Then, slowly, Mirage released her arms, and knelt on the carpet beside her.
Miryo sat up, blinking sweat out of her eyes, and faced her doppelganger. Mirage looked drained, but she nodded. “Good. I knew you felt that way—well, I was pretty sure—but I had to make you say it.”
Well, at least that wasn’t an afternoon stroll for her, either. Miryo brushed her damp hair back and managed a wan grin. “If nothing else,” she said, listening with some detachment to the rasp in her own voice, “we’ll live on in infamy.”
Mirage gave a short, harsh bark of laughter. “Well, that’s better than nothing, I suppose.”
Miryo tried to fight the pull of her own weariness, then gave up and rolled over to lie flat on her back. “Crone’s teeth, all two of them. I didn’t get to ask about Ashin.” She laughed at herself, flatly. “You think they would’ve told me?”
“You’re asking me? I’ve never met these women.”
“Probably not. Void it. How are we going to find her now?”
“I don’t know. Our contact offered to meet us in Talbech. We can try to make her tell us.”
“If she knows.”
“I think she probably does.” Mirage leaned back against one of the chairs and wiped her own brow clear of sweat. “Mind if I think out loud?”
“Not at all,” Miryo said. She considered sitting up, but the floor was far too comfortable.
“Good. My mind’s too shot to work without help right now.” Mirage’s laugh sounded more like a croak. “So. Kasane has a child. She does the ritual, kills me—we assume—and I somehow end up with my foster parents in Eriot. Good so far, except we don’t know how I got there. I’m five; my parents send me off to be a Temple Dancer. I stay there until I’m thirteen. Tari-nakana sees me, recognizes what I am, and makes sure I become a Hunter. Why?”
“Because you’re good at it.”
“Right. Then, soon after that, several other doppelgangers don’t die.”
“I can believe you were an accident, but it stretches credibility that all of them were, too.”
“But we’re dangerous to witches, or so the story goes. So letting us survive isn’t a very good thing to do.”
Miryo snorted. “That’s an understatement. The Primes are not going to be happy with either of us. Letting you live is pretty much equivalent to an act of war.”
Mirage held up one hand to silence her, and dropped her head, thinking. When she lifted it once more, there was a gleam in her eye Miryo didn’t like. “An act of war.”
“More or less.”
“And they’ll try to stop us.”
“I wouldn’t bet against it.”
“So they’re likely to try and kill us.” She smiled without humor. “Like Tari-nakana.”
It was so obvious Miryo should have thought of it sooner, but she could hardly wrap her mind around the idea of the Primes doing something like this. “They hired Wraith?”
“Of course. Tari-nakana knew about me and did nothing. And soon after she finds out about me, other doppelgangers start to survive. They must have found out something of what she was doing, and took steps to stop her.”
“Which would be why Ashin has so conveniently vanished. If she was working with Tari-nakana, her life is in danger, too. Assuming the Primes know about her.”
“The real question, then, is why. Do these people not know the risk involved?”
Miryo shook her head. “I can’t quite believe that. But we know the risk, and that hasn’t changed what we’re doing.”
“They don’t have our incentive.”
“You expect me to know Ashin’s mind? Or Tari’s? We’re still going to have to talk with Ashin to figure this out completely. They must have some reason for what they’re doing, or they wouldn’t endanger the witches this way.”
“So we’ll go meet our employer and confront her. We need to talk to Ashin as soon as possible, and chances are these women know where she is.” Mirage stood with a burst of energy Miryo envied. “Can the Primes track us?”
Miryo groaned involuntarily as she rolled over and rose to her knees. “No. Normally, yes, but not with us. If they try a searching spell, it’ll get confused, because as far as it’s concerned we’re one target in two places at once. It can’t cope with that.”
“Even if we’re together?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re still the same thing in two places.”
“So we’re safe from that, at least. But we’ll need to watch out for mundane spies.” Mirage extended her hand to Miryo and helped her to her feet. “We need to get out of Aystad right away. Are you up to riding tonight?”
“Given what we’re facing?”
Mirage smiled briefly. “Okay. We’ll push our pace, then, and be in Talbech by late tomorrow.”
“I’ve got a plan.”
“Do you, now?” Miryo was flat on her back on her narrow bed, feet propped up on a saddlebag, and wanted nothing more than a nap. Mirage’s energy never ceased to amaze her.
Energy, or that damnfool stubbornness Eclipse complained about? Maybe she just refuses to be tired.
“How do those alarm spells you people set up work? Where are they normally located, and are they set off when you cross a line, like a trip wire, or do they sense more generally than that? And do they just go off, or do they give information about who’s there?”
The questions gave Miryo a mild headaches—or maybe it was just the sudden flashback to being questioned by the Keys. “They’re like a trip wire that resets itself. It goes off when you cross a border. I’d be able to tell you where it is; I can sense magic, even if I can’t work it. And they usually just indicate how many people have crossed it. Anything more than that and the spell starts being really complicated. Most witches don’t bother with anything more than the basics.”
“But they do tell you how many people. Void it. I was hoping they wouldn’t.” Mirage bit one knuckle, then shook her head. “Eclipse will just have to stay home. She’s expecting two people—it’ll be you and me.”
Miryo looked at her sharply. “What are you going to do, dress me in his uniform?”
“Not a chance. I’m through with beating around the bush. They know about us; I’m sure of it. Why bother pretending? We’ll just go in there and confront her.”
“She’ll have magic, you know. You may not want to be too forceful.”
“She’ll have a hard time singing if I hit her in the throat.”
Miryo flinched. Goddess. I keep thinking I’ve gotten used to her, and then she says things like that.
Mirage didn’t seem to notice. She sat down and leaned her elbows on her knees. “So. The things we want to know are: Where Ashin is. Why they’re doing this. If they have any ideas about how to fix us. Anything else you can think of?”
“If there are any other doppelgangers.”
“Good one. I assume they put all of them into Hunter training, but that might not be the case.”
“I somehow don’t get the feeling they’ll tell us who is involved with this.”
“If they do, they’re idiots. The Primes want to get their hands on us already; giving us names would make us an even bigger liability. I was trained to deal with torture, but you weren’t, and even I’m not unbreakable anyway.”
Trained to—Bride’s tears. I’m glad I didn’t have her childhood.
But I won’t tell her that they have other ways of making us talk.
Mirage cracked her back, then stood up briskly. “Let’s get ready. I’m sick of wasting time.”
The night had clouded over and the streets were black as pitch. Mirage liked it that way. She was in full uniform, and it was better if people didn’t see her. They started asking questions if they did.