the year in which she was fifteen years old. We were doing a thing we often did, gazing out the window of her motherâs observatory. A full moon gazed back down. As always in the evening, the nightingale was with us, though the bird now preferred the Lady Minas shoulder to my own.
âIs it hard to leave behind all that you have known?â
âWhatâs hard is never having an evening free from questions,â I said. For the Lady Mina always had at least one up her sleeve. At my reply, she smiled. âI left what I knew of my own free will,â I said, âthough I was just a boy at the time.â
âAnd I may not. Because my departure is a bargain already made, one in which I had no part. Thatâs what you mean, is it not?â the Lady Mina both pronounced and asked at once.
I hope her father loves her, I found myself wishing fervently. But more than that, I hope he appreciates her, especially her quicksilver mind.
âThat is what I mean,â I acknowledged.
She fiddled with the hem of one long sleeve, worrying it between her fingers.
âHeâll probably marry me off to some sunburned oaf.â
âDefinitely a possibility,â I said. âAllow me to suggest you take along a hat when you go.â
She chuckled, and left the sleeve alone. âItâs a great pity I canât stay here and marry you instead.â
At this, I took up my stone hammer and played a soft tune upon the bells. Nothing in particular, just whatever came to mind. To mind, but not to heart.
âDo you think that we belong together, then?â I asked. âThat my heart calls to yours?â
The Lady Mina sighed. âNo, Lapin. I think as I believe you do. That our hearts do not call to oneanother, though we love each other well. But it doesnât stop me from wishing that I need not marry a stranger.â
âThen donât,â I said, and I struck a brave sound upon the bells. âDonât be docile about all this. Be stubborn. Insist that you be allowed to marry the choice of your heart and no other.â
âEasy for you to say,â the Lady Mina said.
I ran the hammer along the bells, from high note to low, from top to bottom. The sound it made was jumbled and not at all harmonious.
âYou think so?â I asked. For, though I was eight years older than Mina was, no song I had ever been able to play had brought me anything other than another set of wings.
âOf course not,â the Lady Mina said at once. âIâm sorry. Iâm out of sorts and taking it out on you. Pay no attention to me.â
âI wonât,â I said. âI almost never do, you know.â
This won a chuckle from her, as I had hoped. âOh, Lapin,â she said impulsively. âWhat would I do without you?â
âThat is a thing you will never need to know.â
She turned her head and looked with both her eyes into both of mine. Iâm one of the few people who will meet her eyes, for a reason I will let her tell you herself at the proper time.
âIs that a promise?â she asked softly.
âIt is a promise,â I replied.
âI will hold you to it. You know that, donât you?â
âOf course I know that,â I said. âWhy else do you think I said it? Unless you doubt me.â
âNo, Lapin,â the Lady Mina said. âI would never doubt you. Now letâs both stop talking, shall we? Let me hear some music instead.â
And so I sat and played the bells until the moon went down.
A week later, the Lord Sarastro took her away. A thief in the night, he stole her from her mother before the proper time. I saw it all, but could do nothing to prevent it. Even with my aid, die Königin, her daughter, and I would have been but three against many. Easily overcome.
Never will I forget the look upon my mistressâs face as the louts with their blazing torches departed, bearing away the daughter whom she