Mirage grinned. It was good to know Ashin wasn’t an idiot. “All right. How about a different question, then. Are the other doppelgangers out there children of your little conspirators, or did you find a way to make all doubles survive the ritual?”
“We know you let your daughter’s doppelganger survive,” Miryo said.
Ashin smiled faintly. There was a definite tinge of ruefulness to it. “Of course I did. If I believe in this, I should believe in it enough to commit my own child to it. But some of them, I’ll admit, aren’t ours.”
“And how are you arranging that?”
“The same way you made it,” Ashin said to Mirage. “As far as we know, anyway. When a doppelganger survives, it’s because the child was touched by starlight before the ritual.”
The implications hit home quickly. “So she has a soul when she’s divided.”
“Exactly. And this is important because it puts an interesting twist on the way your lives work. You two share one soul, you see. And so you’re the only people who can kill each other. If anybody else tries, you just come back, because the other half is still around.”
“We found that bit out the hard way,” Miryo said dryly.
Ashin looked disappointed that her declaration hadn’t been met with more shock and amazement, but she went on. “The immediate effect is that when the mother kills the doppelganger, it comes back to life a little while later.”
“And then what?” Mirage asked. “How did I end up with foster parents? Why wasn’t I just buried?”
“That’s a very good question, and one we’ll probably never know the exact answer to. The doppelgangers are given to the Cousins to dispose of, you see. Unfortunately, we don’t know which one tended Kasane. But you can bet the Cousins are in it up to their eyebrows, or at least some of them are. Every time a doppelganger survives to adulthood, it’s because a Cousin took her elsewhere, and didn’t report her to the Primes.”
Mirage was amused by that. So much for the Cousins as the mindless, eternally obedient servants. I wonder how many witches realize all the tricks their subordinates are up to?
“I just wish that the Cousins would talk about it,” Ashin said with a frustrated sigh. “We have a few on our side, but they claim to know nothing. The Cousins know more about what goes on at Starfall than anyone likes to think about, but they refuse to talk. Some of them help us, though.”
“You’ve been arranging for this with other witches’ children, then?” Miryo asked.
“Yes,” Ashin admitted blandly.
“And this doesn’t bother you at all.”
“Are we supposed to let them continue on, just as we have for all these centuries? No. We’re doing them a favor. Things will be better this way.”
“Only if we find an answer,” Mirage said, and put some bite in her voice. “I don’t suppose you happen to have that up your sleeve?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“But you think there is one.”
“Of course. Why else would we be doing this?”
Miryo seemed to find Ashin’s attitude as irritating as Mirage did. “What if Mirage and I die, though? Then what?”
The Air Hand Key shrugged. “Then someone after you will find the answer. One of the pairs we’ve arranged for. The Goddess will not let things continue on this way forever; eventually she will show us how things were meant to be.”
Warrior’s teeth. She’d make a good siege general. Throw bodies at the problem, and one of these days some of them will break through. Just don’t count the casualties.
And as if Miryo and I didn’t have enough pressure on us before. Now it’s not just “find an answer or die,” it’s “find an answer or children will die, too.”
“What makes you think there’s an answer?” Miryo said.
“Did the Primes feed you that quote from Misetsu?” Ashin asked. When Miryo nodded, she snorted. “Crone’s stick. You should read the rest of what that woman wrote. She may have been devout once, but magic went to her head; all the later stuff reeks of pride. You can bet that by the time Monisuko’s opening ritual came around, Misetsu wouldn’t have heard the Goddess if she’d had all five Aspects shouting in her ear.”
Mirage could believe it. She’d seen Temple Dancers, who devoted their lives to honoring the Goddess, lose their way to the seduction of praise. It happened to the clergy, too. There was no reason it couldn’t happen to a witch.
“You think she was wrong about doppelgangers, then,” Miryo said.
“Of course. She couldn’t find an answer—because she wasn’t listening—and so she found an easy way out. Then she made up something suitably frightening to justify it.”
Mirage doubted the story was that simple. But she didn’t want to argue it too closely; she hoped Misetsu had been wrong.
“We’ve been trying to think of a solution,” Miryo said. “Obviously. We had thought that what we maybe needed to do was divide ourselves completely. Find a way to cut the connection that remains between us.”
Ashin looked dubious.
“You don’t think it will work?”
“It might work,” the Key said. “But so would killing Mirage—if your only goal is functional magic.”
“It’s one up on the old system; it leaves us both alive.”
“But it doesn’t really gain you anything.”
Mirage raised one eyebrow at her. “And what do you think there is to gain?”
Ashin got up and began to pace, hands clasped neatly behind her back. “I don’t know. Not specifically. But think about it—the priests and priestesses all turn their noses up at us and call us unbalanced. Why? What’s lacking in us? I’d bet anything it has to do with the doppelgangers. We’re losing whatever’s in you. It might be the physical attributes. You have speed, and strength—you’re born fighters.”
“So I’m the brawn, and Miryo’s the brain?”
“You’re not stupid; don’t act like you are. You know as well as I do that idiots don’t make good Hunters. You’re fighting, and she’s magic, but you’re both intelligent.”
Mirage conceded that with a nod. She had made the comment deliberately, intending to provoke Ashin.
“What about putting us back together, like we used to be?” Miryo asked. “That doesn’t lose anything.”
“Been tried. It didn’t work. The Path of the Head’s of the opinion it can’t work—the magic won’t flow in that direction, if that makes any sense. It’s like canceling a spell outright, instead of counteracting it. Just can’t be done.”
Mirage’s spirits sank at the witch’s words; for just an instant, she’d hoped that Miryo had hit on the solution. Her double seemed equally depressed. The room was momentarily silent. Then Miryo roused herself again. “Another question. Has anyone ever figured out why we only have daughters?”
Ashin nodded approvingly at her. “Not that I’m aware of, but it’s a good question, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a part of this same issue. Lack of sons would definitely qualify as an imbalance, at least in my book.”
“How are we supposed to fix it, though? Are all you people crazy enough to risk your lives for a heresy you don’t even fully understand?”
The Key shrugged. “We haven’t thought of anything. But we’ve been trying. And we may not have an answer, but we do have faith in the Goddess.”
Mirage smiled sourly. Her own arguments sounded flimsier, coming out of someone else’s mouth. “You don’t think separation is the answer, though.”
“I don’t see how it would right the balance. It seems that separation loses you just as death does.”
Now it was Mirage’s turn to stand and pace. “But it’s the only answer we’ve found.”
Ashin looked at her directly. In her eyes Mirage saw conviction, and determination, and a blindly trusting faith that frightened her with its unquestioning intensity. “But it’s not the only answer out there. I’m sure it’s not. You’ll just have to find the right one.”