7. Hanna

"If you wander off, I'll have your head," Zathex says, opening the cell door while guiding me with a metal leash.

The bright sunny streets of New Solas greet me. I'm so glad to finally be out of that cage.

Immediately, I recognize that it's early, but notice a bidding war going on in a large ghastly building. An elderly xaphan stumbles to the ground bidding for a sad-looking woman, and the other bidders nearly trample over him.

That won't be me, I think. I'd sooner die than be sold off.

But the more time passes, the more inevitable my fate becomes. One of the demons casts a lustful look at me as Zathex leads me past.

"Keep your eyes to yourself," he utters, jerking me along so aggressively that the chains chafe against my neck. "You'll have your chance later."

As long as Zathex continues to chaperone me, I'll only know the binding of chains. At least now, my feet aren't bound to him.

I wonder how my father must be doing without me. If I'm not around, he often forgets to take care of himself, falling into a deep depression.

He must think I'm dead.

The thought terrifies me. I doubt Zathex notified him before he abducted me. Meaning that my father must be devastated right now.

I have to find some way to tell him. The cold metal guides me along through the most forbidden sections of the trading hub, where even New Solas has forgotten its majesty. A single fountain in the distance is clogged, sputtering black goo. The smell it produces is revolting to me.

Think fast. This is your last chance!

"Hey, Zathex."

He doesn't turn to acknowledge me, making his feelings clear.

"Oh, are we finally talking now?" he asks. "How flattering."

I ignore the taunt. I know his only goal is riling me up. I'm probably the one constant in his life, and if he can't have me, he might as well delight himself in my misery.

"I was wondering what this is all about," I say. "Not that I don't enjoy the chance to stretch my legs or anything. You just said my auction was still a few hours away."

He pauses, and for a moment, all I hear are the riotous cries of the auction house behind me.

How stupid of me to think he'd entertain idle questions. This is going to be a lot more difficult than I thought.

Internally, I'm screaming. But I know that despite how hopeless this seems, I have to act if I want a chance of survival.

"A prize like you has to keep her figure," he says absentmindedly. "Otherwise, you're worth a lot less to them."

Ah.

So it's not a kind gesture at all. He's not concerned that my legs might atrophy. He just wants to maximize his revenue.

I don't know why that surprises me.

"That makes sense, I suppose."

"That makes sense, I suppose."

He repeats my words back to me, mocking me.

I avoid mouthing off in response. For now, he holds all the power.

For now.

If I ever manage to escape this situation, I'm going to make him pay dearly for this.

I watch the passing scenery as we leave the auction blocks, making our way into the quainter and more obscure parts of the city. I've done what little I can to drive us away from scrutiny, farther away from my dark, inhumane cell.

When I see a passing civilian, I try to subtly provoke them without Zathex noticing.

All the while, I try to make my movements more erratic.

"Hey, Zathex?"

He sighs. "Yes?"

I look at the derelict buildings, a rare sight in New Solas, ensuring that we're as far away from civility as possible.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

He turns around, and for an instant, I swear he might hit me upside the head. It wouldn't be out of character, and I even wince in anticipation of the strike.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" he asks. "Didn't you just go before we left?"

"No," I lie.

He shakes his head in disbelief and continues walking, clearly unfazed by my request.

"Well, you're just going to have to hold it," he says. "I'll turn us around in a second."

"But I have been holding it," I insist, trying to play the role he expects me to play. "Do you want me to make a mess in the middle of the street?"

My stomach turns at my own words. I'm not usually so crude.

He chuckles.

"I don't know if it would look out-of-place, to be honest."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I whisper, gritting my teeth. "Please just take me to an alley or something. I know you're no gentleman."

I watch his face study me, hoping he'll take the bait.

"‘No gentleman?'" Zathex repeats. "Fucking fine, Hanna. I'll stop at a tavern."

As he turns around, I smirk quietly to myself.

The tavern he leads me to is a shithole, by all accounts. The stools are overturned, and mugs are broken carelessly on the floor. Mere hours ago, I can imagine the tavern brawl that took place here.

Clearly, the owner has stopped caring. He nods at us as we enter.

Zathex turns to the counter, tugging me along as I try to avoid the broken glass on the hardwood floor.

"You got a lavatory?" Zathex asks the owner, whose patchy white beard embarrasses the few hairs left on his head, which he's combed over. His wings sag lamely behind him.

He grunts, nodding toward the back of the bar.

Okay. I have to play this very carefully.

As Zathex leads me forward by the neck, I feel around my collar, looking for the slightest exploitable imperfection. The raw iron is somewhat crudely and carelessly fashioned, so if I found a blunt object, I could theoretically bang up against the areas where the metal is thinnest.

But I might cut my own throat if I'm not careful.

That's not going to work.

Another thought crosses my mind, and I grin wickedly. I note the displeasure on Zathex's face, and I realize that I can exploit it.

Zathex props open the door, beckoning me.

I slip closely by him, touching his waist gently as I pass.

"I'll just be waiting right out here," he says.

"You mean you don't want to watch me?"

A disgusted look crosses his face, just as I had hoped.

"Yeah. I guess I can close this. Just try to hurry."

Oh, this is perfect.

I feel the small cold metal in my hand, proud to have pried it from off of his waist.

Taking the key, careful to not let it slip out of my hand, into the disgusting hole in the ground behind me, I bring it up to my neck.

"Can you hurry it up in there?" he asks.

I find the keyhole and twist gently and quietly, looking up at the window behind me.

"With what you've been feeding me, you're lucky it's coming out at all!" I reply, nimbly working to get the damned metal off my skin.

I feel the collar click.

Now if I want to get out of here in one piece, I have to be very quiet.

I slip the metal collar off, ecstatic to be unbound for the first time in days. Then I lower it very gradually to the floor so that he won't notice the sudden difference.

The glass window is shattered open, proving that I'm not the first person to try this. I can climb up, but I'm going to have to be careful to not cut myself.

"Okay," Zathex says finally. "I'm coming in! Something's up."

Shit.

I cut myself climbing up to the window, feeling the blood drip from my foot.

And without looking back, I jump down, from the shattered window to the alley below.

"I knew it!"

I hear him exclaim from out of the window.

He looks down at me, fury in his eyes.

I run, feeling my bloody feet pound the cobblestone alley. There are broken bottles and waste everywhere. As careful as I am, I'm not careful enough.

"I got you! Give it up!"

I hear him call out from somewhere behind me, then look up at the decrepit shop beside me.

He might be strong and fast. But he's not agile.

And those wings are unreliable. I can still see where he damaged them in a fight.

I find footing on the side of the building and begin to climb, jumping from a barrel to a windowsill, and then digging my foot into the uneven masonry.

His scowl almost paralyzes me as I look down.

"Try to catch me now, bastard," I taunt him quietly, as I finally grip the roof of the building, then bring myself up.

My only hope is to jump from roof to roof. I'm far from trained in this, and I realize that I'll probably die escaping.

But it's better than dying a captive.

The rooftop ahead of me is higher than this one, and I realize that it's going to be quite a jump.

Readying myself and stretching, I sprint forward, leaping to try to clear the distance.

I nearly miss it, feeling my arm scrape up against the rock wall. My foot is stinging and throbbing.

I bring myself up to the ledge and then look ahead.

Although I could jump forward, continuing this path, he's no doubt following my path.

"That won't do," I say quietly to myself.

I see a door ahead of me, no doubt leading to the building below.

Expecting it to be locked, I'm relieved when I feel it open in my grasp. I dash down the flight of stairs, realizing I'm not in a business, but in somebody's house.

"Sorry," I say, catching my breath as I notice that the building is occupied by one very distressed-looking man.

His eyes are glassy and wide, and his hands are covered in whittling cuts, a carved batlaz on the table in front of him. He stares at me, his mouth open in confusion.

"Just getting a bit of exercise," I explain, already realizing it makes no sense.

"What are you doing? Get out before I call the authorities!"

I notice a tattered traveler's cloak hanging on the rack beside the door.

"Can I borrow this?"

I tear it off and cover myself with it, then sprint out the front door before I hear his response.

Rather than sprinting out of view, I take advantage of the momentary surprise.

I see no sign of Zathex but try to keep my back to the crowd, the mindless drone of the auctioneer just ahead of me.

"And the lovely Elma's already had two children!" the auctioneer calls out. "She's fertile and ready to expand your lineage!"

In front of me, a carriage is fully loaded up. It's noticeably more well-maintained than anything I've seen in the last hour.

Without a thought, I jump inside, relieved when it starts to move.