Nada's Escape

58- Restrictions.

There are only three types of people in Norgara who get credit to take what they need from the marketplace. Warriors, who go out on mission and increase their share by bringing back spoils. Huntswomen, who are pregnant or nursing infant boys and their share increases for every live child under their protection. The third group are only given credit by the magnanimity of a council member for extenuating circumstances.

Percival informs me that I'm in the third category, as are all the girls in the warrior circle. Despite the fact that a sponsor usually receives extra credit for children in their care, Percival has decided that I'm too new for that responsibility.

I protest, "But I'm their sponsor. The council decided."

"Perhaps," his pursed, wrinkled lips tell me everything I need to know about his stubbornness on the issue. "But I am in charge of allocating the Huntsmen's trade goods."

He takes a distasteful sip from the mug of tea I'd begrudgingly set before him when he'd showed on my doorstep to 'clear the air'.

"I would never leave you out to dry, however. As children your girls won't be expected to work for their credit, though they will have to train, of course. I'm giving you two more cycles of free credit, from the very bottom of my heart."

Yes, from the ugly dregs of your heart. I know what this is really about.

Though it's been two weeks since the first meeting of the Young Warriors Society, we're looking after the ex-Seveners more than ever before. I've continued visiting Penny almost every day, sometimes alone, sometimes with a friend in tow. It became a ritual duty, I think, for all of us to constantly reach out to the girls held outside the warrior circle. Two days ago, as it always did, my frustration at the Huntsmen boiled over into a poisonous comment.

"I, too, would prefer to slit my wrists in a sterile room. Really make me feel like a valued guinea pig." I remember the sarcasm boiling in my very blood as I spoke the words.

Bizarrely it tended to be these saucier comments that captured a Huntsmen's full attention and therefore, more often than not, their acquiescence. In this particular instance I was well aware of this irregularity and so retracted my word-whip with a thin smile. On queue Percival looked up from polishing the flat of an achingly heavy sword.

Then I added the red bow on top, "Don't you agree?"

Percival's sour-lipped silence had been fascinating to behold. He sucked on at least three different responses before spitting out a reluctant, "Fine. But I'm not giving you any extra credit for it."

"Miser," I'd muttered in reply, despite a triumphant retreat. The decoration of Lily's hospice room had begun that very afternoon.

It is for that moment where I shamelessly twisted his intentions that Percival is paying me back now, highlighting his power over my life. He's lucky that its only just past midday and I still have plenty of cordial left in the tank.

The Young Warrior's Society has made a lot of things better, but our main objective is constantly eluding us. With all the visiting and parading and politely-wrapped bullying I have barely had time to think deeply about escaping. Amy has been as busy as me, doing something or other with Percival, Macie or the girls. The musketeers, exposed to a range of ex-Seven luxuries, have lost their iconic ferocity. Not that I can talk, taking up an entire bungalow built for two.

My days are spent navigating a jungle of activity and yet every time night falls I'm unsettled. I don't know if the feeling is fuelled by the quiet of my bungalow, or the memory of nightmares from my first nights out of Seven. Unexpectantly, the academy training room became my nighttime haven.