My quarters are a few floors down, near Adel's penthouse, but not too near. Adel's reach is long, so she may safely have the privacy she wishes. The walk gives me time to adjust my red gloves and remove my bloodstained jacket; the blood would frighten Mai. My white shirt is unstained, which pleases me. I still retain some control over my muscles, if nothing else. The punished slave did not fall forward over my chest.
     The door to my quarters hisses open. Quietly I enter the room, quickly disposing of the jacket; it will be washed and returned to me soon. Then I compose myself - so different from composing myself for Adel - and call, 'Mai! I'm home!'
     Bedlam. Thumping and yelling. My chubby three-year-old daughter explodes from her room and hurls herself against my legs, her long blonde hair - so much like mine - tangled as always.
     'Mommy!' she yells. 'Mommy!'

Part II.
     I stand in front of a glass-walled tank in one of Dr. Odine's lesser labs. Mai floats soundlessly inside, only the thick bundles of wires and tubes running to and from her body keeping her from curling into a fetal position. Her golden hair has been shaved off, the better to attach evilly-colored wires to her scalp. Barely any skin can be seen.
     I wear a lock of her hair braided into my own, to remind me of the golden child I have sacrificed to Adel. Her hair is the color of my own. I do not believe that even Adel has noticed it there.
     At night, when Mai and I are in my quarters, she does not speak often. I hold her close and stroke her head, but she leans against me stiffly. Sometimes she cries. But she knows things now, from the tank; sudden sounds cause her to drop into a defensive crouch. Her stance is perfect.
     I touch the tank full of bluish liquid in which my daughter floats. It feels cold.
     I ask myself again, as I have asked myself every night for the past three years, why I do not smash the glass and steal the child, flee from Esthar and save us both. Do I not love my daughter? And again I tell myself, no, you would be dooming your daughter. Adel would stop at nothing to hunt you both down. As horrible as this is, my daughter remains alive and with you. You have been allowed to watch her grow to be six, even though she is pale and silent and her shaven scalp is a rebuke to you.
     I shake my head and my fantasies retreat. Mai twitches in the tank, her forehead creasing; she has lost one of the combat simulations. I have never been tanked; I cannot know her punishment. The simulations are humane, Dr. Odine assures me. But when I attempt to touch Mai in her sleep, she twitches away from my fingers and moans. I am allowing Adel to steal and destroy my daughter. Why can I not move myself to save her, even if she only remains saved for a day, an hour?
     And again I falter. I am afraid. I am the Sorceress' Knight, and yet I am afraid. I am a failure.

Part III.
     The glass shatters easily under the swing of my gunblade, and the liquid pours out onto the ground. I hear a thin wailing sound from somewhere, but I block it out, concentrating on pulling the wires from Mai's thin ten-year-old body. Thin curls of her blood mix with the bluish suspension medium still clinging to her skin, and I die a little with each drop that appears; but I dare not stop, or even slow. It is only when I pull the respirator from her nose and mouth that the thin wailing sound becomes Mai's voice, shrieking in agony. She curls up on the ground, screaming.
     I scoop up her wet body and sling it over my shoulders, unmindful of the slick wetness, forcing myself to ignore Mai's piercing screams. They will give me away, but I cannot leave her behind.
     Adel is gone. Adel, who I believed knew everything, fell for a slave's childish ruse, and has been imprisoned. Her rule is over. Mobs of Estharians rampage through the city's blue and red streets, killing those who were in favor with Adel; looking for me. I was the Sorceress' Knight; now the Sorceress is no more and I must die. The Knight must be killed; so I must flee. But I will not flee without Mai.
     Mai still screams, but her voice is becoming rough. And yet she screams. I was never able to face the sight of them putting Mai into the tanks in the morning, or removing her in the evening; I did not know that removing her like this would cause her such pain. Please believe me, Mai my child, I did not mean to...
     Crashing. Three Esthar soldiers, opportunists who wear the rebels' symbol, have found us here. Quickly I shift Mai to one shoulder, still screaming, and point my gunblade at them. But somehow they have more bravery than I thought, and they come for me.
     Mai's screaming unsettles them. Myself, I have heard worse in the personal service of Adel, and I do not falter. My blade bites deep into the neck of the first, and I let his falling body carry the blade down so that I may fire over his shoulder into the chest of the second. But the third strikes at me with the pick-end of his weapon, and I twist so that I might take the blow instead of Mai.
     The sharpened point buries itself in my shoulder, and my arm falls useless. I barely hold on to my gunblade. Raising my arm would be impossible, let alone using my weapon. And the other arm must hold Mai.
     Then Mai lifts her head, and still screaming horribly drives her fingers deep into the man's eyes. He falls back, his screaming mingled with hers. I cannot be thankful for the combat training which taught Mai to do that; but it has saved us both. Sheathing my gunblade as best I can, I step over the three men and run off into the night, bearing my child and my shame as twin bundles over my shoulder.

Part IV.
     Agony. The wound in my shoulder is not healing well. Mai will walk now, stumbling, but she never speaks. I fear that screaming so loudly for all those hours has permanently muted her. She never opens her eyes more than a tiny slit, to see. She wears only my torn and stained jacket, belted about her like a tunic. Tiny scars mar every inch of her skin.
     We step from railroad tie to railroad tie, silently, me cradling my right arm in my left, Mai stumbling along like the dead beside me. I have never left Esthar except in Adel's conveyance, and the relative crudeness of the tracks disturbs me.
     I have a fever. Every day I check the deep puncture in my shoulder, fearing to smell gangrene, but so far I have been lucky. I may never use the arm again, but I will not have to lose it.
     I attempt to use my gunblade to hunt, but I am less facile with my left hand, and fever and pain blurs my vision. Mai hunts with stones picked from the railroad tracks, and she brings down a gull every time. Her skill is astonishing. But she takes no pleasure in it, as I remember enjoying my lessons in the gunblade. I find that I cannot watch her hunt.
     I hope that the Estharians will not follow us. But I know that they will. I am a symbol that they cannot allow to run free. If I can get Mai to safety, I will let them have me.
     Ironic, that I flee Adel's conquerors rather than Adel herself. When my shoulder throbs, which is often, I cannot see the irony. Beside me, Mai is silent.

     A tiny, ramshackle town rises like a fever-dream from the horizon, on the railroad tracks. A piercing gleam like that of a blue sun blinds us both for a moment. Mai whimpers in pain. We both stumble forward and into the concerned arms of a citizen, who clucks in sympathy. I know no more.

     We are in Fisherman's Horizon, the woman tells me when I wake, several days later. We are getting well. Mai wears castoff clothing, much too big for her, and sits silently in the windowsill watching the railroad tracks. I know what she watches for. I watch for them too.
     We cannot stay here much longer. They will look for us here. Where else would we go? On to Deling, where my face is known and despised? No.
     I give a fisherman my medallion, that used to signify my loyalty to Adel. Good gold, he tells me, but he'll melt it down. He doesn't like Adel's face. Good, I tell him. That's a good idea. In return, he takes me and Mai north in his boat, leaving us on a small green island. Mountains rise over us, and a tiny village nestles close by.
     What is this place? I ask. He calls back over the noise of the waves.
     Balamb.

Part V.
     Balamb Village is quiet, and slow, and gentle. Mai and I take new names and a small cottage on one side of the village. Her hair is growing back, slowly, but the tank has ruined it. It is no longer gold; but then, neither is mine. We still match.
     I masquerade as a widow, my new name protecting me. No one believes me, but they are too polite to question me. Life is bearable here. I make a little money as a train guard. My skills are only vaguely useful. I find this relaxing. Two years pass calmly. I am accepted. Mai is not.
     The children are all afraid of Mai, but she shows no desire to play with them.  Sometimes the children of Balamb Village tease her, or throw things are her. She does not fight back, although she could easily hurt or kill them. She prefers to stay with me, helping around the cottage. She has still not opened her eyes fully. Nor has she spoken. Nor touched me, unless it cannot be helped.
     Sometimes I contemplate the vastness of the damage I have done to my daughter in the name of protecting or saving her. It is painful, but I cannot stop. Perhaps it is a form of expiation for my sins against my flesh. Each memory is like the lick of a barbed whip against my mind.
     Sometimes I wake sweating. Mai sits bolt upright, startled, and I know from her expression that I have screamed aloud. She may well believe me afraid. I am afraid.
     We move about the cottage silently, like a pair of ghosts. It is a better life than I deserve.

Part VI.
     I lay concealed in the tall bushes near Balamb's one forest. I am bleeding badly, and I must press my hands against my stomach to keep everything inside. Mai crouches next to me, unhurt yet trembling, listening to the voices of the Estharian soldiers who seek us. They will not find us. Mai is an expert at concealment.
     Mai brings me water from a small creek. I cannot drink it.
     After a while the soldiers return to Balamb Village. The trains have been stopped. They know I cannot get off the island. They are confident that they will find us. I know that they will, as well. I fear for Mai.
     Mai knows that I am dying. Her tanked training has taught her healing, and she knows that there is nothing she can do. But still she stays with me, and cares for me, and brings me water that I cannot drink. She does not touch me more than she must, however.
     My gunblade remains in the village. The soldiers must have it. I once thought I would never give up my weapon while I lived. But I will not live much longer, so perhaps I was right. What a small thing to be right about.

     It has been almost a day. I never knew that I could hold on so long. The soldiers returned this morning, but they did not find us. They have not returned. I cannot force myself to care about whether they have harmed the villagers for harboring us. All I can remember is the children of the village, jeering at Mai.
     There are voices on the hillside. Young voices, not like the soldiers. Mai stiffens. I manage to roll my head in that direction.
     The first one I see is a huge, dark boy, about twelve. Mai's age. Raggedly dressed and barefoot, he tumbles down the hillside to the creek, laughing. Another follows him...
     At first I think I am hallucinating, because I see myself, as I was, walking down the hillside. Tall, blond, dressed in gray, with a gunblade cocked over my shoulder and an arrogant expression on my face... but no, this one is a boy, still skinny in his early adolescence, also Mai's age. The sunlight gleams from his hair. The dark one is splashing about in the river, laughing, but I cannot take my eyes from the blond child.
     I tear my gaze away finally and glance at Mai. She also cannot take her eyes from him. I recognize the longing in her eyes - the first emotion she has displayed in two years - and I know that she loves him, although I cannot tell her why. That is what you would have looked like, my Mai... I looked like that, long ago...
     Mai turns to me. Her eyes are open, the left one filmed with a thick cataract the exact bluish color of the tank solution. My heart contracts, for I had never seen the cataract before. She looks at me for a moment, then bends down and brushes her lips against my forehead. They are dry and chapped, but I revel in the touch.
     Then she steps from concealment and faces the two boys, a rock concealed in her hand.

Part VII.
     The dark one notices her first, skidding to a stop that turns into comedy as he sits abruptly down in the creek. Even in my pain, I smile slightly. Then the blond looks up, and notices Mai, and he smiles as well, although not very much. He must retain his composure, after all.
     Mai stands straight as a tree, silent, watching them. After a while the dark one stands back up and says awkwardly, 'Uh, hi, howya? Y'okay?'
     Mai nods once, but doesn't take her eyes off either of them.
     The dark one scratches his head, at a loss for words. His kind always is. 'Uh... I'm Raijin... that, uh, that's Seifer... who're you?'
     Mai opens her mouth. Don't tell him, I plead silently. Leave your past behind. Then she speaks, a single word, her voice mangled and roughened by her experiences and her years of silence. I am relieved that she chooses an entirely new name even as my heart breaks over her voice.
     'FUUJIN,' she says.
     The blond one, the one called Seifer, laughs a little, and Mai wilts, just a bit. 'Raijin and Fuujin, that's real cute!'
     The dark one blushes furiously, picking himself out of the creek, and Mai straightens. She knows all too well when children are making fun of her. The children of Balamb Village did so often. The blond one is teasing the dark one, not Mai.
     'So, uh, where you from, Fuujin?' the dark one stammers. Mai... Fuujin... my child is smart once more, pointing at the cave behind us. Raijin's eyes grow round. 'Wow! No one's allowed in there! You must be real brave!'
     A bond of sorts is quickly formed. I am proud of Mai... Fuujin. She holds her own. She can dominate the dark-skinned one easily; the blond will cause her more problems, but she will manage. When the two boys head back to their home, the Garden up the hill, my Fuujin goes with them, only glancing back once. She holds on to the rock, however.
     She will be safe. There are warriors there. She doesn't need me any more.

     As soon as they are gone I slowly claw my way from concealment. My intestines finally spill from my body, but I no longer care. The soldiers will find me in the morning and leave the island be. Mai will be safe. Fuujin will be safe. She will never become a Sorceress' Knight.
     I collapse into the creek, which glitters like glass around me in the afternoon sun. Safe... she's safe... soon I will be safe. We're all... safe.
     I become a huddled figure in the creek.
     It is a better death than I deserve.

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