The Shining Falcon

Chapter XXXI Decisions

Maria! Maria, save me! Kirtesk— Seek me‑My love! Save me!

Those scraps of anguished thoughts echoing in her mind, Maria dragged herself up through layers of sleep to a dazed awakening, head aching, throat dry, vaguely aware that something was terribly wrong.

With a great effort, she managed to swing heavy, barely responsive legs over the side of the bed and sat up, so dizzy she thought she'd be sick, feeling as though she had been drugged…

That goblet of milk… that odd-tasting milk Vasilissa had insisted she drink! It must have held a sleeping potion, And, judging from the way she felt, she was probably meant to sleep right through until midday, but… Maria blinked at the predawn sky. Vasilissa plainly hadn't known how to calculate the proper dosage.

Akh, I'm lucky she didn't poison me. Though why she would want to drug me …

Somehow her sister's motives just didn't seem so urgent, not compared to the dream… If only she could remember—there was something about that dream…

Confused, Maria struggled to her feet. The cold night air would help revive her. The window-She stopped short, staring at the bizarre wooden cross that blocked the opening. Moving warily closer, Maria realized she was looking at two crossed laths, their ends jammed firmly into the windowframe. They could only have been put there by Vasilissa once she'd known Maria was safe in drugged sleep. As a bewildered Maria stared more closely, horror swept the residue of slumber from her mind, because the laths were studded with spikes, cruel iron spikes that were dark with blood.

«Finist…»

It was his blood, she knew that as surely as she knew anything at all! Finist had come back to her and not seen the trap in the darkness, and she'd not been awake to warn him—oh, dear God, did he think she'd set the trap? Did he think she'd tried to kill— To kill! No, no, he wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead!

And then, cutting through the rising panic, came the memory of her dream. All at once Maria knew it hadn't been a dream at all, but Finist's desperate cry to her, and she could have sobbed aloud because at least it meant he must still be alive. But that cry:

Kirtesk— Seek me‑My love! Save me!

Maria straightened. Whether he'd meant it or not, behind those broken, pain-wracked words, there had been a second, even more alarming message. About… Ljuba?

Ljuba, yes. In their time together, Finist had, of course, told Maria something about his lands, light, amusing tales of Kirtesk, of his people, his boyars—and of Ljuba, his cousin, his sorcerous, ambitious cousin. At the time his voice had seemed a little too light to be convincing, a little too casual.

And in that faint, second layer of dream‑message, Finist had plainly feared that in his weakened state he would fall under his cousin's control. If she could control Finist, she could control Kirtesk as well. That had been his greatest fear, for his people. It seemed that since they had been exposed to magic all their lives, the folk of Kirtesk had become attuned to it, enough for them to have lost the resistance to sorceries usually present in the human mind. They'd be easy targets for Ljuba. The desperate message had been clear enough about that: Only an outsider, with that natural resistance still intact, could hope to stay free of sorcerous seduction long enough to stop Ljuba.

Me? Maria shuddered in sudden, cold terror. Against sorcery … A chasm seemed to open up before her, a chasm filled with all the horrors of the dark, frightening unknown…

But her glance fell to the cruel iron spikes and their grim stains, and Maria drew herself slowly erect. No time now to indulge her fears. And she was no longer the girl she had been, not after the ordeal of exile, not after the joy of Finist.

If only I'd been brave enough to go with him when he asked, to wed him, none of this would have happened.

The thought of Finist—poor Finist, alone and wounded, and in God knew what peril… She had always thought those tales of folk willing to actually die for love only so much melodrama, but now she realized that life without Finist truly wouldn't be worth the living.

All right. If she didn't gather the shreds of her courage together and do something, Finist was lost. It was as simple as that.

The door creaked softly open, and Vasilissa began to tiptoe in, candle in hand, only to stop short at the sight of Maria grimly facing her.

«Checking up on your handiwork, Lissa?»

«I don't know what you mean.»

«No? Do you usually wander about the house at this hour?»

«No! I just… didn't think you'd be awake yet. I mean, I was only looking to see — "

«If your trap had worked?» Maria cut in quietly. «Trap? What — "

«Enough, Lissa! Why did you do it? Were you so envious? So jealous? In God's name, Lissa, why?»

«For you!» Vasilissa cried. «For the sake of your soul!»

That surprised Maria. «Now what nonsense are you — "

«It's true!» her sister screamed. «It's true‑Maria, you never would have seen the truth in time! That was no man, that was a demon, a devil! He would have ravaged you, body and mind! But I saved you! An—an angel told me what to do, and I saved you!» An angel told her. «Akh, Lissa…» Sick at heart,

Maria bit back tears. How could she hate Vasilissa for being what she was? «Lissa, I know you meant well. But now, go back to bed. Please. Just… go back to bed.»

«You'll be all right?»

«I'll be fine. Lissa — "

«No, wait! First, let's both kneel and say a prayer of thanksgiving for — "

«What in the name of Heaven is going on?» asked a sudden, stern voice, and Maria sighed.

Wonderful, just wonderful. Vasilissa's hysterics had awakened Danilo. «It's nothing, Father. Lissa was only… dreaming.»

She gave her sister a warning glance, but of course, Vasilissa ignored it. «No," she insisted angrily, «it wasn't a dream! Father, Maria was consorting with a—a devil, but I saved her!»

«A devil!» Danilo repeated, amazed. But his face darkened with dawning anger. «A lover, you mean!»

«No," protested Maria. «It wasn't — "

«Oh, so you admit it!»

«No! I — "

«Wait. Vasilissa, child, leave us.»

«But don't you want to hear about — "

«Not now, Lissa! Leave us!»

As soon as the young woman was gone, Danilo whirled to his younger daughter. «How dare you — "

«Father, please. No one could have gotten past you and Lissa to get to my room, you know that.»

«The window.»

Maria fought to keep her voice level. «But this room is on the second floor, and the outside wall is quite smooth.» She forced a laugh. «You don't really believe Lissa and her—her devil?»

«No. Of course not.» But he did just what she had feared: he started towards the window. «Eh, stand aside, Maria. Stand aside!»

God, let him not see the spikes! Let him not see the bloodstains!

But he saw, and touched a wary finger to the stains. «Blood. You lied to me, girl.»

«I…» There was no way out of this, no way short of the truth, fantastic though that might be. «First, I swear to you by our family's honor that nothing shameful happened between us.»

«Who is he?»

«A—a man of—yes, of honor! Of high rank, indeed! Fin — "

«Finn! That—that nameless — " He stopped short, staring out at the unclimbable wall. «No place to attach a rope… Lissa was right all along! The man is a sorcerer!»

«The man is Finist, Prince of Kirtesk!» cried Maria fiercely, but her father spun about and caught her a stinging slap across the face.

«You dare!» he shouted. «That accursed sorcerer— You dare!»

Shaking, Maria shouted back, «That accursed sorcerer saved your honor! Who do you think went to Prince Svyatoslav, eh? Who do you think proved your innocence?»

«Silence!»

«No! Not this once! Finist is a good, kind, honorable man! He loves me! And I—I love him!»

«Why, you little fool! And have you slept with him yet? Have you let this good, kind, honorable sorcerer into your bed?»

«I have not! And he is honorable! He wants to marry me!»

«Liar!»

As lord of the house, he'd always been within his rights to discipline his children as he saw fit, though up to this time, Danilo had never abused that privilege. But before Maria could defend herself, he struck her again and again, raging and terrified all at once.

«Enough," he said at last, panting. «Enough. But you shall spend some time alone, girl, thinking on your sins!»

He dragged the dazed, struggling Maria to a window‑less storeroom and threw her inside. «Stay there till you repent!» Danilo shouted, and slammed the door shut. Maria, aching, heard the bolt slide into place, and sank slowly to the floor.

I should have known. He's so afraid of magic‑if Svy-

atoslav himself should praise Finist's worth, Father wouldn't believe him.

Maria sighed, rubbing sore arms. Danilo hadn't hurt her badly, and she knew he had acted more out of fear for her than genuine anger. The young woman shook her head, ashamed. What truly hurt had nothing to do with bruises or injured pride, but the fact that she had been too foolish—too childish—to accept the strength of her father's fear. She should never have tried to challenge him. And no matter what she did, no matter how contritely she behaved, Danilo was never going to help her—or Finist. There was no one to help Finist. No one save Maria.

Oh, fine! Right now she couldn't even help herself!

After a time her physical aches and mental shock began to wear off a bit. And in their absence, Maria, much to her amazement, felt her spirits begin to rise. She wasn't going to abandon Finist, no matter what. And if she must rescue him all by herself, so be it! But first, she'd see about getting herself out of this fix.

The storeroom was piled with various musty-smelling boxes and barrels. Getting stiffly to her feet, Maria began to rummage through them, holding her breath against the dust. They contained bits and scraps of household gear, the sort of things to be found stored in most homes, things too worn or rusted for use yet too good to be simply thrown away. Maria grinned.

Oh, Father, I do think you've underestimated me!

It took her most of the day. Twice she had to stop and quickly hide her work when a silent, embarrassed servant brought her food and drink and, blushing fiercely, a chamberpot. But by late afternoon‑Maria guessed the time from the light that filtered into the storeroom—she glanced down at her handiwork and grinned all over again. It had taken some trial and error, but she'd managed to use scraps of wire to bind together the skinny haft of what might once have been a dainty dagger—though the blade was long gone—to a sturdy kitchen hook, ending up with a tool that should see her out of this makeshift prison.

It did. She could slide the thin haft sideways through the crack between door and frame, and use the hook to catch the bolt. With a little care and effort, she would be able to slide the bolt free. And as soon as it was My dark, and everyone in the estate was safely asleep, she would be up and away from here.

Her father came to see her at nightfall.

«Maria. I hope you've had a chance to repent your foolishness.»

He waited, but she, afraid of what she might say or do, kept resolutely still, fiercely pretending to be asleep. After a moment Danilo said sharply: «Come, girl, I know you can hear me! Answer me!»

She kept her eyes shut, willing him to go away. But Danilo persisted, more softly:

«My dear, I don't want to hurt you, surely you know that! I only want you to be happy, and safe. But you can be neither with a—a godless sorcerer as your lover!»

Maria bit her lip but said nothing. At last she heard Danilo sigh in frustration, and dared open her eyes a crack, just in time to see him leave, looking so dejected that she ached to call after him. But he wasn't so dejected that he didn't remember to bolt the door after him, and Maria held to her determined silence.

For a long time she could do nothing but stare after him, thinking, I may never see him again. After today, I may never see him, or Lissa, or home, again.

No: if she let herself start thinking like that, she'd never have the courage to act.

She would have to wait until it was fully dark before slipping away; she might as well use the time in planning. She would need clothes, peasant clothes‑it wouldn't be wise to travel as a boyar's daughter. Sturdy peasant clothes, and good, stout shoes…

Night: Through the darkened house, one small shadow moved quietly to the servants' quarters, where it tucked plain, serviceable clothing into a pack, then to the kitchen, for food that could be easily carried, and for flint and steel. Maria hesitated, then stole back to the family's private quarters. There, barely daring to breathe, she tiptoed past her father's room and into her own chambers. Watch‑ing the door nervously, half expecting to be interrupted at any moment by Danilo or her sister, Maria gathered up several small pieces of jewelry—but nothing so large or so blatantly valuable as to attract attention. She paused, looking desperately around the room. Now that the moment had come, she didn't want to leave.

But… the stars were dimming. If dawn was coming, there was no time to delay. Maria turned to go, then sighed and turned back again. With a small grimace at her sentimentality, she gathered up the fine silver chain, Finist's gift-

—and at the touch, she saw him; just for a moment he was there with her, warm and loving. At least some of the link the silver had created between them must still exist, and her heart ached for want of him—

Then that fantastic moment had passed. Maria stared down at the chain in her hand, now merely a pretty silver necklace, and shook her head. She really must be overwrought if she had started seeing visions! Smiling wryly, the young woman quickly slipped the chain about her neck, hiding it under her blouse.

«So," Maria Danilovna whispered. «Let me be off.»