In the morning - she felt it was much earlier than usually - Elijah came down to her and led her to Margaret, The Garden's old housemaid who had to give Annabel a few tasks to do. Elijah was silent, the bruise Annabel saw yesterday was now a big, ugly green-and-purple spot on his cheekbone. Watcher's black eyes were shining with hate, and Annabel guessed it wouldn't just pass like some kind of a childish sulk. Elijah disappeared from her view as soon as they found Margaret.

Nobody talked about the last night's accident, at least not with Annabel. She could see children around her whispering something to each other, throwing glances at her, then noticing angry Elijah and scurrying away before he had time to take out the whip. They wanted to know what happened, but were afraid of the watchers, who in their turn were very annoyed. It seemed like Elijah made it clear for Mr Morr that sometimes watchers got out of control. Nobody liked it, of course, but Mr Morr had to be stricter to everyone than they were used to. Children and other slaves tried to avoid watchers' anger at all costs. But for small kids who had only caught a sight of the bullet hole in the wall it was essential to ask Annabel a few questions.

"Hey."

A little red-haired boy leaned in to her when nobody was watching them. He worked with Annabel in the laundry.

"Hey."

Annabel looked up at him. "What happened back there, in the living room? I've heard Elijah shot at you. Is it true?" Annabel nodded once. Boy's mouth opened in a big 'O'. "Wow..." he whispered slowly. "But why? I only saw you running from him. Did you do something really bad?"

"I don't know," the girl answered with a short sigh. "He just wanted me to be a frightened sheep, to obey his orders... But I wasn't in the right mood for it." She tried to smile, to be less stressed, but she couldn't. One thought about the bullet that almost struck her head, about that deadly slight whistle above her ear... one thought was enough to make her heart-sore again.

She had her breakfast, then went to do work that Gregfield had for her. Horses were led out from the stables, the territory had to be cleaned up. Annabel sweated and was out of breath in an hour - summer was merciless, just like Gregfield himself. They both had definitely been ordered to spoil Annabel's life. While pulling a wagon with manure, Annabel threw a glance at the front yard where people were fussing around as if preparing for something. Mr Morr waited on the mansion porch with cigar in his mouth, but hadn't lit it. Two watchers with big dogs proceeded to the gate; Darren said something to Mr Morr and waved his hand to where they were pulling golden bars open.

Only then Annabel heard the familiar noise. Soft rattling of the wheels, sweet clopping of a horse's hooves, shuffling of dirt on the grassless road. Somebody was approaching The Garden. People in the yard went alerted and gathered together to see who their new guest was. Mr Morr seemed surprised, too, probably because nobody had messaged him about the arrival. That was something new.

"Move, you silly kid, there's nothing to stare at!" Gregfield pushed Annabel in the back and made sure she kept working. A huge heap of manure had been collected behind the stables, and there Annabel went to empty her wagon. When she returned, a small mahogany landau with two brown horses harnessed into it was parking in the yard. Inside the carriage sat an old man, smartly dressed, with classy white beard and haircut. He was quite active as for an 'old man'. He had his back straight, his legs were slim and restless, and though he had a silver-top walking cane, he only squeezed it under his long arm and walked in a free, even in a pompous manner. Something in his face was very familiar to Annabel, she couldn't make out what exactly. This something made the man seem young. Mr Morr greeted the guest with a wide grin, like he'd always used to do, and they talked for a while. From where she stood, Annabel couldn't hear them, but in a few minutes Mr Morr's self-confident face changed. It became all soft and aflutter - Annabel had never seen Alferdo Morr being anything like this. She guessed the old man was a big cheese and needed a flattering treatment. Mr Morr called out for Elijah and Rit, another watcher. They were ordered to do something and immediately got to work. Elijah approached Annabel and pulled her towards the yard where a few young girls had already been settled in a short row. Annabel tried to fight him at first, but Elijah's stillness was unbreakable. He didn't even look at her when he pushed her between two other girls and grunted, "Stay. Here."

Annabel wanted to mock him behind his back, but Mr Morr and the guest were watching. Well, if that was 'the moment of truth' again, everyone had known that no client in their right minds would ever choose Annabel for doing any service. Even Mr Morr knew it.

"So, Mr Heels," said the slave driver with a self-satisfied smile, "you said your master wants the most beautiful housemaids for his mansion..." His fat arm made a wide gesture. "Here you go. These are my best flowers."

The old man named Mr Heels eyed the row pretentiously. Annabel wished she could catch a moment and steal away from the yard, but when she tried to make a step back, somebody's body blocked her way from the behind. Annabel held her breath, but didn't flinch. Somebody bend to her ear and whispered, "Don't even try, little witch." She didn't have to turn her head to recognize Darren and his quiet husky voice. Oh, of course, Elijah wouldn't come close to me. Hi, Darren. How's your nothing? How many innocent men have you beaten half to death today? Annabel stepped on her place again and said nothing.

Mr Heels clasped his hands behind his back and started walking along the row. His piercing green eyes were very, very familiar, whereas the way he moved, the way he behaved made him a scary, ugly stranger. The one like all those Morr's clients, callous and egocentric. But the way he looked at her...

Annabel didn't realize she'd narrowed her eyes while watching Mr Heels. He swinged his cane as he made another step, didn't stop to look at any girl for too long. When Annabel's eyes met his, she was sure he recognized her, but didn't show it. Then he doubled back to Mr Morr, eyed the girls again, and lifted his cane, pointing... directly at Annabel.

Now she recalled. The boy from the street, the one that helped her hide from two chasers. The one with brown curly hair and sly green eyes, he smiled at her and talked about leaving The Garden, though she'd never met him before. Annabel could swear it was him beneath the white beard and wig, disguised like an important old man. Disguised, but why?

"This one," said Mr Heels, still looking at Annabel. Mr Morr seemed taken aback. He coughed and shifted on his fat legs.

"I am glad you made such a quick choice, sir, but... Uh... Are you sure you want this girl?"

Mr Heels looked at Mr Morr in earnest surprise.

"Wouldn't you recommend her?"

"Well... " Mr Morr shot Annabel an uncertain look. "She is very hardworking and... and clever, definitely. But I'd say she might... cause a lot of trouble."

"Lord Finniwall cares a lot about the servanthood of his house," said Mr Heels. Annabel noticed that the boy had changed his voice, too, made it sound hoarse and creaky - the voice of an old man. "His servants are the people who represent his social status to his consistent guests, and social status is the treasure lord Finniwall values the most. His servants have to look appropriately, they have to match his house and his reputation. This girl is exactly what lord Finniwall needs. Personality can be easily fixed and formed, while appearance can't, at least not quickly or easily. So don't worry about the troubles, Mr Morr, they are not your concern anymore." Annabel couldn't tell if it was just her, or Mr Hells really did throw her a knowing glance. Suddenly he turned to Mr Morr again and said in quite a circuitous way (which was too obvious, though), "Unless you want to delay the deal far even more and offer my master to come here personally to persuade you-"

"No, no, of course not!" Mr Morr hurried to stop the coming disaster. "Excuse me, sir, we won't delay... Darren! Make Annabel wash her face and dress up. Do you want her to go with us, or wait for you here, Mr Heels?"

"She'll wait here while we sign the papers. I hope it won't take long?"

"No, no, it won't. Please, proceed."

As they both departed, Annabel felt Darren's heavy arm on her shoulder.

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"Congratulations, Annie. You'll have a rich and important master to bring slippers to. Don't forget to send your dear Elijah small letters every week. Poor boy, he'll miss you so much..."

"Get lost," she spat without looking at the watcher. An instance later Darren pushed her towards a barrel with clear water and forced her to wash the dirt off her face and hands. Clean clothes had been waiting for her on her bed, and in a few minutes Annabel, guarded by Darren and another watcher named Flok, stood by the landau, waiting for strange Mr Heels to recieve the final greetings from Mr Morr. Heels himself didn't seem way too pleased with all good words addressed to him and lord Finniwall, and hurried to jump into the carriage. Darren nodded for Annabel to do the same.

"Send lord Finniwall my greatest regards!" Mr Morr called after them. "I hope he'll remember good old Morr's services!"

"He will!" Mr Heels's lips crooked in a quick smile. "Go, Martin."

The coachman sent the horses forward in an easy trot. Even though it was too painful for Annabel to look back at the yard where stood the children she didn't say goodbye to, her head did turn. Among all those people she'd known for years and had been used to (and even loved), she saw a lone dark figure standing far from everyone. His hands were hidden in his pockets, his black hair messy, black eyes still filled with hate. Annabel turned away and didn't see him leave. She knew that Elijah left the yard with cold, vile satisfaction in his heart, and she didn't want to look at his face in that moment.

***

They were driving for about ten or fifteen minutes, hopping and bouncing all along the road from The Garden to the village. All that time Annabel was using the moment and watching Mr Heels, or whoever that man wanted to be, and carefully scanned his appearance. Now, as she had a chance to look closer at him, she confirmed her thoughts: it was the boy who Annabel met the last night, who spoke about leaving The Garden (and drove her mad by doing so, actually), but now he was perfectly disguised under white beard, white old man's hair, and nice expensive outfit. Annabel's killing glance that she held on him was borne stolidly. Moreover, Mr Heels hadn't said a word yet, though the night before he was quite talkative. This annoyed Annabel even more than his stupid masquerade.

"So," she said all of a sudden, trying to sound lightly, "Mr Heels, is it?" The boy looked away from her and then turned towards the path to the village that lay behind him. "What was it you told Mr Morr that he got so... surprised? If it isn't a secret, of course."

"It's not." The boy's voice now was normal again, young and velvet, as it had to be, given that he wasn't above seventeen, in fact. "I said that I am lord Finniwall's trusted butler, and I am responsible for choosing a new maiden for his great mansion."

"Is lord Finniwall even a real person?"

"No. But for your ex-master it was enough to hear that Finniwall's one of the most important men in Nelmarion, and one of the richest as well, to lose all his consciousness." The boy threw a glance at Annabel and smiled. "He is much of a doofus, that Mr Morr. Has he always been like that?"

Annabel shrugged. "Not that slaves have a chance to think or talk much about it. But I guess, yes, he has. In his own sort of way."

Green eyes gleamed from under boy's natty white brows.

"Martin, can we move a bit faster?" he asked the coachman, turning his head again.

"Almost there, man. Horses were working all night, they're exhausted."

The boy didn't seem to be pleased with that answer. He shifted uneasily in his seat, still looking around.

"Are you in a hurry?" Annabel raised an eyebrow. Is it just me, or this fellow is being very strange?

"We both are, actually. But no more questions, I'll tell you everything in a few minutes."

"Why not now?"

"I said, no more questions."

They rattled onto the main street where the boy started rising from his place and turning around like some kind of a paranoiac. His face now wasn't that light and confident, rather deeply concerned and anxious.

"What are you looking for?" Annabel asked him at last. Or who? He didn't hear her, or just decided to ignore, which was very possible, too.

"Wait here, Martin. Let us out, but don't stop moving." As the coachman paused the horses shortly, Mr Heels handed him a tiny bag full of clanging coins (as Annabel could guess by the sound), then grabbed Annabel's hand and pulled her out of the landau. "Thank you for your help, Martin. Go on, you haven't seen us!" Annabel didn't have an opportunity to watch the coachman leave, because the boy pushed a door near them open and immediately tucked Annabel inside a dark long hallway - all in a couple of quick seconds.

"Hey, careful!" she cried as she almost fell on a small chest of drawers set along the wall.

"Hushh!" he hissed at her in his turn, looking through a thin curtain that covered a window next to the door. Annabel had an urge to answer him in a very rude way, but she froze as some impressively big and angry men ran past the window in the opposite direction from where Annabel and the boy had arrived, followed by the boy's concentrated look. When they disappeared from view, he seemed to relax and exhaled. As he had to turn to Annabel again, he flinched and made a step back. She wasn't looking quite friendly at the moment.

"Right. Now we can talk."

The boy strode to the mirror and started to remove his disguise, but even if it was a fast thing to do, it didn't seem pleasant. The beard, moustache and brows were glued to the boy's skin with an unknown substance that had definitely been of a very high quality and wasn't going to leave the boy be just so simply.

"Unfortunately, we haven't got much time. I'll just tell you all you need to know and let you make decisions, alright?" he said, but before Annabel had an air to answer, the boy continued, "Annabel, isn't it? My name is Chase, and you should call me that, no other options available. What I've done is, I've freed you from slavery in The Garden, but not by buying you, don't worry about that if you were going to. I promised Alferdo Morr that my important master, who has never even existed, will pay him out just as soon as we get to the mansion and he approves of the new maiden. He believed me and let you go. Now, as far as Morr hasn't found everything out and hasn't yet sent his men to catch us, you may leave your past life behind you and start a new one, if you want. If you don't, come back to that gruesome slave driver and let him make a new hallway rug from your skin."

Annabel blinked in confusion. Chase... Now she knew his name and what exactly he did today when he came to The Garden wearing that weird outfit. But the question why suddenly conquered Annabel's mind. Why did he do that, well aware of dangers awaiting for him, putting their lives at risk and caring not about the stakes? There were two reasons, at least the most possible ones: first, he could be a crazy man, unstoppable in his extreme actions; second, he could be a genius who is afraid of nothing because he's clever enough to avoid troubles. Annabel hoped it was the last variant.

"Why are you doing this?" She made an uncertain gesture at the wig and the suffered beard that now lied on the small table next to the mirror. The boy, or Chase, for that matter, was pulling another layer of something that had made him look old off his hands and face. Under that something was normal teenager's hands and long slim fingers.

"Because I need you," he answered.

Oh, very well, now that's interesting. Annabel's eyebrows jumped in surprise. The boy saw her reflection and only rolled his eyes. "For my own purposes, of course, but I generously offer you freedom, job, money and food instead of being somebody's temporary toy."

"I'm nobody's toy," Annabel said sharply, besting the urge to punch the self-confident cad.

"Ah," the boy waved his hand dismissively, "let's be honest with ourselves."

Annabel wanted to change the subject. That boy had no idea of what it meant to be a slave, but he definitely was going to sound like he knew everything about it.

"Who are you, anyway?" she asked.

"A street magic performer."

"A fraudster, you mean?"

"No, my magic is totally true. And I have too many things to think about before, while and after performing, so I urgently need an assistant. For my professionalism, rich experiment and intelligence let me decide on my own, I choose you," and with that Chase pointed his finger at Annabel.

"Me? Why, may I ask?"

"I saw you stealing that fake emerald charm." Annabel's eyes widened. She frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but the boy was faster. "Yeah, I know it was fake, don't ask me how, it doesn't matter at all. The point is, I need someone crafty, clever and patient enough, someone who'll obey my orders accurately and will be fair with me. I'm sure you match the job perfectly." At that moment male voices started shouting outside, very close to the hallway window, even somewhat too close. Chase glanced at it nervously. "I will explain nothing more, because I'm run out of time. If you want to join me, have a work to do and be able to leave whenever you feel it's high time - we leave this village today, and if you don't - good luck, just don't waste my time."

Annabel stood there, in the middle of the corridor she'd never seen before, her hands crossed on her chest, eyebrows frowned, and thoughts absolutely messy. She wasn't sure if that boy was earnest, she couldn't know if he'd give her over back to Morr or not, and of course she didn't know if he would be nice with her and not as callous as Morr himself. Those green eyes shone with confidence when he spoke about all the benefits of joining him and running away from the village, his voice sounded like he had known something that Annabel hadn't. She thought of her parents who she hoped still waited for her to come back home. Maybe that was her chance, and there'll never be another one? What if Chase wasn't bad, really? After all, didn't he just say that she'll be able to go any moment?

"Well?"

She didn't notice that Chase kept being busy changing his outfit, hiding all signs of their presence, packing bags with food and supplies and glancing at the street from the windows all together. He was all a non-stop energy and always in motion.

"Why would I trust you? Why would I go with you?" Annabel said, her throat sore and dry. Heaven, she was nervous. She had to decide her future, but it had long ago stopped being her habit after years of slavery and hopeless despair.

"You have as many reasons to trust me as I have to trust you. But I don't ask you to go with me, I just give you an opportunity to choose. Travel wherever you want, come back to The Garden, or come with me and have work, money, and protection. Or go and drown yourself in a river for all I care. The only thing I'm asking from you is to choose a little faster. Please."