"But cruel men still deserve to be punished.

   "I promise I won't hurt you. I might even make you my protege, if you can sing as well as they claim. But I need to hear you sing. Please understand, Celine, that I will never strike you or give you cause to fear me. I don't take pleasure in abusing the defenseless - and I don't favor children in that other way you think I do. I could find a willing, grown up prostitute for a few francs if I wanted to. But do not fear me Celine." Her buyer's voice drifted enchantingly over her ears. Beseeching and comforting.

   Celi still wasn't sure if she could trust him. She had trusted Hen at first too.

    "So since that bit is settled, will you please sing for me now? My time is valuable - you don't want to waste it now, do you? You seem sensible, you should know how precious time is."

    "I get punished when I sing. Do you promise not to let them hurt me?"

   With exasperation lacing his tone, and deep irritation, her buyer agreed. "I promise I will not let them hurt you."

  "Wait -"

   Red now recovered from his shock. "What -"

   "I'll pay one hundred francs more if you shut up," Celi's buyer snapped.

  Red shut up.

  "Sing please," said the strange man to Celi.

   She decided to sing the British lullaby Felicette had taught her.

   "Lavender's blue dilly, dilly, Lavender's green,

  When you are king, dilly, dilly, I shall be queen.

   Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?

   'Twas my own heart dilly, dilly, that told me so.

   Lavender's blue dilly, dilly, Lavender's green,

  You must love me, dilly, dilly, for I love you..."

  Her voice, gentle, melodic, and clear, carried and flowed through the cell. Everyone around grew quiet and listened to the girl whose voice was dainty as a butterfly's fluttering wings and stronger than an ocean current.

   "Beautiful," said her buyer.

   She smiled shyly, her first smile in almost a year. It felt strange on her face. But she liked it.

"How old are you, Celine, to have such a voice?"

   Celi tried to remember. "Six? Almost seven... I can't remember.  Almost seven. Maybe six and a half."

   "I was told you were ten." The cloaked man rose and looked at Red.

   "She is! But what does it matter, she's innocent and untrained. Perfect. It's you who has been untruthful towards me!" Red said.

   "I am not ten! We had this argument when I first came here! I was five! And -"

   Hen backhanded her across the face, her head snapping back, crashing painfully into the wall, and she saw stars and blackness. Hen moved to strike her again, but he never got the chance to swing his hand.

  And he never would again.

   The next thing Celi was aware of, was the sound of her chains being unlocked. Her wrists slid free, and before she could catch herself, she fell face forward, as her arms were no longer holding her up. The man in the cloak picked her up and leaned her against the wall. His strong hands were on her shoulders and his eyes bore into hers. Red and Hen were nowhere in sight. The faint smell of blood clung to the air... or perfumed the air around the man in the cloak. Celi shivered at the scent, her stomach clenching.

    Her buyer spoke. "This is your chance at freedom. Do you want me to help you? To give you a name for yourself?"

     Celi bit her lip, confused. Why would -

  "It should be a yes or no answer."

   "Yes," she said. "Where are Red and Hen?"

   "Why do you want to know? You should be glad to be free of them." He straightened and wrapped a hand around her arm, a bit roughly, though his roughness was still far more gentle than Red or Hen's touch. But this was a new side of him she was unsure about. He pulled her down the hall, and she was shocked to find there were not any other children around them.

   "Could you free the others?"

   "You ask too many questions."

   Celi pulled away. "Please sir. What will happen to the others?

   He studied her, examining her face, the raggedness of her thin slip, her bruised face. She shuddered against  the drafty corridor and his gaze, tugging her slip down as if she could make it longer and warmer. She settled for crossing her arms over her for warmth.

    There was movement inside the cloak and suddenly it parted, the outline of his lithe, thin body showing briefly as he put his coat around her shoulders. He is as skinny as me, she thought, quickly clutching the coat to her. She sighed, having forgotten what thick material felt like... what warmth felt like. His coat was warm and smelled old. Vintage, if vintage had a smell. She liked it.

   "Do you really care about the other children?"

   Celi looked up at him, as he looked down at her.

   "Oui, monsieur. They are my friends. Or would have been, under different circumstances. Many have been treated worse than I. I don't know if any were lucky enough to find generous people such as yourself..." she trailed off. "To free them."

  "Generous benefactors such as myself - whom you still do not entirely trust, you mean to say, mademoiselle. Let us be honest."

   Celi frowned.

   "But very well then. In a few days, you will know what has happened to them, you shall find out their fate in the papers, I promise you that. Now come before I drag you out of here, or change my mind."

  "Okay, thank you. And Monsieur," Celi said as he began to lead her again. "I have been taught to be distrustful of strangers. It is not just you."

   He did not reply.

    Her companion put out every torch and lantern they came across, and Celi could not see where they were going. She would have run into walls and tripped over many steps had his hand not been on her arm, or his musical voice, guiding her along.

    Her heart raced in her chest, her lungs closing, her ears straining to hear the hum in the distance of carriages, busy people, animals, and multiple pairs of feet on cobblestone streets. She never wavered, but her mind screamed at her to turn back.

    They burst outside, in a rush of sunlight, fresh air, colors, and dozens of people. The scent of chimneys, food, baking goods, horse manure, the taste of the outdoors, and the sound of life greeted her. Celi's feet were unsteady, as were her nerves, and her hand clasped the supporting one clamped on her arm. She sprang back, in pain, from the light of the sun, half blind, her hands flying over her eyes. When was the last time she'd walked in the sunlight, or felt the warmth of it on her face?

   "I had that very same reaction after spending a month composing in my home without ever opening a curtain or peering out of a window. I was at the piano, violin, and organ day and night; I forgot there was such a thing as a sun and it came as quite a shock when I was rudely reminded of it, the same way as you are now. The best way to familiarize yourself with brightness again, is to slowly let your eyes adjust."

   He pried her hands away, telling her to keep them closed, then positioned himself so that she could walk in his shadow.

    They entered the crowd of people, which jostled Celi around easily, since she was so small, shy, and clueless. The two nearly lost each other three times. She was hardly half a foot taller than a cane.

   Eventually, they arrived at his carriage, with curtains drawn over the windows.

   Celi had never been in a carriage before. As soon as she admitted this, her new friend told her that there would be a lot of things she would do that she had not done before.

   She agreed and settled back into the seat across from him. The rocking motion made her both tired and sick. She thought about the way her mother had once rocked her, a long time ago.

  She fell into a doze, recalling and thinking, caught in the present time and the past, wondering what her new life would be like while trying to decipher the character of the brooding man across from her.