The Shining Falcon

Chapter XXVI Games

«Ain't right. Ain't right at all.»

Alexei, late of Stargorod's nobility, now as torn and filthy as any other bandit, glared at the man who'd spoken. «Now what's wrong?»

«Ain't right, cuttin' down a good, healthy tree like this. They won't like it.»

«What superstitious rubbish are you — " Alexei glanced around at the others, and swore under his breath to see them, all these ruthless, murderous men, afraid of—fairy tales. «They let you live here, don't They?» he said with heavy sarcasm.

«Sure, because They don't care what we do to people, They don't care about people, only the forest! But They — "

«All right, spare me the lecture! Just cut down the damned tree, and on my head be the guilt!»

More than impatience lay behind Alexei's outburst. In the days he had been trying to lead this ridiculous excuse for an outlaw band, their fear or mistrust or sheer, stupid stubbornness had effectively checked every move he'd attempted to make. He had tried and tried to convince them that this skulking about in the underbrush wasn't the way to fortune, that if they only showed him the way out of here, the road to some city—other than Stargorod, of course—he would have them wealthy in no time. But the damned fools were afraid! They had skulked out here for so long, preying on the occasional farmer, that the thought of possibly coming up against a city's trained guards made them whimper like puppies.

If only I could forget the whole thing, Alexei fumed. These oafs were stupid and boring and at the same time so unpredictably quick to take offence, dangerous as so many mindless bulls. And they stank. Akh, so did he by now, for that matter! The thought of a hot bath, clean clothes … If only I could get away from them. I'd be better off trying to find my own way out of here!

He could simply up and abandon them—and wouldn't they take kindly to that? These would-be bandits might be idiots, but they would have no scruples at all about slaughtering anyone they thought a traitor. And there was never a time when he was alone, never a time when he could simply slip away and forget they existed—

That wasn't the whole of it. Granted, he'd only been their leader for a short time, but already they were getting restless, waiting for him to prove himself, to lead them to the treasure he'd promised, and even his most logical arguments about treasure being found only in cities didn't move them. If he didn't produce, and soon… Alexei glanced about at the rough, hard-eyed lot of them, and fought back a shudder.

«All right," he said once more. «We all know there's a merchant's party that's going to be riding through this part of the forest, yes? Merchants carry gold. Agreed?»

«Yeah, but he's got soldiers with him, lots of 'em!»

Alexei bit back an impatient oath. «We've been through this before! Cut down that tree, block their path, attack them from the shelter of the underbrush—they'll be down before they can figure out who's attacking them!»

Yes, added Alexei to himself, and if it doesn't work, if those soldiers manage instead to massacre my gallant band, why then, I become not the bandit chieftain, but a bandits' captive, as noble and refined as can be, and oh-so-grateful for the rescue‑If only I can get these idiots to cut down the damned tree!

Desperate, raging, he snatched an axe from one gape‑mouthed fool and started hacking away at it himself, with more vigor than skill. The others stood, staring, presumably waiting for some forest ogre to rend him limb from limb. But when nothing happened other than Alexei showering them all with flying chips of wood, someone took the axe from him and began silently, and more efficiently, to finish the job.

The falcon, its wings bright in the sunlight, flew, radiant with delight, now and again making sweeping loops in the sky for sheer joy.

She loves me, she loves me, she loves me!

But after a time, reality intruded into his euphoria, and Finist sighed, and circled over forest till he'd found a clearing that held a small, clear pool within it, then swooped down for a landing. «Forest, forgive the intrusion once more," he remembered to say, both aloud and with psychic emphasis. «I shan't be here very long.»

It was probably just as well. Head up, listening to elusive sounds that were just beyond anything physical, Finist frowned, warily letting feathers begin to re-form. The forest was angry at someone, no mistaking that restless stirring, dangerously angry…

But after a moment he nodded, relieved. Although the forest had become instantly aware of his magical presence, that strange, inhuman anger wasn't directed at him, so for now, at least, he could ignore it. The little lake was so clear he could see its pebbly bottom, so still it was as fine as any man‑crafted mirror, and Finist set about his work.

«Semyon. Can you hear me?»

The old boyar, his image clear on the surface of the pool, started. «My Prince! How—ah—how goes it?»

«Oh, well, Semyon! Well indeed!»

«Really!» Semyon beamed. «Is it all settled, then? And so quickly! Will you and she be returning together, or — "

«Hey now, not so fast!» Finist had to laugh. «She's just barely admitted that she—that there's some hope for the two of us!»

«I see.» The boyar's eyes twinkled. «Ah, to be young again!» he murmured. «But, my Prince, how are you surviving in Stargorod?»

Finist grinned. «Well enough. Most of the time I'm falcon. Otherwise… I—ah‑liberated clothing and funding from Svyatoslav. Leaving a properly apologetic note behind, of course. I must remember to send him a regal letter of thanks, prince to prince, when I return to Kirtesk. Which reminds me: Are tilings peaceful at home?»

The boyar understood instantly. «Quite peaceful. No one suspects you're undertaking anything but a—political mission.» His smile widened. «Have no qualms about continuing your courtship.»

Finist hesitated. «What about my cousin?» he asked warily.

Semyon's smile faded. «She… did try‑I mean, your royal cousin did attempt to—to — "

«To spy on me," Finist said coldly. «Did you obey my commands?»

«To the letter, my Prince. I fear the Lady Ljuba hates us all most heartily, but there she is, mirrorless, in her quarters, and there, till you countermand your orders, she will stay.»

Will she? «Semyon, I will check back with you at the next turning of the day. Keep me informed—about everything. Till then, farewell.»

He let the image fade and sat back, staring blankly, suddenly uneasy. «Cousin, now what game are you playing?» This incredible persistence wasn't like her. Could she be jealous? It stretched his imagination almost to the breaking point to picture cool, controlled Ljuba in thrall to any such mundane emotion. And yet, a plaintive cry echoed faintly through his memory, Ljuba's desperate: " I love you!»

Finist shook his head. «Aie, cousin, what am I to do about you?»

«What is that to me?» asked a harsh voice, and the prince let out a startled yelp.

«Ah, my lord leshy. "

«Magician‑man. Why have you returned? For your men?»

The mutable being was, for the moment, nearly as tall as Finist, lean as any predator, face sharp and narrow and green as grass, eyes flickering with an eerie light that in human eyes might have indicated the onset of madness. In a leshy—who knew?

Finist had no intention of staying to debate the subject.

«Your pardon. I did not mean to intrude. In fact, I'm just about to leave, and — " He stopped short. «My men? Leshy, I assure you, I have no men here.»

The alien eyes burned into his, dizzying Finist with tantalizing hints of ancient magics. But then the leshy turned away. «Mm. You tell the truth. So be it. Farewell, magician‑man.»

And with that, the being was gone, leaving a very bewildered Finist behind. Go, said the forest softly, wordlessly, and By all means! agreed the prince, and gladly took wing. Whatever had angered the leshy, it was surely none of his affair.

«Fine," said Alexei, wiping his brow. «That's done it. Eh, careful. Don't let it fall, not yet. Balance it… That's right.» He pointed to one of the—he hoped‑more intelligent of his men. «You, stand watch! As soon as you hear the merchant's party approaching, give the signal—Yes, fool! The usual bird‑call!»

«Uh—then what?»

Alexei sighed. «What do you think, dolt? Then we let the tree fall to block the road, take that screen of thorns we spent so much time weaving and pull it across the road behind the soldiers to block their retreat, and…» He gave an expressive shrug.

Clever, thought the watching leshy. But not so clever as I!

Silly humans—stupid humans. To kill here, in his domain, to kill one of his trees! He stood still as stone, invisible to merely human eyes, while all about, the birds fell silent, responding to the leshy's softly swirling anger.

Shall I play with them? the being wondered, eyes glowing with alien malice. Shall I lose them in the forest? For a moment, he hugged himself in glee, picturing the wild-eyed, frantic things. But then the leshy sighed.

Fun must wait. The wasted tree‑life must be-avenged. Yes, and he must find something to do with this new human, this city man who called himself the leader of those ugly creatures.

At least they have always feared me, respected me. But he—oh, he fears, yes, but not me. And he respects no one, nothing.

The leshy laughed, very softly, the sound of winter wind in frozen branches.

I shall play a new game with him. And he shall learn respect. Oh yes, I think he shall!