The Shining Falcon

Her magic had fled, she couldn't recall even the simplest spell. And what was that strange stirring, that creaking… ? The trees were moving. Slowly, terribly, they were closing in about her—

Crushing her.

Ljuba came starkly awake, trembling, heart racing. Again, these dreams, these terrible dreams— Night after night, always about the forest, always ending with forest‑demons slaying her, painfully, horribly.

Forcing herself under control, Ljuba got to her feet. She'd had her bed moved into Finist's quarters so that she might always keep an eye on him in his illness, and now she stood grimly over him.

Look at him, sleeping so peacefully, as though nothing is wrong. Ljuba clenched her fists in frustration. Damn you, cousin! I don't know how you're doing this, but these dreams can only be your sendings!

Enough. She was foolishly letting him drive her to the brink of hysteria, instead of concentrating on her plan to stop him. Oh, it was a dangerous sorcery she meant to try, no denying it. But if it worked—no, when it worked— the sendings would stop. Tonight she would—

Tonight? Blinking, Ljuba saw that light was shining through cracks in the closed shutters. Morning already, and in a moment her servants would be entering to dress her. Right now, she was in no condition for any of them! Reluctantly, Ljuba murmured the twisting phrase of a restorative spell, sighing with relief to feel new strength flooding through her. It was a false strength, she knew, and she would pay for it later, but for now…

For now she would cope.

It was the day when all folk could bring their petitions before their prince—or, in this case, before his Regent. Ljuba eyed them all with distaste, wondering why Semyon hadn't just cancelled the whole thing. Trying to make her look bad? After all, the old fool hated her, he knew it and she knew it, for all the mask of courtesy. And she'd had trouble with him already, arguments about her policies, about her ways of doing things. When she had challenged him, he'd turned a meek face on her and murmured something about her being Regent, only Regent…

One of these days, Semyon, you're going to go too far. And then …

Ljuba sat sharply erect, recognizing those in the front of the crowd. Damn! It must be Semyon's doing—these were the messengers from Stargorod. And this time he knew she had no excuse not to hear them out.

Haven't I? Angrily, she got to her feet. «It is time for me to return to tend our Prince. I declare this audience at an end!»

«But lady…»

How had the fool guards let them approach this closely? «I said the audience is at an end. Now stand aside!»

«Lady, please. We're sorry to hear of Prince Finist's illness. But we only wish to know whether our master's daughter is here. Her name is Maria Danilovna, and — "

Out of the corner of her eye, Ljuba saw Semyon start. «No!» she snapped, fighting down a wave of panic. «I know nothing of her.»

«Are you sure? She was headed this way, her father's been so worried— Please, lady, are you sure?»

Without warning, the false strength drained from her.

Dizzy, shaking, furious, Ljuba forgot all caution and snapped, «She's dead! What more do you want? The girl died in the forest. Now get out of here!»

She hurried off toward the prince's quarters—but Semyon moved to block her path. His eyes were quite unreadable.

«How did you know?»

«What do you mean, old man? Get out of my way!»

«You said, 'She died in the forest.' How would you know that?»

«Don't try to question me! Stand aside, or I — "

«You couldn't have known she was dead. You couldn't even have recognized the name Maria Danilovna—a girl you'd never met—unless… you killed her.»

She should have challenged him, she should have laughed him away as mad, but Ljuba, shaken by the quiet horror on his face, could say nothing at first, nothing at all. Then she said, very softly, «A dangerous accusation, old man," and felt a surge of Power within her. It would be so simple, a psychic clenching of his heart… He was old, after all, no one would suspect…

Semyon must have known his peril. But he said, almost calmly, «There is a scroll stored in the royal chapel, its location known only to one priest. If I should die mysteriously, that scroll shall be read…»