The Shining Falcon

«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?»