, he could see the healthy pink vanish into paleness, the claws on her fingers began to scratch deep into her skin, but little blood flowed forth. Garrett ignored these distractions and concentrate on his incantations.

The marks on their necks started to burn brighter and brighter and then, suddenly their colour shifted. The child's marks were starting to turn a flaming orange, the woman's marks a bright purple.

A bang on the door. "EY, any longer and you'll have to pay again, you hear me?" The guard sounded annoyed already. Garrett had no time to answer. He continued with his whispered incantations, formulas and calculations.

The guard tried to open the door, but the seal held, flaring up in blazing lines with each push.

“EY, OPEN UP!” Again and again, the guard threw himself against the door, the seal strained and sparks flew, the banging stopped. Footsteps were heard going up the stairs, then shortly after, more footsteps down the stairs.

Garrett heard another voice “What did he lock it with? There's nothing in there!”

“Maybe he used magic?” the fat guard said.

“Bloody-arse mages!”

The banging resumed, more violently than before, the seal leaking more and more sparks, but the marks on the necks of mother and child were not yet done resisting.

TWIAENG

With a sound like splintering glass and tearing metal, the seal broke and the door flew open, the marks had reached their breaking point; a sharp fizzle, and the marks on their necks had gone out like a candle’s wick. The two guards stormed towards Garrett, the first one yelled “EY, HANDS OFF THE LITTLE GIRL!”

Garrett rolled to the side without sparing time to look back. The guard’s club whacked on the floor harshly just a breath later. The second guard struck out for a kick. Garrett blocked the foot with crossed arms.

He reached for one of the papers, the Constrictor, held it between in front of his eyes at arm’s length, imagined the tensed fingers in his head and let it SNAP. The guard fell to the floor, tied up and gagged with invisible ropes. The first guard swung again, Garrett rolled back, drew another paper, tensed up and cast the second Constrictor. He too fell to the floor, unable to do anything but struggle against his invisible bindings. Garrett stood up, exhaled to relaxation and looked around the room.

The door stood open, the stench of burnt hair and skin had been added to the room, the blindfolded child was huddled against the wall, rocking back and forth, the mother’s lifeless body lay on the floor. The room was silent safe for angry, muffled screams.

Garrett knew the Constrictors wouldn’t last long and moved on with his plan. He walked to the child and whispered in her ear "We'll be leaving now. Just follow my lead." Garrett got quickly to packing all his things back where they belonged, burned the large paper scroll in the candle on the wall, and took the still blindfolded girl by the hand.

He left the guards and the corpse in the room and closed the door behind him; he didn’t want her to see this scene. He turned to his right. The tavern had a low window from the basement to the street somewhere, barred with iron, it had to be in one of the other rooms. He checked in the first and found no source of light. He checked in the second and saw the faint light from the street lamps shine in. He closed the door behind him and applied the second door seal. Then he took the blindfolds off the child. They were soaked in tears and snot. She looked at him with big wet eyes.

“Just trust me and be quiet, do you understand?”

The child nodded.

The room they were in was obviously a storage room; many crates and bags were blocking his path. He moved a few crates to get to the window, pulled out the Stone Grind and applied it to the wall above the iron bars. With another SNAP, stone crumbled to sand and dust. He pulled out two of the iron bars. It made the resulting hole just big enough, hopefully.

Sudden bangs, rattling and curses on the door hurried him along, the child winced at the noise and shrank away from the door, pressing her body to the nearest wall. The seal would hold long enough for him to continue as planned. Quickly Garrett lifted the child outside, then he exhaled to make himself as thin as possible and forced himself through as well. With a lot of squeezing he managed to get out.

The sky was already dark. The tavern was not far from the city walls, but he could not get out through the gates at night. He knew of a simple way to get up via a broken stairway, but the girl moved clumsily, wobbling on her feet. He went around the corner of the tavern, pulled out the Needless Call and one Fuse, pressed one of them above the other onto the tavern’s wall, tensed his thoughts and whispered to the paper “Here, I found him here!” then he let his mind SNAP again. A spark appeared on the Fuse’s paper, slowly moving along the single trailing and meandering line that filled the entire paper. Garrett went back around the way he came. He knelt down in front of the girl and beckoned her to climb on his back. With the girl piggyback, he ran down the streets. His memory led him through a narrow passage away from any patrolling guards or curious people who might find a man carrying a small child on his back in the dark of the night interesting enough to investigate.

Shortly after he had arrived at the broken stairway, he heard his own voice yelling from the distance “Here, I found him here!” He knew he still had time and got back to his plan. He had to find a thin thread he had tied to a rope up on the broken stairs earlier in preparation. His fingers quickly moved through the air close to the broken wall and eventually got hold of the thread in the darkness. He pulled on it and the rope uncoiled from above. He climbed up himself and then told the girl to hold on tightly to the rope, then pulled her up. Here he had also stashed the rest of his pack, under some rubble.

Up on the wall, he looked left and right. He could tell by the torches, that the next guard patrols were far away and slow. He told the girl again to hold on to the rope and lowered her down the outside of the wall, then he followed.

Another tug on the thread and the knot that fastened the rope to the top of the wall came undone. He tied one end of the rope around the child's waist and held on to the other end.Together they headed along the hedges and fields towards the forest in the distance, swallowed by the darkness of the night.