Doppelganger

25 Mirei

A crash brought Eclipse to his feet, sword in hand.

He dropped the blade an instant later, wondering how in the Warrior’s name Mirage had suddenly appeared in his room in the middle of the night.

“Sen?” he asked, baffled.

From where she knelt on the floor in the dim light, she lifted her head, one inch at a time, and as she did so something around her neck fell down to dangle freely, drawing Eclipse’s eyes.

A triskele pendant.

“Miryo?” he said uncertainly.

The pendant was all she was wearing. She knelt there, half lit by the moonlight through the window, and he grew more confused the more he looked at her. There was no way Miryo could have picked up those muscles, but the woman’s hair was long, not cropped. And why would Mirage be wearing that pendant?

And what was it in her face that made him so unsure?

Eclipse voiced a question he had never expected to have to ask. “Who… which one are you?”

She stood, slowly, and looked down at her hands and arms with a completely unreadable expression. “Either.” she said, and her voice had the well-trained tones of a witch. “Or neither.” She laughed faintly; it had a disbelieving sound. “Does it matter?”

“What?” he whispered.

She looked straight at him. “She gave me the answer, Kerestel. I prayed for an answer, and the Goddess showed it to me.”

Then she fainted.

“I don’t understand,” Eclipse said.

She raised one eyebrow at him. “Yes, you do. You’re just having trouble admitting it.”

“You’re…”

“One person. As I used to be. I was praying—both of me were—was—whatever.” A grin bloomed involuntarily on her face. “I don’t think grammar can cope with this. I was praying to the Goddess, and it occurred to me—to the Miryo part of me—that I wasn’t praying the way I really wanted to. Ought to. So as Miryo, I sang, and as Mirage, I danced, and I listened to the Goddess with all of my heart. And she made me whole again.”

The wonder of it had still not faded from her mind. She slipped one arm free of the blanket Eclipse had given her and stared at it in the light of the candle. A part of her calmly identified it as her own, while another part marveled at the smooth, hard lines of her muscles.

“And you remember both,” Eclipse said.

“Of course.”

He bit his lip and looked at her, perplexed. “What am I supposed to call you?”

The answer was there when she reached for it; the name had come to her during the ritual, but she had not looked for it until now. “Mirei.” She smiled involuntarily. “The Goddess gave me the name. As she renamed Misetsu, back when this all began.”

He swallowed. “It… works. I guess. It’s kind of both of you.”

“In more ways than you know.” She held her hands out to him, palms down. “Try me.” He placed his hands under hers, and then tried to slap them; he missed, but only barely. “I’m going to have to watch out for that. It’s possible that I’ll improve again, when the Miryo bit of me stops interfering with the reflexes Mirage had, but I don’t know. I may be permanently watered down.”

He managed to dredge up a smile from somewhere. “At least it’ll be more fair for the rest of us.” The smile faded. He hesitated for a moment, then looked at her directly. “So what happens now?”

She hadn’t thought about it yet. “I think… I still need you to go to Silverfire. I could send the message to Jaguar magically, but I don’t think that would go over well.”

“You could deliver it in person.”

Mirei shook her head. “I can’t. There’s… too many other things I have to do.”

The pause betrayed her, or maybe he would have guessed anyway. “Warrior. You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?”

“Not stupid. Necessary. I’ve got the answer, but that only solves half the problem. I have to convince the others, or it’s worthless.”

“The others’?”

“The Primes. I could work this as an underground rebellion, but it would be long, and painful, and probably very bloody. If I can convince the women at the top, right from the start, it’ll be better for everyone.”

“And they’ll be so happy to see you, I’m sure.”

“I’ve got magic now. I can defend myself.”

“Against five Primes at once?” He shook his head.

“You’ve never been that stupid before. Why start now?” Can I even make him understand? I suppose I have to try. Mirei took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Kerestel—Eclipse—this is what I have to do. Never in my life have I felt it so clearly, seen so perfectly what is that I should do. The path is there, in front of me. I can’t say that I know where it leads. But if I don’t follow it…” She shrugged, hands gesturing to show her loss for words. “I have to.” A smile flickered across her face. “Hey, it’s a challenge. And you know how I love challenges.”

He looked at her silently for a very long time. Mirei met his eyes, but not in confrontation; she merely let him read whatever he saw in her expression.

At last, reluctantly, he dropped his eyes and nodded. “All right. I guess I know better than to try and stop you.”

Relief washed over her. She had any number of ways of stopping him, should he try to interfere with her, but she didn’t want to use them. Far better that he should agree. “There’s a few things I need to do, then. Do you still have my saddlebag?”

She had given him most of her baggage when they parted after the ambush. “Yes.”

“Good. That takes care of clothing, then.” She wondered whether the doming she had been wearing in Angrim was lying on the floor of the temple, or if it had been burned away in the file that had transformed her. “And I’ll need to borrow your weapons.”

He looked surprised. “You have magic now, don’t you?”

“Yes, but it’s not always the best way of handling things. And I need the Primes to see that I’m both Miryo and Mirage.”

“Take them,” he said without hesitation. Mirei was again relieved. She had been wary of asking for two reasons; the part of her that saw him as Miryo did was reluctant to ask a favor of someone she did not know all that well, while the Mirage part of her knew Hunters disliked leading their blades.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Do you have the paper we were given in Corberth?”

“In my bag.”

“I’ll need that before I leave. I have to write to Ashin and the others, so that they’ll know what I’ve figured out. I’m also going to give you a copy. I don’t want to risk this information getting lost.”

She did not add, “in case I die,” but Eclipse was capable of filling that in for himself. His face grew grimmer, but he did not comment. “How are you going, then? Do you need a horse?”

“No. It’ll take too long. I’ll go the way I came.” As she said that, the shock that had been lurking in the back of her mind came explosively to the fore. She saw a fainter cousin of it on Eclipse’s face. “Isn’t that… I thought moving living creatures like that was impossible.”

So did I. Mirage had known it, but Miryo had taken it for granted; only now, as she thought about what she had done, did the full import hit her. Even when the Primes had appeared so suddenly for her testing in Starfall, they had walked in; a spell had simply kept her from noticing. “It’s supposed to be. I…” Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes and thought back. “I know how I did it. And I can do it again, to get myself to Starfall.”

For a brief moment she considered explaining to him how it worked, and what had changed, but she decided not to. He should know, eventually. But if I tell him now… no. After I’m done in Starfall. Otherwise I’ll never get out of here.

And the witches deserve to know first.

“If you’re sure,” he said uncertainly. “Can you depend on a new spell like that?”

“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. “I remember what I did, almost as well as I remember how I made myself one again. It’ll work.”

He trusted her enough to accept that. “All right. Do you want to write to Ashin now, or later?”

She sat, still wrapped in the blanket, and stared at the enchanted rice paper that would take her message to Ashin.

Crone’s stick. Where to start?

All the things she wanted or needed to say crowded into her mind, making thought momentarily impossible. Mirei gritted her teeth and forced herself to focus. One thing at a time. Go in order.

She bent her head and began to write.

She set to work writing down the pitches and syllables that had guided the power to rejoin her two halves. Though she had sung the spell only once, it was burned into her memory; she wouldn’t forget it any time soon.

A part of her watched the process of notation with detached curiosity. She had yet to adjust to the way things seemed both familiar and yet strange. She still grieved for the deaths of the Cousins she had killed, but the acceptance her Mirage side had of these actions tempered her guilt and kept it from paralyzing her. Likewise, the part of her that had been trained as a witch wrote out the spell without a second thought, but that which had been a Hunter found it intriguing. Then she recorded the movement, dredging up long-buried memories of Dancer notation. Ashin would have to find someone to interpret it for her.

When she had finished, she sang the message to the paper’s counterpart. She had no idea which of the conspirators had it, but the information should reach Ashin soon.

Eclipse was downstairs, getting food for her. It was very late, or perhaps very early; the bells had rung Dark not too long ago. Soon the inn’s staff would be waking and beginning the day’s chores, but right now everything was still silent.

Mirei rose and found her saddlebag on the floor. She worried briefly for Mist, then dismissed the thought; Wisp would take good care of her horse. And besides, the mare needed the rest. She unbuckled the flap of the bag and found her spare uniform on top.

Mirei fingered the windsilk thoughtfully. She had intended to go to Starfall armed, but dressed normally. Now, she reconsidered.

Well, I am a Hunter, as well as a witch. Maybe if I wore it without the mask?

That seemed the better plan. If she showed up masked, it would cause alarm; witches didn’t appreciate Hunters skulking around their domain any more than Hunters wanted witches in their schools. The uniform would still spark unease, but enough people would recognize her face that she could get through to the Primes. She hoped.

Besides, you want to wear it.

She grinned and began to dress.

Eclipse gave Mirei a long, serious scrutiny. It was nearly dawn, and she stood in the center of his room, dressed in Hunter uniform, his weapons strapped to her hips, the triskele pendant around her neck. Her hands hung at her sides, relaxed; her posture had the loose wariness of a cat.

“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” he felt compelled to ask, one last time.

Mirei nodded, and there was no hint of doubt in her eyes. “I do.”

He swallowed and forced himself to accept that. He was afraid for her, but also proud; only rarely had he seen someone with her kind of certainty and resolve. It had produced in her an aura of peace, and a readiness for whatever might come.

“Goddess walk with you,” he said at last. “She has so far.”

“Thank you,” Mirei whispered, and gave him a tight embrace.

Then Eclipse stepped back, retreating to the dubious safety of the wall. She had said the spell would work, but after all the previous backfires, he still felt a reflexive need for shelter. Mirei seemed to guess his feelings; she smiled. Then she took a deep breath and began to sing.

And not just sing; her body moved as well, arms carving a pattern in the air, as no witch before her had done.

It didn’t take long. A few heartbeats later, she was gone, and the air around Eclipse shifted, rushing to fill the gap where she had been.

Eclipse exhaled slowly, and sent up one last prayer.

Mirei appeared in the middle of the forest. It took her a moment to orient herself. She was on the northern side of the mountains, surrounded by trees just becoming visible in the light before dawn. She took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar and yet strange scent of Starfall’s forests; a part of her felt as if she were home.

Around her, the sentry spells roused.

Void it. They recognize me as something odd. Not student, not Cousin; witch, but odd. And I left the token with Eclipse.

She reached out, humming, and soothed the spells. They subsided, mostly; her magic was effective, but not quite the same as what the spells were keyed to. It had to be the Void influence. Mirei grimaced. She’d have to watch out for that, or they’d bring a guard down on her head.

In the meantime, she needed to decide what she was doing.

It was not yet dawn. Mirei considered proceeding on toward the settlement to the south, but decided against it almost instantly; many witches preferred to work elaborate spells at night, under the light of the stars, and as a result slept late in the morning. She might arrive at Starfall to find everyone in bed. And while that might be amusing, it wasn’t precisely the effect she wanted. Besides which, she was bone-tired.

Mother’s mercy—it was tonight that I was in Angrim. I’ve been one person for less than half a day.

The rejoining felt natural enough that she took it purely for granted. But although that ritual had infused her with energy, self-translocation turned out to be an incredibly tiring spell. She’d be well-advised to rest before going to face the Primes.

A few minutes of wandering in the brightening woods oriented her more specifically. She was in a familiar area; there was a spring nearby, with clean, sweet water. It was sheltered enough to provide a good place for her to sleep, and in the afternoon or early evening, she could move on. She even scrounged some blackberries, which she could eat when she awoke. She found the spring, erected a minor ward to alert her if anyone approached, and curled up to sleep.

She awoke with a start around noon.

Hunter instincts brought her awake within a heartbeat, and immediately she began to move. Her ears strained, listening for the sound of approaching feet, as she found a good tree and pulled herself into its concealing branches.

She heard nothing.

A moment later, though, a red head appeared, below her and slightly to one side. Mirei recognized her: Ganchise, an Earth Heart. Spells masked any sounds she might make. The part of Mirei that was a Hunter sneered at that; the spells made the witch lazy. Without them, she’d sound like a drunken donkey, crashing through the woods that way.

The witch nosed around for a while, but Mirei had taken care not to leave any noticeable signs of her presence. Even the berries were concealed under a bush. At last Ganchise shrugged, muttered something the spell muted, and moved onward.

Up in her tree, Mirei exhaled. I’m going to have to be more careful. I must have set off one of the wards; she was clearly looking for me, and not just passing through. I’ll have to do better than that.

She was awake now, and wouldn’t be going back to sleep any time soon. With a sigh, Mirei settled herself on the tree branch to wait.

And pray. As long as she had the time to kill, it couldn’t hurt.

I’m here, Goddess. At Starfall. I’m going to talk to the Primes. Please, let them listen to what I have to say. Help them be rational. They’re frightened of doppelgangers; they may be frightened of me. But I’m not here to hurt them. Please, help them see that.

I don’t want this to come to trouble.

As the sky began to darken, Mirei rose and made her way up the mountain.