“I thought they might be,” Jaguar said. “Tell me more.”
Chapter Two
AFTER MIREI WAS GONE, Satomi leaned her forehead against the cool glass of her window and let her breath out slowly.
She prayed to the Goddess that this was not the start of new, worse trouble—but she feared otherwise.
Lifting her head, she could see out across Starfall, both the sprawl of buildings too loose to call a town and the domain that went by that name. Pale gray granite blocks quarried from these mountains, the multihued greenery of the trees beyond. Her office faced north, toward the rest of the world. She’d chosen the view deliberately. Her predecessor as Void Prime had used a room on the south side of the main building; her predecessor had believed the outside world was not her concern as Void Prime.
To some extent, the woman had been right. The Void Ray dealt with the internal affairs of the witches; the world outside their own people was the responsibility of the other Rays. But for a long time the Void Prime had also been the linchpin of the Primes as a whole, and that meant, in Satomi’s opinion, that she could not afford to ignore the rest of the world.
She gazed out at Starfall, breathing slowly to center herself. This was her home, and had been for nearly as long as she could remember. She’d spent the first ten years of her life in Haira, but then, like all witch-students, she had come here for her real training. Since then, she had hardly left. Fifteen years of studying, before being tested as a witch. Then the hunt for her doppelganger. Finding it at last in Liak.
Not it. Her. Her name was Orezha.
Then returning here after Orezha’s death, and entering the Path of the Head in the Void Ray, dedicating her life to research and recordkeeping. Advancement to the position of Key of her Path, overseeing all the Head witches of her Ray. And finally, promotion to Void Prime, the leader of an entire fifth of Starfall—and, in a sense, the leader of all witches, whatever their affiliation.
For the first time, Satomi felt old.
Her health was still good, and her hair showed no strands of white yet, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy to cope with the upheaval Mirei had brought. But what other choice did she have? Not retirement; the last thing the community of witches needed right now was to lose a Prime. And Satomi had no illusions about the prevailing attitudes about this situation; she was far and away Mirei’s strongest supporter. The confrontation in Star Hall had staggered everyone, and to varying degrees it had convinced them—but not entirely. Satomi had to make sure that conviction grew, instead of fading. Starting with her fellow Primes.
Satomi stepped away from the window and straightened the plain black silk of her dress. They would not like that she had sent Mirei off without consulting them, not least of all because it meant she had told the young witch before she told them. But she could not let the discussion get bogged down in that. The real issue at hand was not what to do with the doppelgangers, but what to do with Shimi.
She left her office and went through the hallways to their council room. Unlike the ruling hall, where the Primes settled disputes and pronounced judgments, this place was not meant to impress; it was a working space, and practical. A large table dominated the room, with five comfortable chairs spaced around it, and a wealth of lamps provided light. The chairs might be carved with the Elemental symbols of the five Rays, but that was the only decoration, and the cushions were worn besides. The room itself was layered in permanent spells, protecting it against eavesdropping or anything that might disrupt the Primes’ meetings.
Satomi put down the books she was carrying and settled into her own chair to wait. She was reading Shimi’s letter yet again when the other Primes began to come in.
Rana arrived first, looking sleepy. Oldest of the Primes, her wispy bun of hair had gone solidly white. People had been murmuring for years now about the possibility of her retirement, but she’d been in the position of Water Prime for so long that few could imagine her gone, and besides, she still did her job well. Ministration to the common people of other lands, the province of her Ray, was not the most glamorous of Starfall’s work, but it did require a diligent hand.
Not long after that, Koika showed up, her stocky form dressed in simple breeches and shirt as always. She gave Satomi one of her usual broad smiles, but it faltered when Satomi failed to return it in kind. “What’s wrong?”
Satomi shook her head at the Earth Prime’s question. “We’ll wait for everyone to arrive.”
Arinei came last, and Satomi wondered if she had timed it that way, because the Fire Prime entered in a well-staged fury.
“Why did you not tell us?”
Most Primes came from the Heart, the Path dedicated to organization and administration, but Arinei had been a Hand. Advising the Lord of Insebrar, she had learned to play her emotions like a lyre, manipulating those around her with carefully calculated extremes. Satomi did not disapprove; it was a useful trick. But she had also learned not to be cowed by it.
“About Shimi? By the time I finished with my necessary tasks, it was time for this meeting anyway.”
“Necessary tasks? This isn’t the yearly accounting, Satomi.”
Calm was its own kind of weapon, as much as Arinei’s crafted volatility. “No. It is, however, the disobedience of a witch to the wishes of Starfall. Which makes it first and foremost my responsibility.”
Koika was frowning; Arinei was seething. “So you’ve already dealt with it, I hear,” the Fire Prime said. “Sent Miryo off, dispatched Cousins and witches—is there anything left for us to do?”
“Mirei,” Satomi said coldly, pronouncing the name with edged clarity. “You might do well to remember her name, since her existence is the source of our current complications. And yes, there is much yet to be done.” She passed Shimi’s letter to Koika, who sat at her left. “For those whose unofficial spy networks haven’t already informed them of what’s happened.
“Shimi is gone, and by her words, we have to assume she poses a threat to a dozen students, both here and at our regional halls—and also to the doppelganger halves of those students. That threat is what I’ve been dealing with this morning. The students have been made safe, and the doppelgangers are being gathered in.”
Now Rana was reading the letter, her eyes widening with shock at the harshness of the words. Satomi went on. “That, however, is treating the symptoms, rather than the problem. We must mend this breach with Shimi.”
“I assume we can’t find her,” Rana said, offering the letter to Arinei, who ignored it.
Satomi shook her head. “She’s warded herself against it.” Which was, in itself, a serious violation of her duties as the Air Prime. The witches of her Ray were itinerant, serving anyone they found in need, which made it all the more imperative that they be able to locate and communicate with their Prime when they needed her.
“She might go back to Kalistyi,” Koika said.
Arinei snorted. “Or anywhere but Kalistyi, since she knows we’ll look for her there.”
The lines in Rana’s brow furrowed even more deeply. “If she’s warded, she might be under a disguise spell, too. If she goes to ground, we’ll never find her.”
Satomi shook her head again. “She won’t go to ground. Think of what kind of woman Shimi is. Do you really think she would be content to register her disagreement with us, and then simply retire from the situation?” No woman that passive would ever have risen to the rank of Prime.
“So what do we do?” Koika asked. “Put out word for all witches and Cousins across the fifteen domains to look for her?” She grimaced at her own words. “We might as well hire Hunters to chase her down like a criminal.”
The statement produced an unpleasant silence in the room. They’d done that once before, and not long ago, hiring a Wolfstar assassin to murder one of the Fire Keys. For, ironically enough, believing that doppelgangers should not die.
Satomi steered them away from the memory, before it could spark new arguments. “Shimi is in derelict
ion of her duty, and in rebellion against the will of Starfall. We agreed days ago on the message we sent out to all of our people—”
“Shimi disagreed,” Arinei pointed out, her expressive mouth settling into a hard line.
“But the consensus was in favor of the message. Four against one; she was overruled, and that means she’s bound to abide by our decision. We agreed to support Mirei’s new way, and to instruct all witches to do the same. If Shimi wanted to register her continued disagreement, there were acceptable ways for her to do so. This is not one of them.” Satomi flicked the letter Rana had returned to her. “Therefore, we must temporarily suspend her authority over her Ray.”
Arinei’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, suspend? We can do that?”
Satomi picked up one of the books on the table before her. Her own experience as a member of the Path of the Head had been useful this morning. “There’s precedent. Most recently—though by normal standards it’s not recent at all—was Dotoku, Prime of the Fire Ray, just over three hundred years ago. Her political activities became, well, suspect; you can read about them if you’d like. Censure and suspension of authority requires the agreement of the other four Primes. Reinstatement—and Dotoku was reinstated—requires three.”
She passed the book to Arinei, who had held out a peremptory hand for it. The Fire Prime scanned the pages quickly, obviously not attending much to the details of her predecessor’s machinations. “Oh. I remember this. Her Ray was run by her Keys in the interim.”
“Under the supervision of the remaining Primes,” Satomi said. “Which is what we would do, as well. We have to make certain Shimi won’t begin trying to use her subordinates as tools for her personal crusade, and also to ensure that the rest of the world won’t see her actions as sanctioned by Starfall.”
Arinei’s head shot up at the words. “We’d make this public?”
“How can we not?” Koika asked. “We can’t be sure what Shimi might do, so we’ve got to take steps to keep it from reflecting badly on us. At the very least we ought to tell the Lords.”
“The Lords,” Arinei said icily, “are my concern, last time I checked.”
Territorial squabbles were something they could not afford right now. “No one’s arguing that, Arinei,” Satomi said, spreading her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “But in your position, surely you can see the necessity. The information need not go past the Lords at present, and I’m confident you can convince them of that. It seems apparent, though, that Shimi might decide to take radical action, and that will not be the time to begin telling the rest of the world that we didn’t sanction it. We’d look like we were trying to cover our mistakes.”
“Fine,” Arinei said, biting the word off. She snapped the book shut for emphasis. “We suspend her, then.”
“If the suspension should prove not to be temporary,” Koika said. “Then what?”
Satomi had another book in front of her with the answer to that, but she deemed it better not to trot it out just yet. She didn’t want Arinei accusing her of anticipating just that outcome, and judging by the tense muscles in the woman’s neck, she was in that kind of mood. “The precedents for that are even older,” she said, leaving it deliberately vague. “But aside from the formality of removal, the process is as it always is, for choosing a new Prime.”
“Out of the Keys,” Rana said thoughtfully, leaning forward and propping her chin on one hand. “Naji, Hassei, or Ashin.”
Koika had been glancing at the remaining books; Satomi wondered if she suspected the relevant volume was in the stack. “Naji was the presumed successor,” she said, turning her attention back to the circle of her fellow Primes. “But we might want to consider Ashin now, given that she’s one of the ones who wanted the doppelgangers to live in the first place.”
“I see we’re condemning Shimi in advance,” Arinei said acidly.
“That wasn’t what I meant—”
“We need,” Satomi cut in, before Koika could further feed Arinei’s desire for an argument, “to have a conference with the Air Keys as soon as possible. In person, that is. Ashin is traveling back to Starfall; she should be here in about five days.”
Koika considered it. “We can’t wait that long on the censure, though.”
“No. We should carry that out this afternoon. We’ll gather the Keys of all Rays and any Air witches currently at Starfall in the ruling hall, make the declaration—there’s a script for it; I’ll give you copies—and the Air Keys can send word out to all the witches of their respective Paths. The end of the declaration is a spell that will suspend Shimi’s power and authority as Prime. We will meet to perform that when the bells chime Light.” It was now an hour shy of Mid; that would allow them seven hours to prepare. She did not expect to need that much, but Arinei was prickly already; Satomi wanted to avoid indecent rush.
When the other Primes had nodded their agreement—grudgingly, in Arinei’s case, but she did nod—Satomi turned to Rana. “On to other matters, then. Have you spoken with Obura?”
The Water Prime nodded, her lined face showing relief at the change of subject. “She’s—well, not confused, exactly, but this will be her third daughter. She’s very used to the old way of doing things.”
“She’ll just have to adjust,” Koika said, not sounding at all sympathetic. The Earth Prime lacked Satomi’s zeal for the new way, but once she had decided to accept it, her mind was quite set.
“Make certain she understands what to do,” Satomi said to Rana. “It isn’t very complicated. She simply needs to present her daughter to the Goddess before beginning the ritual to create the channel for magic. As I understand it, everything after that will be the same.”
“Except the bit where she kills the doppelganger,” Koika added. Her light tone offset the bluntness of her words.
Satomi smiled ruefully. “Except that. Both children will live, the witch-child with the capacity for magic and the doppelganger-child without. They will share one soul, since she’s exposed them to starlight and the Goddess’s eyes, and we will raise them both until it’s time for them to come back together.”
Rana sighed and brushed her hair from her eyes with one knobbly hand. It trembled slightly, and Satomi realized that Obura was not the only one with fear. “Yes, but try to see it from her point of view. She’s been told all her life that under no circumstances should she allow her daughter anywhere near starlight until after the ritual. She feels like we’re telling her to throw her daughter into the fire, it’s all right, fire isn’t hot like everyone always said it was.”
“Just keep reassuring her. Everything will be all right. She will see. And she will be the first witch since Misetsu with the opportunity to know both of her daughters—both halves of her daughter.” Satomi clicked her tongue in exasperation. “However you want to say it. This is an honor for Obura.” Pregnant witches throughout the domains would soon follow in her footsteps. Change would be slow—these children had to grow to adulthood before the difference would really be felt—but it would happen.
Standing, the Water Prime nodded. “Are we finished?”
“Let’s meet an hour after High, to make sure we’re prepared for the ritual. But yes, other than that, we can adjourn.”
Arinei was gone almost before Satomi’s words were finished, the heavy wooden door thunking back into place behind her with unnecessary force. Rana followed her, still looking concerned for Obura. Koika gathered her notes, and spoke quietly to Satomi as she did.
“You’ll want to keep an eye on Arinei.”
“Yes.” Satomi sighed, trying to release her frustration. “She’s afraid we’re being unfair to Shimi.”
“I think there may be more to it than that.” Notes tucked into the crook of one arm, Koika looked at the door as if seeing through it to where Arinei strode through the halls. “I’m not sure what else, but I’m certain there is something.” She shrugged apologetically to Satomi. “I don’t read human body language as well as deer.”
&
nbsp; Satomi stood and gripped the Earth Prime’s arm. “Deer and other things of nature are your province.”
“But we can’t afford to ignore each other’s provinces. As you knew when you took the north office.”
The Void Prime nodded. “Let me know if you hear anything—from witches of your Ray or others, or even Cousins—that seems important.”
“I will,” Koika said.
WHEN WORD CAME, however, it came not from Koika, but from Naji, the Key of the Air Heart. And it was not good.
Naji stood on the tiled floor before Satomi’s desk not long after the bells chimed Mid, her normally serene face animated by distress. “I didn’t know who else to tell. You’re not my Prime, Aken, but—” Her hands spread, helplessly. “It’s an internal matter. Therefore Void business. And I thought it best to come straight to you.”
Satomi stood up from her chair and came around to guide Naji into a seat. “You’re sure it was a sending to the entire Air Ray?”
“Yes,” Naji said, and the implication—unintended on Satomi’s part, but useful for its effect—that she might not know her own business well enough to tell the difference had the benefit of focusing her. “She sent to us all, just before Mid.”
“Let me get pen and paper,” Satomi said, and returned briefly to her desk. “All right. Now tell me, as precisely as you can recall, what Shimi said.”
Naji let out a slow breath, eyes closed, to center herself. Her memory was excellent, once she calmed down enough to use it; it served her well, as head of the administrative Path of her Ray. “ ‘I send this to you, my daughters, so that at least one-fifth of Starfall may know the truth. The creature calling itself Mirei is an abomination. Misetsu, our holy ancestor, blessed of the Goddess, learned through painful experience the truth of the doppelgangers, and in her wisdom she established the tradition we follow to this day. The abomination among us has performed feats that may dazzle, but they cannot last. If we join our daughters to the dross they were meant to discard, who knows what misfortunes they will suffer? We must not follow this dangerous path. I beg you, my daughters, to trust in the wisdom of our predecessors. Do not fall into this trap. My fellow Primes, blinded by these tricks, will tell you not to heed me, but I hold fast to what we know to be true.’ ”
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