Nada's Escape

23- Pearls.

"Let me show you something else," Finley says, a level of quiet excitement thrumming beneath his words. From the corner of my eye I assess him over the centre console. He's being very obliging today. I'm naturally suspicious but I can't afford to turn down a further chance to scope out the Huntsmen's defences.

So Finley leads me into the village centre, where the academy stands; armoury, training centre, school, library and meeting hall in one. Standing enormous amongst the little bungalows, its true form is difficult to grasp in a single glance. Orange tiles stretch across the portico roof to contrast the slatted wood walls of the upper stories. Under the portico perhaps the colonnade should echo the ancient civilisation of Greece but instead the polished wood columns are faintly barbaric. Even highly glossed, the sturdy practicality of the columns whispers of a frontier against the wilderness.

Taking the tour inside, I can make an easy comparison. Whilst Seven is a sandstone-concrete war fort, the academy is clearly made for pleasure. The gold painted balconies wink at me from the dancing floor of the airy hall. The library and adjoining school rooms on the upper levels are intimate labyrinths of velvet curtains and floor to ceiling bookshelves. Here the light is dimmed through stained glass pictures I do not recognise.

The Huntsmen's weaponry forms artistic whorls through several heavy rooms. A tight spiral staircase inside a stone tower leads us down to the training room. Even this stuns me by opening its glass doors into a pretty grassed courtyard. Nice but indefensible. The last mismatched touches are the cloisters of this courtyard. Walled with hundreds of slit like fenestrations, striping the walkway with light.

Finley explains everything in detail but I keep up a cracking pace, staying silent except for my footsteps. From the cloister Finley points out the massive house that he and his father live in, up on a rise one street back. He makes sure to point out the marketplace beside the academy, where the stores of food are kept and bottled water, essential for long escaping journeys.

Finley has come a long way between yesterday and today in making me believe him. Still, I attempt to interrogate his motives as we move on to walk the streets, memorising the layout.

"What do you get out of this?"

"Nothing," he assures me.

Ignoring him, I prompt again, "What. Do. You. Want?" He glances to the sky.

"I want... to be a good person? To stop horrible things from happening to people who don't deserve them. Obviously helping you out of Seven falls into that category." He glances back at me, trying to catch my eye like he always does when he wants to convince me of his sincerity and I avoid it as always, pretending the bungalows on either side are more interesting.

"And why haven't you given up? It's like you're always trying." And failing, I almost add. He's been my sponsor for three years now, trying to ignite my goodwill.

He sighs and he looks away too, to the other side of the lane. "Because I have to make up for the awful things in the rest of world. If I give up then ... I may as well do horrible things too."

I frown; that is a surprisingly compassionate outlook. His slumped shoulders show exhaustion, like all his do-gooding takes too much energy. I bet it does. How can a single person ever make up for the rest of the whole freaking world? This impossibility leaves an empty feeling in my chest and a sadness for him. My hand runs along the pearls from yesterday, now carelessly clasped around my neck.

"I guess we should get back." He suggests, not for the first time. I too judge the redness of the sky. I give in reluctantly; there's a lot that's good about being out of Seven, even for a day. Even on a time leash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where were you?" Amy demands. I am in such a daze coming back into Seven, a kind of happy daze from the greenery and sunlight but the concrete of Amy's eyes destroys that. The concrete eyes that show you are a survivor. It is a shocking return to reality, being confronted in my cell like this.

"What are you, my mother?" We are friends but some things have to be challenged. I try to brush past her to my mattress but she shoves my shoulder.

"You were gone all day, dipshit."

"And? What I do is none of your busy business." I almost grimace, did I actually just say busy business?

"And you're dressed up good as a worm. Look at that necklace." I can see she is disgusted. I don't let my emotions slip free of my mask yet still I curse. Dammit.

Quality clothing doesn't really give anything away but the necklace clearly says, I'm dressed up. I may have begrudgingly slipped on the supplied clothes because they'd trick the Huntsmen into forgetting I was a fighter from Seven. But I'd slipped on Finley's necklace this morning with no intentions past keeping it on my person in the absence of pockets. I still can't think of anything to say.

"Did Finley give it to you?" Amy accuses and that is possibly the worst thing she could say to me. I'm sure there are hundreds of girls out there who have been teased for having been given something pretty by a boy but their blushed cheeks have nothing on me. Not only does the question, without evidence, insinuate that Finley had given me the necklace, which he actually had but that's not the point, but that I had let him walk all over me like I was a worm. I seethe, almost forgetting that it is Amy before me. How dare she?

But I catch myself. Wouldn't I do the same to her, to make sure she wasn't enthralled? So I own up. "He did, though I tried to turn him down. He still sucks, I'll have you know. And you'll call me crazy but he could be the key to our escape."

A muddle of mysterious expressions pass across Amy's face and it triggers a smile in me. She looks about as confused as I feel. "I've got a lot to tell you," I say.

So we sit on the rough mattress in my cell and I divulge Finley's recent odd activities. I make sure to leave out any mention of Finley's increasing ability to enthral me, so as not to alarm Amy further. Despite it I am completely in control of myself. Amy is suspicious at first of my softening stance on the well know Huntsmen teen. But as I point out all the marked attempts to show me that he is serious, she has to admit that I might be right. He's either a morally angelic Huntsmen or he cares far too much about me. I hope it is the former.

After many minutes of examining the situation from every angle Amy's agreement with the plan outweighs my own. She points out that we must survive in order to escape. And that means avoiding the horror of termination. Perhaps even making the best of lulling the Huntsmen into a false sense of security before we disappear from under their noses.

"But how do we all get sponsors before then?" I point out the major survival plan flaw. I am the only of the five fighters to have kept a sponsor, thanks to Finley's tenacity.

"Can't Finley sponsor all us?" Amy asks, lightening the mood with a laugh. "The only Huntsmen or warden with a fraction of a heart left."

I can't help but echo her glee, "But what about Mildrith? Surely she's a teddy bear under all the big growls."

"I actually thought she was human for a while." Amy replies, "But if she is she's had a dangerous voice box accident."

At this opportune time Mildrith decides to interrupt our tête-à-tête. "Dinner."