Warrior and Witch (45 page)
“They’re there for a reason,” Mirei reminded her. “To keep you from getting snatched and killed.”
“You’re busy all the time, though. So when we saw you were alone…”
Mirei didn’t want to waste more time arguing the point. “Fine. What did you want to ask me?”
The girl took a steadying breath. The others were still a little behind her; whatever this business was, they were supporting Urishin, but it was her affair. “Ashin-kasora told us a while ago that it’s possible for a witch to tell where her doppelganger is.”
“Not exactly. Just the general direction.”
“But we
can find
them.”
“That’s how they were able to send witches out to kill their doppelgangers.”
“Well,” Urishin said, back very straight, hands clasped together, her whole posture proclaiming the nerves she was trying to hide, “do Shimi and Arinei have the missing doppelgangers with them? I mean, in the same place they’re in?”
Mirei’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”
Urishin bit her lip. “If they do—if they’ve got Naspeth there—then I could find her.”
The possibility had never even occurred to Mirei. Her mouth fell slightly open as she considered it. All the fuss over Kekkai not being able to say, and they had the answer here all along—
And then I would know right where to find Shimi. And I could kill her.
Mirei shoved that thought aside. “You can sense her, right now? Even with the block still in place?” She’d never tried it herself, because she hadn’t
known
to try until after her test And it wasn’t a blatant thing; she’d only sensed it when she specifically went looking for it. She hadn’t even considered that it might have worked sooner.
But Urishin was shaking her head.
Mirei frowned at her. “Then what do you mean?”
The girl took another steadying breath. The others were watching her closely, eyes flicking occasionally to Mirei. “I mean that if the block were gone, then I could tell you where Naspeth is.”
“But you’re eleven.”
“I know.”
Mirei stared at her, then at the others. “Removing the block is the final part of your
test
.”
“I know.”
“But you—That isn’t supposed to happen for another fourteen years.”
“Just over thirteen. I’ll be twelve soon.”
“Thirteen, fourteen, it doesn’t bloody
matter
. Urishin, you’re not ready.”
“Who says?” the girl asked quietly.
Mirei’s head reeled. “Void it—you
know
what happened to Chanka and Anness. Shimi used exactly the kind of thing you’re suggesting to
kill
those two. And that’s what will happen to you.”
“I’ll know what’s going on,” Urishin said stubbornly. “Chanka was too young to understand. I’ll be okay.”
“It isn’t just a matter of understanding. You’ve hardly begun your education. Everything you learned before coming here is just background. The spells, the detail—you’re, what, finishing up your first study of Earth? You’ve done
one
of the five Elements.
You‘re not ready
.”
But Urishin wasn’t fazed. In fact, her nervous posture was relaxing, settling into something more determined, more confident. “Misetsu didn’t study for twenty-five years.”
“Misetsu,” Mirei said through her teeth, “was a holy woman, and a dedicated hermit.”
Urishin nodded. “She was a woman of great faith.”
“And you think
your
faith is going to replicate her miracle?”
Amas spoke up, startling her. “It doesn’t have to. Misetsu got magic when no one had ever had it before. Urishin has the channel for power already in her. She just has to survive.”
She couldn’t believe they were saying this, when two of their number had so recently died. “What do you think the odds of that are?”
Yet Amas would not back down. “Look, we thought about this before we came to you. We’ve been talking this over with Urishin for ages. She knows the risks.”
“I want to try,” Urishin confirmed, thin face serene. “Even if it means I might die.”
Mirei took one look at her expression and knew that now was
not
the time to try and persuade the girl that she was acting like a lunatic. She took refuge in something more concrete. “Look, I can’t help you anyway. You need a
lot
of people for that ritual, and I don’t even know how it works. And you’re never going to convince Satomi to let you do this.”
“But
you
might convince her,” Amas said.
“Is
that
what you want?”
“We were hoping you’d try.”
They faced her in a tight clump, the five of them. Owairi and Lehant, copper hair cut short, hardly distinguishable from one another in their practice clothes. Amas and Hoseki, standing side by side; more than anyone in the group, they had begun to work as a single unit, reading each other’s movements and blending into one. Urishin, standing by herself in front, and it didn’t look natural. There should be someone else next to her, someone with the same thin features. A Warrior half, a Void half: the other face of her soul.
In all the world, there were so few other girls like these. And Urishin was asking her to risk losing two of them.
“Just tell Satomi-aken,” Urishin said softly. “Tell her I want to try.”
That much, at least, Mirei could promise. Because Satomi needed to know about this lunacy. “I will.”
“It might even work,” Mirei said, shrugging.
“It doesn’t stand a chance in the Void of working,” Satomi snapped. “And you know it.”
The young witch held up her hands. “I mean the part about finding Shimi. You said Kekkai told you she’s keeping the doppelgangers close by.”
Satomi ground her teeth. “That doesn’t
matter
. The issue is Urishin, and the madness of this idea.”
Mirei looked thoughtful, glancing into the autumn twilight outside Satomi’s window. “I’m not so sure it’s madness.”
“She’s an eleven-year-old
girl
—”
“Who trusts the Goddess.” Mirei smiled sadly. “I recognize it when I see it. I probably had the same expression on my face, not long ago—both of my faces, if you want to put it that way. I saw it in Ashin a couple of times, too.”
“Faith isn’t enough.”
“Isn’t it?” Mirei’s gaze came back to meet hers, and now it had sharpened. “Everything that makes us who we are has come to us through faith. Misetsu’s gift, the spells we cast—what I am today. It all comes down to us having faith—opening ourselves to the Goddess and listening to what she has to say.”
If Satomi had ever felt the sensation Mirei was describing, she didn’t remember it. “She’ll die, just like Chanka and Anness, and Naspeth will die with her. You don’t know the numbers—how many students die, how many become Cousins. I do. And that’s for women who have studied their entire lives. For an eleven-year-old girl? The odds are impossible.”
“But this isn’t about odds. It’s about courage. Urishin has it. And as much as I know she might die—we all know that, very well—the more I think about it, the more I’m inclined to say, let her try.”
Satomi pressed her fingers against her eyes. She felt a headache starting, spiking in from both temples. “There’s no such thing as
trying
. There’s no second chance. If this goes wrong, there’s no trying again, no opportunity to make it right. That’s what she doesn’t understand. Or you, either.”
Mirei received that in silence. Satomi began to hope that she’d convinced the young woman. The next words hit her from the side, out of nowhere, and knocked her completely out of the calm she’d achieved.
“Is this because of Orezha?”
Satomi’s hands fell to her sides like stones. “She is none of your concern.”
“With all due respect, Aken, I think you’re letting your guilt cloud your judgment. Orezha died when she shouldn’t have. Now you’re clinging to these girls as if they’ll make up for that mistake.”
Satomi stood abruptly, hands clenching the edge of her desk until they hurt. “You may leave.”
“I think you’re afraid that if you let Urishin try, and she dies, then it’ll be your fault again, you making the wrong decision. But the decision that matters this time isn’t yours. It’s
hers
. Young as she is. Children younger than she is are sent off to temples, never to leave again; they’re forced into a life of pretended faith whether they want it or not. Is that better? Or is it better to make the choice for herself, and to try to help others in the process?” Mirei was unblinking, her face relaxed into a tranquillity Satomi found frightening. “Our job should be to help her as best as we can. Not to take her choice away.”
“
Get out
,” Satomi snarled.
Mirei stood at last. “If you can’t trust me, or Urishin,” she said quietly, “trust the Goddess. Pray, and see what you think of it then. But do it soon.”
Then she was gone.
The one place in Starfall Indera had found where she could be private was on the roofs. She’d heard that students often climbed around on the roof of the hall where they lived, but other places were less frequented. There was a large storehouse where they kept jars of wine, with a tall pine growing right alongside it; Indera could climb that to the roof, and have some time to herself.
Alone. She hadn’t realized how much she really was alone, until the night of the funeral. Until they spoke of Ashin’s life, and said she only had one daughter,
