Doppelganger

11 Haira [Miryo]

Miryo had ample opportunity to doubt her decision as they rode east. The journey through Currel’s rocky countryside was uneventful, verging on tedious, and gave her far too much time to question whether she should have gone north.

They traveled at a good pace, and by the fifth day were crossing the smoother, fertile lands of Seach’s southern coast. The road was lined with thick hedges and low stone walls; it was very different from the mountainous lands around Starfall, or Tsurike Hall’s airy forests in Insebrar, where. Miryo had spent her first ten years. She rode upright in her saddle, drinking in the sights.

The road wound between farms and the occasional, pasture. Often she could see people in the distance, hip-deep in the rapidly maturing grain. Farmers, of course, yet they seemed so different from the Cousins who performed the same work in Starfall’s domain, simply because they weren’t associated with witches. Miryo found herself squinting at these distant figures, and then realized she was trying to see if any of them had red hair.

The question of her doppelganger never left her mind for more than a moment. How had it spent the past twenty-five years? Where would she find it? It was, she figured, probably masquerading as a normal person. Would it be a farmer? Or had it taken up some craft? It would look like her, she remembered, and so she imagined herself in a dozen different contexts, each one stranger than the last. Miryo tried not to be distracted by these, and hunted the elusive flicker of instinct deep inside her mind. It was extraordinarily difficult. She repeatedly considered backtracking and going north, where she had a more concrete lead to follow. She never did it, though. Having committed to this path, she was determined to keep to it. For a while, at least. Until she could no longer stand to depend on the vague thread of direction that was all she had to guide her.

She was relieved when at last they came to something other than a village or a farm, simply for the distraction from her own doubt. And also, she had to admit, because once those villages and farms lost their exotic aura, they all mostly looked alike.

Haira’s capital consisted of a central keep surrounded by a city that sprawled across the forking of the Nuna and Tufa Rivers. Miryo and her companions had pushed to reach it that day, and so when they crested a ridge that gave sight of the city, the red-tiled houses were bathed in vivid sunset light, and the rivers blazed as if they were on fire,

“Beautiful,” Miryo murmured, momentarily entranced by the sight. The Cousins, as usual, said nothing.

The vantage given by the ridge was deceptive; it was nearing full dark by the time they passed through the gates and into the bustling evening activity of the city.

Haira was not a place that went to sleep with the sun, particularly not in the summer, when the nights were pleasant. Hawkers continued to cry their wares, often in Miryo’s face, and the taverns and gambling halls along this main road overflowed with light and laughter. She debated dismounting to lead her horse, but there were other mounted people in the streets, and she feared being crushed by the crowd if she went on foot. This was a far cry from Starfall, or the rural quiet of the previous days.

A woman careened out of a doorway to Miryo’s right and almost fell under her horse. Miryo grabbed the woman’s arm to pull her to her feet, and got drunken thanks in return.

“Tell me, where can I get a room?” she asked the woman, although by the looks of her she’d had enough beer to forget her own name.

The woman peered up at Miryo and grabbed the stirrup to steady herself. Miryo’s horse sidled until she controlled it. “North,” the woman said at last, having finished her examination of Miryo’s face. “Not around here. In the bit between the Nuna and the Tufa. We like to keep our gambling and our housing separate, here.” She grinned, and Miryo saw that she had lost two teeth at some point in her life. “Want me to show you?”

Miryo agreed warily. Having a guide through this crowd would be useful, but she knew that such offers were sometimes traps. Well, if it comes to a scuffle, that’s what I have two Cousins along for.

The woman took her horse’s bridle and began to lead the animal deftly through the streets. Miryo checked back periodically to make certain neither of the Cousins had gotten cut off by the crowd, but mostly she watched the woman for any sign of trouble.

She’d be a fool to try. No one knows I can’t use my magic. All the people here look at me and see a witch. With two Cousins who, by their looks, are quite competent with their swords. Miryo shivered, although the air was warm. Mother, I do hope they’re competent. I assume they are, and if I’m wrong, I don’t want to find out in the middle of an attack.

They soon left the main crush behind, and Kan and Sai moved up closer to Miryo’s sides. She began to breathe easier. The streets they were on were less crowded, but not deserted. It didn’t feel like they were headed into an ambush.

A bridge loomed in the uncertain light ahead. The Tufa River rushed underneath, white-capped and energetic. Miryo’s guide had released her horse’s bridle; now she gestured for the three of them to follow her over the bridge. On the other side, they found themselves amid buildings with signs marking them as inns.

“Here you are,” the woman said, indicating the buildings with a sweep of her arm.

“Any recommendations?” Miryo asked, having decided the woman was not a thief.

She shrugged. “I live here. I don’t know.” She scanned the street less drunkenly than she had Miryo’s face a while before. “That one over there, I’ve heard it mentioned once or twice. Decent food. I could use a bite myself.”

Miryo looked to the one she had indicated, THE DANCING FLAME, the sign read, with a cozy hearth painted above the words. She glanced back at Kan, who shrugged. Sai looked blank.

“Sounds good,” she said at last.

Neither room nor food was too expensive, and by the time their bags were upstairs, the woman had ordered supper for all of them, a dish of rice mixed with vegetables. Miryo poked through hers cautiously, then took a bite; it was acceptable.

“What’s your name?” she asked the woman, who was devouring her own food at a good rate.

“Anthia,” she mumbled, wiping a drip of sauce off her chin.

“Thank you, Anthia. Are all of the folk here so helpful?”

The woman swallowed and flashed a quick grin at her. “Some of them. You kept me from falling under your horse, and so saved me from bruises, maybe broken bones. I figured you deserved something in return.”

Miryo gave her a sharp look. Her voice had cleared of its slur with remarkable speed. “Somehow,” she said, “I don’t think that’s quite true.”

Anthia looked puzzled.

“You’re not as drunk as you pretended to be. And you weren’t as off-balance as you looked; I could tell that as soon as I grabbed you.”

Anthia saluted with her mug of cider. “Sharp of you.”

“So the question is,” Miryo said, studying the woman closely, “did you fall into me on purpose, and if so, why?”

A shrug. “I wanted a better look at you, and it seems less strange if you pretend to be drunk. Drunk people act oddly.”

“Why did you want a better look?”

Anthia gave her a half grin and took a sip of cider. “Tell you later.”

“Tell me now,” Miryo said.

“Not here,” the woman said, still with that half grin, and flicked her eyes toward the few other patrons in the room.

Miryo stood. “Upstairs, then.”

The Hairan seemed about to protest, but Kan had her arm by then, and propelled her firmly up the stairs.

Up in the room, Kan and Sai bracketed Anthia, but not too threateningly. The Hairan leaned against the wall and seemed much more amused than she had any right to be.

“I must say,” Anthia murmured, looking at the Cousins on either side of her, “I didn’t expect this out of you. I must be getting careless in my old age. Most people take far longer to get this paranoid.”

“What are you after?” Miryo asked, her voice hard.

“Haven’t you checked yet?” Anthia asked, cocking her head to one side.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Odd,” Anthia murmured, her eyes narrowing. “Well, you look wet behind the ears still; you must not be in the habit yet.” Abruptly Anthia was gone, and in her place stood a younger, cockier-looking woman with red hair and a triskele pendant.

“Oh, Lady,” Miryo murmured, sitting down hard on the bed.

“No, Terica’s the Lady here. I’m Edame, adviser to her and her Lord husband.”

“Miryo,” she replied, standing once more. “I didn’t realize.”

“You weren’t meant to. That was the point of the illusion. A tip, oh green one: If someone seems odd, check them for any kind of magic. Sometimes it’ll be a fellow witch in disguise. Sometimes it’ll be someone spelled by a witch, for any one of a number of purposes. Sometimes it’ll just be somebody odd. But it’s always good to know.”

Edame didn’t look much less green than Miryo herself; if the woman was a day over thirty, Miryo would eat her shoes. How she had gotten to be adviser to the rulers of a domain was a mystery, but Miryo recognized her name and knew she wasn’t lying. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, what exactly were you doing?”

The witch shrugged. “The more feckless of Lord Mimre’s two sons was gambling in that hall tonight. I was keeping an eye on him, at my Lord Iseman’s request. Then, as I was leaving, I saw you, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to investigate what a sister of mine was doing in town.”

She’s as prying as Morisuke—and she’s not even a Head! “Well, my business is my own.”

“Certainly,” Edame said easily. “Still, can I offer you lodgings at the keep? The beds up there don’t have lice.”

“Kind of you, to point me to an inn with lice.”

“All of the inns have them, except for the ridiculously expensive ones patronized by fat merchants. And even some of those.”

Miryo found herself glancing at Kan and Sai. Both of them had on their usual faces, impassive and wary, but neither seemed to see a danger in the offer. Miryo didn’t see any, either. And it would be good to save the money. “All right.”

Edame nodded. “Excellent.” She gestured peremptorily for the Cousins to take the bags. “Let’s not waste any time; it’ll take a while to get to the keep.”

The Fire Hand took them through the northern and southeastern districts rather than fight the crowds in the southwest again. The central keep was just south of the fork in the river, nestled right up against the bank.

Not much of a “keep,” Miryo thought, looking up at it. I don’t know much about warfare, but it doesn’t look very defensible to me. Not with buildings crowded right up against its walls. I guess they’re not worried about an attack.

Edame roused a pair of stable boys to care for the horses and swept right on into the keep proper. Miryo tried not to scurry at the woman’s heels, but she had a very swift stride. They whipped through one high-ceilinged hallway after another until Edame stopped dead and made an irritated noise. “Blasted woman. I can never find her when I need her.” She sang a quick seeking spell, then set off again at the same brisk pace. Miryo felt the power move—primarily Air, and little enough that Edame didn’t need a focus to handle it—and swallowed. Narika’s warning was becoming more real to her. She wanted to be able to do what Edame had, wanted to disguise herself and find people she was looking for with the power that was her birthright.

Not yet, she said to herself, and gritted her teeth. Not yet.

She didn’t realize how grim her expression had become until they came across Edame’s target, and the woman flinched visibly at her look. Miryo smoothed her face hastily and attended to what the Fire Hand was saying.

“I know you don’t have anything prepared,” Edame said impatiently. “But you can put something together, surely. We’re always housing visitors here. This is the domain capital, for Crone’s sake! Don’t tell me that you can’t find a room for one of my sisters!”

The woman set her mouth in a sour line and managed a grudging curtsy. “I shall see to it, Edame-nai. If your guest could wait in the small salon, I shall send a servant to her shortly.” Then she retreated, back stiff, before the witch could say anything further.

Edame made another sound of vexation. “I swear, that woman lives to make my life difficult. She hates me.”

Miryo shot her a startled look.

Edame noticed; her scowl vanished, and she grinned at Miryo. “Lionra’s really not that bad. I just give her a hard time. Come, I’ll take you to the salon.”

They had barely settled themselves on the comfortable divans in the salon when, as if summoned by magic, a servant appeared with iced fruit juice. Edame waved him away as soon as he was finished pouring. Then, toying with the stem of her goblet, she eyed Miryo. “I never did accomplish my original goal, did I? What are you in town for?”

Miryo sipped her own juice to buy herself time to think. Edame continued to watch her intently, which did not make it any easier. “Well,” she said at last, taking a gamble, “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to live with your curiosity.”

Edame looked sour. “In other words, you’re not going to tell me.” Miryo nodded, and she sighed heavily.

“You, I think, are trying to take all the fun out of my life. I bet you’re going to end up in Air. You’ve got their habits already.”

Miryo tried not to breathe a visible sigh of relief. Judging by her behavior so far, Edame was mercurial enough that she might have reacted much worse. How someone so seemingly unstable had gotten to such an important position was baffling.

“I’m assuming,” Edame continued, “that you’re not in a Ray yet. Yes?” Miryo nodded. “I thought so. You don’t look as overwhelmed as most of the newly fledged do, but you’ve still got that faint air of ‘just out of Starfall.’ Whatever you’re doing, enjoy this while you can; after you join a Ray you might not get to wander around very much. Unless you do pick Air, of course. Do you have any idea what you’ll choose?”

The torrent of words was hard for Miryo to sort through, as tired as she was. She stifled a yawn and forced her mind to focus. Just because Edame hadn’t pressed her earlier question didn’t mean she wouldn’t still try to get information.

“Not really,” she said as soon as the threat of the yawn had passed. “I have quite a while before I need to choose.”

“Wise child. You can change Paths, you know, although some Rays are more lenient about that than others. But I’d have to ask a Void Head to remember the last woman who convinced the Primes to let her switch Rays. They really don’t like letting you do that. So be certain you know which one you want before you commit. Take the whole time if you have to, but be certain.”

Miryo sipped her juice and wondered if Edame regretted her own choice. She certainly didn’t seem to have the temperament for playing at politics—but she was a domain adviser.

She did not get a chance to investigate this. A servant entered then and curtsied. “Katsu, Nai, if you will follow me, the room is ready.”

“I’ll come with you,” Edame said, standing. “Lionra’s a good woman, but I want to be sure the room’s acceptable.”

More stairs than Miryo cared to think about later, the servant led her into a small but well-appointed sitting room. “Your bedroom is through there,” she said, indicating a fretwork door, “and here is another for your servants. There is a private bath behind that door.”

“Indoor plumbing and heated water,” Edame said with a wide smile. “I love my Ray.” She strolled around the room and made an ostentatious show of checking the mantel for dust. “It’ll do,” she said at last. “Tell Lionra I thank her. I know it’s difficult, having to arrange things on such short notice.” The servant curtsied again and departed, closing the door behind her. “Even though it’s her job,” Edame added.

The door opened again almost immediately and the Cousins entered, laden with the bags. Miryo showed them the rooms and left them to unpack. Edame was standing in front of the sitting room’s fireplace, looking restless. “Thank you,” Miryo said to the Fire Hand. “This is much better than that inn.”

Edame snorted. “Of course it is.” She cocked her head to one side and studied Miryo. “How long are you staying?”

“I was planning on leaving tomorrow.”

“Stay one more day. You look like you could use the rest.”

Miryo hesitated. She wanted to be on the road; she felt that any delay would cause her to lose the faint pull she had been following so far. But nine days in the saddle had left her feeling as though her spine had fused into a solid rod, and a rest would be more than welcome. “All right. I’ll leave the morning after next, then.”

“Excellent. I’m told my Lord and Lady have arranged for some special entertainment tomorrow night, although they refuse to tell me what it is.” Edame flashed another quick smile. “I shall leave you to your rest, then!” With that, the Fire Hand swept to the door and out, leaving Miryo to collapse gratefully onto her bed’s feather mattress, not even pausing for a bath.

Long years of habit prevented her from sleeping late. Miryo was up not long after the sun, and she awoke feeling unbearably grimy. The rains on the coast had not made it over the hills, and the dust on the road the previous day had been appalling. That, combined with the sweat of a night spent indoors in a lowland summer, made her skin crawl.

Her first task, then, was to clean herself. Once that was done, Miryo felt much more inclined to face the day, and the volatile Fire Hand who would no doubt track her down during it.

Sai was in the sitting room when Miryo finally emerged, clean and dressed. “Where’s Kan?” she asked the Cousin. “Checking on the horses?” Sai nodded, not looking up from the split she was mending in a saddlebag. She still hadn’t spoken in Miryo’s presence. Cousins were quiet, but she took it to extremes. Miryo left rather than engage in another fruitless attempt to start a conversation.

Once out of her room, she wasted no time in getting lost. She debated asking a servant for directions, but decided to wander for a bit longer; she wasn’t too hungry yet, and the one task she wanted to accomplish today needed no special rush.

She emerged into an unfamiliar hall just as Edame began descending a staircase at the opposite end. “There you are!” the witch called out, hastening her steps. “Come with me. I’m off to see if I can discover what is afoot for tonight. Surely someone here knows; the servants know everything.”

“Actually,” Miryo said, forestalling her, “I was wondering if you could do me a small favor.”

“Certainly! Provided you don’t want me to convince Iseman to declare war on anyone.”

“Nothing like that. I was just wondering—do they employ a court artist here?”

Edame snorted. “Every Lord and Lady in the east, and a lot of less important people, employ court artists. There are two here. One does tedious landscapes and the other specializes in overly flattering portraits of spoiled noble , children. Do you have a preference?”

“The latter, if that’s all right.”

“Certainly.” Edame gave her a curious look. “What do you need done?”

Miryo quirked an eyebrow and smiled.

“Your business again, is it? Miryo, I swear to the Goddess, you keep your mouth more tightly closed than any woman I’ve met. But so be it. I’ll take you to Ryll. You’re in luck, actually; he, unlike his colleague, is awake at this hour. Tothe never rises before noon if he can help it. And all his landscapes are sunsets because of it.” Even as she spoke, Edame set off through another door, taking Miryo through a confusing knot of hallways before halting in an archway. “Are you in, Ryll?”

A thin, middle-aged man came out of a back room. “I am, Edame-nai. How may I help you?”

“You can’t help me, not unless you know what’s planned for this evening.” He shook his head, and Edame sighed. “I thought not. Well, then, I’ll leave my sister Miryo here, as she’s the one who really wanted to see you. I’m off to find someone who does know.” Then she was gone, leaving Miryo alone with the artist, who did his best to erase a long-suffering expression when he realized she was looking at him. “I’m sorry, Katsu. I forget my manners. Please do be seated. How may I be of service to you?”

“I’m told you do portraits,” Miryo said as she took a chair.

Ryll nodded. “Do you wish me to paint one of you?”

“Yes and no. I don’t need a painting, and in fact I won’t be staying here long enough for you to finish one. If you could do just a quick sketch of my face, though, I would be deeply indebted to you.”

The artist pursed his lips and studied her face. “In charcoal?” Miryo nodded. “This is possible. You are certain, though, that you do not want something more elaborate? I could arrange to have it shipped to you; even with just a sketch to work from I’m sure I could do a lovely portrait. You have such vivid coloring.”

Ryll was evidently one of those men who did not find witches too intimidating to court. Miryo wondered if he had cast any looks at Edame. And how such looks had been received. “A sketch will be sufficient, thank you.”

He bowed with good grace. “As you wish, Katsu. Would you like to begin now?”

“If you’re free.”

“I am always free to serve one of your sisterhood. If you haven’t eaten yet, I can have servants bring food up while you sit for the sketch.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Then come this way,” Ryll said, gesturing her toward the back room. She glimpsed an easel and a half-painted canvas through the doorway. “We will get started right away.”

In the end Ryll made several sketches for her, each at a different angle. He was more talented than Edame had given him credit for; the sketches, hastily done, were nevertheless quite recognizable, and the paintings in his back room were elegant. Miryo thanked him, and tried her best to get him to accept a small fee, which he refused with many bows and a few more attempts at flirting.

She took the sheets back to her room and debated venturing out to try and find Edame. She needed to know what would be happening tonight, after all. But the thought of navigating the keep’s halls left her feeling drained. In the end the choice was taken out of her hands, because she fell asleep.

Nine days of travel had tired her out more than she had thought, and her sitting room was sunny and pleasant. Miryo sat down in a comfortable chair to consider her search, and woke up several hours later. The room had grown dim in the late-afternoon light, and no one else was there. Miryo stretched, wondering where the Cousins were, and went to bathe again. She knew her presence would be expected at supper tonight, and it would be better not to show up with an imprint of the chair’s upholstery on her cheek.

Clean once more—she wondered if everyone here bathed several times a day in the summer, to alleviate the heat—she shook out the one nice dress she owned and looked at it ruefully. It was hardly the sort of thing she had hoped to wear for her first presentation to domain rulers. But there wasn’t anything to be done; she had nothing finer. And it was too late now to ask Edame for another gown, even had she been able to overcome her pride.

A loud knock at the door made her jump, and then the witch herself swept in, holding an armful of fabric. “I was hoping I’d find you here,” Edame said briskly. “Here, this ought to fit you—you’re a slight thing, aren’t you?”

Miryo took the proffered silk and shook it out. The dress was embroidered with silver thread, and quite a bit finer than the one she had just dropped on the floor.

“Good color for you,” Edame said, smoothing out the dark gray silk. “Sets off your hair wonderfully. It will look much better on you than it does on the mousy brown creature who owns it. I’ll convince her to give it to you as a gift.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Miryo said hastily.

“Nonsense. You’re a witch; you deserve to own at least one pretty thing, and depending on what Ray you choose you may never have the coin to buy it. Put the dress on. I’ve found out what Iseman has arranged for this evening.”

“What is it?” Miryo asked as she stepped behind the painted dressing screen.

“Just you wait,” Edame replied mysteriously. “Does the dress fit?”

Miryo emerged a moment later, tugging the sleeves straight. “It’s a bit loose, but that’s fine.”

“Turn around.” Edame fiddled with the intricate lacing of the back, which Miryo had not known what to do with. Hairan court clothing—even something as simple as this—was much more complex than she was used to. The fabric of the dress rose and fell and rearranged itself into a much more flattering shape. “Wonderful. You’re a credit to Starfall. Now come quickly; we don’t have much time before they sound the call to supper.” Edame whisked her out the door and back through the maze of the keep’s halls. After just a few moments they came to a gallery overlooking a hall, and Miryo heard a low murmur of voices.

The Fire Hand gestured for her to come look. Approaching the rail, Miryo looked down at the men and women in the room below and caught her breath. “Temple Dancers.”