Doppelganger (5 page)

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 Tarinakana'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 Tarinakana'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 Tarinakana's house.'" He took one and examined it closely, then compared it to Mirage's. "Maybe. Tarinakana'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."

The mountains reached high into the night sky, but the stars glimmered higher still. Miryo lay on her back against the slanted roof of the students' hall and studied them, trying to lose herself in peaceful stargazing. Her thoughts, however, would not leave her alone.

Her eyes scanned restlessly, picking out one constellation after another, identifying each, reviewing their cycles in the sky. It didn't help to look elsewhere. Turning her attention downward only showed her the nearby buildings of Starfall's major settlement: the students' hall beneath her; the architectural logjam of the ancient main building; the New House, where she would hopefully be living before much longer. All reminders of what was coming. There was no surcease to be found in looking downward.

All the same, though, it was better out here than in her room. Were she there, her bookshelves and desk would beckon her with reminders of all the things she still had to study, all the things she still didn't know. Out here, where the night breeze could refresh her, she could at least try to empty her mind, to find peace and forgetfulness.

She could try to ignore what was coming.

The wind blew more strongly, making her shiver.

Miryo tucked back strands of hair that had been teased loose from their braid and then wrapped her arms around her body. She should have brought a cloak, or at least worn warmer clothing. It might be the middle of summer, but here on the slopes of the mountains, the breeze could still be chill.

But if she didn't want to return to her room, there were still places she could go that would be more sheltered. Miryo rose carefully, mindful of the long plunge that awaited her should she fall off the roof of the students' hall. Despite the cool air, she removed her slippers and stuck them into a pocket; she preferred cold toes to the loss of traction on the slate roof.

She made her way up the slope to the ridge line where, balancing against the wind, she paused to look upward, at the structure she'd had her back to before. Star Hall itself, the ritual heart of this place, looming over everything else with its windows like watching eyes. Miryo shivered and moved hurriedly into the lee of a higher gable. A cautious slide down the opposite side took her to the base of another rise; the students' hall, though not as mismatched in its structure as the main building, boasted a crazy landscape of intersecting roofs that afforded all sorts of fun climbing and hidden nooks. "Watch out!"

The hissed warning nearly made her lose her grip on the roof's crest. She caught herself in time and slid carefully into the cup formed by the intersection of several slopes. Some enterprising student long ago had put a wooden platform down there, making a comfortable hidden spot that was a favorite refuge of those students who found it.

"You almost made me break my neck," Miryo said to the other shadowy figure in the pit.

"If I hadn't said anything, you would have fallen on me," Eikyo pointed out. "I figured it was worth the risk."

Miryo shrugged. "You would have survived."

"With bruises. Pardon me if I didn't look forward to that." Eikyo sighed and leaned back, mirth rapidly forgotten. "Have you finished your essay for Yuri-mai?"

"I've hardly started," Miryo admitted. "I've been…"

"Brooding," Eikyo finished for her.

Involuntarily Miryo glanced upward again at the watchful bulk of Star Hall.

"Don't think about it," Eikyo said as soon as Miryo's eyes moved. "Worrying isn't going to help you any."

"Like you never think about it yourself."

"Of course I do. But not as often as you do; I've seen you obsessing."

"I think I'm justified," Miryo said sharply. "It is, after all, my
fate
we're talking about."

"And mine," her friend replied, unperturbed. "In another couple of months. We're all facing the same thing, Miryo. But plenty of women before us have done fine."

Miryo shivered and wrapped her arms around her legs. "And plenty have failed. You didn't see what was left of Hinusoka, after…" She closed her eyes, but it didn't block the memory of the appallingly small bundle the Cousins had carried out of Star Hall. And the way it had dripped___"I just don't feel
prepared
. Study is fine and well, but in the end, they hand you power and you have to control it. Or else it controls you. And there's no way to practice for that, because only when the time comes will you
have
power to handle."

"You'll be fine," Eikyo repeated. "Gannu made it, after all; if
she
can survive the test, you'll have no problem." Despite her words, her body had tensed, and Miryo looked at her in curiosity. "All right," Eikyo admitted. "I worry, too. But not about dying. Is that strange?"

Miryo knew what she was referring to. Eikyo had a superstition about saying it directly, ever since the teachers told them what happened to students who failed the final test. Not everyone died. Eikyo thought the alternative was worse; Miryo didn't much want to think about either one.

"Worry about something more mundane," she suggested, to distract her friend. And herself. "Like failing the questioning from the Keys, and being publicly humiliated because they decide you're not even ready for the test. Stuck here as an old woman, with all the younger students laughing at you—"

"Oh, that's helpful," Eikyo said, but some of the tension went out of her shoulders.

Miryo grinned at her. "Come on. If one of us is going to worry about the questioning, it should be
me
. Your memory has mine beat. Think past the test; think about the future. Are you sure you want to be Earth Heart?"

"Yes," Eikyo said firmly, brightening. Her preference had always been for the company of plants and animals, rather than people; being in crowds made her uneasy. "What about you? Have you made any decisions yet?"

Now it was Miryo's turn to sigh. "No. At the rate I'm going, I'll be one of those witches they have to push into deciding. You may hate the idea of having to wait a year before you're allowed to officially choose, but I'm glad."

"Don't you have
any
idea?"

"Nothing I can go on." Miryo gestured in mute frustra-tion. "None of them seem right. None of them really call to me, and isn't that how you're supposed to decide?"

"To the Void with what you're
supposed
to do. Approach it from a different angle. Whom do you wish
not
to serve?"

The inversion of the ritual question was an interesting one, and it woke Miryo's mind up a little. Choosing a Path within a Ray was relatively easy. If you wanted to carry out the fieldwork of your Ray, you chose the Hand. If you wanted to do research or recordkeeping, you chose the Head. And if you wanted to administer your Ray's affairs, you chose the Heart. Most people knew where their talents and inclinations lay early on. But who you'd be working with, what tasks you'd be handling—that was organized into the five Rays, and for Miryo, that was harder.