The Shining Falcon

Chapter XLIV The Eagle

Maria glanced about bemused. After all that weary time afoot in the wilderness, she had forgotten just how fast a good horse on a—well, a relatively good road could travel.

Of course, her being here at all was thanks to Marfa and Stefan, and the village of Lesielo. Those folk had done more than merely lend her one of their precious horses. It said a great deal for their loyalty to their prince that so many of them had chosen to take valuable time from their farm work to escort Maria safely to the very gates of the monastery. Of course, thought the young woman with a touch of pride, it also says a good deal about Finist's loyalty to his people!

So even with the necessary stops for food, for rest, she and her escort had managed to reach the foothills of the Khomensk Mountains in under a week. Another day had been spent in climbing up to the isolated monastery. Now here she was, staring at the high, grey walls, and wondering if anyone was ever going to answer the visitor's bell.

Wait, here was someone opening the small window set high in the heavy door and peering through. All Maria could make out were two blinking, reddened eyes, Like the eyes of a turtle! she thought in sudden wild humor, and started when the turtle snapped, «Yes? What is it?»

He didn't seem to be pleased to find himself faced by a stranger—a woman, no less, and a young one at that—and Maria, having an image of him simply slamming shut the window again, said hastily, «I've come to see one of your brothers.»

«Have you?» The cracked voice was suspicious. «Which one?»

Maria took a great breath. «I don't know his holy name. But in the secular world he was called Prince Vasili.»

There was the hiss of sharply indrawn breath from the other side of the door. «He sees no one from the outside world! No one save his royal nephew.»

Finist! «Oh, please! I've come on behalf of that nephew!» Feeling those turtle-eyes staring skeptically, Maria continued, «I beg you, take word to Prince Vasili. Tell him—tell him Prince Finist's in peril! Tell him it's quite literally a matter of life and death! Please — "

Suddenly she realized she was speaking to empty air.

How long had they kept her here outside the gate, waiting in suspense? Maria shifted her weight restlessly from foot to foot, thinking that it had been long enough for her to have remembered every worry she'd been trying to forget!

What if Vasili wouldn't see her?

What if he were ill? Too ill for visitors?

What if he wasn't even here, or alive, or—

The anguished groaning of ancient wood startled her. The monastery's heavy door was being pulled slowly open, just wide enough to reveal the figure of a carefully bland-faced young monk—a novice, she supposed.

«Please," he said, «follow me.»

Maria bid a hasty, grateful farewell to her village escort, and squeezed through the narrow opening, only to find herself in a narrow courtyard, facing a second wall. Beyond it were hints of the red-tiled roofs of various buildings, kelü, the monks' individual cells, she guessed, plus the main chapel and whatever else was deemed necessary to an isolated mountain retreat.

Of course, the monks weren't going to let a young woman onto the actual monastery grounds. Instead, her guide led her down the length of the inner wall, the only sound that of his sandals slapping against paving stone, till they reached a little herb garden.

Neutral ground, Maria thought dryly.

Then she saw the man who stood tranquilly awaiting her, and forgot her sarcasm. He was tall, dignified— somehow, even after all the long years away from the world, he still looked regal. Even in the plain, dark, monkish robes, this could only be Prince Vasili. And oh, he did look so much like Finist! A Finist grown old, hair gone white, skin more tightly drawn over the high, elegant cheekbones… Overwhelmed, Maria began to sink into a respectful curtsey, but in two smooth steps he was at her side, and strong, gentle hands were reaching out to pull her up again.

«No, child. I am Brother Feodosi, no more than that.»

Seen up this close, the resemblance to his nephew wasn't quite so stunning. Brother Feodosi's face was softer than Finist's, his eyes not the falcon's fierce amber, but a subtler gold—the eyes, Maria thought, of an aging, gentled eagle.

But as the man studied her, those golden eyes brightened, surprised and warm.

«Why, my dear, you are Finist's love! How wonderful!»

«You—you know — " Maria stopped, blushing. «Oh. Of course you'd know. The magic…»

The man gave her a wry little quirk of a smile. «The magic, yes. It does still flow in my blood. Though now I use it only for healing. But you are… ?»

«Maria Danilovna of Stargorod.» Maria shook her head impatiently, abruptly remembering, now that the first shock was past, why she'd come. «But that's — "

«Stargorod! You've come a long way!»

«Yes, but I — "

«And to see me.» All at once his voice was very serious. «At the gate, you spoke of my nephew. And of peril.»

«Yes.» Maria paused, trying to organize her thoughts, then dove headlong into her story, of herself, of Finist, of that strange, sudden illness and‑Ljuba.

Odd. When she first mentioned Ljuba, the man's face had grown very still. And when she finished her story, the first thing he asked was:

«Are you sure? That… the Lady Ljuba is to blame— are you sure?»

Maria gave a sharp, incredulous little laugh. «Oh, very; I assure you, Alexei was trying to kill me. And it was at Ljuba's command.»

«Yes, but you admitted that the man was insane. He might have been lying, or indulging some mad fancy. You might have misunderstood him. That's only understandable, what with the shock and fear you must have been feeling. You might very well have been mistaken.»

Maria stared at him, bewildered. «No, I most certainly was not mistaken! Neither were the villagers of Lesielo, for that matter. Ljuba was and is to blame—of that I am very, very sure.»

«Ah.» It was a sound almost of pain. «I… see.»

Maria waited anxiously, expecting him to continue. But when the man said nothing more, she prodded, «But aren't you going to do something? Can't you help? I'm not worried about myself, not—not really. But Finist—poor Finist! Can't you — "

«No.»

«W-what?»

«I'm sorry, child. There's nothing that I can do.»

«That doesn't make sense! You're a magician, you can't be afraid of a sorceress!»

«It isn't fear," he murmured. «Not of that.»

«And you're Finist's uncle! Surely that matters to you!»

«It does.» The golden eyes were dark with pain. «I love my nephew dearly. Please, child, believe me. But… there really is nothing I can do. I'm sorry.»

«Sorry!» exploded Maria. «He—he's desperately ill, he may even be d-dying, he and his people are at the mercy of that ambitious, murderous sorceress, and all you can say is that you're sorry!»

«Maria, child, please. You don't understand. I… can't return to Kirtesk. You see, my dear, many years ago I swore a sacred vow. In short, I swore never again to enter that city's walls.»

Maria blinked, confused. Why on Earth would he swear something like that? Because Finist's father held the throne? Because Vasili didn't want to get in the rightful ruler's way? She shook her head, impatient. «That's as it may be. But you say you swore that oath years ago! Surely such a vow isn't still binding, not when the life of your nephew and—and the safety of all of Kirtesk is at stake!»

He wouldn't meet her gaze. «A vow, child, is a vow. I may not break my word.»

" 'May not,' " Maria echoed, «or will not! Surely you can't believe that the—the good Lord would strike you down for — "

The golden eyes flashed in sudden anger. «You speak lightly of something you know nothing about!»

«I know that if it were my prince and my people in peril, nothing in all the world would stop me from rushing to help them!»

«No!» he insisted. «I will not break my vow!»

«Why not?» snapped Maria, forcing down a frantic little voice within her that was screaming, Don't get him angry! He's a monk, but he's still a magician! Don't get him angry! «It's not the vow, is it? No, there's more to this than that! What is it, envy? Are you so envious of Finist for having the throne that — "

«No!» The man turned sharply away from her in a swirling of dark robes. «I never wanted the throne!»

«All right, then!» With Finist's life at stake, she wasn't going to waste time in meek courtesy. «If not envy, what? For God's sake, why won't you help Finist and put a stop to this—this Ljuba?»

«Because I…» «Why?»

«Because I can't.» It was a cry of anguish. «Because in Ljuba, my sin has come home to me!»

As Maria looked at him in utter bewilderment, the man who'd been Prince Vasili sank to a stone bench, staring blankly into space.

«Efrozinia… She was so beautiful, the Lady Efrozinia.» The words really weren't for Maria's ears. «And how I loved her! My brother was already the sire of a fine, healthy son; surely I was free to love where I would. But she… she turned from me to another, a mere petty nobleman. She could have had a princely mate, but she wed that—nobody!»

He stopped to catch his breath, glancing at Maria, but continued as though, after all the years of silence, a dam within him had finally burst.

«Of course, it was not a happy marriage. How could it be? He was but one or two grades above the commons, while she… My Efrozinia was used to court life, to light and song and laughter. It happened that she and her… husband came to the palace—at my brother's invitation, not mine, for the festivities surrounding his son's first birthday. I… She… Akh, there's no excuse for what happened next. We'd both been drinking, she and I, we forgot all caution, all shame. We stole away together, and I cast a spell of secrecy about us. And then… The sin wasn't Envy. It was Adultery.»

He glanced up at her again—a brief, anguished flash of gold. When she said nothing, he continued in a soft, frenzied rush of words:

«After that, Efrozinia avoided me, but I still burned for her. With my Powers, I forced her to my bed. And after that… Oh, God, how could I stay at court after that? That was when I swore my vow and left the world behind, hoping to atone in quietness and gentle deeds. Everyone thought I was being so wise and noble and self-sacrificing, when actually — " He broke off sharply, fists clenched. «It still hurts. After all these years, it does still hurt.»

Maria hesitated, knowing she should say something, anything, wondering how she could possibly dare condemn or pity this man who was so many years her elder, this man who was both monk and prince.

«You… got her with child, didn't you?» she asked, very, very carefully, wondering if he was going to strike out at her.

But: «Yes," bitterly. «Though I swear before Heaven I didn't know it when I left! And her husband — " Monk though he was, the man couldn't keep the scorn from his voice. «Oh, he must have guessed the truth of it, he wasn't that great a fool! But what could he do? I was a prince, brother to his liege lord! He daren't attack me or his wife. And after all, he had no proof, no real proof, that the babe wasn't his.»

«She bore you a daughter.»

«She did: Ljuba.» The man shuddered. «Poor child. The man whom she called Father hated her, her mother turned from her in shame. And I… Here in my monastery I could do nothing to help, nothing but watch from afar… And what I saw…» He gave a little groan. «My sin has twisted her!»

«Twisted — "

«Oh, I'm not speaking of her outer shell! I meant her heart, her magic. My daughter's Power is dark. I thought with time she would learn to control her inner shadows, I prayed she would learn to love, to pity, but she hasn't, and I am to blame!»

Maria let her gaze fall, too uneasy and embarrassed to stare at him. And yet, she couldn't help wondering why, for all his anguished words, the man had never tried to help his child. Why had he, knowing her to be alone and unloved and bearing the seeds of Shadow within her, never once tried to leave this safe place to which he'd fled? Even now, he spoke not about Ljuba, but about himself, his guilt, his shame.

His self-pity.

Sickened, Maria looked at the worn, gentle face, and saw the weakness behind the gentleness.

Dear Lord, how could I ever think you looked like Finist?

«All right!» she said, as brusquely as she could. «I'm sorry for what's happened, but you can't change the past! Don't you want to atone for your sin?»

The barest hint of royal pride and anger flickered in the golden eyes. «You dare to ask me that?»

«That's right, get angry at me! Shout at me! But whatever you do to me won't change the facts: Finist is deathly ill—by Ljuba's hand. And if he died‑it'll be Ljuba, your daughter, who slays him!»

«No!»

«Yes! You know I'm telling the truth! Can you live with the knowledge that your daughter damned her soul with murder while you did nothing?»

«Stop it! I will not break my vow!»

There was a moment's tense silence, the two of them glaring at each other. But then the golden gaze fell.

«You're right.» It was barely audible. «To my shame, you are right. So, child, I won't break my vow — "

«But… ?»

«But I will do what I can.'' He looked her up and down, an impersonal, professional stare. «Now. If Ljuba isn't to know you at once, we must disguise you.»

Maria blinked, glancing ruefully down at her worn self. «By now, I don't think my own family would recognize me.»

«Your own family doesn't have Power. First, child, give up that pretty silver chain.» As Maria raised a hand to it, reluctant to part with the gift that had brought her so far, he added a touch of impatience, «Come, be sensible! The thing fairly glows with Finist's aura! For safety's sake, you must carry nothing of magic about you.»

«Ah… what about this?» Maria fished about in her pack till she'd found the odd little wooden egg the lisunka had given her, so long ago, in the forest. The man raised a surprise eyebrow.

«You've made some peculiar friends, I see!» He reached out a hand to the egg, then drew it sharply back again. «No, child, keep it with you. The forest‑magics are the Old Magics, alien to our little human charms. If I couldn't detect the egg, there's small danger that Ljuba shall. And I suspect you may have need of forest‑magic in the times that lie ahead. Now, stand still, Maria. Hold your breath and shut your eyes… I haven't worked this charm in many a year, but I haven't forgotten the way of it…»

She heard him murmur something soft and bizarre, the words curling and curving dizzyingly about themselves like the threads of some incredibly intricate weaving. There was no sensation of change, nothing strange at all. But all at once the monk was giving a sigh that mingled weariness with satisfaction.

«Yes, that does it. Come, child. Open your eyes and look at yourself.»

He held up a mirror of shining bronze. Maria stared in wonder at the reflection of a stranger's face, a broad, coarse-featured peasant face framed by mousey brown hair. The man smiled at her awe.

«Nicely done, eh?» He stopped to catch his breath; the magic plainly hadn't been as easy as he pretended. «Oh, granted, it's not the most secure spell in the world. Any other magics performed nearby will almost certainly break it—as will the calling of your rightful name, remember that—and return you to your own likeness. But till then, you should be safe enough, Heaven willing. Since the spell is one that radiates little true Power, it's difficult for most magicians to detect. Ljuba… shouldn't have the skill to sense it.»

At least I hope she doesn't, thought Maria. «I—thank you.»

She turned to leave, glad she'd managed to get this much help out of the man. But he called, «Wait!» and when Maria turned back to him, puzzled, he added nervously, «How are you going to get to Kirtesk?»

«Why, walk, I suppose.»

«Your friends can't help you?»

«The villagers? Oh, no, they've already started back for Lesielo. Farm work doesn't go away for the waiting! It's all right," she added with a touch of humor. «I've been doing a great deal of hiking lately. I only wish I could be already there, at Finist's side…»

«Yes, of course… There's one more way in which I may aid you. Climb up on this bench and look out the window slit, there, to the horizon. Do you see it?»

«That city?» Maria's heart gave a great leap. «Is that Kirtesk?»

«It is. And I will shorten your journey a bit, my dear.»

Maria turned to him, puzzled, then drew in her breath with a sharp gasp. Apparently avian forms ran in the royal family, because Finist's uncle had just shed his monk's robes to become a great golden eagle.

A golden eagle large as a man.

It isn't possible! thought Maria wildly, then, Don't be a fool!

Of course, a magician could alter size as well as shape. After all, she had suspected Finist's shape-shifting magic included a casual changing of mass as well as form. How else could a tall young man shrink to falcon-size? Apparently such changes could go the other way as well…

Gentle golden eyes turned to her, bidding her to approach.

«Uh… you want me to ride you?» Maria hesitated, recalling how tired he'd been after casting that disguise-spell over her. Surely carrying what would now be a super-avian weight, plus her own, would be much more of a strain. Not wanting to insult royal pride, the young woman added delicately, «I won't be too heavy for you?» The eagle shook his head.

«And it's all right? Leaving the monastery like this, I mean?»

That merited only a rather condescending glance. Of course, Maria realized. He's still royal. Ha, for all I know, he may even be the abbot!

Gingerly, she seated herself on the smooth-feathered back, feeling the unexpected strength of the muscles beneath the skin, smelling, bemused, a faint, strange scent midway between the sharpness of human and the warm dustiness of bird. After a few awkward moments spent figuring out a way to hold on, she managed to lock her legs around the base of the eagle's wings, hoping she wasn't going to interfere with his flying, and threw her arms about his neck, hoping she wasn't going to strangle him. Those powerful muscles bunched beneath her—

And the great golden bird was aloft, spiralling up. Maria clung with all her might, giddy with fear and exhilaration. At first the eagle seemed to struggle in the air, plainly rusty in the mechanics of flight. Then the wide wings steadied, catching the wind beneath them.

With a wild cry of joy, the golden eagle soared out over the mountains towards Kirtesk.

At first, Maria didn't dare look anywhere but straight ahead. But after the first shock was gone, she found herself staring boldly down at the wild tapestry of a thousand different greens that was forest and field below. Oh, it was wonderful! Someday she must find a way to fly on her own, somehow there must be a magic to let her ride the winds by herself, or with Finist at her side—

Akh, Finist! Maria looked ahead to the walls and towers of Kirtesk with new hope. Surely things would all be well. Surely—

Abruptly the eagle lurched in the air. He'd plainly lost the current he had been riding. Now, judging by the frantic beating of his wings, he couldn't find another. Maria froze on the feathered back, terrified that if she moved, she would upset the eagle's precarious balance.

In a moment he was in control again, wings beating rhythmically. Maria felt each stroke of the wide golden wings surging through her.

But how this must be wearying him! And carrying my weight, too. How can he possibly—

He couldn't. The sound and feel of his wingbeats were growing ragged, uncertain. The eagle staggered in the air, caught himself, staggered again, trying in vain to find a current steady enough to let him rest his wings by soaring. Maria's heart lurched each time he slipped. She should have known it, after seeing how that transformation wearied him. For all his pride, she never should have let him try this. The man was aging, gentle, used to quiet monastery ways; he didn't have Finist's young strength. And he was tiring with every wingbeat.

«Land!» she shouted to him over the wind's roar. «Please, don't try to go on! Just land!»

But stubborn, determined, he fought on. Maria glanced down at the fields still so far below, and heard herself moan.

«Please, please, land!»

The beat of the great wings was growing slower as current after capricious current slid away from him… Maria could hear the eagle gasping for breath. He lurched sideways—

And lost his hold on the sky. Maria screamed, clinging to the eagle with all her might, wondering in panic if it could possibly matter to her if they fell together or separately. Earth and heaven whirled together in a sick-