Zel Read Online Free PDF Page A

“He raises swans, too.” She turns for a peck on the other cheek.
    “Who gives a fig for swans?” But Konrad kisses Annette’s other cheek anyway.
    He descends the covered staircase at a run. He passesthe church’s octagonal tower and barges his way through the crowds.
    He arrives at the path still running, though the loose rocks tumble away under his feet. The path narrows. Konrad has to use more care. He should have asked how far it would be. Sweat makes his shirt stick between his shoulders. He wipes at the back of his neck and runs. Too much time is passing. How long will the girl stay at the smithy? Why was she there in the first place? And where’s the cursèd goose farm?
    The path skirts downhill through high grasses. It turns, and Konrad comes upon the farm at the same moment that he hears the honking. Yes, there’s the goose yard, and the swans are mixed right in with them. Everything lies open before him. There’s not even a fence to climb over. Beside a small outbuilding is a giant nest. Konrad approaches, and the honks get louder. Two cobs come as one, on the attack, wings spread, necks out front full length, huge bills open.
    Konrad pivots on his heel and runs flat out. But the swans are upon him, beating with their wings, pecking at his ankles. “Help!” He falls, slams his chin in the dirt, birds on his back, honks louder than hell’s fury.
    The birds are suddenly off him, honking still, walking stupidly into each other.
    “Serves you right, thief,” says a small boy. He stands over Konrad, a long stick in his hand.
    “Thief?” Konrad rubs at his ankles, at his back. “Who are you calling a thief?”
    A cob approaches again. The boy whacks warningly at the bird. It trumpets. “Hush!” He turns to Konrad. “You wanted to take a bird, didn’t you?”
    “Only an egg. A goose egg.”
    The boy swings his stick. The cobs finally lose interest and wander off. “Can’t you tell swans from geese?”
    “Of course I can. I wasn’t looking at the birds.” Konrad points. “I was looking at that nest.”
    “That’s a swan’s nest.” There’s a poorly concealed edge of disgust in the boy’s voice.
    Konrad stands up. “Get me a goose egg. Now.”
    The boy puts his stick under his arm and holds out his hand. “Money first.”
    “I’m Count Konrad.”
    The boy eyes the simple cut of Konrad’s clothes dubiously. Then he seems to decide they’re fine enough. He nods. “It’ll cost you double, then.”
    Konrad snorts. It’s not the money; it’s the boy’s attitude that irritates him. “Who owns this farm?”
    “Doesn’t matter who owns it. We work it.” The boy still holds his hand outstretched.
    Konrad squares his shoulders. There is a disturbing element of truth in the boy’s words. “The egg’s got to be fertilized.”
    The boy nods.
    Konrad drops a coin in the boy’s hand.
    The boy turns and runs.
    “Hey, wait.” Konrad runs after him.
    The boy goes around the outbuilding, Konrad at his heels. He stops at a nest and lifts an egg with one hand, swinging his stick with the other. The geese attack immediately. He shoves the egg at Konrad. “Hold it.”
    Konrad cradles the egg in both hands. He stays close behind as the boy smacks at the geese with his stick.
    “Now take your egg and go,” says the boy in a half shout. He runs off toward the farmhouse.
    Konrad races for the path. The geese race after. He wraps both arms around the egg now. He is scrabbling up the rocky path and the honks are falling behind him, further and further. He finally stops for breath.
    Konrad looks at the egg. What if it’s a dud? There’s no way to tell from just looking. He smells it. It smells of grass and farmy dung. He holds it to his ear. Silent. But there is a heat and denseness about its silence. The gosling lives.
    Konrad wipes the sweat from his brow. He holds the egg before him and goes up the long path to the rear of the church. He takes the covered staircase down into town, slipping