0 - 0 - 0 - 20:24 - Evanescent

Evanescent wandered through the lab of the Queen’s Witch, Morgana. She found her in a back corner kneeling before a life-sized statue of Ivankara, the Mother of Quies, the field of magic generally practiced in the Kingdom of Cowen. The statue stood upon a high plinth overlooking the entire lab, her features carved in striking detail. This was certainly a museum quality piece. Evanescent had always been awed by the expressiveness  captured in the statue’s eyes. Particularly, when contrasted with the blank, steel covering Ivankara’s lower face - the Gag of Complicites.

Supposedly, in the distant past, the patriarchy of the land decided to steal the voices of all women. Ivankara was a powerful witch who the warlocks of the time tricked into donning the Gag of Complicites which infused itself into the very structure of the bones of her face, silencing her voice forever.  Even worse, the Gag was designed to speak for her causing her to go about issuing decrees that were in direct opposition to the best interests of herself (and women in general). And due to her trusted influence, the general status of women as first class citizens tipped into decline.

Fortunately, Ivankara was able to combat the powers that had taken possession of her words. By developing a new train of magical thought, not grounded in the chants and intonations of spells, but rather through motion and silence. She was able to block the words which before had spewn from her gagged mouth and re-establish a degree of feminine influence in the power structure of the land. She was credited for establishing the tradition of pairing a royal family member with their own dedicated witch. A tradition now practiced in many of the regional kingdoms, including here in Cowen, and Joppa-by-the-Sea, too.

She was the reason that Evanescent and Morgana had any influence today as the Princess’ Witch and the Queen’s witch respectively.

Evanescent quickly bowed to the statue, rendered so beautifully in stone and its shining metal face plate.

Upon her arrival and out of tradition, Morgana said, “The story of the Mother Witch teaches us to not rely on the possession of all our faculties but the rather to study the power of each and choose the path which provides the greatest result with the minimum of display.”

To which Evanescent, the younger of the two, replied as prescribed by tradition: “Yes, Mother. And within the meekest amongst the subjected shall coalesce the greatest of Magics.”

After a moment’s silence, Evanescent stood and held out a steadying hand for Morgana to rise.

“And so, the Princess is off on her journey to Joppa?” Morgana asked.

“Yes, they set off just a few hours ago,” Evanescent replied.

“And Pet has been properly installed within her carriage?”

“Yes, the Princess is aware that Pet is now the replacement carrier of the Crown’s Concern Infection in lieu of Slave Karma, P-346.”

“Excellent!” Morgana said and with a sweeping gesture of her robes directed Evanescent’s attention to a table draped in animal skins prepared with the highest of quality. “Come and see.”

Evanescent looked at the skins and found full scale images of Karma’s naked body from various angles hand drawn in exacting detail. The contours of her body and hair were presented in black lines and shaded with grays. Meanwhile, the constellation of Karma’s body jewelry was depicted with an extreme degree of precision in three colors: blue, purple and red. An intricate series of marks bordered the drawings measured out in regular repeated patterns. The depictions could have passed for architectural drawings were it not that a naked woman was the subject matter.

“Impressive detail,” Evanescent said as she looked over the drawings.

“Yes. It must be very precise,” Morgana said as she ambled towards another table. “And here is the design that you will need to maintain.”

Evanescent walked over to the second table and found another set of drawings. This time the model was Pet, her naked body depicted in the same array of angles and positions as the drawings of Karma. The image of Pet currently included no depictions of piercings, although it did show her Pleasure Slave tattoo in exacting detail. Up the in top left corner, Evanescent noticed that the array of symbols that Morgana had recorded from the machine used to infect Pet had been recently added to the drawings. The ink bottle was still on the table and the ink used in creating the symbols looked a little darker than the rest of the drawing as though it was still wet.

(Did Morgana create this entire depiction of Pet since Karma disappeared?)

“This is where you will need to both document and, as well, guide the infection,” Morgana explained. “The infection may be controlled if you can somehow focus its attack on a victim. If the progress of the infection is left unregulated, it will advance randomly and unpredictably and with extremely… shocking results.” Morgana pointed her finger at the drawing. “Nothing but the utmost precision is required.”



0 - 0 - 0 - 21:42 - Ileana

As soon as Ileana passed into the human woman’s sarcophagus, she knew that her ward was going to be an annoyance. There seemed to be phases that those that have been buried alive go through. She’d seen all this before.

“Oh, thank the Goddess you are back!” the woman cried - a certain degree of mania in her voice. “I was really worried that you were gone.”

“No. Not gone,” Ileana sighed as she slid her way forward, replenishing the air-refreshing sedgeling weeds as she moved.

“I’ve been thinking that I just can’t lie here and wait to be saved. I need to do things to help prepare for my rescue or perhaps even take on tasks that could precipitate my escape.”

“What do you want me to do?” Ileana said with the utmost lack of enthusiasm possible.

“Well…” the woman began, “since you can see in this darkness, I was hoping that you would look at the cuffs on my wrists and ankles. See if you can find a keyhole. I think the first thing that I should do is get out of these shackles so I can move around a little.”

“I told you last time,” Ileana replied, “that I see heat. These shackles are cold and dead. They don’t give off heat. I can see where they have bound your limbs only by the absence of the exposure of your flesh.”

“Ok, yeah, well, maybe you could feel around for the keyhole…” the human woman suggested.

“Right. You want me to look for a keyhole.” Ileana levered herself further into the grave, following the woman’s outstretched arm to where her wrist was captured by the shackle. “I suppose that this is when you are going to ask me to pick the lock somehow…”

“Well, if you could just examine the locking mechanism…”

“I can only see things that give off heat,” Ileana said.

“Yes, but maybe you could feel around…”

“And what? Use a fingernail to pick the lock?” Ileana asked sarcastically.

“Yes! Maybe it’s not very complicated.”

Ileana let out a dramatic sigh, but, still, began to feel around the woman’s wrist cuff for the keyhole. She was able to lift the woman’s arm only a little, the chains had been pulled so tautly. Her investigation even surprised Ileana, herself. “Hmm…”

“Did you find something?” the woman asked hopefully.

“No,” Ileana said.

“No?”

“Yes, I mean there does not seem to be a keyhole…” Ileana continued to feel around the cuff as best as possible.

“Maybe there is a slot or a seam. Or maybe something on the top or bottom edge…” the human woman suggested.

“No,” Ileana replied as she checked, yet again.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’? How the fuck are they supposed to be taken off? There must be something. You’re not looking closely enough.”

“I’m telling you. There is no seam. It’s smooth. All the way around.”

“Bullshit! Look closer! I can’t look! I would if I could. But I’m the one lying here in this fucking… this fucking grave! I can barely move anything at all. Maybe my fingers and toes. I can barely turn my head!”

“You can move your mouth,” Ileana muttered, but the woman did not seem to hear.

“Please! I can’t lie here like this constantly. Check the chain! Maybe there is a clip of some kind.”

Ileana ran her fingers along the chain. Each link was a thick and perfectly unblemished oval - its center wide enough to encompass the cross-section of steel of each of its neighboring links. “These chains are really well made.”

“Check where the chain is attached to the wall of the sarcophagus! Maybe there is a plate that is bolted to the wall that you can… unscrew or something?”

“The chain in embedded into the wall which is made of stone of some sort,” Ileana said.

“Maybe you can dig it out somehow…”

“What?! With my fingernail?”

“Uh, yeah, or whatever…”

“The wall is made of stone… hard stone… I can’t scratch through it!” Ileana felt that she was about done with this stupid human by this point.

“Well, maybe if you scratched at it just a little every time you visit...  A tree root can grow through stone after all. It just takes time… And I’ve got time…”

“Look! I hate to be so blunt,” Ileana said coldly. “But, all evidence suggests that this sarcophagus was built for you personally. The cuffs fit your wrists and your ankles and your neck perfectly. The chains are the perfect length to hold you immobile in here. The size of the enclosure is perfect for you with enough left over space for me to get around. This was no random act. Somebody wanted you buried. You! Everything in here has been measured precisely for you. Whoever did this knew your exact measurements. They want you here in this box.” Ileana made her point by pressing her finger into the woman’s chest each time she said the word “you”. “Give up on trying to escape. You’ll drive yourself crazy. You’ll just have to wait to see if... IF someone comes.”

The woman began squirming more and more as Ileana spoke. Her face contorting, her fists clenching and twisting. “I can’t just fucking wait! I can’t  fucking move! Don’t you understand? That is what is going to drive me crazy! I need to move! Do you know what it is like? Unable to move or see or anything? You can see and you can move in and out…”

Ileana grabbed a handful of the woman’s hair and yanked her head. “That is it! You need to shut up now. I do not want to have to listen to your fucking wailing any longer. Shut up!”

“You’re choking me,” the stupid human whispered. Ileana had pulled her hair hard enough such that the steel collar had reached the limits of its short tether. The edge of the collar had begun to dig into the human woman’s throat.

“I should fucking kill you!” Ileana screamed, although she loosened her grip on the woman’s hair. “Then I would be done with moving in and out of your damn grave. Your grave! This is your grave! Your final resting place. Fucking rest in peace, stupid, fucking human.”

The woman began to let out a cry of despair, but it quickly transformed into an ear shattering scream of rage.

“Shut up!” Ileana pushed her breast into the woman’s mouth strangling her cry. “Do not fucking bite me. You are going to shut up now. You are going to nurse now. My breasts are full and in pain. And you are going to nurse and I am going to do the things that I am required to do. And then I am out of here!”




0 - 0 - 0 - 23:15 - Maisie

Maisie was draped across a table, drugged, unable to move at all, naked, with her eyes taped closed. She could hear and feel and think clearly though, and her heart was pounding so hard and fast that her unresponsive body was shaking. Dr. Norost had decided to “measure” Piper first. Maisie had heard the doctor instructing the Dirt Room Women how to position Piper on the machine. Once she was satisfied the doctor had turned the machine on and the racket it made quickly drowned out Piper’s feeble whimpers.

There had been a whooshing sound like air being sucked out of a compartment and then a burst of a multitude of metallic clicks, followed quickly by Piper’s muffled scream. Maisie felt her heart beat faster as she desperately willed her muscles to respond to her commands to react.

There was a low frequency hum which quickly ramped up in volume causing Maisie to cringe in anticipation for the howl of pain that followed. When Piper did scream, it was loud for a moment  until her voice was suddenly stripped of its beauty leaving nothing but a rasping choking sound. Something seemed to be blocking Piper’s mouth, because her voice did not recover and Maisie could hear the panic build around the gasping choking sounds.

By the next time the whoosh of air could be heard, Piper’s choking had ceased altogether. She made no sounds at all as the machine continued through its algorithm of torture. Maisie strained her ears for any sign of life.

Divinica had not seemed interested in executing Maisie or her lover, Piper. Maisie had known Divinica via her aunt and was all too aware of her sadism. Still, Maisie was certain that Divinica would subject her to a special torture simply to get under her aunt’s skin. She hoped that Divinica’s sadism would help keep Maisie alive long enough to find a way out of this situation. Or at least to save Piper. That’s all she really cared about now.

Eventually, the machine stopped and Maisie heard the shuffle of the Dirt Room Women as they moved about, apparently extracting Piper’s body. They were coming for her next. She could not afford to think about that though, willing herself to breathe as calmly as possible, listening for any sign that Piper was still alive.

She had found no evidence either way by the time she felt hands pull at her jaw, wedging some sort of padded ring between her upper and lower teeth. She was grasped at an arm and a leg and dragged to the edge of the table. She tried to speak, but was only able to let out a shapeless moan. She tried to infuse her moans with a sense of desperation, hoping to elicit some form of sympathy from the Dirt Room Woman who were carrying her to the machine. But they seemed incapable of either understanding or concern.

Dr. Norost had provided Maisie and Piper a short “tour” of the measuring machines before having their eyes taped closed. One machine looked like a large table whose surface was constructed with a tight metal lattice. The lattice though was made of a myriad of tiny interlocking cylinder each with its open end facing up. The cylinders could move vertically independently from their neighbors so that when Maisie was draped upon the table she seemed to sink into the surface until she reached some equilibrium in which her body was supported by the thousands of cylinders she lay upon. Still, with her weight so distributed across so many cylinders, more than half her body lay above the surrounding surface. The Dirt Room Women arranged Maisie’s unresponsive body, pulling her arms and legs into a spread eagle fashion. They adjusted her head so her open mouth was pointed straight up.

Meanwhile, a second surface, similarly constructed, was suspended above the first. With a press of a button, the suspended surface slowly descended, sandwiching Maisie in between - another array of thousands of cylinders now also pressed down from above. Those cylinders that were not impeded by Maisie’s flesh continued down until they mated with those from the bottom surface completely concealing Maisie’s body within. With the ring gag holding her mouth open and the angle that her head had been arranged, a large number of the cylinders had descended into her mouth and pushed against her tongue. Maisie’s panicked breath whistled through the interstices of the lattice of cylinders as she fought off waves of claustrophobia.

She’d felt this way before occasionally, when her mind had awoken from a dream but sleep still lay heavy upon her body pushing her down, preventing her from moving, filling her with terror.  

Maisie heard a compressor activate with a chugging and a wheeze and a burst of air flushed throughout the machine. The air drove small dull spikes forcefully like tiny pistons through all the cylinders surrounding Maisie’s body, each pressing, but not quite piercing her skin. A scream erupted from her chest. She felt as though she were lying on a bed of nails, except equally in all directions at the same time. There was no longer up or down. Her heart pounded and blood flushed into the capillaries closest to the surface of her skin, elevating the prickling sensations further.

She still could not force her muscles to answer commands. Her breathing continued to grow more panicked. Some cylinders had slipped deeply into her open mouth pressing her tongue down. More still pressed against her nose and upper lip making her feel suffocated. Each breath forced her chest to expand, pressing further against the activated spikes.

She could feel the spikes all around her like some advanced tech, soft-core, iron maiden - pressing against her taped eyes, pulling against the shells of her ears, lancing her hardened nipples, her belly button, her sex, insinuating their way within the cleft of her buttocks. She could even feel them pressing firmly on the soft webbing between her fingers and toes.

She was held thus for a long moment as the machine’s sensors recorded the position of all the cylinders and spikes creating an precise representation of Maisie’s body. Just as she began to get her anxiety under control, she heard a hum around her and what started as a tickling sensation rippling across her skin turned quickly to something more severe as an electrical current was applied to all the spikes.

Ants! A memory flashed through Maisie’s head of a childhood picnic and a hill of fire ants. She had felt the tickle of a multitude of tiny feet crawling up her leg and as she’d brushed them away they all began to bite. Thirty two bites in all. She remembered counting all the raised welts. This was worse.

At first she thought that her skin was on fire, but then the voltage really kicked in and her muscles began to contract, guided by the machine in waves up and down her body - the cylinders rising and falling with each forced flex. Her muscles buckled and cramped as directed by the electrical currents causing the the array of cylinders to rattle and creak as she flopped around. A wave of electricity exploded through her sex and across her convulsing abdomen, along the underside of her breasts, up her neck and into her mouth where she was gagging against her pinioned tongue. Drool began to pool and she coughed. She was drowning! Electricity rippled across her face. Her eyes rolled back in her head. A blessed blanket of unconsciousness enveloped Maisie as the machine ran its routine, ever measuring.


0 - 0 - 1 - 00:30 - Aife

The common room of the Princess’ Slave Quarters was packed with women when Aife arrived.

“I’m looking for the cell that Slave Karma used,” she said to a group of women. They all eyed her quietly, until one finally said, “Slave Zeigh can get you in.” The woman who spoke nodded her head towards the courtyard. “She’s flitting around naked outside.” All the women started laughing, turning away from Aife.

She walked out into the courtyard and found a young woman sitting in the grass next to a pile of red and yellow leaves fallen from the few trees maintained in the area. She was naked except for some leaves that had been woven into a braid. Aife noticed that her neck was paler than the rest of her skin. She had recently had her slave collar removed as part of the Princess’ Slave Emancipation.

“Hello,” Aife said as she approached. “Are you Zeigh?”

“Yes,” she said turning away from the pile of leaves. “I’m Slave Zeigh.”

“But, you’re not a slave anymore, right?” Aife asked. “The Princess has emancipated all the slaves that did not go with her.”

“Yes, I am free to do whatever I want now,” Zeigh said enthusiastically. “But, my first name is Slave.”

“Oh, OK. Well, I was hoping to get a look at the cell that Slave Karma used and the women inside said that you might be able to help me…”

“She has disappeared. Are you trying to find her? Are you a detective?” Zeigh asked. “Do you work for the police?”

“Yes, I am trying to find her,” Aife responded. “And no, I’m just an independent researcher. I work for the Princess.”

“I didn’t think that you would work for the police. They probably don’t look for missing slaves,” Zeigh said, looking wistfully across the courtyard. “Maybe I could be a detective. Now that we are all free, we have to decide on careers so that we can continue to be useful.”

“So, you want to be a detective?” Aife asked.

“No. I’m going to be a tree,” Zeigh said with a proud smile.

“Hmm. OK.” Aife said. “Why don’t you tell me about how you are going to be a tree while we go and look at Karma’s cell?”

Zeigh stood up and started leading Aife into the Slave Hall. “The Princess organized training for some of the girls. They are learning how to cook or garden or build things. The Princess suggested that I should try my hand at gardening, but the groundskeeper said that all the training slots are filled. Some of the freed pleasure slaves decided that they didn’t want to be free so they hired on with Madam Shovair. Some went to the Sampson’s manor. I wouldn’t want to go to the Sampson’s manor. I’ve seen girls go there and when they come back, they are different. Anyway, the Queen’s Witch, Morgana, said that I could be her slave, which would be good, I guess, but… I don’t know. Sometimes Karma would go to visit the Queen’s Witch and she always had nice things to say about her, but sometimes she didn’t seem to realize how long her visit had been which is kind of weird - like, she had been living on a different time metronome or something and her facts would suddenly change. But, the Princess said that we were free to be whatever we want, and I look out the castle windows and there are not many trees out there, so I thought maybe I would be one.”

“Mmm hmm,” Aife said.

“The other girls thought that it is funny that I would be a tree,” Zeigh continued as they walked down a hall lined with heavy wooden doors, each with a small barred window and reinforced with a matrix of black metal bars. “I think that they were jealous that they did not come up with the idea. But, Chelsea said that she would help plant me, although I’m not sure how sincere she was being. This is our room.”

“You shared the cell with Slave Karma?” Aife asked.

“Yes. I was her only real friend. I don’t think many of the other slaves liked her very much, but I think that they were just jealous because she was really pretty and exotic, with all her body decorations, and, you know, spending so much time with the Princess. But she is really nice. I hope that you find her. We are really good friends. Maybe I could help you.” Zeigh pulled on the latch and opened the door. The interior was small and fairly sparse with a narrow cot, a wooden trunk and some sort of box draped in a woven blanket and used as a table or desk. A narrow barred window let in the late afternoon light.

Aife shrugged off her backpack and pulled a out a small plastic container. She opened the container and retrieved a small pair of tweezers. “Did you share this small bed?” Aife asked.

“Oh, no. I sleep over here,” Zeigh said pointing at the blanket covered box. She pulled on the blanket at one end revealing a matrix of metal bars forming the door of a small cage.

“It’s cozy,” Zeigh explained. “Do you have any leads?”

Aife knelt next to the cot looking closely at the blankets, peeling them back one at a time. “Nothing solid,” Aife said.

“I know she is out there somewhere,” Zeigh said. “I can feel her. We’re like sisters you know. Both of us have been here since we were born. That’s why we both have the same name, ‘Slave’. We were born into our positions.”

“Mm hmm…” Aife mumbled as she scratched at a spot on one of the sheets. “Is this her trunk? Can I look in there?”

“Yeah sure. I’m sure Karma wouldn’t mind,” Zeigh said. “What are you looking for? Clues?”

Aife opened the trunk and found a small bag containing toiletries - a brush, a toothbrush, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton swabs… She closed the bag and shoved it into her backpack. “I’m looking for things that would contain a lot of her… essence. Hair samples are good… Is this all her stuff? Where are your things? Have you already packed to leave?”

Zeigh knelt down by the cage and opened the door. “Here is my collar,” she said, pulling it through the bars.

“What about clothes? Is that your robe hanging on the hook?” Aife asked.

Zeigh looked slightly confused for a moment. “No. That robe belongs to the Princess. I don’t own anything. Slaves don’t own things. ...But they let me wear it.”

Aife looked at Zeigh for a minute trying to imagine her out in the city buying food, obtaining a residence, getting a job… “How long until you report to the Queen’s Witch?” she asked.

Zeigh looked down at her hands. “I think that I am going to be a tree instead. In fact, I should get back outside and gather my leaves. I’m hoping to find a good spot to put down some roots before it gets dark.”

“It gets cold at night, this time of the year. How will you stay warm if you are a tree?” Aife asked. She wanted to get a sense of how expansive this slave’s fantasy world was.

“That’s why I’m gathering leaves,” Zeigh explained. “Trees have leaves to keep them warm.”

“But don’t trees lose their leaves in the winter?” Aife asked. Zeigh’s face became contorted with some kind of confusion or conflict. “In the winter… when it’s cold,” Aife explained.

Zeigh stood still, apparently considering what Aife had said.

Aife was aware of the vocational training program that the Princess had set up for the slaves no longer in her employ, but she was beginning to wonder about how useful it was going to be for someone like Zeigh. Perhaps she was too naive about the world to be able to survive. If she were born into slavery, then she may have been taught all her life that she should only do as she was told and nothing more. Perhaps she would be incapable of making a choice. Maybe slavery actually suited her. Then again, being owned by the Princess was likely a much better life than being owned by others - particularly the Queen’s Witch, Morgana. After all Evanescent had implied that sometimes Morgana experimented on slaves and that the results sometimes had lasting effects. She had seen the slave now known only as “Pet” just a few hours ago - a prime example of Morgana’s work.

Perhaps Zeigh would have useful information about Karma - information that would be hard to retrieve if Zeigh ended up in Morgana’s hands. And so, despite a thread of reluctance, Aife made a quick decision.

“Why don’t you help me with my investigation for a few days? You can stay with me. We’ll look for Slave Karma, and if you still want to be a tree, I can help find a nice warm location afterwards.”

A huge smile blossomed across Zeigh’s face. “You… You want me to go with you?”

“Yes,” Aife said. “Why don’t you gather your things?”

Zeigh looked around the small cell starting to move in one direction then seemingly distracted only to change direction. Finally, she dropped to her knees and pulled open the door to the cage she apparently slept in and pulled out a steel collar with her name engraved in it. Then she stood. “OK, ready.”

“Why don’t you take the robe,” Aife suggested. “It is not common for free people to walk about the city naked.”

Zeigh looked nervous suddenly. “But I don’t want to steal…”

“Don’t worry, Zeigh. I’ll pay for it,” Aife said.

Zeigh grabbed the robe, though she did not put it on, and the two started walking back through the slave quarters and into the common room. The group of former slaves all stared as they walked by, their conversation suddenly interrupted.

“Wait!” Zeigh said suddenly pointing out towards the courtyard. “Can I bring my leaves?”

“Yes. Of course,” Aife said.

Zeigh ran out towards the courtyard and returned shortly using the robe like a bag to hold the leaves that she had collected - one or two dropping as she jogged back over to Aife.

“See you all around,” she said to the cluster of former slaves who simply continued to stare as Zeigh and Aife left the room.

When they got to the castle gate, they had to sign out with Rolf, the guard.

“Have a good afternoon, Madam Aife,” he said tipping his hat. He then pointed at Zeigh. “But what of this?”

“Zeigh, could you please put on the robe,” Aife said. She then turned to the guard. “This is one of the Princess’ emancipated slaves - Slave Zeigh, P-417.”

Rolf flipped open a book and looked down the page. “Hmm… She’s not permitted to leave the castle alone.”

“She’s coming with me,” Aife said with a bit of annoyance. “Besides, she’s emancipated now.”

“The crown, apparently, feels she is not competent enough to leave…” Rolf and Aife looked at Zeigh who had gotten the robe on now but was holding her collection of leaves using the front of her robe pulled up like a basket, totally exposing her naked body from the waist down to her bare feet - her collar still dangling from a hand. “As you have been approved by the Princess to have borrowing rights, Madam Aife, I can loan her to you, but you’ll need to bring her back in the same condition she is in now.”

“She’s a free woman!” Aife said. “The Princess emancipated all of her slaves.”

“She’s not free until she gets her papers,” Rolf explained, beginning to raise his voice a little. “She needs identification, a citizen number, all sorts of things to be a free woman. Until then, she must still be handled as a slave.”

“Fine! When will she be issued papers?” Aife asked. “I thought the Princess took care of all this…”

“Of course the Princess did, but not for incompetents,” Rolf pointed at Zeigh who was standing quietly listening. “Incompetents like this one.”

“Who determines an ex-slave’s competency?” Aife asked, determined to come up with a different tack for extricating Zeigh from this bureaucracy that seemed to oppress her as much as her chains had. On some level she was not sure why she was pushing so hard to get Zeigh out, but she was simply angered by Gate Guard Rolf and his attitude.

“You can bring that up with the Queen’s Witch Morgana,” Rolf explained turning away. “Until then she needs to wear her collar and a castle leash.”

“The Queen’s Witch?” Aife said making fists with her hands.

“I don’t mind being on your leash,” Zeigh said to Aife. There was a clicking sound.

Aife spun back around to Zeigh. “Don’t do that!” Zeigh had wrapped her collar around her neck and closed the locking mechanism. All her leaves had spilled out across the ground. “I don’t have a key!”

“It’s OK,” Zeigh said. “I was feeling kind of naked without it.”

“Oh, Holy Mother!” Aife said. She turned back to Rolf who was holding a leash out to her - a smug smile on his face.

Aife snatched the leash and clipped the end on Zeigh’s collar handing the leash handle for Zeigh to hold. Then she bent over and began to rake all the fallen leaves into her backpack.

“Let’s go, Zeigh,” she said and the two walked through the gate. “I’m sorry, Zeigh, but it just seems that if the Princess emancipated you then we shouldn’t have to deal with all this bullshit.”

Aife turned to look at Zeigh, but she wasn’t there. She looked back at the gate. Zeigh was standing with her eyes wide, filled with terror - her body pressed back against the brick column of the gate house. Aife spun around with fists raised making preparations for a fight. But there was no impending danger. Just the street leading away from the castle gate, some vendors and pedestrians moving from one place to another. Aife lowered her fists and turned back to Zeigh who hadn’t moved. “What?! What’s wrong?”

“I… I’ve never been outside of the castle,” Zeigh said, still frozen against the wall.

“Oh, well it’s basically the same on the outside as it is on the inside, although it smells a little worse. So, come on!”

“Maybe…” Zeigh began to hold out the handle to her leash. “Maybe you could keep this end?”

“Oh, Holy Mother!” Aife stepped back to Zeigh and grabbed the end of the leash from Zeigh’s hand. “Let’s go…”