Marie Brennan: Doppelganger

The fury on Ice’s face was profoundly satisfying. Official commissions were rare enough that receiving one was an honor; as far as he knew, she hadn’t been offered one yet, in seven years out of Thornblood. This would be his first as well, but the second for Mirage.

Across the table, Mirage’s expression was incredulous. Eclipse was pleased by the delight in her eyes; this was, he well knew, the answer to her complaints of boredom and inactivity. Commissions were always difficult, always a challenge.

He just hoped she wouldn’t kill him when she found out who had ordered the job.

Ice was still apoplectic. “Who’s it from?” she growled at last.

He pulled the scroll away when she tried to reach for it. “Uh-uh,” he admonished her, waving one finger in her face. “Authorized Hunters only. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait with everyone else to find out what we’re up to.” He tucked the scroll back into his pouch. Once he got Mirage alone, he’d tell her more.

Mirage had smoothed her expression by the time Ice looked at her. She smiled at the Thornblood. “Don’t worry, Ice,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll get your turn—some day.”

That, coming from a Hunter two years her junior, was too much for the Thornblood. Growling, Ice turned and stormed out of the alehouse.

As soon as she was gone, Mirage leaned forward. “When were you planning on telling me about this ?”

Eclipse shrugged uncomfortably. “I was about to say something when she showed up. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to trap you into it.”

“Trap me? As if I’d turn a commission down ?”

He stood to hide his discomfort. “Come on. Let’s go someplace more private to talk.”

Midsummer tradition in Chervie meant that no one cooked and ate at home if they could afford not to, which meant that everybody with two coins to rub together was eating somewhere in the city’s public quarters. Prices skyrocketed, and space at tables, along counters, and under awnings became harder to come by than fresh fruit in winter. Mirage had to pay through the nose for a small, private dining room in a place called the Garden of Bells. It was more like a private closet than a whole room, but the Garden’s architecture was copied from an eastern style; the fretwork walls would be very cold in Chervie’s northern winters, but on this summer day it was pleasantly cool. Besides, there was nowhere for an eavesdropper to hide.

Normally she wouldn’t have dreamed of paying the cost, but she was starving, the Garden had good food, and the commission was sure to pay enough that she could indulge a bit. “So, what will we be doing?” she asked her year-mate once the maid bringing in the roast pheasant and fruit had departed.

Eclipse looked uneasy.

Mirage put her fork down and gave him a sharp look. “What is it?”

By way of response, he pulled the scroll out again and rolled it across the table to her. Mirage picked it up and froze.

The seal was pressed into black wax flecked with silver—a color only one group of people used. And the sigil itself, a triskele knot intersecting a circle, would be instantly recognizable to even the most illiterate of peasants.

It was the symbol of the witches.

Mirage set the scroll down carefully and looked across at Eclipse. “This is from Starfall.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

Mirage stood and walked to the fretwork wall, putting her hands against it. Behind her she could hear him shift uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to,” he said at last. “No matter what we said to Ice. Everyone knows you stay away from witches; everyone would understand if you turned it down. Everyone who matters, anyway.”

More silence. Mirage closed her eyes. “What do they want?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

“How did you get it?”

“Jaguar. A Void Hand witch brought the scroll to him; he chose me to take it on.”

Jaguar’s not stupid , Mirage thought. He knew Eclipse would pick me as his second .

What’s his motive?

“A Void witch,” she said, turning away from the wall at last. “Then it’s an internal issue.”

Eclipse nodded. “Which might explain why they’re hiring Hunters. They may not trust their own people to be impartial.”

Mirage returned to the table and picked up the scroll. A commission from the witches. I wanted a new challenge, but not from them .

“If you’re uncomfortable…” Eclipse began again.

Mirage broke the seal with her thumb and unrolled the scroll- Now she was committed; it was a hanging offense for such a message to be read by an unauthorized person. So absorbed was she in fighting down her irrational surge of uneasiness, she almost did not notice Eclipse rising to read over her shoulder.

The message was short, and brutally to the point.

“No wonder they wanted the insurance of two Hunters,” Eclipse breathed into her ear. “Although what the Key of the Fire Heart Path was doing out where she could be assassinated escapes me.”

“Damn them to Void ,” Mirage growled, flinging the scroll across the room. Surge of uneasiness, my ass . It had been a spell settling into place. “They’ve enchanted us against speaking of it.”

“Do you blame them?” Eclipse asked.

“No.” She sighed and pressed her hands against her eyes.

Her fellow Hunter crossed the floor and picked up the scroll once more. “Blank.”

No more than I expected .

“This could mean trouble,” he said reluctantly.

“Trouble!” didn’t come close to describing the possible outcome, and they both knew it. The commission, before it had faded, had commanded them not only to Hunt the assassin, but also to seek out whoever had been behind the task. And only someone very powerful could afford to pay for the death of such a high-ranking witch.

“If we call Hunt on a Lord or Lady…”

Mirage would have preferred him to leave it unspoken. “They may not ask for that. The witches may prefer to take care of payback themselves.”

“From your lips to the Warrior’s heart,” Eclipse murmured.

Grim silence followed his prayer, before Mirage rose to her feet. “Well. We’re instructed to present ourselves in Corberth before the full moon. We’ve just enough time to make it. Unless you want to be late?”

“Not on your life,” Eclipse said.

They made miserable time on the road south. Rain pursued them through Abern and into the mountains of Seach, turning the road into a sea of mud the horses sank into; this was not one of the Great Roads, graveled and graded and maintained by the Lady who ruled the domain. Mirage, hunched in her cloak as Mist picked her way along, wondered if she would ever dry out again.

“Tell me again,” Eclipse said, “why we picked Silver-foe.”

“It sounded glamorous,” Mirage said wryly. “Life on the road. Not tied down to any one place. Adventures! Excitement!”

“Mud. Rain. I should have been a Cloudhawk.”

“Ah, what a life,” Mirage said in a mock-wistful tone. “Pampered and petted, some Lord’s kept spy. You might never have set foot on the road, might have traveled in a carriage.”

There was a brief pause. Then Eclipse snorted. “I would’ve ended up killing someone out of sheer frustration.”

“As would we all,” Mirage replied, referring to her brothers and sisters of Silverfire. “I hate this Void-damned rain, but I wouldn’t trade it for a life bonded to one employer. I’d be even more bored then. At least as a freelance Hunter there’s variety.”

More silence from Eclipse. The reply hung in the air anyway: But Cloudhawks never work for witches .