Mirage grinned. “Believe it or not, that was part of our training. Juggling is excellent for building coordination.”
“So you see what I mean.”
“Yes. I think so, at least, although I get the feeling you’re leaving the better part of it out.”
Miyro grimaced. “I am, but the full, technical explanation would take about four hours and would confuse you horribly.”
“We’ll skip it, then.”
“Do you have any other questions? I understand this stuff so well, I have trouble figuring out what I need to explain.”
Mirage considered it. “None that I think are relevant enough to ask right now. You can’t have gotten much sleep last night, so you need more tonight.”
“As if you don’t?” Miryo raised one eyebrow pointedly at her doppelganger, and they grinned at each other. “All right. We’ll give it one more shot. Try…” She considered it. “If you feel the power coming into you again, try to not fight it. I don’t think it will hurt you, and it may rebound to me of its own accord. We can hope.”
Mirage nodded again and closed her eyes.
Focus. Concentrate. This is easy. You should be able to work this spell without thinking. Miryo exhaled, then took a breath and sang.
This time it was not quick. Miryo could feel trouble building with horrifying clarity. She tried to cut the spell short, but power was surging through her and couldn’t be walled off. Wind kicked up around the clearing, bringing down leaves. Mirage’s eyes shot open, then narrowed; she opened her mouth to say something to Miryo, and then a huge gust of air slammed into her and threw her across the ground into a tangle of underbrush.
The wind died. Miryo cursed and leapt to her feet, going to her doppelganger’s side.
Mirage was swearing a blue streak and fighting her way out of the tangle. “Nettles,” she spat when she had regained her feet. Already blisters were beginning to rise on her hands and face. “Just what I needed.”
Well, at least my training will do some good tonight. Miryo cast about and found a patch of dock leaves. She pulled a few and offered them to Mirage, who took them with sour thanks.
“What was that you said?” Mirage asked as she rubbed the leaves over her blisters.
Miryo blinked. “When?”
“While I was still in the nettles. Misetsu and something.”
“Oh. Misetsu and Menukyo. First witch and her eldest daughter. Witch swearing. We’re all descended from those two.”
“Great. I don’t suppose we could call back their spirits and ask them what in the Warrior’s name is going wrong?”
“Sorry, raising the dead isn’t a spell anybody’s worked out.” Miryo took a deep breath, quelling her frustration. “I think that’s enough for tonight. And I’ll try to come up with some better way to do this.”
Eclipse didn’t question the explanation he got of the evening’s antics, but watching him, Miryo suspected he knew just how much they were leaving out. Mirage either didn’t notice or didn’t care; she seemed mostly interested in finding a stream to bathe her blisters in.
Which left Miryo alone with Eclipse for the first time since they’d met—when he’d held a knife to her throat.
“I know Sen—Mirage,” he said bluntly as Miryo was brushing leaves off her clothing. She tensed at his tone. “And I’d bet she’s made some sort of bargain with you, about what you two will do when you know you’re running out of time. But I can promise you this: Sen will never admit it’s too late.”
She straightened slowly, wondering if this was about to become real trouble. The two Hunters were good friends. Eclipse might get the bright idea that he could save Mirage trouble by killing her.
But if he were going to do that, he wouldn’t have given her this kind of warning. Would he?
“Perhaps,” she said, keeping her own tone level. “We’ll see.”
Eclipse sighed in frustration. “It’s a virtue and a flaw; she won’t give up on something she thinks is important. It’s gotten her through some tight situations before. But I’ve always told her that one of these days she’ll commit herself to something impossible, and kill herself trying to do it. And I have a bad feeling that time’s come.”
Miryo wanted to argue that, but she held her tongue. Let him talk, she told herself. Find out how he feels about all of this.
“Void it,” he muttered, glaring at her, but more in irritation than anger. “I’m wasting my breath, aren’t I? You two are too much alike. You’re probably as damnfool stubborn as she is; you probably think of this as a challenge you can’t pass up. Well, it was worth a shot. I’d rather not see you both get killed.”
That was a sentiment Miryo couldn’t argue with. But still she stood quiet, waiting for the rest of it.
“I’ll be honest,” Eclipse said after a moment, his voice low. “If I had to choose between you two, I’d have Sen live. Of course I would; she’s been my friend for twelve years. But…” He growled under his breath. “Warrior’s teeth. I’d rather see her live. But I’d rather see you live than both of you die.”
It was helpful, but not enough. Miryo had to know what he was planning to do. “There’s one way out of this,” she said. “Have you thought about it?”
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Of course I have.”
Stiff silence. “And?”
The words came out of Eclipse slowly, grudgingly, but they came. “I’m not going to kill you.” He sat down on a saddlebag, lacing his hands together into a knot. “If only one of you is going to live, I’d rather it was her. But I won’t kill you to save her.”
Tension drained out of her shoulders. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said wryly.
He managed a grin. “She’d never forgive me if I did, anyway. Just… Void it. For once, admit when you’re in over your head, Heads, Both of you. Don’t you both die just because you won’t give up.”
“I don’t plan on it,” Miryo said. “But I won’t give up, either, not easily—you’re right about that. It’s too important.” She smiled briefly, without humor. “If we fought, Mirage would win. But I don’t know if we will. These days, I can hardly predict what I’m going to do, let alone her.”
She finally felt relaxed enough to sit down, and settled herself on one of the bedrolls Eclipse had laid out while she and Mirage were off playing with out-of-control spells. “I’m not going to waste time worrying about it right now, though,” she said, thinking about those spells. “Better to work on finding a solution.”
Eclipse sighed again at that. “You sound like Sen.”
“Well, we are the same person. Kind of.” Miryo cocked her head to one side, studying him. “It’s strange, though; I sort of know her, and I sort of really don’t. Would you be willing to talk?”
“About her?”
“You seem like you’re pretty good friends, and—I don’t know. I feel kind of strange, questioning her.” Miryo glanced off in the direction Mirage had gone, wondering how long her double would take bathing. “Or maybe another time.”
Eclipse shook his head. “No, she’s in a mood where she doesn’t want to deal with other people. She won’t be back for a half hour at least. I’d be happy to talk.” He gestured for her to sit on a log, and settled himself on the ground. “What do you want to know?”
Mirage ducked her head into the stream and held it there as long as she could before coming up for air. The cold water cooled her temper, even if it didn’t fix her skin.
She sat on her hands to avoid scratching them or her face and leaned her head against the tree at her back. Random muscles in her legs twitched: another side effect of the spell backfiring. She shuddered at the memory of the power sliding through her, pulsing in her blood. All those years saying I wasn’t a witch, and now look at me.