“So,” Sophie looked around. “What happens now?”
Blue shrugged. “We hang around for a bit and wait for the others, I guess.”
Sophie stiffened. “The others. Of course. What is the Society’s got them?”
Blue laughed. “Tala’s pretty much uncatchable. And Chrysanthemum might be caught but cannot be contained.”
“Why not?”
“Linguist, remember? A few quick symbols, maybe an ancient poem or two, and she’s out of there.”
“That would be a useful skill,” Sophie considered.
Blue shook his head. “You don’t stand a chance. Linguists tend to be calm and patient. You’re far too explosive.”
“I never exploded,” Sophie sounded hurt.
Blue rolled his eyes. “You will.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Bet you a fiver?”
Sophie glared at him. “All of this is very interesting but it doesn’t really answer my question. What do we do now?”
“Stay calm.”
Both of them swung round to see where the new voice was coming from.
“You stay calm,” it repeated, “and listen to what I have to say.”
Out of the shadows in the shade of a spread-branched oak tree walked two figures.
The first was female, about Chrysanthemum’s age, with gothic white skin and glorious black hair. She was tall, intimidating, with piercing black eyes set deep in shadows. She wore black. Dusty black coat, with strange edges, over deep, impressive black dress and ordinary mid-black boots.
She was absolutely colourless, made purely of black and white, except for the rather worrying red scarf tied loosely around her neck. Sophie found herself staring at it.
Her companion was a man, his age impossible to guess at. He was shorter than her by a few inches and broader by a great deal. His hair was deep brown and curled and, to Sophie’s delight and fascination, he had sideburns. His eyes were shockingly blue and Sophie felt as if they could read her soul.
He wore black, but serviceable black. He had no dramatic cloak, no sweeping, trailing ribbons of fabric. But he did have a pistol stuffed in his belt, which detracted from the ordinary and harmless appearance somewhat.
Just as the lady before him, he had only one touch of colour and it was a red line painted on the handle of the pistol. The colour was frighteningly bright, as if everything else were darker in comparison. It drew the gaze, blurred everything to nothing and Sophie was sure she could see it moving….
“Sophie,” Blue said, out of the corner of his mouth. “Hold my hand. They say one thing I don’t like and we’re out of here.”
“They don’t look so bad,” Sophie muttered.
“They’re Necromancers. They don’t have to.”
The pair stopped about a metre away and watched them carefully.
“Hello,” the female said, eventually. “You are Sophie.”
Sophie nodded. “Yes. I know.”
The lady smiled, not the patronizing smile Sophie had expected but as though she really was amused.
“My name is Diana,” she extended a hand. “Diana Veil. And, as your friend has guessed, I am a necromancer.”
Sophie cautiously extended her hand and shook. Diana’s grip was warm and human, not clammy or cold or dead. So far, they didn’t seem to be a threat.
“This is Savio,” Diana gestured to her companion. “Savio Herald. He’s…a friend of mine.”
Savio bowed. “Charmed.”
Sophie blinked, startled.
“I’m Blue,” Blue looked at the Necromancers with obvious mistrust. “Blue Last. And you’re not going to take Sophie away and kill her.”
“No,” Diana agreed. “I’m not. Anyway, only the Society actually has her immediate execution on the cards. The Necromancers want her living, breathing, human.”
“Thank you for that reassurance,” Sophie backed away. “I think we can just go now.”
Diana held up a hand. “Wait!”
Sophie froze.
“Listen,” Diana spread her hands wide. “You’re a necromancer. That doesn’t mean you have to be a Necromancer.”
“Are you crazy?” Blue yelped, but Sophie had heard the difference.
“You mean,” she said, slowly. “Shadow magic doesn’t mean you have to join the cult.”
“Yes,” Diana nodded. “It’s far more dangerous, being a necromancer outside their grasp. It helps not to be alone. Necromancy alone is dangerous. Far too dangerous to deal with.”
“You and Savio…you’re not part of the cult, are you? You’re independent.”
“Yes,” Diana smiled. “We have been since our teens. It’s ok. There’s been a few interesting moments but we get by. The thing is, we rather like being alive.”
“Good?” Sophie hazarded and Diana laughed again.
“I think there’s quite a lot we have to explain to you,” Diana sighed. “The thing is, I need you to trust us.”
“Not on your life,” Blue snapped. “You’re Necromancers. I don’t care what you say about the cult, you’re all evil! Twisted! Wrong!”
Diana’s face flashed with momentary rage, but it was gone as soon as it came. Savio growled in the back of his throat but Diana raised a hand and he fell silent.
“Necromancy,” she said, very carefully, “is not evil. It is unusual, dangerous and disturbing at times. But it is not evil. And you must trust us, because without us your new friend doesn’t stand a chance.”
Blue was clearly boiling over with fury but Sophie was more interested than afraid.
“Alright,” she sat down on a gravestone. “Explain everything.”
Diana smiled, almost triumphantly, and Sophie felt a flicker of doubt.
“Tell me, how much has Miss Bone been able to say about shadow magic?”
Tala woke up with a start, eyes flashing open.
“You’re alive,” Chrysanthemum said, shortly. “What did you think you were doing?”
Tala rasped, “Couldn’t run so well. Not used to concrete. Unfamiliar stone. No branches. Not good.”
Chrysanthemum sighed. “Yeah, well. You’ll be alright. You’ve messed up your ankle but we can get that sorted out, sooner or later. For now, you’ll just have to cope with walking on it.”
Tala nodded gingerly. “I can manage.”
“Good,” Chrysanthemum said, without any generosity. “Because I can’t do anything about it.”
“What happened to Sophie and Blue?” Tala asked. “They got away?”
Chrysanthemum nodded. “I don’t know where to. But they definitely picked up Celia. I haven’t had a chance to try and get her out yet.”
“She’ll be fine,” Tala confirmed. “It won’t be her first time in a cell. The question is, will we?”
Chrysanthemum looked around. “Sophie and Blue could be anywhere, anywhere that Blue would think was safe in a hurry. Celia could be injured, badly. The Society have her, which cuts off a great many possible safe houses from us. We need to find Sophie.”
“Yes. The Necromancers are still after her.”
Chrysanthemum raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised they haven’t tried any harder. I’d been expecting a full-blown war declared now. Their princess or our annihilation.”
“They’ve had time to think since last time,” Tala gasped, testing her weight on her ankle. “They’ve grown cunning, more patient. They’ll make sure Sophie hates and fears the Society with all her heart. Then they’ll start on her.”
“Why?”
“Because Sophie is far more vulnerable to them. The Society hates her. The Necromancers adore her. And if the Society has treated her badly and she’s tired and lost and hurt, well, wouldn’t you accept the respect and safety of people who had never tried to hurt you?”
Chrysanthemum was silent for a long time. “We have to find her.”
“That’s for sure. Where shall we start?”
Chrysanthemum smiled. “You’re the one who’s meant to know Blue Last. Where would he go?”
Tala frowned, and then her expression cleared. “Of course!”
“What?”
“We’re going west,” Tala announced, “to the last place anyone would look for runaway Blue Last.”
“Where?” Chrysanthemum insisted, looking annoyed.
Tala smiled sadly. “His home.”
Sophie listened, open-mouthed, to Diana Veil talking about necromancy. It was fascinating, even with Blue grumbling quietly in the background.
“Shadow magic is about using everything other people are too scared to go near. Darkness, hatred, anger, death, life, everything inbetween. It’s about taking all your rage and pain and grief and guilt and fear and lost hopes and broken dreams and turning them into something useful.”
“With magic?”
“Yes. Sort of. All of those things, which are powerful alone and we all have far too many of, become a power so that a moderately capable necromancer could easily fight with a high-level Warrior and not necessarily come out worst.”
Sophie gaped. “So, necromancy is more powerful than any of the other divisions?”
“Yes,” Diana smiled. “It is. More powerful and, by consequence, far more dangerous. Far more corruptible. Far more volatile.”
Sophie nodded slowly. “That’s why no one will let me try necromancy without being told how to begin. That’s why you say you should never be a necromancer alone.”
Diana’s smile turned thin. “A few have done. Usually, they become dangerous powerful. Dangerous so much that the rest of the world cowered before them. Then they pretty much blew themselves up.”
Sophie blinked. “That wasn’t the ending I was expecting.”
Diana shrugged. “It gets to your head, necromancy. Knowing how powerful you are, knowing that life and death will answer to you. You start thinking you’re immortal. Then you think you want to die. Then you do die and realise that you were wrong on both counts. But that’s only the really powerful ones.”
“Oh,” Sophie murmured. “Good.”
“After we were exiled from the Society, the Necromancy cult really took hold. There are barely any of us who do not belong to it left in the world. The cult takes them young, fills their minds with death-and-glory ideas and then that’s that. They’re lost to normality.”
Something flickered across Savio’s face and Sophie spotted it. It could have been pain or anger and disbelief. She wasn’t sure which.
“Chrysanthemum said we needed necromancers back,” Sophie remembered. “Why? Why would she say that?”
“The seven council members were important. But now, with six, they are an even number. No good for voting at all. The necromancer was, historically, the most logical, unbiased and level-headed of the council. Necromancers tended to have no fear of consequences. They made decisions and lived with them.”
Sophie shuddered and Diana nodded.
“Not always good,” she admitted, “but useful in politics. They made the right and logical choices. They didn’t favour their faction. But the Society was better back then. Less political, less dull.”
Sophie smiled to herself. “Less dull.”
Diana sighed. “I’m guessing you want to know about your prophecy. The thing is, I don’t know. I don’t know the details. Just the theory.”
“But you’re a necromancer,” Sophie objected.
“You need to be a secure member of the cult to know the details,” Diana explained, “and a high priest to know the actual words. I can tell you the basics, what they’ll want you to do. But you’ll have to find the words yourself.”
“Tell me,” Sophie begged. “Tell me if I’ll destroy the world.”
Diana shut her eyes briefly and smiled, as if remembering something both funny and sad.
“Sophie, prophecies predict the future. They don’t tell you what will happen. You still have that choice to make."
Sophie scowled. “Don’t make it dramatic and mysterious. Tell me what Necromancers believe will happen.”
Diana shrugged helplessly. “The theory is that the Night Princess will come to them. She will, combined with….something….I’m sorry, I was never really told all of this. But she’ll be able to find the earthly location of the Doors of Death. She will be able to open them.”
Sophie stared. “And then what?”
“That wasn’t enough?” Diana looked incredulous. “Don’t you know what opening the Doors would mean?”
“No,” Sophie complained. “I don’t!”
“Opening the doors breaks the barrier between life and death,” Savio spoke for the first time. His voice was strange, like velvet or ashes. “Breaking that barrier means there is no life anymore. Just beyond.”
“Oh,” Sophie winced. “Nice. Necromancers too?”
Diana smiled. “Necromancers believe that life is an inferior prologue to the glory of being dead.”
There was a long, thoughtful silence.
“Well, that’s messed up,” Blue muttered.
“It’s because we live so briefly and so rarely achieve what we really want,” Diana tried to put words around it, “and because the purpose of living is, ultimately, to die. They believe that to be dead is far better than living. It is the goal, the achievement, the relief of all your pains.”
Sophie was still staring, listening and wishing it didn’t make a strange kind of sense.
“They believe opening the doors will free everyone from a world of misery and unfairness to the future they have all been anticipating, whether they realise or not.”
“Are your people insane?” Blue enquired.
Diana gave him a hard look. “No. They are just people of specific beliefs. Dangerous beliefs, true, but not wrong in themselves.”
“They want me to open the door,” Sophie felt sick. “Open the door and kill everyone.”
Diana spread her arms wide. “Open the door and liberate everyone.”
“That’s enough,” Blue snapped. “No more. You aren’t allowed to tell her any more.”
“Traveller, I am merely telling her their beliefs. They may even be right. You cannot say that opening the Doors would not be liberation. Just as you cannot say for sure that there is no God, there is no Heaven or Hell. You can believe. But you can’t know.”
Sophie was startled by the look of hatred on Blue’s face.
“Oh yeah?” he sneered. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, witch, but I can. There is no God. No God would make a world like this and hang around for long. There is no Heaven or Hell. Just living and dying. And this girl is not going to be opening any magic doors.”
Diana, to Sophie’s surprise, smiled.
“You will protect her, will you?”
“Yes,” Blue snapped.
“Why?”
Blue stopped short, floundering. “I…um…”
“You who conforms to nobody,” Diana continued, “You who denies the Society any hold over you. Reckless, irresponsible, powerful you. Why would you protect this girl?”
Blue’s anger returned. “Because I’d rather not be dead, thank you! And because Tala trusted me. But that’s a minor consideration.”
Diana nodded. “Guard her well, Traveller. She’s far more dangerous than even you can think.”
Blue glared but said nothing.
“Please,” Sophie begged. “Teach me necromancy!”
Diana shook her head. “There’s no time. We’ll meet again, if you survive that long. And I will tell you more.”
“It’s in your scarf, isn’t it?” Sophie blurted out. “Your power is in your scarf.”
Diana looked at her for a long time. “Choose your object wisely, Sophie, and not without talking to a few necromancers. It can be dangerous to get it wrong.”
She turned and Savio turned with her, the two of them preparing to leave.
“Wait,” Sophie cried. “Just tell me this. Will you fight with me, if it comes to that?”
Diana’s smile was suddenly frightening. “I do not fear death. There are times when I would welcome it. But yes, I will fight with you. And I will not lose.”