Doppelganger (24 page)

"Not just any company, either," Edame said, looking smug. "These are the Dancers from the
Sunset
Temple
in Eriot."

"Haira has its own company, yes?"

"Of course we do. We have the second largest population of Avannans in the land, second only to Eriot itself. You should hear Iseman go on about how
Temple
Dance
is the purest expression of adoration of the Goddess. But this company is truly incredible. I saw them once, in Eriot, several years ago."

Miryo looked over the railing at the Dancers below. Uniform with their sleek, black-dyed hair and lithe bodies, they milled about below, stretching and preparing for their performance tonight. She'd learned about them, as she'd learned about everything else: somewhere between clergy and laypeople,
Temple
Dancers
were a key element in the Avannan sect's religious practices. They were also disturbingly flexible, she saw as one of them began to stretch. She didn't think her own body would do that without serious magical aid.

"You've probably never seen a
Temple
Dance
before," Edame said.

"No," Miryo replied, still watching them. "Avannan worship isn't that strong in Insebrar, and they tend to not perform for witches anyway. And of course they never come to Starfall."

"I'm almost tempted to keep you away tonight," Edame said with a smile. "This company is so good, they'll spoil you for anyone else."

"Do you know what they'll be performing?"

Edame glanced around, then leaned toward Miryo with a conspiratorial air. "The Aspects."

That broke Miryo's attention away from the Dancers in the room below. "Are you serious? I thought they only did that on Holy Days!"

"That, and when somebody with a lot of money requests it. Especially if that somebody is as devoutly Avannan as Lord Iseman is."

Miryo looked back down, trying not to feel awed. The Aspects of the Goddess were neither a rote Dance performed the same way by every company, nor a local tradition not found elsewhere. Every company had its own version, and every version was different. "Eriot's company was the first one to perform the Aspects, yes?"

Edame leaned against the rail and nodded. "Long, long ago. Their version is legendary. Avannans talk about it as if the Goddess herself comes down and Dances with them. The Aspects are one of the holiest Dances there is, and they do it better than anyone."

And Miryo herself would be seeing it tonight. She felt a quiver inside, and with some surprise identified it as excited anticipation. It had been a long time since she'd felt that way. More than a year. The stress of studying for her testing had damped her spirits considerably, and her doppelganger's existence had prevented the aftermath from being the joy it ought to have been.

"I'm glad I stayed," she murmured.

Edame laughed. "You'll be even more glad in a few hours."

The anticipation of seeing the
Temple
Dancers
distracted Miryo from her nerves over meeting two of the highest-ranking people in the land. The great hall was imposing, but not as grim as the hall the Primes sat in for rulings. Miryo could feel the eyes of the assembled people on her as she walked past them; they were used to Edame's presence, and no doubt other witches came through, but a new arrival was always an occasion for comment.

Iseman and Terica looked to have been cut from the same bolt of cloth. They were both tall and bone-thin; Ryll could have been their cousin. Both were dressed in long robes more elaborately embroidered than Miryo considered to be in good taste, but she kept this thought from her face. Hairans tended toward flamboyant, even gaudy clothing, and the Lord and Lady were far from the worst offenders in the hall. Miryo was grateful all over again for the dress Edame had found for her; at least it was subdued. Some of the color combinations out there that evening had never been intended by nature.

Miryo sat next to Edame for the meal, with Iseman and Terica on the witch's other side. The food was rich, much more so than she was accustomed to; the assault of spiciness and sweetness in the sauces was nearly overwhelming. Miryo had to be careful what she chose out of the available dishes. Hairans ate much as they dressed.

She made simple conversation with Edame and the woman on her other side, but stayed quiet for the most part. She wasn't in a mood for chatter. Instead she entertained herself by trying to guess what was in each of the elaborate dishes served to the high table by men and women who were, in Miryo's opinion, the only tastefully dressed Hairans in the hall. She was grateful when the meal was over and they retired to a smaller hall nearby that had been prepared for the performance.

Iseman and Terica seated themselves in two thronelike chairs along one wall, in front of a mural that was probably the work of the landscape painter; it featured half-clad nobility lounging on a hillside in front of a fiery sunset. Edame, Miryo, and favored members of the court took chairs behind the Lord and Lady and to either side. Everyone else—lesser ministers, courtesans, hangers-on—was relegated to the galleries along the walls. They shifted restlessly, embroidered robes rustling in the otherwise silent room.

And then the Dancers entered, and all sound ceased.

For this Dance, all wore black. Their pale skin stood out in sharp contrast. Their clothing was as close-fitting as it could be without restricting movement, and unadorned; men and women alike wore pants and sleeveless vests. Every one of them was lean and fit, and nearly androgynous in their similarity.

They lined up facing the Lord and Lady of Haira, and bowed briefly. The priestess who accompanied them spoke a short benediction, dedicating the night's performance to the glory of the Goddess in all her five Aspects. Then she, along with the majority of the Dancers, retired behind the black curtain that had been erected at the back of the hall.

Only one young woman remained in front, and she seated herself on the floor. After a moment of silence, hidden musicians struck up a tune.

It was swift, light, and full of energy. The seated woman stretched one leg out, raised it, rolled back over her shoulder and sprang to her feet.

The Maiden
, Miryo realized. Not all companies performed the Aspects in the same order, but she seemed to recall that Eriot's went in order of increasing age. She wondered where they would put the Warrior in that sequence.

The woman was still moving. She leapt about lightly, kicking her legs higher each time. When she was on the ground, her feet all but blurred with their fast, intricate movement. The music continued, ever more rapid; it sounded like a call now. And so it was: The Dancer's motions beckoned a man from behind the curtain. He came forward to join her, and the two whirled around each other in a dazzling display of agility.

Miryo was entranced. The
Temple
Dancers
made their motions look simple, but she could guess at the strength and control they required. This was nothing like the country dances performed at festivals in rural areas, nor the courtly patterns trod by stiff-backed highborns. The steps were choreographed and rehearsed for weeks before they were ever performed for the public. And the training these Dancers underwent, if she remembered correctly, began when they were only five years old.

Others had come forth to join the two already on the floor. They moved in a circle around the first two, kicking higher with each turn. The music was a joyous celebration of the Maiden's youth and boundless energy.

And lacing through it all, expressed through the bodies of the Dancers, was the power of Fire. Its beckoning warmth called to her, entranced her, invited her to take hold—

Miryo stopped herself just short of drawing power, for what purpose she did not know, except to feel the thrill of holding it.
Goddess wept. If I did that, and it got out of control, here in this hall
…

She took a deep, unsteady breath, and tried not to think about that.

When the Dance finished, the performers retired behind the curtain and were replaced by two new Dancers, one man and one woman. The two of them struck up positions mirroring each other, and then the music began.

It began with flutes, a pair of them, playing a simple duet. The man and woman flitted around each other, skimming across the floor, barely touching it. They leapt, too, but where the previous Dancers had done so in sharp competition with each other, these two seemed to move for the sheer joy of it. The illusion that they were floating in midair at the height of each leap was so strong that Miryo almost suspected magical intervention, and for one, irrational moment feared that
she
was somehow doing it. Her entire body was tense with the frightened awareness that she might draw power, and yet she couldn't leave; it would be a horrible insult. All she could do was sit there, with a physical embodiment of the Element of Air being displayed before her, and fight not to reach for it.

The music turned, and so did the Dancers. Now they came together, and if Miryo had thought they were floating before, now they were flying. The man grasped his partner around her lean waist and tossed her about as though she were the feather she imitated. He gave the impression that he could, if he chose, fling her right up to the vaulted ceiling, and not even find it hard.

That Dance ended in a beautifully posed embrace, honoring the Goddess as Bride. Miryo gulped in air gratefully, trying to both gather herself and relax before they were replaced by their fellows.

Both of the previous Dances had been in a standard four-beat pattern, but now the musicians began a tune in three. The
Temple
Dancers
glided across the floor in a waltz that was to stiff court waltzes what water was to glass. Round and round they whirled, every move flowing into the one that followed it. Where Miryo's heart had been set racing by the energy and freedom of the previous two pieces, now it was calmed—and that almost did her in. She just barely caught herself before she opened herself to the Element of Water. The beautiful, swirling patterns were more subtly seductive than the first two Elements had been. Her fingers clenched around the arms of her chair as she caught herself just in time.

She wasn't sure what to expect from the next to last Dance, for she suspected that it would be the one honoring the Crone. After all, the Earth did not move very much, and neither did most old women. The company chose to express the concepts of solidity and deep roots; the Dancers in this fourth piece moved into poses Miryo had not thought possible, and then held them as if they could stay there all day. The musicians switched to low-voiced instruments that resonated deeply in the hall. The quiet strength and determination of the Dancers impressed Miryo a great deal, and although she felt the power of Earth there, she also remembered the trial she'd under-gone in Star Hall, and drew on that resolution to keep herself in check.

And then it ended, and she was safe. There was one Dance left, the Warrior, but mere was no such thing as Void magic, no Void power, nothing to lure her to the edge of danger.

But she sat bolt upright as the first notes slashed through the still air of the hall. Electricity raced up her spine—not magical power, but something other, something from the core of herself. She was in no danger of working a spell, but her eyes were riveted on the scene in front of her as the Dancers expressed through movement their devotion to the Goddess as Warrior.

The Dance had leaps, but they were not frivolous, nor were they competitive, unless the Dancers were competing against themselves, each trying to outdo her own last display of strength and control. It looked like a fight, if fighting were art. The men and women on the floor leapt and rolled and came together with movements that were just a hair short of being violent. But there was no contention; there was only the bond of loyalty and fierce determination.

And then the music shifted, rising a note, and Miryo's heart rose into her throat. With that shift the music became sharper, even more fierce, and she suddenly felt a longing to be out of her chair, out of the castle, out on the road; she wanted to be riding to find her doppelganger this minute. The challenge sang in her blood, driving her to victory. With this feeling in her, surely she could not fail.

She tightened her grip on the chair until her knuckles turned white and forced herself to breathe.
Not yet. You can't leave yet. Not today. Not now. But tomorrow
…

Tomorrow, I hunt.

The Dance finished abruptly in a final, breathtaking pose, and she unclenched her hands. They ached from the strain. Massaging them surreptitiously, Miryo eased back into her seat and glanced over to her left.

Edame, who appeared not to have noticed her various struggles, gave her a sour smile. "I could do without the Warrior Dance. It never seems to fit into the sequence, no matter where they put it."

This contrasted so sharply with Miryo's own reaction that she did not respond. She didn't exactly
like
the Dance, but it had roused in her feelings she could hardly contain. Edame, it seemed, did not feel that way. Which was not unexpected; the Warrior was not often honored in the witches' religious practices, because of her absence from their magic. Miryo's reaction was the odd one.