Nada's Escape

60- Canopy.

"It's been the transport problem." I explain to Finley as he gobbles down pasta, wedged high between two thick branches of an ancient tree the Huntsmen must have lugged here from the old World. Below the trailing paths are choked with a scramble of cottage flowers but up here I feel a breezy brand of freedom. I can see enough through the drifting foliage to know that we're alone but to a Huntsmen wandering along the path below we're too small to be of note amongst this humungous canopy.

"It's easy enough to steal, hoard and ferret away food and water, even extra clothing. But as I'm sure you've guessed, none of us knows how to drive. Now that wouldn't be such a problem if you Huntsmen had a single auto transmission in the fleet. And we'd learn only everybody's too busy to teach us." I run my fingers over the bark as I speak, feeling the textures begin to numb the nerves there. Seeing from the corner of my eye that Finley's still chewing I continue my train of thought.

"Smart, I suppose, as smart as having a constant guard at the garages so that stealing a car undetected is impossible. I did think about stealing a key, but then Macie reminded me: what if they notice?"

Finley's swallow is audible, "Mm good point. I guess the solution is I drive... unless you want to wait around long enough to get a few lessons. It's a rough road out there so even then it'd be sketchy."

Denial flash boils within me so fast that I slap down the idea immediately, "We can't wait!" I pause briefly on this outburst, attempting to modify my voice's escalating pitch, "It's been too long already." I fidget with the bark to avoid icing him with an angry stare.

"Okay. So here's the thing." Finley edges around his own words. If we weren't up a tree he'd be asking me to sit down for this news.

Shit. He's backing out on me. The soft sound of chewing tells me he's chosen to wedge another forkful into his mouth. As he munches I seethe at the bark, starting to crumble it apart, pooling little brown pieces on my knees. I unsettle a small bug with an armadillo's segmented back and flick it mercilessly down into the gardens below.

Finley mumbles something unintelligible around his food but finally he swallows, "For the next couple of days the road in is going be busy with returnees. My guess is that the days beyond that will be busy in the other direction."

I don't need him to spell it out for me. "So escaping by road is not an option until its quiet again." Damn it.

"Mm." I hear a scratching and guess he's scraping the fork around the bowl. "And a further problem is that I might be on the next mission sent out."

Is he creating problems now? I press my forehead to the tree trunk, feeling my skin dimple against its ridges. I try not to make my protest sound entirely insolent, but it's difficult. "Can't you just ask not to be?"

"Sure," Finley replies in a quick, casual manner that makes it obvious that I haven't offended him. "But I doubt they'll grant my request."

Bullshit. I've seen wardens twice your age stumble over themselves to get you a glass of water. "Why? You're the cancellarius' son."

Finley breathes out in a sigh so heavy, that even I can see his shoulders sagging over the gap between branches. He lets the bowl fall into the tangle below, "I'll pick that up on the way back." And I get it, his relations with his father, Josef, are strained at best. Probably because Josef is an ass. Finley shimmies out along the branch, dangling legs and arms down either side.

"Okay so we wait. Poised to leave." I pray that I'm not conceding my freedom. I lay back against my own branch, just a little lower than his, and watch the leaves shift dreamily over my head. On a sunny day this spot becomes a glittering, dappled wonderland, gorgeous just to be a part of. Today, though, the sky has turned sleet grey, luckily still warm enough for my thin summer clothing. We've been trying to gather sturdier stuff, just in case, but proper gear is more tightly controlled than the used clothing bins.

I risk a glance diagonally and see Finley making a Mexican wave with his dangling fingers. "There's another thing." I say, "I tried Penny's sweethearts ribbon. It didn't budge."

"Hmm..." I barely hear the hum he makes in response. I wonder what he's thinking about.

"So I've been thinking. Maybe it was the both of us." Something to do with the dream woman, with her cloak like the Warrior Mage. For your sake I grant you the gift of a tether to your world. Or the oath he had made to the council two years ago. I swear to protect her, always. To share my strength with her whenever I can... "What was that oath you made to the council?"

I can't believe I haven't asked about this sooner. Why Finley and I? Why ask for an oath that's clearly not normal? Like they'd been trying to protect me. Me, a kidnapped human. Did the council somehow know that I'd be given the mark of the Warrior Mage in the future?

My questions change as the foliage does, making half shapes unable to be deciphered into real things. I press my hands to my eyes to stop them and glance over at the unresponsive Finley.

His eyes lie closed, face pressed down to the bark, rippled from its ridges. Brown hair spiked up against it like a crest, pressed against the darker bark. I reach across the space rather dangerously to brush his dangling fingers with my own.

"Hey." No response. He's asleep. There's an absurdity to the image of him asleep up a tree, like a giant koala. Except koalas never fall out of trees. At least the branch is wide and heavily textured for grip. Still, only a Huntsmen would be comfortable enough in such a position to sleep there. He must be crazy tired.

I reach out again, just for fun, and an image forms in my mind, clear as a projector fixed on a white wall.