What else was there? They had already tried being in physical contact, the same night she had Eclipse knock her out. None of it was working.
Mirage realized her breathing had quickened. She forced herself to slow down. Even if I can’t concentrate, I shouldn’t distract Miryo.
She knew that Eclipse thought she had become resigned to dying in the attempt. He was wrong, although Mirage could not have said exactly why. She had said at one point that it was because “die trying” wasn’t even an option; she would succeed. That wasn’t quite it, though. And it wasn’t Ashin’s blind belief that the Goddess would make it all right.
Maybe it’s just that I can’t believe I really might die.
Oh, and this is a cheerful train of thought.
She shook the gloomy feeling off with an effort. Even as she did so, the intermittent drops from the sky became a real rain. Mirage sighed inwardly, but said nothing; Miryo was deep in prayer, and she would stay out here as long as her double did.
But Miryo was in fact not deep in prayer. She was looking at Mirage.
When she realized this, Mirage blinked. Miryo’s eyes slid quickly away, but Mirage had to grin. “Have you been praying?” she asked.
Miryo looked uncomfortable. “I… I just can’t concentrate. I’m sorry if I distracted you.”
At that, Mirage laughed outright. “And here I am, kneeling in the rain because I don’t want to interrupt you. What a stupid pair we make.”
“Do you want to go back in?”
“No, I’d rather sit out here in the mud.” Mirage snorted and got to her feet. “Enough of this. Maybe some sects would tell us suffering is good for the soul, but I think the Goddess will understand if we forgo this in favor of not catching cold.”
The rain, which had been showing every sign of blowing through quickly, changed its mind and camped out over the road they were taking. It did not improve Miryo’s mood. She had hoped for a while that it would be possible to teach Mirage the words and pitches of a spell, and that this might be the answer to their problems—or at least the right idea—but she finally had to concede defeat. Her doppelganger was trying, but she didn’t have the ear, or the voice.
Well, at least twenty-five years of study accomplished something. Even if I can’t use it.
She found she was chewing on one thumbnail and made herself stop. Fine, so that idea won’t work. Think of another one. You haven’t tried everything, and maybe something you think is completely outlandish will turn out to be the answer. You’ll never know until you try.
Of course, trying might well kill her.
But if I don’t try, I’ll still end up using my magic by accident. I know I will. I almost bit my tongue off last night, trying to keep myself from interfering with the rain. During the fight with Wraith, it felt so good to pull power. Even though I didn’t really have it under control I’m going to get us killed.
For a while she rode with the fond fantasy that the Primes knew the key to solving it all, and were keeping it from her out of a spiteful desire to undermine the Goddess’s gift. She particularly enjoyed the idea of hitting Shimi over the head with something large and heavy; the Prime was one of the few reasons she still wasn’t sure about joining the Air Ray.
Shimi wasn’t a truly bad person, though, and there could definitely be worse Primes. Miryo still remembered Ikkena-chashi, the Earth Prime who had preceded Koika during the first two years Miryo had been at Starfall. That woman’s heart had been carved out of stone—assuming she had one to begin with. And Ashin would make a miserable Prime. Her temper got the best of her much too often. Shimi would likely be succeeded by Naji, though, who was the current Heart Key, and who would make a very good Prime when the time came.
And thinking about that is getting you nowhere. Stop wasting time.
A fat splat of water hit Miryo in the face at that exact moment, and she bit back a swear word. Then, with a sigh, she bent her mind once more to the task of finding a way to stay alive.
At least we’ve got trees over our heads. That makes it better. Sort of.
Just keep telling yourself that.
Mirage stared fixedly at a spot between Mist’s ears and did her best to ignore the rain. It was doing nothing to lighten her mood.
Travel conditions were becoming increasingly worse as they moved into the foothills of western Abern, where the road was, often as not, a thin sheen of slick mud over slate. Mirage cast a watchful eye to her right. The path dropped away into a short, crumbling slope, and then flattened out into a streambed. With the dry weather lately, flash flooding was a distinct possibility. And that was the last thing they needed today.
Then they rounded a bend in the road, and Mirage changed her mind. No, this was the last thing we needed today.
Three Cousins, mounted on horses, were in the road, blocking their path.
Lightning cracked overhead as the two groups stared at each other.
“We have a message,” the center one said at last, pitching her voice to carry through the worsening rain. “Will you hear it?”
After a moment, Miryo nudged her horse forward, until she was just in front of Mirage and Eclipse. “I will.”
“From the Primes: ‘We gave you one final chance in hopes that you would understand and return to us. We grieve that you chose to ignore our words. Now we are forced to take steps on our own.’”
Mirage didn’t wait to hear a single word more. She lunged forward, grabbing the bridle of Miryo’s horse, and kneed Mist sideways off the trail.
She took the Cousins by surprise. Mirage risked a single glance behind her as she threw her weight backward in the saddle; they were still on the road, in disarray. Then Mist’s footing slipped and Mirage had to concentrate on riding her horse down the soaking wet, disintegrating slope.
Somehow they made it to the bottom in one piece. Mist gave a convulsive leap as she bit the foot of the slope and cleared most of the stream; to her right Eclipse had ducked low over the neck of Sparker, who was doing the same. Miryo’s horse floundered through the water behind them. And then Mirage heard shouting on the road above.
She looked back and up in time to see a knot of Cousins appear on the path, behind their original position, and plunge down the slope after them.
Void it. They had reinforcements.
Eclipse swerved right, and Mirage followed him. Dead ahead the land climbed sharply up again, and even if the horses could manage it in this rain they would lose too much time.
Mirage was worried. All three of their horses had been on the road for a long stretch without real rest; how would they hold up in an extended chase? Already Miryo’s gelding was falling behind.
Then a roar up ahead drew her attention forward.
The land in front of them dropped away again. The gully wasn’t nearly as steep, but it was filled nearly to the top with rushing, churning water: flooding from the rain. Mirage gritted her teeth and cued Mist with her heels; the only way across was to jump.
Mist cleared it. An instant later, so did Sparker.
And then, behind them, a crack, a horse’s scream, and a squelching, rolling thud.
Mirage reined Mist in so hard the mare stumbled. She looked back over her shoulder, and her worst fears were confirmed.
Miryo’s gelding was flailing in the mud, screaming in agony; one foreleg was clearly broken. Next to him, facedown and unmoving, was Miryo.