Warrior and Witch (28 page)
She didn’t voice the doubts already growing in her mind. The things she had done so far, she had learned through divine inspiration, because the Goddess was with her. They didn’t happen on demand. To consciously reach for a specific effect—
She would just have to do it. Because otherwise, Eclipse was dead.
“May the Goddess aid you in your search,” Satomi said, and there was a quiet faith in her voice that steadied Mirei’s nerves. To save the life of a friend: It wasn’t a selfish goal. Surely the Goddess would look with favor on it.
Even if he swore an oath falsely?
She couldn’t let herself think about that.
“Sit down,” Satomi said, and Mirei did.
Her mind was already shunting the fear aside, focusing on the problem of how to undo the oath—could she cancel it? But each kind of spell canceled differently, and she was having a hard time learning how to do new ones. The blood-oath was especially complicated. But if she studied how it was constructed—she knew the general theory, of course, but it wasn’t something they taught witch-students about in exhaustive detail, as it was so rarely used—she might be able to work it out logically…
“There’s one other thing I must tell you about,” Satomi said, breaking her reverie.
Mirei looked up. “Oh?”
Satomi’s expression was startlingly somber. “Has anyone spoken to you about Eikyo?”
“No,” Mirei said slowly, wondering what the woman meant by it. Their caravan had only just reached Starfall; she’d had no chance to speak to anyone else since arriving, let alone find Eikyo.
Then she remembered how much time had passed—and what was supposed to have happened.
Mirei opened her mouth to say something more, but the words died as she looked into Satomi’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” the Void Prime said softly.
Mirei sat, numb.
“The Keys passed her in the initial questioning,” Satomi went on, her voice too gentle for the terrible words. “If that is any small comfort. But when it came to the test itself—I’m sorry. Eikyo has become a Cousin.”
Hands shaking, breath almost stopped, Mirei sat frozen in her chair. Not dead. A Cousin.
Eikyo had feared that as much as death. Maybe more.
She might as
well
be dead.
“Where—where is she?” Mirei heard herself ask, as if from a great distance.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Satomi said; under the compassion, there was an uneasy edge. “She must begin a new life, away from those who knew her. That is kindest.”
Mirei opened her mouth again, found she had nothing to say. The shaking had grown worse. Fear welled up from where she’d shoved it out of the way. Eikyo gone, Eclipse gone—the dearest friends of her two halves, each of them taken away, maybe forever. A Cousin, her memory wiped clean. And a blood-oath, that would drive him to kill her—but he would never do that. Which meant he would die.
Hot wetness splashed her hands: she was crying. Realizing that broke through the last of her self-control, and she buried her face in her trembling hands, too hurt to care that she was breaking down in front of the Void Prime. Satomi was on her side, but she was not a friend.
They
were friends. Had been. Both of them, gone at the same time. Blows she hadn’t seen coming, and the pain was too much to take.
Distantly she felt a touch on her shoulder, heard a voice speaking words that came and went without meaning. She wanted to leave, but couldn’t get up.
A change in Satomi’s voice. The woman was singing. Mirei sensed the power move, but couldn’t be bothered to figure out what it was. She didn’t really care.
“
Mirei
,” Satomi said again, and this time the insistence of her tone broke through. “Listen to me.
Listen
. What I said to you was a he.”
It startled her enough that her breath snagged in her throat; she let it out again to speak. “What?”
“Eikyo is fine,” the Void Prime said, and Mirei, lifting her chin, saw that the woman was pale but sincere. “She isn’t a Cousin.”
Wonderful words, but they made no sense at all. “I don’t understand.”
Satomi sighed and crouched in front of Mirei, dignity and rank momentarily laid aside. “The Keys questioned her, and then we took her into Star Hall, and as far as anyone remembers—other than she and I—she failed, and became a Cousin. But it isn’t true.”
The meaning of that sank in slowly. “Why?” Mirei rasped.
“Because I needed someone to spy on the Cousins for me. And she had offered to help.” Satomi ran one hand over her face. If she had looked tired before, now she seemed weary beyond death. “They’re a part of this world of ours, here in Starfall, and out in the domains; I wanted to know more about them. Since they won’t answer questions, this seemed the only way. But Arinei knows. She doesn’t remember, but she knows; she left a note for herself, because she was afraid I was going to do… well, exactly what I did. I think it’s part of why she left.”
Mirei didn’t give half a damn about Arinei at the moment; she was drowning in relief. “Where is she?”
“Insebrar,” Satomi said. “Or rather, she’s on her way there. I want her to try and find out how Mirage survived. Whatever she learns out there, she’ll send back to me, in code.”
Had Satomi asked her, Mirei would have said that Eikyo was not at all suited for the life of a spy. The Void Prime should have waited for a more suitable candidate; nobody at Starfall was formally trained in espionage, but at least there were some better liars. Mirei was too drained to try and argue the point, though, and it wouldn’t help anyway. Eikyo had been sent. If she gave herself away, they’d deal with it.
Satomi glanced at the walls of her office. “I don’t dare keep the spell up much longer, so let me say this quickly.”
Spell
? Mirei recalled Satomi singing a moment before.
Something to block eavesdropping
.
“Let
no one
know about Eikyo,” the Prime said. “Everyone thinks she failed the test—even the other Primes. I even intended for you to believe it, but you… I had to tell you the truth. Still, though, you must keep the fiction up. If for no other reason than that I’m not at all certain how the Cousins would react, if they knew.”
Mirei would no more endanger Eikyo’s safety than she would Eclipse’s. “I understand.”
“Good.” Satomi sang again, more briefly, and around her Mirei felt the spell subside.
The Void Prime returned to her desk and sat down. “Now,” she said, her tone more businesslike. “We have tasks for you here. See Hyoka after you leave me; she will give you the details of the tests she wants to conduct.”
“How long will those take?” Mirei asked.
Satomi favored her with a cool look, devoid of any sign of the compassion she had shown moments before. “As long as they have to.”
Mirei told herself to accept that and not argue.
She’s right: It
is
important
. And it would give her time to research some more immediately pressing questions.
Like how to keep Eclipse from dying.
Edame waited until the heavy, carved door had swung shut and they were alone in the room before she turned to Mirei and raised one eyebrow wryly. “Well,” she said, “that could have gone better. But it also could have gone worse.”
Mirei dropped bonelessly back into the plush embrace of her chair. “I know.”
The Fire Hand shrugged philosophically. She wasn’t much older than Mirei—surprisingly young to be a domain-level adviser—but her experience here in Haira, working with Lord Iseman and Lady Terica, meant that meetings like the one just concluded were old, familiar territory for her. “Don’t be too discouraged,” she said, her face re-assuming much of the cocky cast it usually wore. “The ministers may be giving you squint-eyed looks, but you have Iseman and Terica on your side, and that’s what counts. They can work on the ministers for you. Or just step on them, if it comes to that.”
Rubbing her eyes in weary silence, Mirei tried to take encouragement from the words. She
did
have the Lord and Lady of Haira on her side, and that was no small thing. A deft bit of diplomacy—mostly Edame’s work and Satomi’s, but Mirei had done her part, too—had turned some of their most inflexible opponents into their strongest allies.
The married couple who ruled this domain were staunch Avannans, followers of a sect that was strong in Haira. Avannans honored a form of ceremonial Dance as the highest form of worship. The body in motion was the domain of the Warrior. Therefore, Avannans revered the Warrior particularly. A neat little chain that had, in the past, made them not particularly friendly—though not actively hostile—to witches, for the Warrior was by far the most neglected Aspect among Starfall’s people.