The Shining Falcon

Chapter XLVII Counterspells

LJuba walked ahead, not once checking to see if Maria—who, not being as tall as the elegant sorceress, had a shorter stride—was keeping up with her. It was only to be expected, Maria thought. Why should the Regent of Kirtesk care about the comfort or discomfort of a mere servant? At least this frantic scuttling didn't give her time to be afraid.

A respectful servant cast open a door so finely crafted and ornate that it could only lead to the royal suite.

«There," said Ljuba.

For one brief moment, Maria thought they were facing some manner of bizarre altar, complete with silken altar cloth. Then she saw dark, brownish stains marring the shimmering fabric.

The caftan—and Finist's blood.

Ljuba gave her a sharp glance. «Have you suddenly turned squeamish?»

«Uh… No, lady, of course not. I was… only pitying the poor, wounded prince, that's all.» Boldly, Maria moved forward to the caftan. But when she tried to pick it up, her hand was stopped by empty air that felt quite solid. «There seems to be a magical barrier around it, lady.»

«Of course there is, fool! Did you think I'd let any idiot touch it?» Ljuba gestured with a flicker of supple fingers, and the barrier was gone. Convenient, Maria thought, and gently picked up the caftan.

Ljuba was watching. «There is purified water in that basin. Do you need anything more?»

«No, lady.» Maria hesitated, waiting for Ljuba to leave. But Ljuba showed no sign of stirring. «Uh, lady, it's all right, you don't have to stay, really.»

A corner of that perfect mouth turned up in a wry, cold little smile. «Did you think I'd trust you alone, girl?»

«But — "

«No. Come, you made your boasts! Clean the caftan, or learn to regret your lies.»

Maria turned away, clutching the caftan to her, heart pounding. She rummaged frantically about in her pouch-there was a sliver of soap in there. At least she could go through the motions of washing. But even a sorceress couldn't remove those sad stains. How could Maria ever hope to succeed?

At least she would go down fighting. Filled with a sort of desperate courage, Maria lowered the caftan into the water.

Lost in a fathomless sea of sleep, Finist stirred restlessly. Someone was touching him, touching his heart…

Deep within the forest, small green-eyed beings nudged each other and giggled softly, and the leshy stood staring at the scene his magic showed him, and began to laugh…

Maria froze, staring in disbelief at the caftan. She had only touched it to the water, and the dried bloodstains had simply melted away, leaving the silk shining and un- harmed.

Dazed, terrified and joyful in one, Maria turned to Ljuba. The sorceress was stunned, face blank with shock.

It lasted only a moment. Then the beautiful eyes went cold and flat as blue marble. «Why, well done, girl.» It was an urbane croon. «You shall be truly rewarded.»

Maria's heart gave a frightened leap. Rewarded—by death? Everyone in the realm knew the terms of Finist's spell: Only the woman who washed the caftan clean with her own hands would be able to wed him.

Only she and Ljuba knew the truth about what had just happened. If the sorceress let her live, no matter how far away she sent her, Ljuba would never be free of the fear of blackmail. And, as far as the sorceress was concerned, Maria was a nobody, a nameless peasant, quite expendable…

She doesn't dare let me live, Maria realized in horror. All she has to do is get rid of me, tell everyone she cleaned the caftan, and she can wed Finist and live happily ever after!

Ljuba raised an elegant brow. «I promised you a reward for cleaning the caftan. Come, name your price!»

Maria shivered, only too well aware of how easy it would be for Ljuba to see that she disappeared: an accidental fall down a palace stairway, a stumble off the edge of a parapet… Who'd notice the death of a peasant? Ljuba wouldn't even need to risk using magic.

«Come, girl, speak!» There was the faintest edge of menace to Ljuba's voice. «Name your reward!»

Akh, she couldn't seem to think straight. The only thing that came to mind was a thought of Finist—that if she could just reach Finist's side, all would be well—

«I only want this," said Maria boldly. «I've heard so much about our magical prince, how kind he is, how much he's done for everybody—well, now that he's sick, I want to do something for him. I want to spend the night at his bedside, try to heal him.» Seeing Ljuba's disbelieving gaze, she hurried on, «I've got some simple songs we use to soothe the sick children back home. Who knows? They might soothe him, too.»

Ljuba gave a short, contemptuous little laugh. «Is that really all you want? Are you sure you don't want to try to help yourself to some royal jewels as well?»

«Oh, no, lady!» Maria's indignation was genuine. «I said I wanted only to help the prince, and I meant it — "

She broke off abruptly, staring at Ljuba, who had become as alert and fierce as some deadly hunting cat. Now what—? Maria glanced down at her hands, and gasped. Those broad, coarse, convincingly peasant fingers were blurring, becoming more refined, returning to their true shape. Terrified, she remembered Vasili's warnings about the fragility of the disguise spell. Dear Lord! When the magic binding the caftan had unravelled at her touch, the disguise spell had begun to unravel as well! Maria stood, stunned, as the last of it dissolved, leaving her defenseless.

Ljuba's glance sharpened in recognition.

«You!» It was almost a scream of rage. «You didn't die in the forest!»

«Ah, no, I — "

«Don't try to talk your way out of this one, fool! Not now!»

Ljuba's eyes blazed with blue fire. «You've been the thorn in my side all along, but that's over. Now there aren't any forest demons to protect you. Now, Maria, you will die!»