Doppelganger

15 Path

Neither of them moved for an eternity. Then the witch swore an oath Mirage never would have thought she knew, and dropped her dagger to the floor.

“I can’t do it,” she said.

Mirage breathed for the first time in what seemed like a year. Warrior, but I hate bluffing.

The witch looked up, and her eyes narrowed. Mirage was not yet over the indescribable shock of seeing her own face, down to its expressions, on someone else. Other thoughts bubbled at the edges of her mind, but she kept them ruthlessly quashed. Deal with this first.

“You knew I wouldn’t,” the witch accused, that voice so like a trained version of Mirage’s own.

She shrugged, trying to make it look casual. “I couldn’t, were I in your place.”

The other woman thought about that for a moment, then gave a sour half grin Mirage’s muscles knew very well. “Is that really how this works?”

“Looks like it. Lucky for me, too, since I was kind of gambling my life on it. But I knew I couldn’t kill me, so I figured you couldn’t, either.”

“I am killing myself, though,” the witch said wretchedly. “By not killing you. One of these days, I’m going to cast a spell. I can’t keep stopping myself. And if that doesn’t destroy me outright, other witches will step in. They can’t take the risk of letting me run wild.”

Mirage’s gut clenched. Her double had not been lying; the hopelessness in her eyes was very real. The woman’s hands, hanging limp at her sides, trembled faintly before she closed them into fists. Mirage almost smiled at that; she wouldn’t want to show weakness, either.

She is weak, though, a corner of her mind whispered. She can’t use magic. You could kill her right now.

In theory, yes. In practice, no. The feeling of recognition was too strong, the sense that here was something she had been missing all her life, searching for without knowing it.

A witch. After years of telling people she had no connection to them.

But however much she hated being wrong, she couldn’t just write this woman’s life off. No more than she could really surrender to death at the witch’s hands. So that left her with only one option.

Not a very good one—but it’s all I’ve got.

“Look,” she said into the dead silence. “You believe what you’re saying, I’m sure. And maybe the rest of Starfall thinks it’s true. But it can’t hurt us to look again.

“So how about this? We promise not to kill each other. Instead, we look for other answers, other ways out of this they may have ignored or missed.” She paused, biting her lip as she watched the other woman’s reaction. “And if it looks like time is running out, we’ll reconsider.”

The witch’s eyes widened. For an instant hope lived in her eyes, before dying again. “But witches have been doing things this way for centuries—there’s got to be a reason. And people who know far more about this than I do have sworn there’s no other way.”

“Ah, but they lack one thing we have.” Mirage smiled, putting as much certainty behind it as she could. “Each other. Am I right? None of them have had their doppelganger there.”

“But you don’t know anything about magic.”

“Do you want to pick the knives up and start over? Our chance of success at this may be tiny, but at least it is a chance. And it might even leave us both alive.”

The witch swallowed, visibly torn. Then she straightened her shoulders. Mirage approved of the grim determination in her eyes, even if there wasn’t a lot of conviction there. “All right. We can try.”

They took care of the unconscious Cousins first. Miryo was appalled to see the ease with which her doppelganger had taken them down.

Her double checked the two women over with a professional eye; she set Kan’s broken collarbone as though she had done this more than once before. “They’ll be fine, except for the break. They both might have concussions. But I tried not to kill them—I just needed them out of the way.”

Miryo nodded, wondering how on earth she was going to explain the current situation to the Cousins. But that’s a problem for later.

Once the two women were laid out more comfortably, they fetched a bottle of rice wine and took it to the study, the very room where Kan had, in Miryo’s name, hired the Hunters. The irony amused Miryo in a grim way. They dragged chairs to the hearth, where a small fire was burning, poured themselves glasses of wine, and finally sat down to talk.

Miryo broke the silence first. “All right. Let’s start at the beginning. What’s your name?”

“Mirage,” her doppelganger said. Only one group of people in the world took names like that. “You’re a Hunter.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I had no idea.” Miryo laughed without humor. “No wonder you were able to hurt those other Hunters so badly. Unless you had help?”

Mirage shook her head, that familiar wry grin on her face. “You hired Thornbloods. They’re not as good as they like to think they are.”

“I only hired one. It’s lucky for me she thought to bring friends, or you might not have ended up here at all.”

“Luck.” Mirage snorted. “Ice is a coward. She knew I could take her in a fair fight; I’d bet on myself against any one other Hunter, and probably any two Thornbloods. Had she come after me alone, I’d’ve killed her on the spot.”

Miryo felt an odd sort of pride. Of course. I don’t want my double to be a second-rate anything. She should be that good. But she was also disturbed; the casual way in which Mirage spoke of killing was completely alien to her. It reminded her that, although they were technically the same person, they were not identical. Which makes sense. We had very different upbringings, after all.

Then what Mirage had said registered. “You knew that Hunter?”

“We’re old enemies,” Mirage said shortly. “Our schools don’t get along, and she’s a bitch. You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble by just sending a messenger, you know. I probably would have come, and then we’d all have avoided this mess.”

And then that Hunter wouldn’t be dying from a gut wound. But it’s too late to fix that now. Miryo’s inward laugh was bitter. And hopefully I won’t have to do this again.

“So I know you’re a witch,” Mirage said. “Your name?”

“Miryo.” It was only when she said it that she noticed the similarity. They both pursed their lips, and then laughed nervously at the other’s expression. “But you weren’t always called Mirage. You used to be a Temple Dancer, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“While I was following you, I got to see Eriot’s company perform the Aspects. Afterward I talked to one of the Dancers—Sareen, I think her name was.”

“Sareen. There’s someone I haven’t thought about in years.” Mirage looked pensive, then banished the expression. “My parents named me Seniade.”

The words jolted Miryo. “Your parents?”

“The people who raised me for a few years, then sold me off to the Temple as a Dancer when their farm died out from under them and they couldn’t afford to feed themselves, let alone a child.” Mirage shrugged, apparently undisturbed by the story. “One of the priestesses told me I was never their child to begin with. I certainly didn’t look anything like them. I only saw them a handful of times after that, though. The Temple, and then Silverfire, were my real family.”

Miryo looked at her thoughtfully. It’s still so strange. As if I’m seeing myself, had I lived a different life.

Mirage lost patience with the meditative atmosphere at the same time Miryo did. “So,” her double said briskly, as if this were simple business, not anything important. Probably to cover the tension still in the air. “Start from the beginning. Who was my mother? Besides a witch, of course. And how exactly did I come to be?”

“It’s a long explanation,” Miryo said.

“Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”

They were, after all, discussing their lives—and then-fates. Miryo nodded. “All right. My mother—our mother—was called Kasane. She was a Water Hand, living in Insebrar. I have no idea who our father was; probably some man from her village. When she found out she was pregnant she went to Tsurike Hall, because you’re supposed to be at one of our halls, when you give birth. That’s so you can keep the infant out of starlight for five days; they’ve got windowless rooms for it.”

“So that the child won’t have a soul yet.”

“Exactly. There’s a ritual they do, the night of the fifth day, that creates the channel for magical power. But it’s got a side effect.”

“Me.”

“You,” Miryo agreed. “Well, sort of. I guess you could say it makes both of us, out of the original child. But only one of the two has the channel for magic. The mother kills the one that doesn’t—remember, no soul still—and then takes the witch-child outside to be presented to the Goddess.”

Mirage sat back in her chair, fiddling with her wine. “So what happened? Why am I still here?”

“I have no idea,” Miryo replied. “Maybe the Primes know; they didn’t say.”

“Maybe Kasane forgot to kill me first. Or botched the job, although I don’t have any lethal-looking scars, at least not that I’ve noticed. How is it usually done?”

Again the casual attitude toward killing. Miryo suppressed a shudder. “I didn’t ask.”

“Great. And the body?”

“Disposed of, I assume. I don’t know how.” Miryo kicked herself for not asking these questions of Narika when she had the chance.

“So death and cleanup are two things we should think about,” Mirage said.

“I have a feeling that list is only going to get longer,” Miryo said grimly.

“It’s a pity my ‘parents’ are dead. I never got a chance to ask them where I came from, how they ended up with me. And no one at the Temple cared much; I was hardly the only foundling there. Is Kasane dead, too?”

“A few years ago.”

“You don’t seem too grieved.”

“Witches don’t have very close relationships with their daughters,” Miryo said. “The babies are raised by the Void Hearts, at the domain halls. My mother was transferred later to Trine; I stayed in Insebrar. We get ten years of schooling in a local hall; then they take us back to Starfall, and we spend the next fifteen years there.”

Mirage whistled soundlessly. “And I thought Hunters trained for a long time. We start at ten and finish at twenty. So you’ve just graduated, as it were?”

“Pretty much. Would have, if it weren’t for you.” Miryo felt less bitter over it, though, than she had.

“What happened?”

Miryo described the testing procedures, glossing quickly over the preliminary questioning and the Elemental trials. “And then they open the channel that was created in the connection ritual. It’s blocked, you see, until you’re mature and can handle it. And even then some can’t; the power kills them. I survived, but got blasted, and that’s how they knew you were alive.”

Mirage held up one finger to pause her for a moment. “What happened right before that?”

“Before the power? The Elemental tests. They’re tests of character; you have to be determined enough, but able to bend, and to stay calm, and to fight back when necessary.”

“I count four Elements. What was the last one, Void? What happened in that one?”

“They showed me a glimpse of the Void.” Miryo shivered at the memory.

“And what trait does that test?”

Miryo opened her mouth to respond, and froze. She closed her mouth slowly, then said, “Wholeness of self.”

“Interesting.” Mirage’s eyes narrowed. “This was shortly after Midsummer?” Miryo nodded. “I felt it. I was riding along the road, minding my own business, when I felt this weird… presence. As if an old friend was there with me—but gone an instant later. I barely had time to register that, and then I keeled headfirst out of my saddle and didn’t wake up for a day.”

“It hit you less hard, then; I was out for longer. But I was the one the power went through.” The skin between Miryo’s shoulderblades crawled. “Weird. I didn’t know it would affect you. Though I guess it makes sense. It’s probably a function of the same thing that’s sending my magic askew.”

“Which is?”

“The way it was described to me was, you’re a part of me. Of my mind. And it takes total concentration to work magic. Since you’re a part of me that I can’t focus, you make it impossible for me to control the power I draw.”

“Can’t you just not work magic?” Mirage asked.

Even the suggestion made something twinge, deep inside. Miryo flinched, and saw her doppelganger see it. She took a steadying breath, than said, “No. It’s… I feel it there, all the time. The Elements are the world we live in, you know. They’re all around us. There’s an energy to them, and I can feel it now, and I keep wanting to reach out to it. And it’s getting harder and harder to stop myself.”

“I’ll knock you out, if you need,” Mirage offered. Her tone was light, but Miryo had no doubt she meant it. Then the Hunter started in her seat. “Warrior’s teeth. I forgot about Eclipse.”

“Another Hunter?”

“A year-mate. I’m working with him on… well, it would take too long to describe it now. I’ve got to go talk to him. Otherwise he’s going to find out I was kidnapped by Thornbloods, and then there’ll be real trouble.”

She did not say it, but the words still hung in the air. Do you trust me enough to let me leave?

Miryo looked at her doppelganger, weighing it in her mind. This would be a perfect chance for Mirage to flee. But then again, she could hit Miryo over the head and stroll out at any time, if she really wanted to escape. So there was little reason to assume that she wouldn’t come back.

“This house is on Lilac Row,” she said finally. “Go left out the front door, and you’ll be on Lord’s Way.” Mirage nodded. “I’ll be back soon.”

Mirage got several streets away before the shaking overtook her.

She leaned against a wall and closed her eyes, trusting her instincts to warn her if trouble came. Her first thought, oddly enough, was that she should go back and apologize to those men in Enden.

Them, and damn near everyone else I’ve known in the past twenty-five years. Well, twelve really; I got to dye my hair black when I was a Dancer.

That was irrelevant, and she knew it. Her thoughts refused to behave, though. A suspicion she had been denying her entire life had suddenly burst into reality; that was enough to send anyone into shock.

Warrior’s teeth. I am a witch. Well, not a witch, but damn near. Part of me is. Goddess. I was expecting the other shoe to drop, but I thought it would have to do with the assassination. Instead, a steel-toed riding boot I never saw materializes out of nowhere and kicks me in the head.

And there’s a whole different kettle offish. Can I tell Miryo about the commission? Regardless, how am I supposed to continue with that and find a way out of this lovely mess we’re in?

A chill ran down Mirage’s spine, and she opened her eyes. Tari-nakana was tracking me. I wouldn’t want to bet this had nothing to do with it.

She needed some time to sit alone and think all of this through, but it would have to wait. The sun was setting; Eclipse would be taking Angrim apart stone by stone before much longer. Mirage pushed her roiling thoughts down, straightened her shoulders, and headed for the Cracked Oak.

The common room had been straightened up; there was no sign of the battle that had disrupted it earlier that day. None of the patrons so much as glanced up as Mirage passed through the common room.

Eclipse was not upstairs, although her lost sword was. Mirage swore and headed back down, strapping the blade on as she went. The innkeeper, when she hunted him down in the kitchens, had no idea where Eclipse had gone.

Void it. He’s gone after the Thornbloods already.

Miryo paced back and forth in the study, using the beat of her steps to organize her thoughts. That was the idea, at least. It was failing miserably.

How do I explain this to the Cousins ? How do I explain it to the Primes? I’ve got to find Ashin, and ask her what she knows. She knew that Mirage was alive—but there was more to it than that. She was anticipating something, I know it. But I have no idea what it is.

She kept pacing mostly as an outlet for the quivering that threatened to overtake her muscles. After all that preparation, steeling herself to kill her doppelganger, this sudden change in her path was more than a little disorienting. She had no second thoughts about her decision; she had known, when she looked in Mirage’s eyes, that she faced a person. Not a copy. And she couldn’t kill her without at least trying to find a different solution.

Dealing with the consequences wouldn’t be easy, though.

Miryo made herself halt, put her hands over her face.

She took two deep breaths, steadying herself. She needed to stop this nervous mental twitching and come up with a useful plan.

She didn’t make very much progress before a hand clamped over her mouth from behind.

“Do not move,” a low voice growled. “And don’t try to sing. I’ll take your throat out before you can get two words into your spell.”

Miryo felt a dagger point prick her neck and did not doubt him. She was torn between nodding to show her agreement, and remaining still, lest he think she was trying something. She decided not to move.

The hand vanished, but an instant later he was prying her jaw open and a shoving wad of cloth into her mouth. It choked Miryo, but she kept silent. When she was securely gagged, her attacker spoke again.

“Don’t make a sound,” he said, voice grim. “You will nod yes or no to my questions, and make no other movement. Did you hire Thornblood Hunters today?”

How am I supposed to answer that? It was yesterday, not today, and Kan did the actual hiring, albeit while sort of pretending to be me. So do I say yes or no?

The man had no patience for her indecision. He grabbed her shoulder roughly and swung her around to face him.

Her worst fears were confirmed. The intruder was a Hunter, fully uniformed. And while she didn’t think he was one of the three men from earlier in the day, she had no doubt that the rest of the Thornbloods were less than happy about the treatment of their own. The look in his eyes was cold as steel, and as unforgiving.

For a moment, at least. Then his eyes shot open, and his knife hand dropped to his side.

At that instant, the door swung hard into the wall. The Hunter spun around, drawing his sword. Miryo tried to yell a warning and choked on the gag. Without even looking, he snapped his left arm around and put the dagger back to her throat. She froze.

Mirage took one look at the two of them and fell against the door frame laughing.

Should I be relieved, or offended?

“Eclipse,” Mirage said when she had air to speak, “take that gag out of her mouth. She’s not going to cause any trouble.”

Eclipse? Her partner. I’d better not tell him I thought he was a Thornblood.

“What’s going on?” he said roughly, not moving either blade an inch. “Who in the Crone’s name is she? Are you even who you look hike?” His sword arm extended as though he expected Mirage to attack.

“Take the gag out, Kerestel,” Mirage said, not laughing anymore. “I understand that this looks strange, but it does have an explanation, however odd. I was waylaid by Thornbloods, but that’s over with, and we can deal with them later. I promise Miryo won’t cast a spell.”

Miryo’s earlier trust in her was repaid. Eclipse wavered for a moment, then reluctantly sheathed his blades. He pulled the gag none too gently from her mouth, and did not apologize for the rudeness.

“Sit down,” Mirage said. “This will be a shock.”