Flame by Amy Kathleen Ryan Page A

will be,” the doctor said, looking around the room, garnering support. “Most people want a leader to make them feel safe, offer them a vision, make them proud of who they are. I can show Jared how to achieve that, the same way I showed Anne. The crew will love him, and for that, they’ll choose him. That’s how democracy works, after all.”
    “That’s just artifice,” Waverly said, aware she was challenging him, a little afraid of what he’d do. “It wouldn’t be real.”
    “A little artifice is necessary,” Dr. Carver countered. “People need leaders.”
    “Maybe it’s the leaders who need followers,” Waverly said.
    The doctor laughed, but it didn’t feel sincere to her. The rest of the elders watched him; none of them seemed to be in on the joke.
    “Leaders and followers need each other,” he finally said as he dabbed at the corner of an eye with his sleeve. “But first things first. We need your testimony.”
    Waverly took a deep breath. The mere mention of the word sent her heart fluttering, and her fingertips trembled as she pressed them together under the table.
    The doctor studied her. “Don’t tell me your resolve is weakening.”
    “I don’t blame her for hesitating,” Selma said, drawing the doctor’s glare away from Waverly. “You want to use this girl to deal the final blow to Anne.”
    “It has to be her. No one else has the moral authority Waverly has,” said the doctor.
    “I’ll do it,” Waverly said quietly. “I’d kill Mather myself if I could.”
    Seven sets of eyes turned to her.
    Dr. Carver thoughtfully stroked his upper lip. “If we call Anne Mather’s transgressions crimes against humanity, Anne would be subject to impeachment.”
    The table was silent as the council considered this.
    “What does that mean?” Waverly asked.
    “It means that the church elders would become her jury,” Selma said quietly. She was looking at the doctor now, her face unreadable. “We wouldn’t need the Justice of the Peace to be involved.”
    The doctor raised his eyebrows as he looked around the table.
    “Wesley,” said little Miranda as she rattled her beaded necklace. “Are you proposing that we fix this trial?”
    “ Fix it?” He pounded his cane on the floor. “We know she’s guilty!”
    “There were mitigating circumstances…,” began Deacon Maddox, opening his eyes lazily. “You know that, Wesley.”
    “She has botched everything, Maddox!” The doctor raised his voice so loudly it reverberated against the glass dome over their heads. “Let us fool ourselves no longer! The woman has become a monster and she needs to be deposed!”
    The table went silent, so still that Waverly could hear the rattle in the twins’ throats as they breathed.
    “It’s dangerous,” Selma said warningly, and Waverly realized the plump woman was addressing her. “You understand that, don’t you?”
    “You saw the way she turned the congregation against Anne the day of her escape,” Dr. Carver insisted. “This girl is formidable.”
    “Are you prepared for this, little girl?” For the first time Deacon Maddox looked totally present and awake. “Are you ready to take on Anne Mather?”
    Waverly glared at him so that he could see she was anything but a little girl. He looked away, raising his eyebrows, hiding one veiny hand under the other. Then she stood. “Destroying Anne Mather is the only thing that will make life on this ship tolerable for me.”
    “Huh.” The sound came from Selma, something between a bemused chuckle and an exclamation of surprise.
    “Thank you, dear,” said Dr. Carver, and he patted Waverly’s wrist. She stared at him until she understood she was being dismissed. Jared had stood, too, and nodded at her in a deferential way, extending a hand to usher her out of the room.
    Once the door to the Council chamber closed behind them, he turned to her with a smile. “Want to go for a walk?” he said.
    “Don’t you have to stay for the