My Pleasure, Darling

17: Spree

Elise's car is an older model, a fancy classic I couldn't name if it killed me. She carts us through the streets comfortably, leisurely. Part of me wants to tell her to hurry up, but I have to remind myself I'm no longer on the run, here. And not only am I not on the run, but I have to give the impression that I'm out on a fun shopping trip.

She parks in some underground lot of a mall, and when we surface, I can see why she brought me to this part of town. The fancy part, that is, to match her fancy house. The mall has high ceilings made of glass that let the sunlight stream in, bright lights in the walls just in case, only a few thousand people milling about, and a kiosk or food counter every twenty paces in between the shops.

Elise watches me, somewhat fondly, as I look around in awe. It's one hell of a scene. I'm struck, just for a moment, at what a pity is Alexandria can't be here to see it. She would have loved the splendour of it all.

I follow Elise into the first store without paying much attention. It's spectacularly clean, and clearly meant for a different sort of clientele than me. The designs are classy, the colour combinations rich, the fabrics are soft and will wrinkle if you so much as look at them funny. You can smell the fancy off the rails, I don't know why. Maybe it's because the staff have their products lined up meticulously, without a frill or a price tag out of place, or maybe it's that there are no sale signs hanging around, promising a 20% reduction. Rich people have no need for discounts.

It's hard to remind myself that I am, in fact, rich people now. I think of the 80.000 Lon I withdrew the other day. I could do a lot with that money – at least, before the inflation hits. I secretly hope Dad has more stashed away in other accounts.

I never thought of him as rich. I never had a pampered life. We watched our money and we were careful with it. I was taught the worth of money, and how to save it efficiently without emotional distress, very early on. Not in my wildest dreams would I have imagined Dad had 80.000 Lon.

But then I suppose, he was Chancellor-General. With a Chancellor-General's pay check. If you don't spend a lot, I suppose that will get you places fast.

Elise slides metal hangers on a rail across loudly, snapping through the items. She pulls out a white blouse. One with flounces. It's practically translucent, and it will definitely wrinkle. Moreover, it's about three sizes too small. "What about this? This would be cute."

I don't give her a lecture on the impracticality of rich people clothes. "What size is it?"

She checks. "A sixteen. Last one on the rack."

"Maybe we should shop somewhere else." If this poor woman thinks I can squeeze myself into a size sixteen, she's got another thing coming.

"I'm sure we can find you something here."

I stare at her. I really don't know what to say. This woman is safe-housing me and Felix and Andrea. I can't tell her to get a grip, get it together, look out of your eyes at my actual body. She looks back for a moment, then gently puts it back on the rack. "We don't have to get anything you don't want. There's a shoe store around the corner if you'd like to start there."

Thank God.

I can't help the awe, looking around myself again. I always liked shopping in principal, I liked big malls well enough, but this one is dazzling. You can tell it was made and designed to be enjoyed aesthetically.

The Mountain was designed for a purpose. The purpose was to train and house the Royal Corps. It's a military facility. It's built starkly, beige and grey walls, no decoration. I grew up there. It's what I'm comfortable with, what I am used to. It's connected to a maze of tunnels that run deep in the base of the mountain, and each of those is a bleak and dark grotto that leads to similarly spartan watchtowers, bunkers and warehouses.