The Shining Falcon

He'd brought a regal caftan with him, elegant brocade, almost more weight than his falcon-shape could comfortably bear. And Finist hesitated, toying with the idea of appearing before Maria in sudden, princely splendor—

And she, not remarkably, screams at the sight of a stranger in her bedroom, and you have to scramble out the window like some idiot of a thief. Very clever.

Now what? He briefly considered waiting till day and boldly appearing before the family as himself, and only gradually introducing the tricky subject of magic. But that would take weeks, and he didn't dare be away from Kirtesk and his throne that long.

Reckless, romantic, Finist decided to introduce himself and his magic together directly to Maria. And so he sent a dream to her. Admittedly, it wasn't the most coherent of dreams; just then, it wasn't easy for him to coolly focus his will. But he sent an image of himself, and a message…

Maria smiled in her sleep and reached out an arm as though to Finist, and that almost finished his resolve. The prince felt his shape beginning to shift of its own accord, and firmly fixed it back into falcon-form, though he wasn't so sure he could hold it. The prince hastily flew out that window as desperately as though he was being pursued. Which in a way he was.

But did she get my message? And will she heed it?

He'd have to wait till morning to find out.

Danilo sat his horse well, looking brave and noble in his splendid riding clothes, he and his escort all bright colors and rich fabrics in the clear morning sunlight.

«A fine day for a ride to Kotina," said Maria cheerfully. «Enjoy it!»

«Thank you, child. Eh, don't fret, Lissa. I'll be back in a day, I promise.» He leaned forward in the saddle. «Come now, the two of you, tell me what presents you'd like from Kotina.»

Vasilissa smiled faintly. «Slippers," she said in a dreamy voice. «Golden dancing slippers, just like the ones I used to have. Before Alexei destroyed them.»

Hastily, Danilo cut in, «Of course, dear, and maybe a ruby brooch, too, to wear at your pretty neck. You'd like that, yes? Now, what about you, Maria?»

«Oh, Father! Just bring yourself back safely!»

«I plan to do just that!» he said with a laugh. «Come, pick something pretty for yourself, girl!»

But Maria hesitated, remembering… Feeling a little smile forming almost of its own accord, she murmured sheepishly, «This is silly, I know it, but I had a dream… Father, bring me one thing only: the feather of Finist the falcon.»

«A feather?» echoed Vasilissa. «Maria, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!»

«I said it was silly! And I can't explain it, Father, but that really is what I want—that, and the three of us back together here.»

«And both you shall have, child.» But Danilo muttered, so softly that Maria almost didn't hear him, «A falcon feather. Heaven help us, what next?»

Danilo never suspected he was shadowed by a falcon. He never suspected that the falcon was waiting patiently while he completed the brief, friendly, routine meetings with the boyars of Kotina. Business completed by midday, the man set off for the town's small rich market square. Kotina was noted for the mineral wealth in the nearby hills, and in only a short time, Danilo had purchased the promised ruby brooch and dancing slippers.

«But… a feather of Finist the falcon?» he muttered.

The bird-seller, a weatherbeaten man whose leathery skin was crossed and crisscrossed with faint white scars‑mementos from countless beaks and talons—stared at him blankly. «M'lord, I got all sorts a' birds here. Got pretty little singin' birds for the ladies, hawks for the gentles, even got an eagle. None of 'em got names, though.» His eyes were wary. «And ye said ye didn't want a whole bird, that it?»

Danilo sighed. «I want," he said, very carefully, «the feather of Finist the falcon. No more, no less. Can you help me?»

«Sorry, m'lord. Yer pardon, but I don't know what yer talkin' about.»

«Never mind, man. Good day.»

Danilo walked on, trying to ignore the curious stare following him, thinking dryly, He doesn't know what I'm talking about, eh? I don't know what I'm talking about!

By now he'd spoken to every dealer of birds in all of Kotina, and managed only to convince them all that the boyar must be quite out of his mind.

«Maria," Danilo murmured aloud, «I hate to disappoint you, but I think this 'Finist' of yours is nothing more than a fantasy!»

«Is it?» asked a harsh, crackling voice. «Is it indeed?»