Machayu. Still no Menukyo. But I bet I’m going to hear how they ended up deciding to. kill the doppelgangers.
“Machayu also died, and her double with her,” Satomi said. Miryo wasn’t surprised. “But Misetsu did not give up. She prayed tirelessly, and sought a way to make it possible for others to wield magic, so the gift would not end with her. It was after Maiyaki, her third daughter, died, along with her double, that she found the solution. With the death of the doppelgangers, magic became stable. Misetsu, now aged and weary, lived just long enough to see Monisuko’s eldest daughter, Menukyo, become a full witch.”
She paused to give Miryo a searching look. Miryo stood still and tried to show no expression. And there’s Menukyo. Not the eldest daughter. The eldest granddaughter.
When Satomi did not speak again right away, Miryo risked a question. “But why must the doppelgangers be killed? What did Misetsu learn that made her think that was the only way?”
Satomi gave her a brief smile, but there was no humor in it. The Void Prime’s eyes were hard and flat, as if holding emotion down by will alone. “When I was sent after my doppelganger, the answer to that question was given to me before I left. I felt, based on my own experience, that it would be better if those after me did not know. It seemed kinder. But I question my decision, now. It is my dearest hope that I will never again be required to send one of our own on this task, but I will advise those who come after me to tell those sent. It is imperative that our young witches understand why they must kill their doppelgangers.”
Miryo stilled her hands and waited, motionless, for her answer.
“The answer we give comes to us from Misetsu, from her last writings before her death. ‘The doppelganger is anathema to us. It is destruction and oblivion, the undoing of all magic. It is the ruin of our work, and the bane of our being. It and our magic will never coexist, and its presence threatens all that our powers can do.’ So wrote Misetsu, five days before she died.”
Silence. Tension. Miryo suddenly blinked, and forced air back into her lungs.
Merciful Mother. I thought—I mean, there was obviously trouble, but—
“The doppelgangers are a danger to us all,” Satomi said. “That is why we must kill them. If we do not, all that we are will be destroyed.” Her expression was grave, and only now did Miryo see something human in her eyes, too deep to be identified. “Do you understand?”
“I do,” Miryo managed. Her voice was little more than a strangled whisper.
“We will give you another chance,” the Void Prime said. “You see, now, why you must kill your doppelganger. For your sake, for the sake of us all, do it without delay, and return to us. If you do not, we will take steps, for our own protection.”
In her mind’s eye Miryo saw Mirage, but the image had subtly changed. Mirage. Not just a part of herself, but a danger. Carrying in herself the seeds of destruction for Starfall. It was a part of what she was. Could that ever be fixed?
Goddess. This choice—Mirage, or all that I’ve held dear—
“I understand, Aken,” Miryo whispered. She felt dead inside. “May I be excused?”
Satomi nodded. “May the Goddess walk with you.”
21
Faith
Perversely, Miryo found her way back to her inn without difficulty. She paid no attention to where she was headed, but within a few minutes of leaving the Primes she looked up and found herself in front of the Twin Hearths.
Her feet felt like lead as she walked in. She had a private room on the third floor, with a sitting room and a bedroom; the sitting room had a fireplace. Miryo doubted any fire could melt the ice in her gut, but she craved the warmth. So she forced herself up the stairs, one step at a time, eyes on her feet, and focused only on that fire.
“Are you all right?”
Miryo looked up. She had just entered the sitting room. Mirage was on her feet by the fireplace, giving her a look of clear worry. Miryo shut the door with exaggerated care and said, “Yes. Mostly. The Primes were there.”
“The Primes?” Mirage led her to one of the chairs and got her to sit down. “Here?”
“Yes. Or I thought so; they were probably just projections.” She hadn’t even thought to check for spells. But would it have mattered? “Satomi—the Void Prime—she had to kill her doppelganger when she was my age. And Menukyo wasn’t the eldest daughter; she was the eldest granddaughter. Misetsu watched all three of her daughters die, because of their doppelgangers, before she figured out what was wrong.”
Miryo got to her feet, and was surprised to find she was steady on them. She walked a few steps away, into the middle of the room. She couldn’t bring herself to turn and look at Mirage. “They’ve looked. Truly, they have. And they finally told me why. You—” She looked at the ceiling and swallowed painfully. “Doppelgangers are the antithesis of magic. Your very existence puts all magic in danger. That’s why you have to be killed.”
She never even heard Mirage move. But one minute she was standing, looking at the ceiling; the next, hands slammed her into the floor, grinding her face against the carpet, and twisted her arms painfully behind her back. Miryo’s mind snapped out of its fugue and straight into fear.
“I have a theory,” Mirage breathed into her ear, voice low and hard. “I think that just as you can kill me, I can kill you. And I’m the only one who can do it. And, you know, maybe I should. All my Hunter training tells me to do it. You’re a threat to me.
“It wouldn’t even be very hard,” she continued, and her words had an edge to them that made Miryo’s blood turn to ice in her veins. “Your Cousins aren’t here—and they couldn’t stop me anyway. You have no magic you can depend on; you’re practically defenseless. Killing you would be easy. And it would solve so many problems.”
She paused. Miryo tried desperately to breathe, but all she could manage were shallow, panicked gasps. Oh, Goddess, she’s going to do it—
Then the pressure on her arms eased slightly. “But before I was a Hunter, I was a Temple Dancer,” Mirage said. “And that means I have faith. Faith that the Goddess didn’t mean for things to be this way. Faith that she wouldn’t give her children a ‘gift’ that requires them to kill. Faith that, if we search, we will find another answer. And that even if we don’t succeed, it’s still a cause worth dying for.”
Another pause. Miryo expected Mirage to let go now, and when she didn’t, her fear grew stronger. Never in her life had she been so terrifyingly aware of the fragility of her body.
“So I have faith in the Goddess,” Mirage went on. “But that’s not really enough, is it? Because this is in the hands of three people: the Goddess, myself, and you. I trust the first two. Can I trust you, though? Can I rely on you to listen past the persuasive words, the simple way out? They sound so plausible, so convinced of their own truth. Thinking past their boundaries won’t be easy. And I don’t know that you can do it.”
Miryo licked her dry lips and tried to speak. It took several attempts before her voice would work. “I can. I will.”
The pressure increased sharply, making her hiss with pain. “Why should I believe you?”
“I swear. On my soul. Satomi still regrets what she did—I saw it in her eyes, at the end. She’s never come to terms with it. I don’t want to live like that. I’d honestly rather die. It would be better to die, fighting for a better way, than live knowing I betrayed myself and the Goddess.”
She waited, barely breathing. The words were un-planned, but true. Only now did she understand what she’d seen in Satomi, so deeply buried. And she didn’t want to end up that way.