The Shining Falcon

Ljuba's smile thinned. All this time, she'd been acting the docile, resigned, helpless lady, and so far, the act had worked well enough. Let Semyon believe he had her imprisoned in the inner chambers of her own palace. Granted, she had no way to unlock the iron chains with which he'd had the shutters of her windows fastened. But quiet, patient pryings had worked loose that slat, letting her pull it out or fit it back into place as she would. As long as she could continue to change to crow-shape and squeeze through the narrow opening, she was hardly a captive.

Of course, Ljuba reminded herself, replacing the slat, she still had to be wary of the chains. Iron was a perilous metal even for someone with only weak magic in her blood. Her avian true-shape wouldn't be affected by accidental contact, but catch a wing or claw in a chain and her Power would be bound, too; if she couldn't free herself by simple struggling, she'd be left hanging ignominiously till someone thought to rescue her. Worse, if she tore feathers or skin on the iron, she would almost certainly damage her will or her Powers.

For the moment, that wasn't a problem. Right now, she wasn't interested in escaping.

Ljuba had been cautious enough to bar the door before removing the slat and taking flight; this time there would be no unwelcome intrusions. Kneeling, she pulled back one of the rich carpets covering the floor, then spilled the contents of the vial she'd brought from her experiment-room—a room from which Semyon thought he had barred her—onto the smooth marble. Eyes shut, the young woman concentrated, calming her mind, cooling her thoughts… She spoke a few cold, careful words, and felt the Power stir…

Ljuba looked down at her handiwork: the potion had frozen to a smooth sheet of ice. It would melt of its own accord soon enough, leaving nothing but a trace of dampness for prying Semyon to find, but for now, it formed as fine a mirror as anyone could want. Carefully, she began to concentrate, and saw the icy surface grey, then clear. Gently, now, gently…

There he was, there was Finist, and with him, that young woman‑Maria Danilovna. Ljuba stared at them both intently, and what she saw was…

Love‑clear, strong, shining love.

«No…» It was an involuntary moan. «Akh, no…»

But there it was, no denying it. Finist did love this Maria, she loved him, there was no room at all for Ljuba…

And why should that hurt? Why should she care? For a bewildered moment, Ljuba didn't know herself at all. She trembled on the verge of something new, something wondrous…

Something weak. Something stupid and useless and weak. Recoiling in self‑disgust, frightened at how near she'd come to losing precious control, Ljuba forced out as ugly an oath as she could find, taking fierce joy in the vileness of it.

Fool, fool! Just because he was the first man in God knows when to be gentle in your bed, there's no reason to wail like some stupid girl bemoaning the loss of her virginity! He's your road to power, no more, no less.

It was a long time before she could force herself to believe that. But at last, staring into the icy mirror, Ljuba managed to calm her mind till she could watch almost dispassionately. Soon she saw Finist fly angrily away. But what was this? She sensed someone else's triumph at that. Not the sobbing Maria, but someone akin, closely akin… Delicately, Ljuba widened her scan and found Vasilissa.

«Why, you little fool!» Ljuba told her contemptuously. «Don't you realize this is only a lovers' spat? Don't you realize he'll be back?»

Wait, now… Idiot indeed, this young woman, weak and fragile of mind. Ljuba could sense the uneasy workings of that mind even from here, feeling how it teemed with old fears, old superstitions…

«So very fearful," Ljuba said slowly. «So ready to believe almost anything, anything at all… So willing to be led.»

The young woman licked her lips thoughtfully, a cat considering potential prey.

Vasilissa awoke with a start. Someone was calling her name. The demon? Had the demon returned for revenge?

No, this was surely a woman's voice, sweet and warm and loving. Bewildered, Lissa pulled aside the bed curtain, and gasped.

There, shimmering and faint as heat-haze, a woman stood. Woman? This radiant being was surely more than that, this being with the waterfall of golden hair and the beautiful face and the rich, glittering, golden robes…

«An angel," breathed Vasilissa. Hastily she stumbled from bed and fell reverently to her knees. «Are you an angel?»

«I am… Call me a messenger," said the shining being. «Come to tell you how to save your sister.»

Vasilissa drew in her breath sharply. «But she's already safe! The demon is gone!»

«Gone, Vasilissa, but not banished. He will return.»

«No!»

«Do you doubt me, child? Do you dare?»