Warrior and Witch (43 page)

I wanted to believe it wasn’t one of mine
, she realized.
I wanted Koika to do the search because I knew I couldn’t be impartial. I wanted to believe it was someone from outside my Ray
.

But the divisions among the witches had not gone by Ray boundaries. More Air and Fire witches had left than Void, it was true, but there were some from every Ray on both sides. And by staying, and appearing to be loyal, Rigai had put herself in a position to betray them all.

“Get rid of the body,” Satomi said in a low voice. Cousins moved forward to take the corpse from the bed. She left before they did, and went away to vent her rage in private.

Ashin’s funeral took place that night.

Satomi presided over it. Ashin’s own Prime should have done so, but her Prime had been responsible for her death—a fact that no one would soon forget.

Witches gathered in Star Hall, arranging themselves in the branches for their Rays, with the witches of the Void circling the dais. Looking out over them, Satomi could see the splintering of her people, laid out before her. Some branches of the hall were emptier than others. Many faces were missing, that should have been there.

Rigai was one of the missing. She had not yet decided what to announce on that matter.

But now was not the time to think about that. This ritual was to honor Ashin’s courage, and the sacrifice Rigai had forced her to make.

Satomi’s eyes lingered briefly on two small figures. Most of the students were at the far back of each branch, choosing whichever of the four they preferred, but these two were up front, because Ashin had been their mother. Sharyo and Indera, with identical closed expressions, neither of them willing to show a reaction in front of everyone else.

Mirei was present, standing just behind the remaining Air Keys. Kekkai was not. No one would want to see her here tonight.

Satomi took a deep breath, then spoke into the crystalline silence of the hall.

“Before us lies the body of Ashin, daughter of Yukin. She was a woman of Starfall; she was a witch of the Ray of Air, and the Key of the Path of the Hand. In following the Element of Air, she served the people of the land, wherever she might lend aid. In leading the Path of the Hand, she carried out the tasks of her Ray.

“We honor her tonight.”

“
Honor to the name of Ashin
,” the assembled women murmured, their voices whispering off the surrounding stone.

Facing the western arm of the hall, where the light cast its fiery glow on the figures below, Satomi bowed, then spread her hands wide in supplication. “Maiden, Youngest of Five, the beginnings of life: We beseech thee grant thy blessing to Ashin, whose journey through life began with thee.”

“We ask this, Maiden, of thee.”

Next the south, all silver-white. Another bow, another prayer. “Bride, Second of Five, the joining of one life with another: We beseech thee grant thy blessing to Ashin, who loved others in her journey through life.”

“We ask this, Bride, of thee.”

The east, with the soothing blues of Water. “Mother, Third of Five, the granting of new life: We beseech thee grant thy blessing to Ashin, who birthed a daughter on her journey through life.” One daughter, or two? She had wrestled with the question for hours. The two shared a single soul, and in the end, that had decided her.

“We ask this, Mother, of thee.”

The north, the final arm of the hall, green and amber with the colors of Earth. “Crone, Eldest of Five, the dwindling of life: We beseech thee grant thy blessing to Ashin, who sought your wisdom on her journey through life.”

“We ask this, Crone, of thee.”

Finally the part of the ceremony that had always seemed an afterthought, necessary for the sake of completeness, necessary because of the theology they could not simply ignore. Tonight it carried weight that it never had before.

Satomi tilted her head back and addressed her words to the space where the hall’s crossing had once soared, the clear air that stood between her and the stars. “Warrior, Alone of Five, the ending of life: We beseech thee grant thy blessing to Ashin. Let her spirit not be lost to the emptiness forever. Guide her soul through the blackness of the Void, so that it may be born again on the other side, to begin her journey anew.”

“We ask this, Warrior, of thee.”

Turning to face the silk-draped platform that stood on the bier, Satomi stretched her hands out. “The spirit is gone. The flesh remains. With the Maiden’s Fire, we shall burn away the Mother’s water. When the Crone’s Earth is all that persists, then let it be scattered to the Air of the Bride, in whose service Ashin dedicated her life. Her soul is with the Warrior now.”

The spell was not a complex one. She sang it slowly, turning the practicality of pitches and vowels into a work of art, sustained by her voice with all the care she could give. The power swirled to her, gentle and obedient, and with the final note she released it into its home. The fabric ignited, and then the body beneath; fueled by magic, the fire did not take long. Satomi remained on the dais the entire time, refusing to retreat from the scorching heat.

When it died down, only a pile of ash remained.

Satomi sang again, with as much care as the first time. The wind arose from the southern arm of the hall, sweeping up toward the dais, swirling about in a loop to carry the ash upward, past the shattered ribs of the crossing and into the night sky. To where the eyes of the Goddess looked down on them all, and welcomed Ashin home.

Chapter Nineteen

Mirei looked from Hyoka to Nenikune, then back again, trying and failing to read their expressions. “So this is killing me.”

“Not
killing
you,” Hyoka said hastily. Nenikune cast a look at her that suggested the healer disagreed.

“Hurting me, then.”

Nenikune turned away from Hyoka and sighed. “Say that it’s… putting a
strain
on you. On your body. One that is growing quite serious, and could, over time… cause you great harm.”

“In other words, kill me.”

“When you cast that spell,” Hyoka said, retreating into her intellectual voice, “you’re sending your body and spirit into the Void. The Void threatens dissolution; that is its
nature
. Every time you cross over into it, you’re—that was a good word for it, Nenikune. You’re putting a
strain
on your body, and its ability to hold together. Which is manifesting as headaches, nausea, faintness, and so on. I think the effect is worse when you bring others with you. They can’t protect themselves against it, so you have to do it for them.”

They were alone in the infirmary room, with the door closed; of course the two witches did not want anyone overhearing this conversation. Mirei’s fingers drummed a rapid rhythm on her knees. It made her think of Ashin, singing in the Bear’s Claw, and she stopped. “Do I recover from that damage?”

“We can’t tell,” Nenikune said tartly. “You haven’t stopped for long enough.”

“But we think you might.” Again, Hyoka was quick to reassure her. “It does mean, however, that you should avoid casting the spells in anything like quick succession.”

Mirei gave her an ironic look. “Which puts any further research sessions right out of the question.” Not to mention that those sessions had helped put her in this state in the first place, sending her back and forth in the translocation room simply so the theorists could stare at her. If this damage was something she could heal, then she didn’t mind—too much. If it was permanent, then she’d frittered away most of her potential in pointless experimentation.

She took a deep breath to quash that fear. “Is it just the translocation? Or is it all Void magic?”

An exchange of glances between the two witches. “We can’t be sure,” Hyoka said, reluctantly. “Since we’re incapable of perceiving that energy ourselves, it’s hard to guess what it might be doing to you. Or even what it
is
—to be honest, Mirei, I can’t even wrap my mind around the notion of a power associated with something whose very essence is nonexistence. I can say with confidence, though, that if there’s any negative effect from casting spells that use such power, it’s a drop in the rainstorm compared to what moving through the Void does to you.”

“Wonderful.” Mirei leaned forward in her chair and propped her elbows on her knees. The floor beneath her shoes was warm, heated by spells that helped take away what sting the southern winter had. Her mind focused on that, irrelevantly. Magic built of Fire and Air, magic that did no harm to the women who cast it.

Did you expect your miracle to have no price ?

Mirei straightened up, grateful for once that she had a schedule. If she couldn’t translocate, then both research and diplomatic missions were ruled out, but she still had the doppelgangers to deal with. And Eclipse to worry about. It gave her something to concentrate on other than the possibility of her own degeneration. “Thank you for telling me. Does Satomi know yet?”

“We wanted to tell you first,” Hyoka said. “But we’ll be meeting with her later today.”

“Don’t bother,” Mirei said. “I’ll go talk to her myself.”

Satomi cursed with a fluency Mirei didn’t think she had.

“They say I may recover, if I hold off on translocating for a while,” Mirei added, as a tiny balm for the bad news.

“We don’t
have
a while,” Satomi growled, rising to her feet and taking quick, restless strides to the window. “I was going to send you back out, this time to the Hunter schools.”