And for a time, sit was all the prince did, drawing strength to him from sunlight and Warm Mother Earth. There before him, back to him, was the older daughter, Vasilissa, with a woven basket of laundry, hanging the wet clothes with all the frustrated and inefficient clumsiness of some queen forced to do peasant labor. She made such a bad job of it that at last Maria hurried to join her.
«Look, it's simple. I'll show you how — "
«I don't care!» sobbed Vasilissa. «This is servant's work!»
«Lissa, dear, face facts. It's our work now.»
«No, I won't believe it! Maybe you enjoy being a—a peasant, but I don't! I won't! I won't forget how it was!»
Maria's voice trembled. «Don't you think I hate this, too? But the past can't be changed. Oh, my dear, can't you see that?»
She reached out a hand to her sister, but the sobbing Vasilissa slapped it away and turned to run into the house. She stopped short with a strangled gasp, and Finist, embarrassed, realized the sisters hadn't known he was there. He started to apologize, but Vasilissa gave him a horrified glance and raced inside. Maria continued to hang the wet things, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Finist hesitated, wishing very much he was someplace else, but at the sound of the young woman's soft, hopeless sigh, he knew he had to say something.
«Lady?» he called softly.
«Maria," she corrected.
«Maria, then. Forgive me, I didn't mean to overhear, but… is there any way I might be of help?»
She turned to give him a weary smile. «Oh, it's nothing. All families have their little quarrels.»
«Of course," said Finist noncommitally. «Why is your sister so fearful of me?»
«She—she's not. It's just… We see so few strangers… Please, don't worry about it. You need concern yourself only with getting well.»
But Finist's heart ached with pity at the despair in those bright eyes, and he wondered, What's the secret here? Who are these people?
He didn't think he'd get an answer.
Somehow, he never seemed to be alone that day. Which means I'll probably have to wait till night to contact Semyon. If I last that long.
Stubbornly, dizzily, he made it through the day, stubbornly sat down to dinner with the family—for all that his head ached and his stomach was rebelling at the very thought of food‑in the small, neat main room. He politely ignored the fact that the table consisted only of bare, weatherworn planking. The chairs were ancient things precariously held together with bits of rope. There wasn't room for much else; the great stove took up most of the space. Do they realize the stove's meant for sleeping atop at night? Apparently not. Only true peasants would know that.
Maria, Finist saw, was cook as well as laundress; seeing how lightly balanced her sister's mind seemed to be, he was rather glad of that. Who knew what Vasilissa might choose to slip into his food?
But during the entire meal, the young woman showed no sign of strain: her manners were quite polite, her bearing refined. She said not a word. I might be able to help her, thought Finist. He had never tried to heal a sick mind, but when his strength fully returned, he might— Ha, and have her father try to burn me as a sorcerer?
Dinner finished, they sat for a time and made polite conversation. «Tell me, Finn," said the man who called himself Ivan, «what wonders have you seen in your travels?»
«Wonders.» After a moment's thought, the prince smiled to himself and began to describe his own lands and their magical ruler. Seeing his host and the eldest daughter stirring uneasily, Finist sighed, his suspicions confirmed, and dropped the subject. «Aside from that, I've seen forest, and more forest.»
«They say the forest is magical, too," murmured Maria, surprising the prince a bit. He grinned at her.
«Oh, it is!» Finist began some small, light tale about a woodsman outwitting a leshy, but before he'd gone more than a few words into it, Vasilissa said sharply, «No!»
Startled, he stopped, and she stared at him, wild-eyed. «How can you joke?» she gasped. «The forest is too big, too cold, too cruel‑It wants to crush us, I feel it.»
In the next moment, she was up and away to her room. There was a brief, awkward silence, then the prince said carefully, «I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give offense.»
Ivan sighed. «Of course not. Talk of the old, pagan evils frightens my daughter.»
«Oh, but the old ways aren't all evil!» Finist protested, only to be silenced by the man's glare.
«Sorcery is evil, Finn.»
«Well, yes, it is, I can't argue about that. But all magic isn't evil!»
«Enough!»
«But‑I only meant — "
«I know what you meant! You are a guest here, with guest rights. But such rights do not include immoral words!»
«They weren't — "
«Enough, I say!» The man stopped, restraining himself with obvious effort. «Finn, you are young. Young men think speaking of evil so lightly is daring, worldly. But evil is real, and ugly, and no jest!»
«Oh, agreed, but — "
«And the evil that is magic is no jest, either! I will not have such talk in my house!»
Finist sighed, not used to being scolded like some silly, foul‑mouthed child. But I still need the shelter of this man's roof, at least for now, the prince reminded himself. And so he contented himself with merely bowing his head in compliance.
Ivan got coldly to his feet. «It grows late. Daughter, come.» He caught her by the wrist as though she were some errant child. «Finn, I bid you good night.»
Maria gave him one quick, apologetic look over her shoulder, then Finist was alone and uneasy in a suddenly hostile place.
Chapter XVII
Trust
Alone in his room —which was Maria's room, actually, he assumed, his arrival having exiled the poor thing to her sister—Finist did his best to put the family and their mysterious problems out of his mind. Now was his chance to contact Semyon, and with this small hand mirror as focus, he should be able to manage…
But he couldn't. Still dizzyingly and maddeningly weak, the prince found himself having to struggle to control his will, fighting to master himself with an effort he hadn't needed since he was a small boy. There, now, the mirror was beginning to properly fog over…
No, it wasn't. Head aching, Finist sank to the bed, stifling a groan. This house wasn't helping him, filled as it was with the fear and hatred of magic, and right now he just didn't have the energy to overcome it.
This is ridiculous! I can heal wounds, treat disease-but I can't seem to be able to do anything against this simple, mundane illness that—
The prince broke off with a sharp, impatient sigh. Forget illness! If he couldn't manage to contact Semyon from in here, then he'd simply have to go outside. The night was clear, not too chilly; he shouldn't take any harm from it. And with the forest all around him, with all its magic, he should at least manage to do something!
Finist stopped short as he reached the farm's wooden palisade, suddenly aware of another presence just on the other side. He stood listening fiercely with a form of hearing that had little to do with the physical.
«My lord leshy," the prince said after a moment. Though the being was little more than a vague shape there in the darkness, the feel of it was unmistakable.
«Magician‑man," came the rustling‑leaves reply. «This is not your realm. Why are you here?»
There was just the faintest touch of menace behind the words. Finist was on good enough terms with the leshy‑lord of the forest surrounding his own lands, but he wasn't about to underestimate the wild magic of these strange beings. «I thought we'd settled that before," the prince said quietly. «I told the forest I'm here only by accident. As soon as I've the strength, I'll leave.»