A full Council of Elders was far more intimidating than one member. They sat on chairs that were only not called thrones because these people weren’t kings, and they regarded Sophie and Celia with quiet scrutiny.
“As you can see, the girl is far too powerful to live,” Rutha Peer droned. “The powers displayed when battling in that mortal environment are clearly too dangerous to be allowed out of confinement.”
“And absolutely impossible to confine,” the young Linguist added, quietly.
“My companion, you misunderstand me,” Peer said, hastily. “Her powers could overturn everything we have built. The chances of her remaining calm and quiet are unlikely. She is explosive! Dangerous! She will know nothing of what she is doing.”
“Then train me,” Sophie spread her arms wide. “Train me and let me learn. Let me have some sort of control.”
“You will speak when spoken to,” Peer snapped.
“Let her talk,” interrupted Monica Butterfly, the graceful Sensitive who had been watching Sophie intently the entire time. “It is her life, after all. Let her speak for herself. She is a girl, not an infant.”
Sophie decided that she liked Butterfly a lot.
“Listen,” she said, carefully. “I know you’re scared. You don’t want things to change.”
“Scared!” Peer roared. “Scared!”
“Guard your tongue, child,” the Warrior said, coldly.
Sophie bit her tongue hard and forced herself to continue.
“Listen, you don’t want me putting your systems and your world in danger. But I will be, so long as I don’t know what’s going on. I need to be trained. I need to understand what I can do with my power. If you kill me, you’re just going to be waiting for the next Night Princess. If I beat the prophecy, it’ll be over.”
“She’s right,” Butterfly said, firmly. “The future is never clear. She can beat what she has been told she will be.”
“Teach her,” Peer said, scornfully. “Teach her what? Black magic!”
“Forgive me, but you know nothing about necromancy,” Sophie said, carefully. “It is not all evil, and not all necromancers belong to the cult. There are some – Outsiders – who you can grant Tolerance.”
“You understand what Tolerance is, child?” Butterfly looked worried.
“Celia’s been telling me some things,” Sophie shrugged.
Celia looked awkward.
“Child, Tolerance is granted only to people too clever, too unique, too important or too necessary for us to obliterate,” Butterfly said, frowning on the last word. “It is granted to geniuses like Max Melamine, to people like Chrysanthemum Bone. It is not granted to just about anybody.”
“Well,” Sophie sighed, “I’d say you need Diana right now. Diana and Savio are Outsiders. They will teach me necromancy. I will control my power. I will be able to fight. But I will not be part of their cult. Isn’t that what you want?”
“It is…an improvement,” the Warrior admitted. “Though not a perfect arrangement.”
“Hang it all, Phil, the girl’s not about to kill us,” the Elder of the Travellers rolled her eyes.
Phil gave her a hard look. “You are too relaxed, Samantha. You must be ruthless.”
“Ruthless and inhumane are too very different things,” Butterfly glared at Phil. “This is a child. Not an infant. Not a demon. A child. If it were your own daughter, Phil, would you have her killed?”
Phil gave Butterfly a look. “That is another matter entirely. That would be personal. This isn’t.”
“It is to somebody else,” Butterfly snapped. “Think about it, you stupid, over-confident warrior! This girl has a family! This girl has friends! She has a future! And you just want to blast her to pieces?”
“Butterfly,” Peer passed a hand over his eyes, “it really isn’t as simple as you make out.”
“Isn’t it?” the Sensitive glared. “Really? Here is a child. She might destroy the world. You can blast her to pieces now and then another child can destroy the world. Or, and here’s a really new idea for you, you could help her not destroy the world!”
“I agree with Monica,” the Linguist put in. “She is not a bad person. Her friends have proved her loyal and brave. There is potential for her to be a great person. And I remember my suggestions before of renewing friendship with the Necromancers.”
The Linguist was called Jarus Firebird and he was the most beautiful man Sophie had ever seen, with dark skin and velvet hair and eyes looked like sunrise.
“Yes, yes, you suggested it,” Phil grumbled. “A rash and unlikely decision, which was voted against.”
“Indeed,” Jarus bowed his head. “However…we now have our ambassador with the dark ones ready and waiting.”
Sophie gasped, and then grinned. “Oh, yes!”
“We were called here to vote if she survives,” Phil grumbled. “Let’s have the vote and it’ll be over. I vote, we execute her. She is a threat too dangerous to live.”
“Well, I vote she lives,” Butterfly said, calmly.
She conjured up a purple flower on the palm of her hand and tucked it into her hair.
“She has potential.”
“I vote she dies,” Peer said, angrily. “She is, after all, a major threat and has already proved herself capable of running outside the law.”
“I vote she lives,” Samantha scowled. “Why not? Kill her if she does get it wrong.”
Sophie groaned softly. Her only chance rested on the last and, so far, silent member of the Council.
“Lillian Burrow, as the sixth member of this council, you have the casting vote,” Phil said, looking worried.
Lillian was tall and blonde and everything about her said “mother”. She was mortal, yet she had a kind of spark in her that made Sophie think she’d be a good elemental, if she had that potential.
“She is young and trainable,” Lillian said, thoughtfully. “She is yet to do us any great harm. I vote…yes, I vote that she lives.”
Sophie let out her breath in a rush, relief flooding her heart. Jarus and Butterfly nodded to one another.
“Very well,” Peer said, gloomily. “The vote has been passed.”
“Now,” Butterfly said, efficiently, “to business. Sophie must be trained. I believe she knows some of the Outsiders – the safe necromancers. I vote for Tolerance and accepting them into our community. Sophie will be trained, and also granted Tolerance.”
“What?” Peer yelped.
“Granted Tolerance,” Butterfly said, severely. “She is more than meets the eye, Rutha. I am a Sensitive. We see things beyond the norm.”
“What do you see for her?” Samantha asked, giving Sophie a suspicious look.
“Her life is very…set,” Butterfly frowned. “Destroy the world or not. Two options. No inbetween. But I have plans for her.”
“What kind of plans?” Jarus said, with a smile that made Sophie think he already knew.
“The Seventh Council Member,” Butterfly announced. “Once she is sixteen, obviously. The Necromancer on our council. Level-headed, unafraid to speak her mind, proud and clever. We need the Necromancers back.”
“Um, no offence,” Sophie said, cautiously, “but I don’t exactly want to be on the side of the Society.”
“You spoke to Bastard Cruel,” Butterfly sighed, “and, yes, you have cause to hate us. So join us, Sophie. Change us. Make us better. Bring to us the fresh ideas of youth and the forgotten concepts of the dark ones. Make us stronger.”
Sophie hesitated. “Don’t you have to vote on this?”
“Technically, no,” Jarus smiled. “The Necromancers will vote and we will have no power. But only the Necromancers who tolerate the Society. Only the Outsiders. I…have little doubt.”
Sophie smiled. “Deal. I’ll do it. I’ll make things work fair. More or less.”
“Good,” Butterfly gave Jarus a look which Sophie interpreted as a mental high-five. “So, you’re alive and under Tolerance. You’re safe from us, Sophie.”
“Does this mean I get my family back?”
There was a long pause.
“It is easier not,” Lillian said, quietly, “until all this is over. They will know you again. I promise you that. But until the Lord Legion is gone from this world…they are safer without you.”
Sophie nodded slowly, holding back tears.
“Well done, Monica,” Peer said, irritably. “You’ve ensured our downfall. I hope you are satisfied.”
He turned and stormed out of the room, closely followed by Phil the Warrior. Samantha gave Sophie a careful look.
“I voted to keep you alive. It’s a great risk, even for a Traveller. Don’t disappoint me.”
She vanished.
Lillian bowed and left without a word but Butterfly and Jarus stayed for a moment.
“You have a hard journey, Sophie,” Butterfly said, gently, “and far too many sacrifices. One day, you may regret the outcome of this vote.”
But she was gone. Jarus bowed.
“Your highness, I disagree. I have a feeling you’ll always be happier being alive.”
Then he too left and Sophie and Celia were standing alone in the great chamber.
“Well,” Celia said, brightly, “that’s just brightened up my day! Café stop next?”
Sophie grinned. “Café stop? What for?”
Celia shrugged. “I know the best place in the world, run by a Sensitive. No one else – apart from me, who helped design the menu – would have thought of putting Nutella with doughnuts.”
Sophie stared. “Nutella doughnuts? You have to be joking. Celia, that’s just the same as a chocolate doughnut.”
Celia laughed. “But Nutella! Come on, Sophie. Until Lord Legion gets back from his unexpected holiday and Chrysanthemum manages to translate that stupid book, we can have a bit of a break. Everyone has doughnuts at the start of the holiday.”
“Everyone?” Sophie said, doubtfully.
Celia shrugged. “Ok, everyone should have doughnuts at the start of a holiday.”
“This is a holiday?”
“It’s the best you’re going to get. Anyway, there’s no better end to a battle and the relinquishing of a death sentence than a doughnut or two. Tala will be there. And Blue and Zephyr and Merry. All the gang. You have to come.”
So Sophie went and ate Nutella doughnuts (which were surprisingly good) and laughed and talked and pretended that oncoming doom was worlds away. And, for now, pretending would be enough.