The Shining Falcon

Chapter XXlll The Feather

«But do you really have to leave?» wailed Vasilissa. Danilo smiled reassuringly. «My dear, Kotina's just a short ride away. If I leave tomorrow, I should be back in less than two days.»

«But why do you have to go, you yourself?»

«Don't you see?» said Maria. «By sending Father off to discuss business with the boyars of a vassal town, the prince is showing Father how much he trusts him. Lissa, it's as good as an out-and-out royal apology!»

Maria added wryly to herself, For whatever that's worth! But Vasilissa was still nervous, so Maria smiled reassuringly at her sister, and hid her own skepticism as best she could.

Thanks to a favorable wind, Finist reached Stargorod in less than two days, circling Danilo's estate by nightfall. When he was sure the household was lost in sleep, the prince, who'd been nervously preening his feathers, trying to plan, stretched his wings and searched for Maria's bedchamber. Here it was, a small, lovely thing, all soft carpets and floral wall paintings. Maria was alone in it, and sound asleep. Finist huddled on the sill like some timid sparrow, the sight of that sweet face relaxed in slumber almost more than he could bear. He dared go no closer lest he forget all sense, alter shape, and recklessly sweep her into his arms.

Damn! I'm acting like a little boy mooning over his first sweetheart!

He'd brought a regal caftan with him, elegant brocade, almost more weight than his falcon-shape could comfortably bear. And Finist hesitated, toying with the idea of appearing before Maria in sudden, princely splendor—

And she, not remarkably, screams at the sight of a stranger in her bedroom, and you have to scramble out the window like some idiot of a thief. Very clever.

Now what? He briefly considered waiting till day and boldly appearing before the family as himself, and only gradually introducing the tricky subject of magic. But that would take weeks, and he didn't dare be away from Kirtesk and his throne that long.

Reckless, romantic, Finist decided to introduce himself and his magic together directly to Maria. And so he sent a dream to her. Admittedly, it wasn't the most coherent of dreams; just then, it wasn't easy for him to coolly focus his will. But he sent an image of himself, and a message…

Maria smiled in her sleep and reached out an arm as though to Finist, and that almost finished his resolve. The prince felt his shape beginning to shift of its own accord, and firmly fixed it back into falcon-form, though he wasn't so sure he could hold it. The prince hastily flew out that window as desperately as though he was being pursued. Which in a way he was.

But did she get my message? And will she heed it?

He'd have to wait till morning to find out.

Danilo sat his horse well, looking brave and noble in his splendid riding clothes, he and his escort all bright colors and rich fabrics in the clear morning sunlight.

«A fine day for a ride to Kotina," said Maria cheerfully. «Enjoy it!»

«Thank you, child. Eh, don't fret, Lissa. I'll be back in a day, I promise.» He leaned forward in the saddle. «Come now, the two of you, tell me what presents you'd like from Kotina.»

Vasilissa smiled faintly. «Slippers," she said in a dreamy voice. «Golden dancing slippers, just like the ones I used to have. Before Alexei destroyed them.»

Hastily, Danilo cut in, «Of course, dear, and maybe a ruby brooch, too, to wear at your pretty neck. You'd like that, yes? Now, what about you, Maria?»

«Oh, Father! Just bring yourself back safely!»

«I plan to do just that!» he said with a laugh. «Come, pick something pretty for yourself, girl!»

But Maria hesitated, remembering… Feeling a little smile forming almost of its own accord, she murmured sheepishly, «This is silly, I know it, but I had a dream… Father, bring me one thing only: the feather of Finist the falcon.»

«A feather?» echoed Vasilissa. «Maria, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!»

«I said it was silly! And I can't explain it, Father, but that really is what I want—that, and the three of us back together here.»

«And both you shall have, child.» But Danilo muttered, so softly that Maria almost didn't hear him, «A falcon feather. Heaven help us, what next?»

Danilo never suspected he was shadowed by a falcon. He never suspected that the falcon was waiting patiently while he completed the brief, friendly, routine meetings with the boyars of Kotina. Business completed by midday, the man set off for the town's small rich market square. Kotina was noted for the mineral wealth in the nearby hills, and in only a short time, Danilo had purchased the promised ruby brooch and dancing slippers.

«But… a feather of Finist the falcon?» he muttered.

The bird-seller, a weatherbeaten man whose leathery skin was crossed and crisscrossed with faint white scars‑mementos from countless beaks and talons—stared at him blankly. «M'lord, I got all sorts a' birds here. Got pretty little singin' birds for the ladies, hawks for the gentles, even got an eagle. None of 'em got names, though.» His eyes were wary. «And ye said ye didn't want a whole bird, that it?»

Danilo sighed. «I want," he said, very carefully, «the feather of Finist the falcon. No more, no less. Can you help me?»

«Sorry, m'lord. Yer pardon, but I don't know what yer talkin' about.»

«Never mind, man. Good day.»

Danilo walked on, trying to ignore the curious stare following him, thinking dryly, He doesn't know what I'm talking about, eh? I don't know what I'm talking about!

By now he'd spoken to every dealer of birds in all of Kotina, and managed only to convince them all that the boyar must be quite out of his mind.

«Maria," Danilo murmured aloud, «I hate to disappoint you, but I think this 'Finist' of yours is nothing more than a fantasy!»

«Is it?» asked a harsh, crackling voice. «Is it indeed?»

The boyar whirled. Before him stood a bent, mysterious figure hidden completely in a hooded cloak that looked as though it had been hastily cobbled from every scrap of cloth in Kotina. «You know of Finist the falcon?» Danilo asked warily, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of the face hidden beneath that bizarre hood.

«Oh, I do, I do indeed! And here is his feather!»

Danilo gasped. The strange figure held out what had looked like a common bird's feather—until it caught the sunlight. Then—how it gleamed, shining bright silver, splendid as something from the forge of a master metal-smith. Stunned, the boyar let the gorgeous thing be put into his hand, hearing the figure give an odd, anxious little laugh.

«It is to be a present for your daughter—yes, I overheard you—a present for your daughter, Maria. Come, take it to her, the feather of Finist the falcon.»

«But the price — "

«No price! Take it home to your daughter as a gift from me!»

Danilo, bewildered, glanced down at the shining feather in his hand. But the sun had gone behind a cloud, and all the magical glow was gone. The boyar glanced quickly up again, with a cry of «Wait! Who are you?»

The stranger was already gone, vanished into the market crowd as though into thin air.

He had agonized long and hard over giving his daughter something that seemed so blatantly magical. But, Danilo decided reluctantly, he had promised her the feather of Finist the falcon. And the look on Maria's face, that compound of open amazement and sheer, delighted wonder, was almost worth all his doubts.

Vasilissa, cradling her father's presents in her arms, stared dubiously at Maria's prize. Now in shadow, it really did look like the drabbest of feathers. «Is that… thing what you really wanted, Maria?»

«Yes.» Maria didn't know why she'd said that; yet it was true. «Yes," the bemused young woman repeated, looking down at the feather. «Somehow I really think it is.»

Maria sent her well‑meaning but fussy servants away, and sat, alone, on the edge of her bed, still completely dressed for all that the hour was late, turning the silvery feather over and over in her hand, watching it glitter in the candlelight, shivering a little at this overlapping of dream and reality.

That dream… Maria couldn't remember all of it, only that there had been a mysterious young man in it, vaguely seen, yet strikingly handsome. In that odd, unquestioning way of the dreamer, she hadn't wondered about the fact that something her sleeping self had known to be magic had been shimmering about him most alarmingly. And yet she hadn't been alarmed.

Maria frowned, trying to remember details. His hair had been of a strange hue, so fair as to be nearly true silver, just the shade of this remarkable feather. And he'd said something to her… about seeking the feather of Finist the falcon.

Whomever or whatever that might be.

But his voice… There'd been something so oddly familiar about it, so teasingly familiar…

«Finn!» said Maria.

The dream-figure's voice had been Finn's. Maria reddened to think how handsome she'd dreamed him. And magical, too. But was it really only her imagination? It had all seemed so real, and— Oh, nonsense, dreams were nothing more than fantasies!

Were they? Then how explain the reality of this shining feather? And how explain her certainty that she was suddenly on the edge of wonder?

Poised just outside Maria's window in the warm spring night, Finist waited with ever‑mounting tension. Call it! he urged her silently. Oh, Maria, call my name!

There had been more to the dream, Maria remembered. Once she actually held the feather, she was supposed to call the name of the falcon. Bemused, the young woman turned the glinting feather over in her hand. «Finist?» she said tentatively. «Finist the falcon, I, uh, summon you.»

The unlatched shutters slammed open. A wild wind swirled through the room, pulling at her clothes and hair, tearing the feather from her hand. Maria bit back a scream as a falcon, a silvery falcon clutching a golden cloth in its talons, dove smoothly into the chamber. Once it circled the room, twice, three times, then came to a landing before the window. As Maria stared in disbelief and wonder, the gleaming form seemed to grow, to alter, though a sudden swirling of silver mist kept her from seeing what… Then the mist was gone, and the falcon with it. The shining-haired stranger of her dream stood before her, dressed in a most splendid caftan of gold-worked silk. For a moment, they regarded each other in silence. Then

Maria recovered her senses enough to gasp, «Who are you?»

The stranger swept down in a deep, courtly bow. «Why, Finist the falcon, of course," he told her, and smiled.