Witch

by Marie Brennan

  “And her predecessor’s the one we had murdered.”

  “I thought that might carry weight in our favor—not that we did it, but that we confessed it.” Satomi drank more water. She might have to switch to a stimulant tea before the day was over; her energy was flagging and she still had plenty of work to do. it may have. It certainly didn’t go as badly as I feared it might.”

  “I’m still waiting to hear why you didn’t tell us you were taking that risk.”

  Because I’m still waiting to see which one of you will walk out next.

  The thought jolted Satomi into temporary wakefulness. Was that it? Did she not even trust her two allies anymore?

  Rana was sitting in her chair, eyes on the table, not participating in the argument. She was listening, Satomi was sure, but the elderly Water Prime was speaking up less and less often in these councils. Reconsidering her allegiances? And what of Koika, the most vocal Earth Prime Satomi had ever known, diving so eagerly into the situation when many of her predecessors had hardly paid attention to the human politics of Starfall at all?

  She reached for her water cup, hand shaking, and knocked it to the floor.

  Rana jumped at the sound of shattering ceramic; even Koika jerked. Satomi stared at the spilled water and for a moment couldn’t even think what to do about it.

  Then Koika muttered a quiet imprecation and pulled the sash from her dress to mop the table dry. That done, she dragged her chair closer and put one hand on Satomi’s. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just need sleep,” Satomi said. Had it been anyone else asking, even Ruriko, she would have put a facade over it, presented the same calm, level face she always did. But Koika was the one person here she truly trusted, apart from Mirei.

  Dear Goddess—let her be safe to trust.

  Koika therefore saw exactly how tired Satomi was. “Mother’s tits,” she swore. “Satomi, I’ve been telling you all along—you can’t do everything yourself.”

  “We’re shorthanded,” Satomi reminded her. “Appallingly so. There are witches on our side, yes, but how many of them are qualified to teach the students? How many have the knowledge and skills necessary to handle our political affairs? I’m not the only person who’s tired.”

  “I know,” Koika said, with real bite in her voice. “Mirei collapsed yesterday. Only briefly,” she hastened to add, as Satomi jerked in worry. “Just a bout of dizziness while she was trying to demonstrate some spinning something-or-other to her trainees. Ashin told me.”

  If there was one good side effect to this schism, Satomi reflected with sour humor, it was that more witches of separate Rays were talking to each other than ever before.

  Koika was still talking. “The point is, neither of you is dispensable.”

  “I know,” Satomi said in weary frustration. “That’s why I’m pushing so hard.”

  “You’re missing my point completely,” Koika replied, shaking her head. “If you two fall apart, we’re in trouble. So you need to rest, and we’ll just find ways around you while you’re doing that. We’d rather cope without you in the short term than the long.”

  Satomi bent to pick up the shards of the cup and placed them back on the table. “You two are just as important, you know—you and Rana.”

  Koika smiled in triumph, as if Satomi had walked into a trap. “Yes. Which is why we are making sure to get enough sleep every night. Right, Rana?” She looked to the Water Prime for support.

  “Mostly,” Rana said in a soft voice. Her lined face looked older than ever.

  Pulling Satomi to her feet, Koika said briskly, “We’ll deal with Kekkai later. Tomorrow, say. For now, you’re going to rest.”

  Satomi snatched her hands from the other woman’s grasp before she could be led toward the door. “There are things I need to—”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Koika said blandly. “Did I give you the impression that you had a choice?”

  She started singing then, and Satomi’s tired mind took too long to sort through the notes and pitches and figure out what the spell was, and by the time she made it that far, Koika was done and she was asleep.

  THE NEXT DAY, she was furious with Koika’s autocratic decision, but the Earth Prime seemed unfazed. “You’re not the only one who can make decisions without consulting other people,” Koika said, and smiled cheerfully at Satomi’s glare.

  It had done some good, though; she had to admit that. The spell-induced sleep was the deepest she’d had in ages. Normally she woke up several times during the night, mind racing with the endless list of things she had to do. Her mind was sharper now, without even resorting to stimulant tea.

  So when a sealed scroll landed on her desk, appearing out of midair a short distance above, her first reaction was irritation, rather than the slow-witted confusion she’d been wrestling with for days. Correspondence of this type was not supposed to come to her; it should go to the appropriate Key or Prime, and anything intended for her directly should go to Ruriko instead. That was what a secretary was for.

  But now that it was here, calling Ruriko in would waste more time than it would save. Grimacing, Satomi picked up the scroll and cracked the seal.

  After a moment of reading, eyes growing wider with every word, she reached for the bell and rang it as loudly as possible.

  Ruriko appeared in the doorway. “Aken?”

  “Bring the other Primes to the council room,” Satomi said. “Immediately. Also Onomita and Mirei. And Ashin.” She thought it over. Churicho and Bansu? No, best not to involve the interim Fire Keys. Best to involve as few people as possible. “Just those five. Tell them to come without delay.”

  The secretary nodded and vanished.

  Alone in her office, Satomi reread the note, written in Kekkai’s small, neat lettering.

  Tungral, sunset, three days’ time. Inn is the Bear’s Claw. Send Mirei to get me out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  IT’S A TRAP,” Koika said flatly.

  Mirei had just enough self-control not to crane her neck at the curled slip of paper Satomi had handed to the Earth Prime. Trap? she wondered, curiosity aroused.

  Satomi took the paper back and showed it to Onomita. “Is this Kekkai’s handwriting?”

  The Head Key hardly needed to glance at it. “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s not a trap,” Koika insisted.

  Mirei exchanged glances with Ashin. The Air Hand seemed as baffled as she was. Kekkai was on the enemy side, Mirei knew that much. But why was she sending Satomi messages? What kind of trap was she trying to set up? As the only unranked witch in a room full of Keys and Primes, she didn’t quite have the nerve to ask.

  Satomi did not leave them in the dark for long. Laying the curl of paper down on the table, she addressed everyone in the council room. “Some of you know that I’ve recently been in communication with Kekkai, attempting to convince her to come back to our side. According to this note, I’ve succeeded. She wants out of Kalistyi.”

  “And she wants us to send you, Mirei,” Koika cut in, her voice heavy with mistrust.

  “The parameters she’s set require it,” Satomi added. “She names a town in Kalistyi—Tungral, near the Askavyan border—and an inn where she will presumably be waiting, three days from now. The only way to get there in time is by your magic, Mirei.”

  Hearing that, Mirei had to laugh. “Not a very good trap, then. Unless she crammed a very good description of Tungral onto that slip of paper. I’m not about to jump blind. Besides, there’s no guarantee I could bring her back, not that way. I’ve never cast the spell on another person, or tried to take them with me. Hyoka’s been nervous about trying.”

  Satomi gave her a sharp look. “Do you think you could do it?”

  “Why ask?” Koika demanded. “We’re not sending her.”

  “If Kekkai really wants to get out of there—” Onomita began hesitantly.

  “If you believe that, you’re a fool.”

  Satomi put up a hand to quell Koika. “I unde
rstand your suspicion; believe me, I share it. But if there’s any way we can turn this to our advantage, then I want to find it.

  “Consider the possibilities. If Kekkai truly does want to come back—perhaps she’s had a falling out with Arinei; perhaps I convinced her on my own—then we cannot afford to miss this opportunity. Having her on our side would do us incalculable good.” Satomi inclined her head toward the Fire Head Key. “No offense intended, Onomita.”

  The Key’s round face bloomed with a fervent smile. “None taken. I’d love to have her back.”

  “So. If this is genuine, it’s a stroke of great good fortune for us.”

  Koika instantly took up the countering side. “And if it’s not?”

  “If it’s not,” Satomi said, “then we may have a chance to capture her.”

  In the following silence, Mirei wondered if she was the only one who had known Satomi was going to suggest that.

  The Void Prime continued on. “Kekkai has been with them for months. She will know things that could be useful to us. If this is genuine, we’ll have her help willingly; if not, Mirei can knock her over the head and bring her back here, and we’ll get the answers out of her by other means.” The witch captured in Angrim had been of little use; she’d been acting as the agent of someone they already knew was on Shimi’s side, but had been told no more than to search the city for a girl matching Indera’s description. They needed someone else to question. Someone in a position to know things.

  Koika was not so sanguine about the possibility. “Saying that Mirei will knock her over the head is fine and well, but she’ll have a hard time of it if they’ve got a crowd of people waiting for her.”

  “She defeated us, didn’t she?” Rana asked, a trace of bitterness audible in her voice. It was the first time she’d spoken since Satomi convened them in the council room.

  Mirei snorted, forgetting to be polite. “Riding on the tail end of a miracle. I doubt I can arrange for that again.”

  “I understand your concerns, Koika, but this might still be worth the risk,” Satomi said. “If we can find Mirei a good enough description to get there in the first place.”

  “Is there anyone else nearby?” Onomita asked. “Someone, or more than one person, who we could send in place of Mirei? I’d have to check my records, but I don’t think I have anyone. The nearest woman in my Ray who I know to be on our side is Domeiyu, and she’s all the way over in Buvailat.”

  “Would Kekkai go with anyone other than Mirei?” Ashin said dubiously.

  Koika had clearly warmed to that idea, though. “We could put an illusion on them. Send a sketch of Mirei to whoever we use, have her cast an illusion, and then she can go to Tungral in Mirei’s place.”

  “She’ll check for that,” Mirei said flatly. “As paranoid as she’ll be? She’d know it was an illusion before your impostor got through the door.”

  Satomi was nodding. “Not to mention that I suspect she wants to leave instantaneously. No one else can do that, and maybe not even Mirei. Who can’t get there, because she doesn’t know the place.” Sighing, the Void Prime seated herself at the table. “I’ll have to try and get a message to her myself, telling her to change the plan.”

  But Ashin sat forward in her chair, looking suddenly eager. “We can still get Mirei there, though. All we need is for someone to describe the place to her. Surely there’s a witch on our side who could provide that.”

  The words were hardly out of the Key’s mouth before Mirei had an idea. “Or maybe someone other than a witch.”

  FALYA HAD MOSTLY gotten over being intimidated by Mirei; two months of daily practices had changed fear into the respect due to a training-master. But the nine-year-old Kalistyin doppelganger was clearly startled to have Mirei coming to her for information.

  “You said you grew up in the north, right?” Mirei asked, trying not to overwhelm the girl with her drive to get the information. Some Hunter tasks she was good at; coaxing timid subjects into talking wasn’t one of them. Intimidating, yes; coaxing, no. “Do you know Tungral?”

  Her heart leaped when Falya nodded. “Da— I mean, that is—”

  “You can call him ‘Da,’ ” Mirei said gently as the girl looked uncertain. “He raised you. That makes him your father, even if you’re not his seed.”

  Falya managed a small smile. “Da used to go there a couple of times every season. Not in the spring, during the melt; too muddy then. But in the summer and fall, or in the winter, when he could sledge. Took furs to market there.”

  “How about you? Did you ever go with your da?”

  The girl shook her head, and Mirei’s heart fell. “Not even once?”

  “I never left Lyonakh,” Falya said in a barely audible voice. “Not until Inei-mai brought me here.”

  Mirei sighed. Maybe Inei was still at Starfall, or could be contacted easily; she might have passed through Tungral on her way to Lyonakh. Although a description based on having passed through once was not something she wanted to trust herself to. Come on, there has to be someone who knows that town. The others will find someone.

  Then a thought came to her. “Falya, where’s Lyonakh?”

  “In the mountains,” the girl said.

  “But where? When your father went to Tungral, which way did he go? And how far?”

  She thought it over. “Northwest. He would be gone for three days, when he went. One to go, one to market, and one to come back.”

  A day’s journey. And that was with a wagon or sledge full of furs.

  “Falya,” Mirei said, keeping a death grip on the reins of her excitement, “tell me what Lyonakh looks like.”

  “THEY WON’T BE EXPECTING IT,” Mirei said when they were all reassembled. “If it’s a trap, they’ll be looking for me to come into Tungral directly. To the inn itself. They won’t look for me to be riding in from some mountain village.”

  “But they’ll still see you coming,” Koika said. “Unless you disguise yourself and, like you said, they’ll be checking for that.”

  Mirei had recovered her manners, having received a pointed look from Satomi not long before. She smiled politely at the Earth Prime, even as she inwardly shook her head at the blindness. “I don’t intend to use magic.”

  Ashin looked approving. “I’ve said it before—you’d do well in Air. That’s adaptation.”

  “There’s a good chance they’ll make the same assumption you did, Koika-chashi,” Mirei said, “which means they’re less likely to spot a mundane disguise.” And that’s diplomacy. You people forget to think about nonmagical answers.

  Satomi had been tapping her long fingers on the table during this discussion; now she stopped and spoke up. “It’s a good plan. But if they have people waiting for you—”

  “Then I sing myself out,” Mirei said. “I can probably buy enough time for that.”

  “I’m not going to gamble you on ‘probably.’ You will only go if you can take someone else with you.”

  Mirei blinked. “Aken—I don’t know if I can even do that.”

  “So you try. If you can’t, then you would have to ride back from Kalistyi with Kekkai, and I won’t risk that. Nor will I send you to Kalistyi alone.”

  Before she could protest, Mirei made the mistake of meeting Satomi’s eyes. The look there reminded her: she was not an independent agent anymore. She had responsibilities.

  “Yes, Aken,” Mirei murmured reluctantly.

  Koika looked marginally less worried now that Satomi had set her condition, but not much. “Who can we send with her, though?”

  “Me,” Ashin said.

  Satomi shook her head. “Out of the question. You’re a Key; we need you.”

  “With half my Path decamped to the other side? I’ll do you more good out there. You need to send a witch; Cousins won’t be enough. And not only am I an Air Hand and used to doing odd jobs, I’m also one of your more practiced subversives.” Ashin smiled, with only the faintest trace of bitterness. “I spent quite a while planning what
I would do if witches showed up to take me prisoner, or to—”

  She cut it short as Satomi’s eyes snapped to her. Mirei looked covertly at Onomita, but the Head Key appeared to be lost in speculation, and did not seem to have noticed.

  “Name me someone better qualified,” Ashin finished.

  “You’re too recognizable,” Koika said.

  Mirei raised an eyebrow at her. “Ordinary disguises don’t stop working just because they’re put on a witch. Give me hair dye and some cosmetics, and I’ll give you back a woman you’ve never seen before.”

  Satomi slapped one hand onto the table, not in anger, but to get them all back on track. “This is a moot point if Mirei can’t do it. So first we test that.”

  “I’d recommend bringing Hyoka,” Mirei said. “She’ll cry for a year if she doesn’t get to watch me do this.”

  THE VOID KEY’S FACE lit up when she heard. “I’ve been wanting to try! I wasn’t sure that it was worth the potential risk, just to see if it worked. But if you have a good reason for doing it—”

  They had not, of course, told her why they needed Mirei to translocate other people. Hyoka didn’t care, so long as she got to take notes. “I hope the risk turns out to be exaggerated,” Mirei said.

  Hyoka nodded, beaming at Mirei and Ashin impartially. “Let me get my group together, then, and we can go to the translocation room—no need to do it there, of course; you could try it anywhere. But there we can observe you more easily. I’ll have a Cousin brought.”

  Already in motion down the hallway, Mirei stopped dead in her tracks. “A Cousin?”