Doppelganger

16 Kan

A long stretch of explanation later, Eclipse had not ran screaming from the room. He even seemed to accept what they had to say, at least provisionally. Mirage was relieved. Although she had allies, he was one of her few friends; she would need his support to get through this. Especially since he too was blood-oathed to the commission.

And I have yet to figure out where I stand with Miryo. Or where she stands with me.

The witch was, as far as she could tell, being completely forthright. And her attitude had changed since their encounter in the hallway; she saw Mirage now, as a person instead of a thing.

Although I have the feeling that her prior attitude didn’t come easily to her. It was something taught to her by the Primes, not something she believed in herself. Which is lucky for me, since it meant I could bluff her.

The three of them were sitting in an arc in the study, looking at their boots or the wall or random spots on the ceiling. No one had spoken for a while. The only sound Mirage could hear was the buzzing of an insect against one of the windows, fighting to get out into the darkening sky.

“There is one other thing,” Miryo said at last. Mirage looked at her sharply. “I haven’t mentioned it before now because I’m still not sure what it means. But before I was tested, one of the witches at Starfall was acting strangely. Ashin-kasora, the Air Hand Key. She was very much on edge about my testing. It looked like she couldn’t decide whether I was fated to sprout wings or die on the spot. It sort of makes sense now; she knew you were alive, Mirage. And she must have known I’d be sent to kill you. But still it feels like she’s expecting… something else. I really don’t know what. My best guess is that she suspected we’d end up where we are now.”

“In cooperation. Where is she, do you know?”

“No idea. Askavya, I was told, but that was a while ago. She disappeared right after my test, you see, before I’d even woken up.”

Mirage glanced at Eclipse, who was looking alert and thoughtful. “We could try to find out where she is.”

He returned her glance with interest when she said that. Mirage knew what he was thinking. But could they trust Miryo that far?

The two events were almost certainly related. Which meant she didn’t have much choice.

Mirage cleared her throat and addressed Miryo again. “Were you familiar with Tari-nakana?”

“I didn’t know her personally, if that’s what you mean. But I do know who she was. Does this have to do with her death?”

“Very much so. She was assassinated.”

Miryo’s eyes widened. “She what?”

“By a Hunter. A Wolfstar.” Mirage outlined their trips to Starfall and Vilardi, and Avalanche’s role in the matter.

“So how is this related?”

“There’s two angles. First, Tari-nakana was tracking my movements before she died. I know this because I found a list in her study that matched my recent itinerary.”

Miryo’s eyes narrowed. “So Ashin wasn’t the only one who knew about you.”

“It looks that way. The second angle, though, is… well, not dubious; we’re fairly certain of our conclusions. But I don’t know if they’re tied in with our situation. We think the Wolfstar was hired by witches.”

Miryo became very still. She did not so much as blink. Mirage, waiting for a response from her, doubted she was even breathing.

“An interesting theory,” the witch said at last, and her voice was so carefully controlled Mirage could guess at the roiling emotions it was masking. “Would you care to back it up?”

Mirage explained their reasoning as thoroughly and carefully as she could. Miryo had to be reeling at the idea; it was comparable to someone telling Mirage that a Silverfire Hunter had killed the person employing him as a bodyguard. Not impossible, but certainly shocking. She owed it to her double to prove the accusation was well thought out.

Miryo listened, stone-faced. When Mirage was done, she closed her eyes as if in pain, then opened them grimly. “I see. I can’t say I like the idea, but… well, a year ago I wouldn’t have believed you at all. But there’s something about the way Ashin disappeared—it’s not unusual; vanishing without telling anyone where you’re going is standard behavior for an Air Hand, but I still thought there was something off about it. As if she had not just left, but had… fled.”

“Do you think she expects what Tari-nakana got?” Mirage asked.

“I don’t know. But they both knew you were alive.” Miryo looked pensive, then shook her head with a sigh. “I’ll have to think about this. So what do you do now?”

“We haven’t told our employer yet,” Eclipse said. “There were a few things we wanted to take care of first.”

“We were headed for Miest,” Mirage elaborated. “We need to talk to Jaguar, the head of Silverfire. He’s the one who tapped us for the commission; he may know something more about the situation. And, to be quite honest, we wanted our defenses in place before we started flinging accusations about.”

“Defenses?”

“Our school is more than just the place where we learned things. If one of our people gets into trouble because of something he did in the course of fulfilling a contract, he can petition Silverfire for help. I don’t know if we’ll need it, but I’d rather be prepared.”

Miryo nodded. A wry grin slipped across her face. “Do you think they’d let me join you in hiding?”

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

“I hope not. Since it’ll take a while to be certain whom I can trust among the witches. And loyal though Kan and Sai are, I don’t know that the Cousins will be much help to me, either. But there’s not much point in worrying about that right now. I’m too tired to think very straight anyway.”

“I could use sleep, too,” Mirage said, touching the bruises on her face gingerly. “An afternoon of unconsciousness just doesn’t cut it. When do you think you could be ready to go tomorrow?”

“I’m coming with you to Miest?” Miryo looked surprised.

“Not quite all the way. I’m not taking you into the school itself; you looker too much like me for that to be a good idea.”

“And there’s no way you could disguise me?”

“Remember that we’re talking about a nest of people trained to notice things like that. If they saw through it, we’d be in more trouble than I even want to think about. Bringing a witch into Silverfire is not the way to increase my already scant popularity.”

Miryo rubbed her eyes and yawned hugely. “All right. I can be ready by noon, I think. It would be sooner, but it’s going to take me a while to explain all this to the Cousins. They’ve been unbelievably cooperative so far—and I’ve been doing some strange things—but this is pushing it. I have no idea what I’m going to say to them.”

“They have a right to object?” Mirage asked, surprised. Maybe Cousins aren’t the mindless sheep I’d thought.

“Technically, no. Some witches don’t even like them to offer opinions. But I haven’t demanded blind obedience from them yet, and I don’t want to. The problem is, if they think what I’m doing is truly stupid, they may send word to the Primes.”

Mirage was pleased to hear that Miryo treated the Cousins like people. Perhaps she’d even be willing to explain who—or what—they were. But that was a question for later. “What would the Primes do, if they knew?”

Miryo rubbed her eyes again. “I don’t know. I’m kind of afraid to think about it. This little hunt wasn’t a suggestion; it was an order. If they decide I’m a danger to those around me, they may try to resolve the issue themselves. They’d probably kill you on the spot.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not really. I’m just going to have to talk to the Cousins. I need to know where they stand before I can plan anything else.”

She isn’t comfortable enough with this situation to want me there. Fair enough; I would have preferred to talk to Eclipse in private myself. We’ll learn to trust each other. Hopefully.

“Where should I meet you tomorrow?” Miryo asked. “Here, or where you’re staying?”

Mirage looked to Eclipse, thinking it over. “Somewhere else,” he said firmly.

“Outside the city,” Mirage agreed. “We don’t want to show up here, not if this is to be kept quiet, and we also need to make sure the Thornbloods aren’t aware of what’s going on.” She smiled thinly. “Not yet, anyway. I have every intention of sitting Ice down for a little chat some day. At the point of a blade.”

She was aware, as she said that, of a slight stiffening in Miryo’s body. Interesting. Another thing she’s not comfortable with. Most witches aren’t violent. I wonder if there’s anything she does that will make me feel the same way?

Aside from magic, of course.

“There’s a line of six or so elms on the west side of the north road,” Eclipse offered. “Would that work?”

“I can find it,” Miryo said.

“Noon, then,” Mirage agreed. “We’ll see you there. But send word to us at the Cracked Oak if anything goes wrong. Or just come find us, if it’s really critical.”

“I will,” Miryo promised.

Despite her exhaustion, Miryo did not sleep when the two Hunters had left.

I’ve done nothing physical today, yet my arms and legs feel like lead. First time I ever knew that sitting around doing nothing could be so draining. Then again, there was that tiny bit of excitement in the hallway. That would never have anything to do with me feeling like the walking dead. Of course not.

She paced the study at a slower rate than before, more mindless wandering than steady movement. She clasped her hands behind her back and ambled around, staring at the floor, trying to force her exhausted mind to work.

Oddly enough, she felt liberated. Her problem had not gone away; on the contrary, it had complicated itself horribly. And they might still end up back at square one, if they didn’t find a way through this. But the feeling of a sword hanging over her head had vanished. She might not have to kill Mirage. That single thought kept running through her head, lightening her heart. Miryo realized that she was humming under her breath, and the tune was a song of praise to the Goddess.

As soon as she realized this, something shifted. Miryo felt herself reaching for power, for what use she didn’t know; she just thirsted for its touch. She cut herself off abruptly, sweating, and stood in the middle of the room trying not to shake.

No. No. You’ve made it this far; you’ll damn well keep going. You will not pull power. That’s just asking for trouble, and you know it.

Intellectual knowing was one thing. The reality of the hollowness in her stomach was another. Miryo pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, refusing to let herself break down. She had gone twenty-five years without magic, and had only truly tasted it once since then. Surely another few weeks would not kill her. Surely.

But Goddess—I want it so badly.

Bitterness washed over her. Why did Mirage have to do that to me? Bluffing me out like that, telling me to Mil her—damn her to Void for that. It could have been easy, over and done with. I might never have looked back. But I’ll never know. She had to come along and make me think about what I was doing. Make me see her as a person.

Miryo slapped the stones next to the fireplace, hard. The shock helped clear her mind. Then she sat down in one of the chairs and made herself take deep, calming breaths. She knew herself. Had she killed Mirage, doubts , would have plagued her for the rest of her life. Her doppelganger had done her a favor, even if it was one loaded with extra trouble. But that didn’t stop her from yearning momentarily for the simple answer of a knife in the heart.

Well, I could always kill myself. That would take care of it.

She was jolted out of that morbid thought by the door opening. Miryo leapt to her feet to find Kan standing just inside the room, looking at her.

Or maybe she’ll kill me.

Kan did not actually look angry. Not yet. Of course, she didn’t yet know what had happened. The Cousin stood in the doorway, arm in a sling to protect her broken collarbone, and looked at Miryo.

“She’s not dead,” Miryo said, deciding on bluntness as her best option.

Kan blinked.

“Come in. Sit down. Do you want me to get you something—tea?” Miryo considered slapping herself, in the hope of finding more rational things to say. “Of course not. You want an explanation. Please, sit down, and I’ll try to give you one.”

She noticed the pronoun. I’m sure of it. Which means I’ll have to tell her everything—or close to it. Not about Tari-nakana, I think. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.

“I was going upstairs to kill her. I caught her in the hallway—lucky, really, or she would have been gone. But… I couldn’t kill her. And I don’t just mean physically, although there was that, too. I just couldn’t make myself do it.”

Still Kan said nothing.

“Look, I know that the Primes know a damn sight more than I do. And I should believe them when they tell me this is the only answer. But in my heart, I cannot accept it—not without at least trying to find another way. I just can’t believe that the Goddess intended this. Mirage is a person, not a thing. She’s not just a copy of me. I had that knife in my hand, and I looked at her, and I couldn’t do it Not yet. We’re going to try and find another solution. And if that doesn’t work, well, we’ll go back to where we started. I can’t possibly be at a worse disadvantage than I was in that hall, so I’m not really losing anything. And I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to find another way.”

Kan sat, stone-faced. Miryo looked at her. And then, when the silence became too much, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

The Cousin stood and walked away, going to face a bookcase. Miryo bet she wasn’t looking at the books. Several moments passed before Kan turned back to face her.

“I understand,” Kan said. Miryo had to strain to hear her voice, even in the quiet of the room. “I understand, but I do not—cannot—agree. I think you should listen to the Primes. I think that ignoring them is a serious risk.”

Miryo nodded slowly, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “You’ll report me, then.”

“No,” Kan said, and the floor slammed back into place beneath Miryo’s feet. “I’m supposed to serve you. I’m also supposed to serve the Primes, who commanded me to ride with you. I understand what you’re doing, and why, but I do not agree with it. What then should I do?” She paused, closing her eyes. She tried to lean her head back in thought, but a spasm of pain crossed her face and she straightened, looking at Miryo. “This much I can offer you. I will not report you, but neither will I go with you. I will remove myself from the situation.”

Miryo swallowed hard. She spread her hands in her lap, laying them on her knees, and was proud that they did not shake. “I understand.”

“Sai will come with me,” Kan said, answering the question Miryo had not yet asked. “We will neither help you, nor get in your way.”

“Thank you,” Miryo said, and she had never meant the words so much in her entire life. “I will not forget this. And if the Goddess smiles on me, and I come out of this in one piece, I will do whatever I can to repay you. Regardless of whether I turn out to be right or not.”

Kan nodded.

Another awkward pause. “Good night, then,” Miryo said, and left the room.

She had been in her bedroom for a few minutes when she heard Kan’s footsteps in the hall. They stopped outside; Miryo would have wagered the Cousin had her ear to the door. Then the footsteps went away, and after a moment she heard a door shut.

Miryo began throwing her belongings into her saddlebags.

Eclipse respected Mirage’s obvious desire for silence on the way back to the inn. They had one short discussion when they reached the room, on the topic of whether or not she would allow him to see to her injuries. She claimed to be fine, and cited her success against the Cousins as proof, but Eclipse knew better. More than any other Hunter he’d met, Mirage was able to ignore pain. On several occasions during their training, she’d dismissed broken toes and cracked ribs as minor inconveniences. So he put his foot down, and she conceded.

He washed her face and inspected it. She was developing some lovely bruises, but her nose hadn’t been broken, and neither had her jaw. He prepared a tea to help her concussion, then made her strip down and let him check her other injuries.

Mirage had a special penchant for breaking ribs, but for a change she’d stayed in one piece. Her arm was also intact. A low whistle escaped him when he saw her back, though. Any harder and the blow would have damaged her spine or her kidneys. She had been damned lucky.

Eclipse let her pull her shirt back on then, and they began packing in silence. Mirage’s face was impassive behind the bruises. At last, though, he had to ask the question that had been in his mind since they left the house on Lilac Row.

“Do you think she’ll be there tomorrow?”

Mirage answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“You trust her that much.”

“I’m not sure it’s possible for me to not trust her.” She paused. “Does that make any sense?”

“Yes, but I’m still not sure you should believe it.” Eclipse tucked his weapons-cleaning kit into his saddlebag and then sat on the bed, looking at her directly. “You two aren’t identical, you know. There’s no way you could be. You grew up completely differently.”

“I know. But I still feel, gut-deep, that in many ways we’re the same. Maybe more of a person’s character is inborn than I’d thought. Or maybe each of us was somehow influenced by the upbringing the other had. Whatever it is, I can tell already that despite our differences, we’re more similar than not. So I know she’ll be there.”

“Because you would be.”

“I would bet you any sum of money that she’s weighed the situation in her mind and come to the same conclusion I have. Although we take a risk by doing this, what we stand to gain outweighs it. So we’ll stick with our decision until something changes the balance.”

The reasoning was so typically Mirage that Eclipse had to snort. “It’s that kind of thinking that put you through such misery in childhood. You could have stayed a Temple Dancer.”

Mirage flashed him a quick grin. “But I wanted to be a Hunter. And the cost was worth it.”

“Your evaluation of cost is not that of a sane person.”

“It was worth it in the end. I went through some trouble at Silverfire, but it ended eventually, and now I’m where I want to be. More or less. If you leave out the bit about my life being in imminent danger.”

“Sen, you’d be bored if your life weren’t in danger.”

Another grin. He was glad to see her mood improving. She hadn’t said anything outright, but he could tell that she wasn’t happy to discover that the whispers about her being a witch were peripherally true. It had produced a brittleness in her manner, probably too subtle for Miryo to see—after all, she had only just met Mirage. But he, who knew her well, could see it, and he was relieved that it seemed to be fading.

That, or she was just putting up a better mask.

He’d keep an eye on her, just in case.

They’d set the meeting time for noon the next day, but Mirage and Eclipse left the inn before dawn. They departed in stealth, heading for one of the lesser exits from the city. Neither knew if the Thornbloods were aware of Mirage’s escape, but they agreed it was better to take the precaution. It meant that Mirage got very little sleep that night, but Eclipse could stand guard while she napped and waited for Miryo to arrive.

That was the plan, anyway. They arrived at the line of elms around dawn to find Miryo already there.

Mirage raised an eyebrow at her from the back of her horse. She was amused to see that Miryo could interpret the gesture perfectly. “I talked with Kan—the one whose collarbone you broke. Sai doesn’t talk if she can help it. Anyway, Kan said she wouldn’t help me, but neither would she cause me trouble. She’s just staying out of it. So they won’t be coming with us.”

“And you decided you wanted to sleep under the stars.” Miryo grimaced. “I trust Kan. Mostly. I just decided I should get out while the getting was good. Just in case she changed her mind, or Sai didn’t agree with the plan.”

“Wise of you.” Mirage stifled a yawn and considered her options. She was tired, but there was no point in wasting good daylight when they could be riding. She could always doze in the saddle. “If you’ve got your horse, then, let’s get moving.”