«I never believed the old stories, I always thought them for children and fools. And I am no fool, my Prince, you know I am no fool. But when we entered that forest, it was as though we'd entered a sea, a pathless green sea.»
«Nonsense, there are roads!»
«You misunderstand, my Prince. There may be roads, but—we couldn't find them. Whenever we didn't actually watch it, the path beneath our feet would somehow… vanish. Whenever we'd managed to pick up another, it would simply… end, usually right in the middle of a swamp, or a thicket of thorns so fierce I swear only our swords let us cut our way free.»
Svyatoslav shook his head angrily. «Grown men, getting themselves lost and frightened!»
«No, it was more than that! I tell you, there were strange demons in that forest, green, capering things that mocked us, and vanished before we could attack them, things that jested at the very name of God! My Prince, the—the very trees were moving in that forest, blocking our way—oh, Heaven, if we hadn't turned to flee at last, I swear they would have crushed the life from us all!» The captain shuddered, eyes wild with memory. «I'm sorry, my Prince. I have always been loyal to you. But now… Do what you will with me, but I am not going back into that forest. Condemn me to death if you must. A clean death at the hand of the executioner would be far, far better than dying in that sorcerous place.»
Svyatoslav stirred uneasily, wondering if this whole thing were some drunken fancy. But the man had never been given to drinking, and his fear did seem to be shared by his men. «What's that?» the prince asked belatedly. «Oh, no, no, of course I'm not going to have you put to death. Go, man, get yourself something to eat and drink.»
But the prince hardly noted the relieved guard's grateful bow.
And in Danilo's estate, Alexei waited and waited for the men he'd sent to find the
Chapter XIX
Spellbound
Finist crouched in shadow in Stargorod, panting gape-beaked as a falcon pants, trying to catch his breath. The moon was nearly full this night, and it had glinted off his feathers most dramatically as he'd soared over the walls of the vast, sleeping city, nearly getting him speared by some overzealous guards before he'd finally managed to elude them and find a safe rooftop landing.
If it was Svyatoslav's own nervousness, he might do better not to approach the man right away. But he did have a second plan…
After a time, Finist recovered his breath, ruffling his feathers back into place.
He had a fairly good idea of the location of Danilo's estate, thanks to what the man had told him, and to the scattered bits of thoughts and words and dreams which chanced to drift by the prince when he opened his perceptions to them. He took flight in a long, silent glide, enjoying the feel of cool night winds sleek under his wings, and circled the city—wary of the guards—till he was sure of his location. Finist entered Danilo's home as falcon, and stood at last by the sleeping Alexei's bedside as man, looking thoughtfully down at the elegant, youthful face, frown‑ing a bit as he noted the weak mouth and the dark stains of strain under the
But this was no place to linger. Alexei's manservant was sleeping on a pallet at the