The Shining Falcon

«Enough, I say!» The man stopped, restraining himself with obvious effort. «Finn, you are young. Young men think speaking of evil so lightly is daring, worldly. But evil is real, and ugly, and no jest!»

«Oh, agreed, but — "

«And the evil that is magic is no jest, either! I will not have such talk in my house!»

Finist sighed, not used to being scolded like some silly, foul‑mouthed child. But I still need the shelter of this man's roof, at least for now, the prince reminded himself. And so he contented himself with merely bowing his head in compliance.

Ivan got coldly to his feet. «It grows late. Daughter, come.» He caught her by the wrist as though she were some errant child. «Finn, I bid you good night.»

Maria gave him one quick, apologetic look over her shoulder, then Finist was alone and uneasy in a suddenly hostile place.

Chapter XVII

Trust

Alone in his room —which was Maria's room, actually, he assumed, his arrival having exiled the poor thing to her sister—Finist did his best to put the family and their mysterious problems out of his mind. Now was his chance to contact Semyon, and with this small hand mirror as focus, he should be able to manage…

But he couldn't. Still dizzyingly and maddeningly weak, the prince found himself having to struggle to control his will, fighting to master himself with an effort he hadn't needed since he was a small boy. There, now, the mirror was beginning to properly fog over…

No, it wasn't. Head aching, Finist sank to the bed, stifling a groan. This house wasn't helping him, filled as it was with the fear and hatred of magic, and right now he just didn't have the energy to overcome it.

This is ridiculous! I can heal wounds, treat disease-but I can't seem to be able to do anything against this simple, mundane illness that—

The prince broke off with a sharp, impatient sigh. Forget illness! If he couldn't manage to contact Semyon from in here, then he'd simply have to go outside. The night was clear, not too chilly; he shouldn't take any harm from it. And with the forest all around him, with all its magic, he should at least manage to do something!

Finist stopped short as he reached the farm's wooden palisade, suddenly aware of another presence just on the other side. He stood listening fiercely with a form of hearing that had little to do with the physical.

«My lord leshy," the prince said after a moment. Though the being was little more than a vague shape there in the darkness, the feel of it was unmistakable.

«Magician‑man," came the rustling‑leaves reply. «This is not your realm. Why are you here?»

There was just the faintest touch of menace behind the words. Finist was on good enough terms with the leshy‑lord of the forest surrounding his own lands, but he wasn't about to underestimate the wild magic of these strange beings. «I thought we'd settled that before," the prince said quietly. «I told the forest I'm here only by accident. As soon as I've the strength, I'll leave.»

There was the sound of a faint sniffing. «Phaugh! You smell of human-sickness!''

«I don't doubt it.» Finist leaned against the palisade, head swimming, in no mood or condition for delicate diplomacy. «It's something strictly of humanity, leshy, nothing to affect either you or your forest. But I must enter the forest. I must contact my people, and I can't work the proper spell in here.»

The leshy gave a foxlike bark of a laugh. «Not surprising! Not surprising! They are of the dead places, these folk, the cold stone city places! They fear and hide, and deny anything they cannot touch, or hold, or measure!» There was a long silence, during which Finist knew the being was studying him. «So," it said at last. «Come out here, magician‑man. There is a still pool you may use for your scrying.»

Finist gave the ghost of a chuckle. «And of course, you wouldn't dream of leading me astray, eh? You wouldn't plan to bewilder and lose the poor human, would you?»

The leshy hissed indignantly. «I? Not I! Why would I do such a thing?»

«Because you are what you are, like all your kin, sly as foxes and tricky as the wind. But I warn you, I do know a few tricks of my own.»

It cost him almost more strength than it was worth, but Finist managed to conjure a hint of flickering silver flame at his fingertips, and heard the leshy hiss again, this time in wonder.

«No tricks, magician‑man, no tricks! The forest does not hate such as you, human though you be. Come, come!»