Nada's Escape

39- Council.

Finley places a steadying hand on my arm and takes over my argument in the shocked silence after my outburst, "Nada is the only one who can convince the last five girls to pledge. She's brilliant and the solution you've been looking for. Don't waste wardens terminating the girls; let them be brought into the fold peacefully."

Finley voices the reason I can't put into words. The sun dips behind the heads of the council members so that it's impossible to see their faces.

"It's impossible: they don't have sponsors." Finley's father rebuffs.

"I will sponsor them. I'll sponsor them all. Even those already sponsored." I proclaim. They all begin to mutter again. Finley's father thrusts his fist in the air and holds it there silently. The grumblings of resentment begin to fade.

"You can't." He concludes simply. I don't wait for him to continue.

"By what rules?" I stride forward, arms stretched out to either side to encompass the whole line of them. "The rules you only abide by when it suits you? Is there any such thing as mercy for the helpless? Care for those who are weak? There is no reason to let them die."

Silence meets these words. Annoyed silence like a ticking time bomb.

"She carries the mark of the Warrior Mage." A cracked voice attempts. I look down at my palm again, at the dark stain that they believe in. The robed old man who spoke out from the line of men is now coughing. Finley takes a step closer to me, showing his support.

"And she's right." He continues where the priest left off, "Those girls, they need someone they can trust. They need someone with the time to explain what is expected of them. Together they might just become worthy to serve the cause." I am glancing at Finley, just a touch aghast at his improvisation skills when he gives me a confident smile which translates to trust me, even without the mental link.

"Who knows these future Huntswomen best? Who do they trust most? And most importantly who can you trust?" He takes my hand, on the side with the mark on it. "I'd trust this girl with my life. All you need to do is trust us both to do the Warrior Mage's work."

We wait and I seal my tongue behind my teeth, willing myself silent.

"Who agrees with my son?" The leader calls out.

To my surprise a bunch of shadows arms are thrust into the sky to show their agreement. A motley chorus of 'aye's in rough tones resounds.

"We have nothing to lose," one voice mutters. I look to Finley. The sunset has caught on his face. His jaw is strong, like someone willing to fight but his eyes, complex colours melted into gold by the light, are shining with grace that can't be explained. Like mercy and hope. I understand why they are agreeing then. It's not his cause, but his fire that they agree with.

Finley's father speaks again, tone doubtful. "You are willing to take responsibility for the girls?"

"Yes." I reply, slipping my hand from Finley's and letting both hands drop to my sides. "Thank you I'll-"

"-we weren't finished." interjects Finley's father, "Your confidence is admirable but the care of severely traumatised children is not for untrained girls, especially those carrying their own trauma. The weepers will need proper treatment from someone less busy than yourself. "

"So you're going to lock them up to be abused some more?" I demand, speaking without thinking. I'm not psychiatrist or a professional carer or anything but I can do a lot better than some warden. I feel a bristling in the Huntsmen, a shiver of their old dislike for me.

"Nice warden sponsors will be picked to care for them while they're in padded cells." Finley's father rebuffs calmly.

"Absolutely not!" I exclaim. It would be wrong to the girls in so many ways. My eyes are open to the horrors that befall unresisting girls.

The leader's face, half illuminated, twists into an ugly smile. "A personal protector and a padded cell certainly got you on your feet."

I merely blink. Don't let him get to you. "I'm sorry? You think you know about me?"

The leader lets out a big sigh, "It doesn't matter. That is our decision."

"Cancellarius?" A reedy voice rings out and I attempt to place it as I squint against the sun.

"Yes, Percival?" The leader replies. My hands clench into fists as Macie's lecherous sponsor continues to address Finley's father.

"The oldest two are too close in age to this girl for her to possibly be an effective mentor. They are, however, certainly old enough to be sponsored by a capable Huntsman." His lips linger over the last syllable.

"Quite right." Finley's father agrees then addresses me again, "You can't mentor the older two: they need a Huntsmen sponsor." I grit my teeth. This is not how I'd wanted it to go. I wanted to make sure none of the girls I'd sworn to protect could be hurt by these men.

"Now if there isn't anything further the light is fading fast." Finishes the leader.

"No." I interject before they can try to send me packing, "We're not done. The wardens need to be within two years of the girl's age range. And I need to okay them before-"

"Not suitable," says one voice and then someone else cuts over the top.

"Again the stability concerns of teenagers-" The group-voice starts breaking down into whispers and exclamations on all sides.

Then the Finley's father starts speaking and I know where he is as soon as his mouth opens. Conversation is sucked into the void. Gone.

"You may say your piece. Be brief. The sun is almost at the horizon." I can see that. The orange rays are still stabbing at my eyes from beyond their silhouettes.

"It worked for me, didn't it?" I ask innocently, using their own argument against them. I think Macie would be proud of that one.

"Finley was a special case... Son of the-" Again, I can't tell who is speaking. But I don't care; they're wrong.

"It doesn't matter. They don't need an owner. They don't need a psychiatrist or a carer. They deserve a friend who cares about them. Lily and Stacey." Silence meets my words. The council seems to be happy so long as everything is going their way.

"You may have this concession," Finley's father replies. "Since us on the council have... other matters to attend to, I authorise Finley to stand in to receive pledges on behalf of the council. This is not an official meeting nor decision. I ask that all present swear to speak about this with extreme discretion."

"We will," echo a dozen voices, including my own. I had decided not to utter another oath but there it is, pulled from my lips via invisible coercion.

And then by consensus they all turn and leave at once.