Kan sat, stone-faced. Miryo looked at her. And then, when the silence became too much, she asked, “What are you going to do?”
The Cousin stood and walked away, going to face a bookcase. Miryo bet she wasn’t looking at the books. Several moments passed before Kan turned back to face her.
“I understand,” Kan said. Miryo had to strain to hear her voice, even in the quiet of the room. “I understand, but I do not—cannot—agree. I think you should listen to the Primes. I think that ignoring them is a serious risk.”
Miryo nodded slowly, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “You’ll report me, then.”
“No,” Kan said, and the floor slammed back into place beneath Miryo’s feet. “I’m supposed to serve you. I’m also supposed to serve the Primes, who commanded me to ride with you. I understand what you’re doing, and why, but I do not agree with it. What then should I do?” She paused, closing her eyes. She tried to lean her head back in thought, but a spasm of pain crossed her face and she straightened, looking at Miryo. “This much I can offer you. I will not report you, but neither will I go with you. I will remove myself from the situation.”
Miryo swallowed hard. She spread her hands in her lap, laying them on her knees, and was proud that they did not shake. “I understand.”
“Sai will come with me,” Kan said, answering the question Miryo had not yet asked. “We will neither help you, nor get in your way.”
“Thank you,” Miryo said, and she had never meant the words so much in her entire life. “I will not forget this. And if the Goddess smiles on me, and I come out of this in one piece, I will do whatever I can to repay you. Regardless of whether I turn out to be right or not.”
Kan nodded.
Another awkward pause. “Good night, then,” Miryo said, and left the room.
She had been in her bedroom for a few minutes when she heard Kan’s footsteps in the hall. They stopped outside; Miryo would have wagered the Cousin had her ear to the door. Then the footsteps went away, and after a moment she heard a door shut.
Miryo began throwing her belongings into her saddlebags.
Eclipse respected Mirage’s obvious desire for silence on the way back to the inn. They had one short discussion when they reached the room, on the topic of whether or not she would allow him to see to her injuries. She claimed to be fine, and cited her success against the Cousins as proof, but Eclipse knew better. More than any other Hunter he’d met, Mirage was able to ignore pain. On several occasions during their training, she’d dismissed broken toes and cracked ribs as minor inconveniences. So he put his foot down, and she conceded.
He washed her face and inspected it. She was developing some lovely bruises, but her nose hadn’t been broken, and neither had her jaw. He prepared a tea to help her concussion, then made her strip down and let him check her other injuries.
Mirage had a special penchant for breaking ribs, but for a change she’d stayed in one piece. Her arm was also intact. A low whistle escaped him when he saw her back, though. Any harder and the blow would have damaged her spine or her kidneys. She had been damned lucky.
Eclipse let her pull her shirt back on then, and they began packing in silence. Mirage’s face was impassive behind the bruises. At last, though, he had to ask the question that had been in his mind since they left the house on Lilac Row.
“Do you think she’ll be there tomorrow?”
Mirage answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
“You trust her that much.”
“I’m not sure it’s possible for me to not trust her.” She paused. “Does that make any sense?”
“Yes, but I’m still not sure you should believe it.” Eclipse tucked his weapons-cleaning kit into his saddlebag and then sat on the bed, looking at her directly. “You two aren’t identical, you know. There’s no way you could be. You grew up completely differently.”
“I know. But I still feel, gut-deep, that in many ways we’re the same. Maybe more of a person’s character is inborn than I’d thought. Or maybe each of us was somehow influenced by the upbringing the other had. Whatever it is, I can tell already that despite our differences, we’re more similar than not. So I know she’ll be there.”
“Because you would be.”
“I would bet you any sum of money that she’s weighed the situation in her mind and come to the same conclusion I have. Although we take a risk by doing this, what we stand to gain outweighs it. So we’ll stick with our decision until something changes the balance.”
The reasoning was so typically Mirage that Eclipse had to snort. “It’s that kind of thinking that put you through such misery in childhood. You could have stayed a Temple Dancer.”
Mirage flashed him a quick grin. “But I wanted to be a Hunter. And the cost was worth it.”
“Your evaluation of cost is not that of a sane person.”
“It was worth it in the end. I went through some trouble at Silverfire, but it ended eventually, and now I’m where I want to be. More or less. If you leave out the bit about my life being in imminent danger.”
“Sen, you’d be bored if your life weren’t in danger.”
Another grin. He was glad to see her mood improving. She hadn’t said anything outright, but he could tell that she wasn’t happy to discover that the whispers about her being a witch were peripherally true. It had produced a brittleness in her manner, probably too subtle for Miryo to see—after all, she had only just met Mirage. But he, who knew her well, could see it, and he was relieved that it seemed to be fading.
That, or she was just putting up a better mask.
He’d keep an eye on her, just in case.
They’d set the meeting time for noon the next day, but Mirage and Eclipse left the inn before dawn. They departed in stealth, heading for one of the lesser exits from the city. Neither knew if the Thornbloods were aware of Mirage’s escape, but they agreed it was better to take the precaution. It meant that Mirage got very little sleep that night, but Eclipse could stand guard while she napped and waited for Miryo to arrive.
That was the plan, anyway. They arrived at the line of elms around dawn to find Miryo already there.
Mirage raised an eyebrow at her from the back of her horse. She was amused to see that Miryo could interpret the gesture perfectly. “I talked with Kan—the one whose collarbone you broke. Sai doesn’t talk if she can help it. Anyway, Kan said she wouldn’t help me, but neither would she cause me trouble. She’s just staying out of it. So they won’t be coming with us.”
“And you decided you wanted to sleep under the stars.” Miryo grimaced. “I trust Kan. Mostly. I just decided I should get out while the getting was good. Just in case she changed her mind, or Sai didn’t agree with the plan.”
“Wise of you.” Mirage stifled a yawn and considered her options. She was tired, but there was no point in wasting good daylight when they could be riding. She could always doze in the saddle. “If you’ve got your horse, then, let’s get moving.”
17
Experimentation
Heat pounded Miryo throughout the day, and combined with the hard pace the Hunters set, it drained the energy from her. She refused to complain, though. Luckily Mirage called an early halt in a sheltered copse. Miryo wondered why they had not stopped in a town; they could have reached one before nightfall quite easily. She kept her mouth shut, though, as they set up camp. The two Hunters handled their horses with an easy, unconscious competence that made her envious. Then again, if what little she knew about Silverfire was correct, her double had been on the road more or less constantly for the past five years. Miryo was similarly competent with the things she did every day.