She passed the book to Arinei, who had held out a peremptory hand for it. The Fire Prime scanned the pages quickly, obviously not attending much to the details of her predecessor’s machinations. “Oh. I remember this. Her Ray was run by her Keys in the interim.”
“Under the supervision of the remaining Primes,” Satomi said. “Which is what we would do, as well. We have to make certain Shimi won’t begin trying to use her subordinates as tools for her personal crusade, and also to ensure that the rest of the world won’t see her actions as sanctioned by Starfall.”
Arinei’s head shot up at the words. “We’d make this
public
!”
“How can we not?” Koika asked. “We can’t be sure what Shimi might do, so we’ve got to take steps to keep it from reflecting badly on us. At the very least we ought to tell the Lords.”
“The Lords,” Arinei said icily, “are
my
concern, last time I checked.”
Territorial squabbles were something they could not afford right now. “No one’s arguing that, Arinei,” Satomi said, spreading her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “But in your position, surely you can see the necessity. The information need not go past the Lords at present, and I’m confident you can convince them of that. It seems apparent, though, that Shimi might decide to take radical action, and that will
not
be the time to begin telling the rest of the world that we didn’t sanction it. We’d look like we were trying to cover our mistakes.”
“Fine,” Arinei said, biting the word off. She snapped the book shut for emphasis. “We suspend her, then.”
“If the suspension should prove
not
to be temporary,” Koika said. “Then what?”
Satomi had another book in front of her with the answer to that, but she deemed it better not to trot it out just yet. She didn’t want Arinei accusing her of anticipating just that outcome, and judging by the tense muscles in the woman’s neck, she was in that kind of mood. “The precedents for that are even older,” she said, leaving it deliberately vague. “But aside from the formality of removal, the process is as it always is, for choosing a new Prime.”
“Out of the Keys,” Rana said thoughtfully, leaning forward and propping her chin on one hand. “Naji, Hassei, or Ashin.”
Koika had been glancing at the remaining books; Satomi wondered if she suspected the relevant volume was in the stack. “Naji was the presumed successor,” she said, turning her attention back to the circle of her fellow Primes. “But we might want to consider Ashin now, given that she’s one of the ones who wanted the doppelgangers to live in the first place.”
“I see we’re condemning Shimi in advance,” Arinei said acidly.
“That
wasn’t
what I meant—”
“We need,” Satomi cut in, before Koika could further feed Arinei’s desire for an argument, “to have a conference with the Air Keys as soon as possible. In person, that is. Ashin is traveling back to Starfall; she should be here in about five days.”
Koika considered it. “We can’t wait that long on the censure, though.”
“No. We should carry
that
out this afternoon. We’ll gather the Keys of all Rays and any Air witches currently at Starfall in the ruling hall, make the declaration—there’s a script for it; I’ll give you copies—and the Air Keys can send word out to all the witches of their respective Paths. The end of the declaration is a spell that will suspend Shimi’s power and authority as Prime. We will meet to perform that when the bells chime Light.” It was now an hour shy of Mid; that would allow them seven hours to prepare. She did not expect to need that much, but Arinei was prickly already; Satomi wanted to avoid indecent rush.
When the other Primes had nodded their agreement—grudgingly, in Arinei’s case, but she did nod—Satomi turned to Rana. “On to other matters, then. Have you spoken with Obura?”
The Water Prime nodded, her lined face showing relief at the change of subject. “She’s—well, not confused, exactly, but this will be her third daughter. She’s very used to the old way of doing things.”
“She’ll just have to adjust,” Koika said, not sounding at all sympathetic. The Earth Prime lacked Satomi’s zeal for the new way, but once she had decided to accept it, her mind was quite set.
“Make certain she understands what to do,” Satomi said to Rana. “It isn’t very complicated. She simply needs to present her daughter to the Goddess
before
beginning the ritual to create the channel for magic. As I understand it, everything after that will be the same.”
“Except the bit where she kills the doppelganger,” Koika added. Her light tone offset the bluntness of her words.
Satomi smiled ruefully. “Except that. Both children will live, the witch-child with the capacity for magic and the doppelganger-child without. They will share one soul, since she’s exposed them to starlight and the Goddess’s eyes, and we will raise them both until it’s time for them to come back together.”
Rana sighed and brushed her hair from her eyes with one knobbly hand. It trembled slightly, and Satomi realized that Obura was not the only one with fear. “Yes, but try to see it from her point of view. She’s been told all her life that under no circumstances should she allow her daughter anywhere near starlight until
after
the ritual. She feels like we’re telling her to throw her daughter into the fire, it’s all right, fire isn’t hot like everyone always said it was.”
“Just keep reassuring her. Everything will be all right. She will see. And she will be the first witch since Misetsu with the opportunity to know both of her daughters—both halves of her daughter.” Satomi clicked her tongue in exasperation. “However you want to say it. This is an honor for Obura.” Pregnant witches throughout the domains would soon follow in her footsteps. Change would be slow—these children had to grow to adulthood before the difference would really be felt—but it would happen.
Standing, the Water Prime nodded. “Are we finished?”
“Let’s meet an hour after High, to make sure we’re prepared for the ritual. But yes, other than that, we can adjourn.”
Arinei was gone almost before Satomi’s words were finished, the heavy wooden door thunking back into place behind her with unnecessary force. Rana followed her, still looking concerned for Obura. Koika gathered her notes, and spoke quietly to Satomi as she did.
“You’ll want to keep an eye on Arinei.”
“Yes.” Satomi sighed, trying to release her frustration. “She’s afraid we’re being unfair to Shimi.”
“I think there may be more to it than that.” Notes tucked into the crook of one arm, Koika looked at the door as if seeing through it to where Arinei strode through the halls. “I’m not sure what else, but I’m certain there
is
something.” She shrugged apologetically to Satomi. “I don’t read human body language as well as deer.”
Satomi stood and gripped the Earth Prime’s arm. “Deer and other things of nature are your province.”
“But we can’t afford to ignore each other’s provinces. As you knew when you took the north office.”
The Void Prime nodded. “Let me know if you hear anything—from witches of your Ray or others, or even Cousins—that seems important.”
“I will,” Koika said.
When word came, however, it came not from Koika, but from Naji, the Key of the Air Heart. And it was not good.
Naji stood on the tiled floor before Satomi’s desk not long after the bells chimed Mid, her normally serene face animated by distress. “I didn’t know who else to tell. You’re not my Prime, Aken, but—” Her hands spread, helplessly. “It’s an internal matter. Therefore Void business. And I thought it best to come straight to you.”
Satomi stood up from her chair and came around to guide Naji into a seat. “You’re sure it was a sending to the
entire
Air Ray?”
“Yes,” Naji said, and the implication—unintended on Satomi’s part, but useful for its effect—that she might not know her own business well enough to tell the difference had the benefit of focusing her. “She sent to us all, just before Mid.”
“Let me get pen and paper,” Satomi said, and returned briefly to her desk. “All right. Now tell me, as precisely as you can recall, what Shimi said.”
Naji let out a slow breath, eyes closed, to center herself. Her memory was excellent, once she calmed down enough to use it; it served her well, as head of the administrative Path of her Ray. “ ‘I send this to you, my daughters, so that at least one-fifth of Starfall may know the truth. The creature calling itself Mirei is an abomination. Misetsu, our holy ancestor, blessed of the Goddess, learned through painful experience the truth of the doppelgangers, and in her wisdom she established the tradition we follow to this day. The abomination among us has performed feats that may dazzle, but they cannot last. If we join our daughters to the dross they were meant to discard, who knows what misfortunes they will suffer? We must not follow this dangerous path. I beg you, my daughters, to trust in the wisdom of our predecessors. Do not fall into this trap. My fellow Primes, blinded by these tricks, will tell you not to heed me, but I hold fast to what we know to be true.’ ”
Satomi listened to the recitation with detached, bitter admiration.
Well played, Shimi. You kept your Nalochkan sympathies in check, and stressed themes that will strike a chord with a wider audience. I might wish you were less competent at your job
.
“Thank you,” she said to Naji. “You were very right to bring this to my attention. I was about to send you a message myself, you and Hassei both, and Ashin on the road. You have heard that Shimi is gone from Starfall, and why?” The Heart Key nodded. “The Primes decided this morning to suspend Shimi’s authority over your Ray, pending a resolution of this issue. Unfortunately, it seems we haven’t moved fast enough. This sending is exactly the kind of problem we wished to prevent.”
Naji had regained most of her composure, although her fingers still twisted in her skirt. “What should I tell my Path?”
“That we will be addressing them in the ruling hall at High.” They could move up the preparations for the ritual. “Every Air witch currently at Starfall is required to attend. Absence will be treated harshly.” And it might not be a bad idea to send immediate word to the Cousins who watched the roads out of Starfall, to detain any witch who attempted to leave. No sense allowing Shimi any more supporters than necessary.
“Would you like me to tell Hassei?”
“No, I’ll tell her myself. And Ashin. Just inform your Path.” Only Shimi could deliver a sending to all Air witches at once, as a function of her authority as Prime, but the three Keys together could achieve the same effect, by sending to each of their Paths. That would be useful, once the Air Prime was suspended.
Naji nodded, rose, bowed, and left, and Satomi went instantly to work, notifying everyone involved that they would be stripping Shimi of her authority sooner than expected, before she could do more harm.
By the time the bells chimed High, everyone had gathered. Outside, the noon sun beat down on the buildings of Starfall, but little of that warmth and light penetrated the ruling hall. Five heavy thrones sat in a row on a dais, each dominated by the banner that hung above and behind, stitched in the colors and symbols of each Elemental Ray. They faced rows of benches divided by an aisle; the aisle itself was paved with the worn, nearly illegible grave slabs of early Primes.
Four of the thrones were filled; the last, under its white and silver Air banner, was conspicuously empty.
The benches were well populated, and at the front of their ranks were chairs for the fifteen Keys, eleven of which were filled. Not all of the figures seated in those chairs were physically present, though. A few Keys, Ashin among them, were away from Starfall, but had been notified in time to perform the complex spell that sent projections of their images here. Had they waited until Light, as originally planned, they would likely have had all fifteen. Satomi wondered if her decision for haste had been the right one.
All of the Air witches currently at Starfall were present. None of them had tried to leave, but three others had—one each from the Void, Water, and Fire Rays. Word had spread rapidly from the Air witches to the rest of Starfall. No doubt it was doing the same out in the other fourteen domains of the land. But they could do nothing about that at present, save what they were already carrying out.
Satomi addressed the gathered witches, outlining the situation in clear, bare terms. Hardly anyone even shifted in her seat as she detailed Shimi’s actions. When done, she rose to stand in front of her throne, black banner at her back, and spoke into the tense silence of the hall.
“What affects one branch of our people affects all,” she said. “From the Earth to the Void, the Elements interrelate, and so, too, do the realms of our concern. The actions taken by one witch have repercussions for her sister.
“On this day, we gather to consider the actions of Shimi.”
The other Primes stood up from their seats. Koika went first, as protocol dictated. “Shimi has undermined the foundations of Starfall, at a time when we need them to be strong. For this, we censure her.”
Then Rana. This was not the spell itself, but it was just as ritualized as if it had been. “Shimi has refused to bend to the consensus of the Primes, who have agreed upon the best path for Starfall. For this, we censure her.”
Finally Arinei. It felt awkward and off; there should have been another voice between Water and Fire. Satomi had not realized how accustomed she was to the rhythms of their rituals until it was disrupted. Always it was five Primes, five Elements, five components to everything they said. Even raising a new Prime involved five, the four incumbents and the newcomer. The imbalance created by the loss of one was palpable.