The Black Swan

by Mercedes Lackey

  "My birthday is soon, and there is to be a great feast on the occasion," he replied awkwardly. "My Lady Mother specifically requested swans for the feast."

  "Well, I would rather you disobliged her," Odette told him impishly—another expression that Odile had never seen her show before. Really, the Swan Queen was displaying facets tonight that Odile had never suspected under that somber exterior!

  Siegfried looked away for the first time, at a loss for words— then with an effort that was visible to Odile, though not to Odette, he returned to the pretense that they were two newly met strangers with no shadow of magic about either of them. "The streams here are known for trout, and I expect that since very few of my ancestors are notable fishermen, the lake is as rich with fish life as the forest is barren of large game. At any rate the villagers seem to be well provided for in that area."

  "You would not have come here alone certainly?" Odette tilted her head to the side, in an unconscious, but very birdlike, pose.

  "No—my friend Benno hunts the other side of the lake, and we brought servants. We have a large hunting party, actually the queen brought many of the guests to amuse themselves, and I brought Benno and my tutor Wolfgang."

  Odette brightened, seizing on a "safe" subject. "Your tutor? Then he must be the one who taught you so much of philosophy and poetry!"

  Gladly Siegfried took his cue from her. "Yes—and Wolfgang has been as much a friend as a tutor for many years now. In fact we are working on a translation together."

  Once again, Odile ignored the topic of discussion in favor of the subtle expressions and the language of their movements.

  But just as things were getting truly interesting, the two were interrupted by the fierce call of an eagle-owl somewhere nearby.

  Odette started, and jumped away from Siegfried as if he had suddenly come out in plague spots. That isn't Father, silly girl! Odile thought, half annoyed, half amused. Father would never announce his presence that way!

  But Odette wasn't taking any chances. "I must go, now," she said, edging farther away. "And so must you."

  "But wait—surely I can see you again!" Siegfried called plaintively, sounding exactly like someone in a tale.

  Odette turned back, her face still and white. "Tomorrow evening," she said, as if the words had been pulled out of her all unwillingly. "Here. After moonrise."

  With that, she fled; after a moment more of lingering, Siegfried went away as well, leaving Odile to return to the shelter, feeling as if she had been pulled away from a story before it had rightly begun.

  Chapter Fourteen

  SIEGFRIED fought down his impulse to run after the strange maiden who'd called herself Odette, for something deep inside warned him that he would jeopardize any rapport he had thus far built with her if he did. Running after her would only frighten her, and make her sure she could not trust him.

  Blessed Jesu! He thought, straining his eyes to watch her as she flew over the grass, with steps so light she barely touched the ground. I have never seen anything like her! What is she?

  She hadn't forbidden him to watch her, and he followed her longingly with his eyes until she disappeared into the dark shadows of the forest. It seemed to him that a faint perfume, too faint to be identified as anything but a hint of sweetness, drifted after her on the light breeze.

  Only then did he turn and retrace his steps, making his way to the place where the servants waited, wandering along the shoreline with no attempt to conceal his presence from the wildlife. Sticks broke beneath his feet, rocks skittered away from

  I am enchanted, in every sense. I have never seen a female, woman or girl so utterly incredible. Why did she suddenly run away? For no reason that he could see, she had gone from warily friendly to ready to flee. Something had frightened herno terrified her.

  Something also turned her and all those other girls into swans too. Could it be the same thing that frightened her from me? Could she have been trying to protect me from it? Was that why she forbade me to follow?

  Who, and what, was she? The question spun around and around in his thoughts, making him dizzy. Her sad, solemn eyes seemed to hang before him in the darkness, calling up an ache inside him, a desperate need to turn the sadness to a smile. With the moon high above his right shoulder, casting brilliant light to show him the way, his progress unimpeded by the need to skulk through the underbrush, he saw the light of the servants' fire sending a long streak of reflected brilliance lancing across the water long before he expected to. He hadn't even begun to digest the things that had happened to him in the last hour; he wasn't ready to face others yet. He shivered in the chill air, and felt the grip of nausea on his throat.

  But what am I going to do in the meantime if I don't return to the servants' camp? Sit down here and dangle my feet in the water? He'd asked himself the question facetiously, but he then realized there could be unseen peril here. If the lake played host to swans who turned into women, what else might lurk beneath its waters? Perhaps it was a glimpse of something rising for a moment above the surface that had affrighted the maiden. It might not be a good idea to stand in one place all alone in the dark beside this lake.

  He did pause with one hand against the rough bark of a tree prepare himself to face the servants and their curiosity, although his thoughts felt as unsteady as Wolfgang after a long night of drinking. Taking deep breaths of the cooling air, he stared out the still water, and decided exactly what he was going to the servants. What he told Benno, when his friend appeared, would be very different. In fact, now he wanted very badly to see Benno, to hear what Benno might think.

  He kept his mind clear enough to find the easiest way back to the servants, taking the line through the trees rather than pushing his way through the underbrush. The moon was still low enough to send brilliant shafts through the trees deep into the heart of the forest, so that he didn't find himself blundering into trunks.

  Soon enough the leaping flames ahead of him rivaled the moonlight, and he knew he would have to face a circle of inquisitive servants. He set a disappointed expression on his face, and strode into the circle of firelight. The servants jumped to their collective feet, but he waved them back to their seats, and chose a spot on a fallen tree-trunk for himself,

  "Nothing," he said with feigned disgust. "I didn't see a thing, and I gave up. Wherever the swans are, they've hidden themselves well, or perhaps they flew off as we were making our own way here."

  "There might be islands," one of the servants offered respectfully, waving vaguely at the dark expanse of water. "They might be on an island."

  "It's true enough that I couldn't find a spot where a water bird could come ashore for as long as I walked." Siegfried hoped that would prevent the ever-helpful servants from dashing out in an attempt to locate the birds for their master. "I turned back when came to a bramble patch too thick to cut through; no point in trying to find a way around it in the dark."

  "No, sire," the same servant respectfully. "If my prince forgive my speaking out of turn, it's as dark as the inside of Pocket in these woods; you could be hunted by an entire pack wolves and never know it until it was too late."

  "A bit hard to fire off arrows in the dark and expect to hit Peter," another added laconically as an aside to his fellow. "You couldn't hardly defend yourself, no matter how good you was. I bet there's bears there, and wolves, too."

  Siegfried nodded absently and stared into the fire, bent over with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands loosely clasped before him. He hoped he was giving a good imitation of disappointment, the kind that put him in a mood where he really didn't want anyone chattering at him.

  Seeing that he didn't need or want any entertainment from them, the servants lapsed back into their own gossip, quiet mutters which didn't interest Siegfried nearly as much as the lovely creature now monopolizing his thoughts.

  Why did she come here? Where is she from? What is she? How could a swan suddenly turn into a maiden except by magic? But what kind of magic
would do such a thing, and why? Who could the magician be?

  He took refuge in his scant store of magic tales gleaned from the songs of minstrels and the ancient Greek and Roman manuscripts he shared with Wolfgang. What do I know about swans who turn into women?

  The only similar tale he could think of was the myth of Zeus and Leda—but it was Zeus who had turned into the swan, not the maiden. It didn't seem to Siegfried that Odette could be a pagan goddess. Why would a goddess be frightened of anything? And she was frightened. Even when goddesses were caught by their spouses doing something wrong, they were never afraid—

  She'd once crossed herself, too, which meant she was a Christian, which made it unlikely that she was a pagan goddess.

  Given that—then either she was an enchantress, like Circe, who transformed herself, or she was in the grip of some dreadfull enchantment herself. What reason could she possibly have or turning herself into a swan, of all things? For that matter, why would she turn an entire flock of other girls into swans? Swan made fine targets for hunters; it would be a stupidly risky choice of form, if it had been assumed by choice.

  He moved so that his feet were closer to the fire; it was getting much colder now that the sun was well down.

  If Odette herself was the magician, why would she have waited so long to transform when threatened? A heartbeat later, and he would surely have killed one of the swans, if not her.

  She must be under the enchantment herself. She wouldn't have taken the risk of being a bird of quarry if she d had any choice.

  What had she told him about herself? Her name, which he had not recognized; she had given him no title, though the rest of her flock treated her with the deference due a queen. She had said that the flock had arrived at the lake no more than a few days ago. Everything else had been questions of her own, which he had been dazzled enough to answer. Perhaps that had been foolish, but he couldn't help himself, and even now he did not regret a single answer.

  He looked about him as the servants forgot his presence and raised their voices to a normal conversational level. They only disturbed him for a moment, then he went back to his ruminations.

  She’s nobly born: she can't be anything else. The manners, the mannerisms, are too ingrained for her to have merely been tutored in them. No peasant, no merchant, would behave as she. She addressed him by the correct title; she accorded him the precisely correct amount of deference due to the heir of one kingdom from a visiting prince. Such things were subtle; second nature to one born royal, difficult to master for one who was not.

  He shifted on his log; it wasn't the most comfortable seat he'd ever had.

  She had acted, once she discovered who he was, with relief— and that was odd, now that he came to think of it. Why would that be? Had she been expecting him, or someone like him, to appear at the lake? Had she been told about him? By whom?

  That implied things about her that he didn't want to consider a latter-day Circe could have transformed herself, and yet could be frightened of a greater power than herself. A witch—as he had thought the poor gypsy girl was—

  He shoved the unwelcome thought away. She can't be trying to trick or trap me, no matter how arcane her origins. I can't believe that. . . she's too sweet, too gentle.

  But then there was that folk tale—"The Woman Without a Shadow"—where a perfectly sweet and innocent-seeming woman had sold her soul to the Devil, and being desperate to get it back, lured young men into pledging their souls to the archfiend for love of her. That was why she had not had a shadow; the lack of one betrayed that she had no soul. Had Odette possessed a shadow? He couldn't remember, and a shiver went up his back, a chill passing over him that the warmth from the fire couldn't counter.

  No, that can't be right—why would the Devil turn her into a bird? That doesn't make any sense. No, she's as innocent as she is beautiful.

  But what if a sorceress had plans to usurp a throne—wouldn't she pretend to be an innocent victim, to lure her prey into her trap?

  Oh that was ridiculous, what was there to covet about his land? Why would she pick this place? No, that can't be right at all; she didn't seem to know anything about my kingdom, and surely a sorceress with plans for a kingdom of her own would have studied the place she planned to take!

  But what if a greater magician intended to use her—

  What greater magician? I've never heard anything about sue sorcerer, and anyway, why wouldn't he just use magic directed against us and take the throne quickly and easily? He could imagine a plot so convoluted; it made no sense to expend much time and effort on something that could be accomplished in a straightforward manner.

  Granted she is beautiful enough to put anyone off his guard.

  He lapsed into rapt contemplation of that beauty as he stared at the flickering flames. Even given that moonlight was particularly flattering, he couldn't recall another woman he had ever seen who was quite so near to perfection as Odette. Her silver hair had gleamed like the finest silk in the moonbeams; her eyes, large and soft as any doe's, held an immensity of sorrows and mysteries. A clear, broad brow promised intelligence, and her conversation fulfilled that promise. Soft lips, full and tender, had tempted him to steal a hundred kisses.

  She may not be the trap, a nasty little voice warned him, But what if she is the bait?

  He wanted to ignore the ignoble voice, but grudgingly admitted to himself that the cautious thought might provide the answer to all of those unanswered questions.

  Why she was afraid, for one thing—why she had insisted that he leave, for another. If someone out there intended to catch a prince, he would want to bait his trap temptingly, and make sure that he had firm control over the bait. What firmer control could there be than control over the very form his bait took?

  Now he felt his neck grow warm with embarrassment; could he have been so foolish as to walk straight into such a trap?

  But if there is such a sorcerer, he cannot control how the bait feels about her role. If Odette had been in accord with this postured enemy, she would have painted him a tragic tale of captivity and begged him to save her from it. Wouldn't she?

  He tried to remember the nuances of her expression, and could recall the beauty of her eyes, of her slim, delicate hands, of slender body imperfectly concealed by her white, silk gown.

  He was lost in these reflections when Benno returned, preceded by the sound of cracking brush and kicked-up leaves, striding through the brush with no more attempt to hide himself than Siegfried.

  "Nothing and nothing," he cried, disappointment clear in his voice. "Not a swan, not a goose, not even a feather. I did find at least one source of the lake, though—that was why I turned back. It's fed by a river, and I didn't fancy trying to cross it afoot in the dark."

  "I had no better luck than you," the prince replied, but with a signal of hand and eyebrow to tell his friend that there was more much more to it than he was willing to speak of before the servants.

  Benno gave a quick nod, then suggested that they all return to the inn, since there was no luck out here for them on this night.

  The servants—who would be returning to camp rather than the inn, but could expect several rounds of drink from their prince by way of reward for their service—gathered up their extinguished torches and thrust them into the fire without waiting to hear what Siegfried said. But Siegfried was quite ready to leave; with his mind unsettled and his heart fluttering, he wanted to talk with his oldest and most trusted friend in private. He didn't trust himself to make any conclusions or decisions at this point.

  It took longer than he liked to walk back to the village; he wanted very badly to spill out his heart to Benno, and from the sidelong glances that Benno cast at him, curiosity was eating his friend alive. The servants kept their pace to a swift walk just short of a lope, no doubt thinking of the good beer waiting for them in the inn, so he had nothing to complain of there, at least.

  When the lights of the village appeared ahead of them, he stretched his legs
a bit farther, forcing the servants to do the same; he heard a bit of muttering, but knew that they wouldn't dare to complain aloud. If they wondered why he was so anxious to get back himself, they would probably consider his reputation and the way that the village girls flirted with him, and make up an answer to suit themselves.

  He was first through the door of the inn, for the servents paused to douse their torches in a bucket of water placed to one side of the door for that purpose. Warmth and the pleasant scent of roasted meat met him as he opened the door and crossed the threshold.

  As always in a small tavern, every head turned to see who it was who had just entered. "Keeper!" he called. "We've had a frustrating night of it—beer and sausage for my men, and wine for me and my friends! And bring me something to eat; use your best judgment!"

  He scarcely paused to acknowledge the bows of the patrons, hurrying up the stairs to his room, with Benno hot on his heels. As he'd expected, Wolfgang was already asleep in his own little cubby, overcome by his own overindulgence, Arno started up as he entered his chambers, but Siegfried waved him off,

  "Go fetch the wine and food from the innkeeper, then go to bed," Siegfried ordered. "I can manage for myself for once,"

  "Sire." Arno paused long enough for a perfunctory bow, and took himself off. Siegfried dropped into a chair at the fireside table, and Benno did the same, but leaned forward over his crossed arms, looking at him with eyes wild with excitement,

  “Something happened out there!" he half whispered. "Something that has you in a state! You have to tell me what it was, or I’m going to go mad!"

  Siegfried nodded, but put his finger to his lips. "Not now; as soon as we're private," he cautioned, then quickly switched the topic to the unsuccessful hunt, declaring out loud as Arno led a trio of servants up the stairs that he had never seen a lake so barren of game or the least signs of game.

  Arno knew his master's moods and knew when it was wise to leave him alone. Without a word to Siegfried, he quickly and efficiently directed serving girls in the placement of dishes and tankards, then shooed them out without allowing them so much as a flirtatious glance following them and closing the door behind him.