Marie Brennan - Doppelganger

The chanted line stopped Miryo’s heart. Shimi looked across at her with eyes like chips of palest blue ice; the woman’s expression was antagonistic as she addressed the Void Prime in a monotone.

Was this what Ashin feared?

“This student is not fit for testing. She must not be allowed to continue.”

“Shimi-kane,” Miryo responded before she could think, “the Keys passed me in the primary testing.”

The Air Prime gave her a frosty look. “They are Keys, and not Primes.” She continued to speak in a single tone; Miryo had unconsciously echoed it. The music was the framework of the ritual, and despite this interruption—her heart skipped another beat in horror—it must not be broken entirely.

“That may be so,” she said as steadily as she could. “But the Law of this Hall states that a student who has succeeded in the initial testing is eligible for the final stage. You may not agree with their decision, but the Law grants me the right nevertheless.”

“The Law is not supreme. I am the Prime of the Air Ray; I have the power to alter it.”

Arinei broke in now. “Sister, do you challenge a Prime?”

Miryo’s jaw worked up and down a few times. Contradicting a Prime was unthinkable—but she couldn’t let Shimi destroy her chances! “Arinei-nayo, my apologies, but the Law gives me the right to undergo this testing, and I cannot allow that to be taken from me. I have not come this far to give up.”

“As my sister says, it is within the power of a Prime to alter the Law.”

“But is now the time to do it?” Miryo shot back. “The ritual has started. It should be finished.”

“It is not the place of a student to dictate policy to us, candidate,” Koika said in a frigid voice.

Miryo spun to the north to face the Earth Prime, then bowed her head at the rebuke. “I understand, Chashi. But I will not back down from what I believe is right.”

“Even though it may bring more trouble than you expect? Even supposing you pass the ritual, I fear my sister may never accept you. You build difficulties for yourself, candidate.”

“I hardly expect every witch of the sisterhood to view me as a friend, Koika-chashi.” Miryo lifted her chin. “If I cause trouble with authority, so be it; better that than to relinquish my convictions.”

“Why do you wish to continue?”

The question, almost whispered in the chant all the Primes and Miryo were continuing to use, echoed fleetingly around the crossing. Miryo shifted to look at Rana.

“If I may be blunt, Rana-mari, I have not spent all twenty-five years of my life studying for nothing.”

“You may die.”

That short declaration made Miryo’s skin crawl. She remembered what little had been left of Hinusoka when the ritual was done, and the other students who had not survived. Her fate might be like that. Or worse.

“Perhaps, Mari,” she said quietly. “I am willing to take that chance.”

“The Goddess smiles; the ritual continues. The sister, the daughter, the student, the candidate; she has been tried, and not found wanting.”

What—oh, Misetsu and Menukyo, the ritual—that was it, port of it—all a test —

“Let the testing continue,” the other four Primes sang in response to Satomi, in melody once again. “Will you begin?”

Miryo just barely remembered her own part. “I stand ready for Earth. May the Goddess as Crone be at my side, and lend me determination.”

The Hall disappeared.

A crushing, lethal pressure was on Miryo—not physically; there was no physical element to this, but it was nevertheless horribly real and present, moving inward, forcing the life out of her. Its strength was terrifying. Miryo shoved back reflexively, trying to fight against the deadly attack.

Determination. Strength. Attributes of Earth —

Miryo braced herself, no longer trying to push the pressure back, merely concentrating on holding her own. It made the heaviest burden she’d ever shouldered feel light.

Goddess, Crone, I’m not strong enough —

That defeated thought sparked a sudden reaction in her; perversely, it made her that much less willing to give in. Eikyo had been right. I made it this far; I’m bloody well not going to give up now . She hardened her focus even more—

The pressure vanished. The Hall reappeared.

“I have mastered Earth,” Miryo sang unevenly, her voice barely able to render the response. “Its strength is mine.”

“The Crone smiles,” sang Koika. Did she look pleased? Impossible to tell; the Primes were all impassive.

“Let the testing continue.”

Miryo was not ready. She wanted nothing more than a moment to catch her breath, to recover from the ordeal of Earth. But she feared that any hesitation might undo her, might allow the terror to take control.

“I stand ready for Water,” she sang before the doubts could rise up further. “May the Goddess as Mother be at my side, and lend me flexibility.”

The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the Hall went away.

A fierce wind sprang up, seeking to rend her apart, to snap her in half. Miryo felt like a tree in a hurricane-force gale. Trees—they broke in storms, they were too stiff. She tried to bend with the wind.

She couldn’t make it work. Like a tree, with its grained wood, she could not give way. The wind increased in force, and Miryo felt pain, as though her spine would snap, her branches break off.

Mother, Goddess of Water. I know what I should do — these tests are, in a way, straightforward — but I can’t do it !

Slowly, painfully, she relaxed the nonphysical part of herself, moving in the direction the wind drove her. Be a willow, not an oak . It was working. The Goddess was with her.

“I have mastered Water,” Miryo sang when the Hall was once more in her vision. “Its flexibility is mine.”

“The Mother smiles,” Rana sang. Two Primes had passed her; leaving three. And then—

Don’t think about that .

“Let the testing continue.”

“I stand ready for Air. May the Goddess as Bride be at my side, and lend me clarity.”

This time Miryo was assaulted, not by a wind, but by an unreal barrage of—she could not put a word to it. Ideas, images, sounds, all flocked around her, flashing back and forth too rapidly to be comprehended, blurring into a demented collage, a howling demon of chaos.

It began to erode her sanity.

Like studying — information — all those bits and pieces — all at once — too many to control !

The torrent continued. Miryo fought to put the thoughts into order, to force them into some kind of sanity; she fought and failed. Her own mental balance was rapidly disappearing beneath the onslaught.

I have to stay calm!

She felt a scream building in her gut, fought it back. She could not make a sound. It was forbidden to do so, except in the responses. Not just for discipline; any extraneous noise could disrupt the power of the ritual. The wrong sound could be death.

This and a thousand other thoughts flew past in a maddening flood.

And then it was over. Miryo drew a deep breath. “I have mastered Air. Its clarity is mine.” Or so I hope. Misetsu’s faith — that was closer than I would have liked .

Shimi appeared to find her performance good enough. “The Bride smiles.”

“Let the testing continue.”

She feared this one more than all the rest—all the rest save Void. Singing the next lines took more courage than she could have imagined. “I stand ready for Fire. May the Goddess as Maiden be at my side, and lend me courage.”

Frigid chill. And a wind, again, this time bringing the ice of the far norm, like a blast of air off a snow-covered mountain peak. Miryo’s first instinct was to curl in on herself, pull her insubstantial body into a ball, but it did no good; there was no shelter.