Doppelganger

2 Oath [Mirage]

They made miserable time on the road south. Rain pursued them through Abern and into the mountains of Seach, turning the road into a sea of mud the horses sank into; this was not one of the Great Roads, graveled and graded and maintained by the Lady who ruled the domain. Mirage, hunched in her cloak as Mist picked her way along, wondered if she would ever dry out again.

“Tell me again,” Eclipse said, “why we picked Silver-foe.”

“It sounded glamorous,” Mirage said wryly. “Life on the road. Not tied down to any one place. Adventures! Excitement!”

“Mud. Rain. I should have been a Cloudhawk.”

“Ah, what a life,” Mirage said in a mock-wistful tone. “Pampered and petted, some Lord’s kept spy. You might never have set foot on the road, might have traveled in a carriage.”

There was a brief pause. Then Eclipse snorted. “I would’ve ended up killing someone out of sheer frustration.”

“As would we all,” Mirage replied, referring to her brothers and sisters of Silverfire. “I hate this Void-damned rain, but I wouldn’t trade it for a life bonded to one employer. I’d be even more bored then. At least as a freelance Hunter there’s variety.”

More silence from Eclipse. The reply hung in the air anyway: But Cloudhawks never work for witches.

They did not speak again until they reached the next town. Even so, and despite the rain, Mirage enjoyed the ride. Itinerant Hunters almost always worked solo; she was not used to having company on the road. Eclipse’s presence, however, was welcome, even when they didn’t speak. He had been the first one to befriend her when she came to Silverfire, and he knew her better than any of their other year-mates did. There was no Hunter she would rather work with.

They stopped for the night in Ansing, perched in the foothills a day’s ride from Corberth. Mirage scowled; she had originally expected to reach Corberth today. The rain had changed everything.

Once Mist and Eclipse’s gelding Sparker were stabled, the two Hunters took their belongings upstairs. The town was small, and not wealthy; the inn had no services for drying clothes, so Mirage left Eclipse laying damp clothes out around their room while she went to buy more grain for the horses.

When she returned a half hour later, she also brought up supper, which Eclipse took gratefully. Mirage nibbled her own sausage roll and stared at the floor, pondering what they would face tomorrow. Somehow, even though her intended rest in Chervie had been cut short, she wasn’t tired anymore. She welcomed any challenge to break the monotony of the past year.

“Who do you think we’ll be meeting tomorrow?” she asked Eclipse.

He shrugged. “Another Void Hand, I’d assume.”

A reasonable assumption. A witch of that Ray and Path had brought the commission to Silverfire, after all.

“Do you expect someone else?” Eclipse asked when she didn’t respond.

“Maybe,” Mirage said.

“Like who? Someone from the Void Heart? I guess that’s possible, but usually the Path of the Hand deals with the outside world.”

“I was actually thinking of a Fire witch.”

“Possible,” Eclipse said after a pause. “The victim was one of theirs.”

“No way to be sure,” Mirage said with a sigh. “We’ll just have to default to generic address, at least to start. I’d like to know who I’m dealing with, though.”

“Understandably.”

There was another silence then; Eclipse stacked their bowls in the hallway and Mirage circled the room, checking the state of their clothes. She lost herself in the routine task, and, accustomed as she was to being alone, she jumped when Eclipse spoke.

“Are you sure you’re all right with this?”

Mirage turned and stared at him. “What? I don’t have much choice now. I read the commission.”

“They could release you from it.”

She sat down slowly, not breaking her gaze from his. “Why do you keep bringing this up? Do you not want me with you?”

“Warrior, no,” Eclipse said instantly. “It’s just…” He hesitated before speaking his mind. “If anybody else told me that you were going to work for a witch of your own free will, I would laugh in his face.”

And he would have cause. Mirage stood and paced a narrow circuit of the room, making herself consider his question seriously. If taking this job was a bad idea, this was her last chance to change her mind.

She’d avoided witches at every opportunity for years now; it had become reflex. It wasn’t just the red hair, either, though that was part of it. Mirage had known since childhood that she was unusually strong for her size, and no one could match her reflexes. Red hair alone didn’t mean anything, though almost all witches had it—but red hair with her physical talents looked strange. And a minor curiosity became a distinct problem when she entered a Hunter school, a place that, by ages of tradition, was not friendly to witches. A lot of people at Silverfire didn’t like her being there at all. And so it became habit to avoid association with witches whenever possible. Other Hunters might go to a witch for healing; Mirage had only been healed once, while in training, and then not by her choice.

She shook her head and laughed softly. There was really only one answer to Eclipse’s question. “I just can’t pass a commission up.”

“Because it’s a challenge.”

She nodded. “It… draws me. I don’t like dealing with witches, but I want to take this job. Gut feeling. I think this is going to test my skills to the limit. And commissions are what our reputations are built on; having a second one this soon would really help make my name.”

Eclipse grinned and shook his head in resignation.

“What?”

“I knew you’d say that,” he said, still grinning.

They reached Corberth early the next afternoon. That night would be the full moon. Mirage had intended to arrive a day early, with time to prepare, but thanks to the weather, they had only a few hours.

She felt edgy as they brought their belongings into the inn Eclipse had chosen, and she took a moment to chase the feeling down. Normally freelance Hunters like those of Silverfire set the place of meeting, made their employers come to them. She was used to having that measure of control over the situation. With a witch, though, everything changed. The two Hunters would have to go to their employer.

She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t change it.

They didn’t speak much once they arrived. Even though Mirage and Eclipse had not worked together since their days as students, they fell into a comfortable rhythm. He went downstairs to fetch hot water while she got what they needed out of their bags. It didn’t take much sorting; they both packed very lightly.

Without asking Eclipse, she got out the finer of the two uniforms for both of them. Every Silverfire Hunter took care to keep one set cleaner and less worn, for formal situations. If meeting a witch did not qualify as formal, Mirage didn’t know what did.

Luckily the uniforms packed small, so they were not a burden to carry. Mirage shook out the individual pieces, each made of windsilk dyed so that its black shade did not reflect the light as ordinary silk might. Windsilk was so light it felt as though it might tear in the slightest breeze, but that delicacy was an illusion. Nobles bought it as a statement of wealth; Hunters used it for practicality.

Eclipse returned then with water. They stripped and bathed in their room, conducting their ablutions in silence; each used the washing as a chance to prepare for their task.

Mirage dressed herself with methodical precision. First the full breeches, cut so as not to restrict movement. She took a moment to arrange every pleat properly before donning the loose shirt. Then came the short jacket, cinched down with her weapons belt before she wrapped her waist in the wide sash. The boots she had been wearing were put aside for a pair unstained by mud. She practiced a few kicks and spins to make certain that nothing would chafe. Then a pair of supple gloves, and the mask and head covering that left only a strip across her eyes clear.

There was no mirror in the room, but Mirage still smiled at her appearance. Hunters in uniform were faceless and intimidating. The familiar costume helped to counteract the strangeness of not choosing the meeting location.

Eclipse finished dressing just moments after she did. And by then it was nightfall, and time for them to go.

The two Hunters slipped from shadow to shadow, picking their way across the town. Eclipse had gotten directions from a maid when he went down for the water; he’d managed to choose an inn clear on the other side of town from the designated location. Mirage didn’t mind. This skulk through the shadows honed her focus, stepping up her excitement just a little bit more. Evading the excuse for a local watch was easy, but even so, it exercised skills she hadn’t used much lately, barring the bandits and that one skirmish in the forest outside Enden.

When they arrived at the house indicated in the commission, they stopped to consider it. The place belonged to a person of some wealth; it was surrounded by its own wall, sculpted to mimic flowering bushes and trees. A pair of weary guards patrolled its top with less than full enthusiasm. Mirage and Eclipse exchanged quick glances. The sculptures made it all too easy.

The guards never noticed the two shadows flowing over the wall.

The small courtyard was edged with trees, but paved in the middle. There was no good way to approach the front door without stepping into the open—but then again, Mirage reminded herself, there was no need to. They were expected. And passing the guards in front, easy though it had been, was enough showing off for one night.

They stepped onto the cobblestones and headed for the frontdoor.

It opened just as they reached it. A red-haired woman was inside; Mirage glanced at the short sword the woman wore and felt her lip curl. A Cousin. One of those lackeys she had been mistaken for in Enden, an obedient servant of the witches.

The Cousin bowed to them, showing no sign of fear or even surprise at finding two uniformed Hunters already inside the gate. Mirage swore inwardly, understanding. Ward of some kind. No wonder the guards are so lax. With tricks like this, how did that witch ever get assassinated?

They were conducted inside. The Cousin offered no greeting, and neither Hunter chose to break the silence. Intimidation was a useful tool, and although the woman was not outwardly cowed, Mirage could see the stiffness in her back. She smiled beneath the windsilk of her mask.

The Cousin led them to an elegantly carved door and opened it, gesturing them inside.

Given the sumptuous appearance of the rest of the house, the nearly bare room was jarring. A few high-backed chairs stood in a rough semicircle facing the door, and in the center of the arc sat a woman. The shadows of the chair’s wings cloaked her, but Mirage knew without being told that this was the witch.

Both she and Eclipse saluted their summoner.

The Cousin shut the door, and the room remained silent for several long moments. Then the witch spoke. “Silverfire.”

Mirage instantly tried to analyze that. Had she not known what school was hired? If so, the cut of their uniforms would have told her that. But the voice, almost devoid of inflection, was unclear; it could be that she had known, and was making some comment on the choice. Mirage could not tell.

“Have you been told anything?” the witch asked.

Her voice sent chills down Mirage’s spine. Melodious and smooth, like any witch; they depended on singing to control their magic, and so they trained their daughters’ voices from the time they could speak.

“No, Katsu,” Eclipse responded, defaulting to the generic form of address for a witch of unknown affiliation. “The commission merely said that Tari-nakana, the Fire Heart Key, had been assassinated, and that two Hunters were to be assigned to investigate the situation. It instructed us to come here and find you, and bound us not to speak of it to anyone else until now. That was all.”

The witch stood. She was taller than Mirage by a good bit, of a height with Eclipse. “Tari-nakana was returning to Starfall when she fell from her horse and broke her neck. A simple tragedy, or so it would seem. But the snake that startled her mount is rarely active during the day, and avoids open spaces such as roads. When the horse’s saddle blanket was removed after it was put down for two broken legs, its back was inflamed—not seriously, but enough to make it more skittish than usual. And the girth strap was quite worn—again, not enough to look suspicious, but more than anyone recalls it being.”

Mirage felt a flicker of professional appreciation. So that was how it was done. Clever, and subtle. No one clue so glaring that anyone would point a finger at foul play, and no mischief strong enough to be caught before it could come to harm.

“These three anomalies caused us to investigate,” the witch continued. “There was no evidence of anyone planting the snake, or tampering with the saddle girth, but the blanket had been touched with a very mild powder that irritated the horse’s skin. Given that, we suspect that the other two were also not chance.”

“What’s our assignment?” Mirage asked.

“Hunt,” the witch said bluntly. “Hunt the assassin and capture or eliminate her; either is acceptable. But also Hunt the one behind the assassin, the one who ordered the killing done. That, more than the first, is of paramount importance. But exercise caution; we do not wish to alert the employer. Inform us of your discoveries before any action is taken against that one.”

Eclipse nodded. “Who will be our contact?”

“Myself. Do you accept the commission?”

“We do,” Mirage said, knowing she spoke for both of them. Her fingers tingled with anticipation of the Hunt. It was a feeling she had missed, these past months.

The witch ought to have taken their oaths then. But she didn’t, not right away, and a chill prickled at Mirage’s neck. Why was she hesitating?

“I must warn you,” the witch said. “I will require a blood-oath. Do you still accept the commission?”

Mirage froze in shock. Many Hunters went their whole lives without ever taking on a blood-oathed commission. It was glory and death, all in one. Only the most delicate of situations merited blood-oaths, because they required the services of a witch to bind the Hunter to the task. If the Hunter completed the commission, he lived, gained great fame, and could ask three boons from his employer—whenever he wanted, no restrictions.

If he failed, he died.

If anything would require it, this would, Mirage thought But am I ready for it?

Glory, fame, and three favors from some very powerful people.

Or death.

She had wanted a challenge.

Mirage looked over at Eclipse, and found him doing the same. She was not at all certain what his choice would be until their eyes met. An instant only; that was all it took for them to know their answer.

“We accept,” Eclipse said.

The witch stood and beckoned them forward. She pulled a small table from her side to in front of her, and Mirage saw that it held a small dagger, a shallow silver bowl, and a faceted crystal. Witches’ tools.

“Your weapon hands, please,” the witch said.

Mirage’s heart was beating rapidly with apprehension. This could make her name for all time, put her into legend with other great Hunters of the past. But she could not forget the danger, the threat of death. If they failed, neither of them would live to take another assignment.

But if we succeed, the reward is worth it. And I’m arrogant enough to believe we will.

The witch interlocked their right hands so they were gripping each other over the bowl. Their gloves had been tucked into their belts.

She slid the dagger carefully between their wrists, flat against the skin, and held the crystal in her left hand. Then, without warning, the witch flipped the dagger to its edges and drew it downward, opening up a shallow cut on the inside of each Hunter’s wrist. Their blood dripped together into the silver bowl, forming a dark pool on the reflective surface.

The crystal the witch held began to hum as she held it above their hands. “You are charged with the task of serving justice to the assassin of Tari-nakana, Key of the Path of the Heart of the Ray of Fire, and of discovering the instigator of the murder. Should you fail, you will die. Should you succeed, we who have hired you bind ourselves to grant three boons to you, whenever you might require them. Do you accept?”

Mirage and Eclipse recited their responses in unison. “I swear, on my oath and my name as a Hunter, that I will devote my utmost efforts to the task, or accept the retribution of the Divine Warrior who holds my oath.”

Right hand on the bowl, left hand holding the crystal, the witch sang a series of sharp notes in the language of magic. Mirage’s stomach lurched as their commingled blood suddenly rushed upward, back through the gap between their wrists, to strike the crystal, where it was absorbed. The witch set the newly dyed ruby back onto the table and clasped their bleeding wrists in her own hands.

“Your oath is accepted. You are free to Hunt.”

A sudden surge of pain made Mirage grip Eclipse’s hand in resistance. And then it was gone, as quickly as it had come, and the witch was moving the table away.

Mirage released Eclipse’s hand and examined her wrist. Even in the dim light, she could see the thin scar. It glittered peculiarly, with a greenish shade that seemed to be a reminder of the strangely colored magical fire that had sealed it shut. The scar would mark her for life, a sign that she had undertaken a blood-oathed commission—and, if all went well, survived.

They didn’t leave the house immediately. Bom Mirage and Eclipse had a number of questions they needed to ask; if they were to investigate the assassination, they would need as much information as possible. The witch answered readily enough, but Mirage still felt something off-kilter.

Is she keeping something from us? But why would she? Mirage considered the question even as she listened to Eclipse ask something else. Is she afraid of being incriminated in something? In the murder? I doubt the guilty party’s hiring us to investigate. She frowned beneath her mask. It’s something to keep an eye out for. I don’t like mysteries, not when my life is on the line.

They departed before dawn, carrying the first part of their payment and an enchanted sheet of rice paper that could be used to ask the witch further questions, should the need arise. Mirage was certain it would. She didn’t like the paper, though; it would send the words written on it to a matching sheet the witch had, certainly, but communicating through writing would make it a great deal harder to tell if the witch was equivocating or avoiding a subject.

Neither Hunter spoke until they were in their room again and had checked their surroundings for eavesdroppers. There were none; Mirage hadn’t expected any, but it always paid to be careful. She just wished she had some way to prevent magical prying.

“What do you think?” Eclipse asked as he removed his mask and put it on the table.

Mirage had also taken hers off, and she turned it over in her hands as she replied. “It’s the work of a Hunter.”

He nodded. “My thoughts exactly. We’re the only people who get that kind of training, to think it through carefully, and hide our tracks.”

“So which school? Could be several—Silverfire, for one. Although we don’t tend to do assassin work as often. Thornblood would be more likely. Or Stoneshadow, or Wolfstar.”

“I’d favor those latter two. It strikes me as the kind of job you’d hire a specialist for; we’re more jack-of-all-trades, and so’s Thornblood. So it boils down to a question of freelance or bonded. Is this some Lord’s permanent assassin, or a mercenary?”

“I’ve got the same gut feeling—that it’s an assassination specialist—but we can’t get locked into that,” Mirage cautioned.

“Agreed.” Eclipse sat down, then leaned the chair onto its back two legs as he thought. “The greyweed on the saddle blanket had to have come from out east, probably Insebrar—do you think that’s where the employer is?”

“Maybe. Would Lord Ralni have any reason to assassinate her? Not that it necessarily was him, of course. But Lords are some of the only people with the money or influence to buy the death of someone that important; I mean, she headed an entire Path in her Ray. And besides, Fire witches are the political ones.” Mirage paced the small room, mask still dangling from her fingers. There was a faint thought teasing at the back of her head. When she nailed it down, she stopped pacing. “He’s patient, whoever he is. He couldn’t be at all certain Tari-nakana would die in that accident—our contact said she was a good rider. She might have controlled her horse when it shied, or gotten clear as it fell. So he valued subtlety over immediate results.”

“But he was almost certainly hired for the job, not the attempt.”

“Which means he had a backup plan.”

“Her home, you think?”

“It’s where I’d go next, were I in his place. She was on her way back to Starfall. I just hope they haven’t touched anything yet, or that our assassin friend hasn’t gone and cleaned the place up. If we see another of his traps, we might have a better chance of identifying his school.”

Eclipse nodded and dropped the chair back onto four legs. “Which brings up a question: How do you want to work this? Should we figure out who the assassin was, and track the chain back that way, or should we be trying to find out who would’ve wanted to kill her?”

Mirage leaned against a wall and considered. Eclipse waited patiently for her answer, not pushing; they were already falling into a smooth working partnership. “We could split up, with one of us chasing each. Two Hunters would be useful that way. But we don’t have to decide now.”

“Right. Either way, the next logical destination is Tari-nakana’s house in Starfall, since that’s where her office was.”

Less than an hour, and already Mirage had a question for their witch contact. “Could you write and ask if the house has been touched?” She grinned. “I’d do it, but…”

“You sing like an asthmatic horse. I’d rather not hear you try.”

Mirage mock-snarled at him and went to put her mask away as Eclipse wrote out their question in his elegant handwriting. Then he activated the sheet, singing under his breath the first line of the ballad “The Hawk of Fire.” A sign that their contact was from the Fire Ray, or just a nod to Tari-nakana’s affiliation?

The words faded off the sheet, but the response did not come immediately. Rather than wait idly, they both changed back into mundane clothing. By the time their uniforms were packed into their saddlebags, a line written in a spiky, backhanded script had appeared in place of Eclipse’s question.

“As far as she knows, the house is untouched,” he said, reading from the sheet.

Two copper disks dropped out of nowhere onto the table.

Mirage swore mildly in startlement as she picked them up. “She’d better not do that on a regular basis.” The disks were identical; on one side they showed the triskele circle of the witches, and on the other, a two-part glyph. “Name symbols, do you think?”

Another line had appeared on the paper. Eclipse read it aloud. “ ‘The tokens should get you past the wards on Tari-nakana’s house.’” He took one and examined it closely, then compared it to Mirage’s. “Maybe. Tari-nakana’s name, with something else?”

“Don’t lose it. I’d hate to have to pick you up in pieces.”

“That would be messy. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He glanced out the window to check the sky. “Not quite dawn. I say we sleep for a few hours, then get on the road.”

“Agreed?” Mirage said. “It’s a long way to Starfall.”