The Shining Falcon

But at last young Ljuba had learned to build a wall about herself and call it strength. She had come to accept the dark within, to welcome it, come to lust for power and for Power, the only things sure never to betray her, the only dungs without the weaknesses that were love or trust or pity‑Maria couldn't stand any more. Blinking back stunned tears, she cried out, «Oh, my dear, no! It isn't like that!» And accidentally, in all innocence, she showed Ljuba to Ljuba.

What was happening? There'd been that sudden locking of their glances, startling but not alarming, though Maria had astonished Ljuba by the force of that magicless will. But now, before Ljuba could even begin to resist, the images were here, flooding over her, overwhelming her, drowning her, the images of herself—

No, not me! I was never like that!

—images of the inner Ljuba, the secret self she'd thought safely locked away since childhood, the piteous, shrivelled being with all her weaknesses, all her fears, so helpless, so lost, so afraid…

There was no eluding mat merciless flood of truth… Finist: She had tried to believe she loved him, but it wasn't love, she didn't really understand love. It had been a hunger for dominance, no more, a hunger for power…

And what's wrong with that? she thought defiantly. Kings have ruled with less.

But the images were still flooding her mind, sharper, clearer images from deeper within herself… And all at once Ljuba was seeing not that crippled, love-starved child, but the thing she'd deliberately become, the cold-hearted, empty creature—

The pathetic creature! The laughable creature, unable to love, unable to trust, unable to feel anything save lust and hate and fear.

Stop it! Please, please, stop it!

Ljuba fought to flee the torment of her own mind, but there was no escaping that prison, and so she found instead the very heart of her fear, found the forest there within her, there with all its ancient, terrible Power, the forest that hated her, had always hated her! It was mocking her with a bitter, deadly wit, calling:

Traitor! You would have slain your kin! You would have murdered your prince!

Aie, this was Maria's fault. If only she could find the girl, kill her, this torture would stop, and she'd be in control again and all would be well—

But the forest's cry was continuing savagely, Traitor, you've lost! It's over and you've lost—

—and she couldn't think, she couldn't act, she could only scream out:

«No, no, you don't understand! I — "

But still it continued, shouting at her, taunting her in her own voice:

Traitor—hopeless, loveless, soulless traitor!

«No! Please!»

Traitor! her own voice screamed. Traitor!

Semyon was before her, echoing, Traitor! the entire court was watching her, echoing, Traitor! and most terribly Erema, who'd died for her, was with them, the nameless man in the forest who'd died for her was with them, all of them crying, Traitor! and there was no escape from them, no escape—

What inner horror could Ljuba be seeing? Maria had sparked it‑in all innocence, Finist was sure. Overwhelmed by the Power she didn't know how to control, she had turned Ljuba's vision inward, though Finist knew from Maria's very plain bewilderment that she hadn't the faintest idea what she had done.

As Ljuba shrank back into herself, wild-eyed, Finist felt a sudden, wonderful surge of returning strength. His cousin had just lost her last, tenuous psychic hold over him.

Finist knew what he must do.

Grimly shutting his mind to pity, Finist steeled himself to strip away Ljuba's Power and return her to the real world, and a traitor's fate. Arm protectively about Maria, the prince focused all his restored will and called himself, his love, and his cousin back to the room they'd left. The blue-grey fog agreeably parted and faded…

It wasn't as easy as it should have been. For an instant that seemed to drag into forever, there was nothing about them, and he couldn't seem to find the right path, or any path at all.

Then the familiar lines of his bed‑chamber were reforming about them, and Finist gave an unashamed sigh of relief. Abruptly returned to mortal solidity and a body that was still weak from illness, the prince staggered, only the residue of the other plane's magic keeping him upright. He felt Maria, who, poor love, must be nearly as dizzy as he, make a valiant attempt to steady him. For a moment, linked in that afterglow of the magical plane's Power, their minds touched, warm, loving…

Yes, but Ljuba—