The Black Swan |
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He did not notice the bird until a sennight later. Nathan was waiting near the lake for Lord Brock and Master Archer Williams to take him to the nearby forest for his archery lessons, when he saw it. It was a large, graceful, serene bird, almost twice again the size of a goose. It swept along the calm surface of the lake, barely even causing ripples in its wake. Nathan instantly hated it. There was something insolent about the light in its glowing red eyes, something arrogant in the curve of its neck and in the sheen of its dark feathers. Nathan was suddenly possessed with a painful, raw need to destroy this creature that looked on him with such distaste. He decided to use the creature as a target for his archery practice. Picking up his bow and his quiver of arrows, Nathan carefully chose the straightest one of the lot, and nocked it in his bow. He drew back the bowstring, took aim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . and nearly leapt out of his skin when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. The arrow shot into the trees surrounding the lake, and the bow clattered to the ground as Nathan whirled around. "Shouldn't trot about shooting the wildlife," observed Master Archer Williams. Nathan glared at him in naked fury. "You're late." The Master Archer shrugged. "His Lordship asked me if I could clear the Forest of poachers. Wouldn't want you getting shot. So I did. Round up the ruffians, I mean. As for his Lordship, I believe he's been called away. Seems he's received a missive from Lord Hewlett of Purves about an upcoming tourney. Good thing too; His Lordship would've thrown a fit if he'd caught you placing arrows in his prize swan."
This new information did nothing to improve Nathan's mood. "What do you take me for?" he demanded
brusquely. "Any fool knows what a swan looks like. A swan is white like snow, with beaded eyes
like night. That," he emphasized, gesturing at the floating bird, "is not a swan."
The Master Archer chuckled. "Playful beast." "ENOUGH!" bellowed Nathan. "I will not have you stand there and mock me! Who are you, to laugh at me and tell me what to do? I am Nathan, the son of Lord Brock of Heatherwood, and I do what I wish!" He punctuated his sentence with a large rock, which he hurled at the black swan. The bird skimmed away from the rock easily, as it landed in the lake with a ripple and a splash. Nathan trembled with anger. "There, there," Master Archer Williams said soothingly. "I meant no disrespect. Of course you can do what you wish." He thought quickly. "You see, young lord, I meant not to say that it was forbidden that you kill yonder swan, er, bird. . . . I meant to say that it was impossible." "Impossible?" Nathan repeated suspiciously. "Impossible," confirmed Master Archer Williams. "You see, that black beauty was brought to his Lordship's lake as . . . as part of his researchings for his gramarye. Yes, it's one of those bird people." Master Archer Williams, who had been known in his childhood years as quite the fibber, was beginning to enjoy himself. "That creature's one of them bird folks, what turn into people at night. An' according to what his Lordship wrote in 'is book, them bird folks can only be killed by strangling 'em with a silken cord what's been soaked in holy water. At midnight," he added. "Under a full moon. Wearing a neckband of garlic cloves and tea leaves."
Nathan looked at the Master Archer, fragments of suspicion still in his eyes.
The Master Archer put his arm around the young lord's shoulder and led him away from the lake. "Er. . . His Lordship read bits of his Gramarye to me. Can't hurt to eddicate a man, 'e said. His Lordship said, that is. Now let's forget all about this, and get on with that archery lesson . . . . . . ." |
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