The Shining Falcon

Worse, what if she and Finist were magically attuned, by a spell, perhaps, or his gift to her? What if Finist, it his near‑delirium, was using that link as a healthy magician might use a crystal, making that outside magic a focus for his resistance to his cousin? The link would last a long as Maria lived. And continued resistance might weaken Finist to the point of death—and kill all Ljuba's hopes at the same time.

Ljuba turned sharply to her little crystal mirror again. «I'm sorry, my dear Maria. I'm afraid you really are going to have to be removed.»

Chapter XXXVII

The Pact

Maria paused to impatiently braid her wild hair, wishing for perhaps the hundredth time that during her frantic, hurried preparations she had remembered to pack a comb.

By the time I reach Kirtesk—she glanced down at her ragged, scratched, unkempt self‑it'll be a marvel if the guards let me enter the city.

No wonder that she didn't look the elegant boyarevna: All too soon she had discovered that not even farm work had prepared her for a wilderness trek. And there was more than physical strain: Even with the leshy's grudging cooperation, Maria was only protected from the forest. But she could sense other beings watching her from the shadows, softly following her. So far, they had seemed harmless enough, merely curious—attracted, perhaps, by the silver chain's aura of magic. But Maria could remember all too well Finist telling her that each leshy ruled only a portion of the great forest. Who knew whether one leshy's protection held true beyond his domain. And Finist had told her that the force which was forest magic, Old Magic, grew stronger the further east one went…

It all seemed far too much. Footsore, aching, more alone than she'd ever been in her life, Maria cried out:

«I can't do anymore!»

If only she could find the road! Even though she'd been travelling for nearly half a month, if her reckonings were still accurate, the soldiers must surely still be patrolling it; her father and Svyatoslav were not men to give up easily. The soldiers would take her home, and all this would be over. Maria glanced wildly about and saw nothing tat forest—unbroken, untouched forest, gloomy beneath the canopy of leaves. All around her a hundred little chirping, rustling lives went on their way, not caring whether she lived or died, and the young woman bit back a despairing sob.

Finist, oh, Finist…

Falling to her knees amid the litter of ancient fallen leaves, she clutched the silver chain to her, feeling its warmth stealing into her chilly hands, wonderfully comforting, reminding her that human love still lived, even in this nonhuman place. Hugging the chain to her, Maria determinedly remembered Finist as she'd first seen him as Finn, remembered how she had warily begun to love him even then. And when he had first, nervously, come to her as Finist… Maria smiled wanly at the thought of those magical nights.

For an instant she could have sworn Finist was then with her, soothing her fears. When she looked up, wondering, Maria found herself alone; yet somehow she did feel comforted.

Akh, Finist, 1 can't abandon you. Come what may, I love you.

She let out a long, shaken sigh, then scrambled to her feet, brushing off leafy skeletons as best she could. Now that she was determined to go on, there was no need for hysteria. The forest wouldn't hurt her; she would just on believing that. As for food… Well, as long as kept her head, that wouldn't be too much of a problem either.

The scanty provisions she had been able to carry with her—the cheese and bread and dried meat she'd stolen from the kitchen back home—had soon begun to run dangerously low. But during her farm days, Maria had talked to peasants and hunters, and had learned a good deal about foraging. There were berries aplenty now, in the heart of summer, and edible roots; frogs were easy to catch bare-handed, and quite tasty if one didn't think about it toomuch. There were fish to be seined from streams with her shawl. She had already swiped a rabbit from some hunter's snare, and might be able to do it again. And since she and the forest seemed to have come to a sort of truce about the lighting of fires—small, well-tended fires—she could cook whatever she found. Maybe it wasn't a luxurious life, but… Maria gave a chuckle, rather surprised to feel her spirits rising once more.

«I refuse to worry about What Might Be," she said aloud. «I've managed to survive so far, and I firmly intend to go right on surviving!»

With that, she shifted her pack to a more secure position, took a deep breath, and started forward.