I stared at his back with wide eyes. That sounded terrifying.
We left the building, circling around past the stables to the back of the palace. Stretching before us was a large area of green with small copses of trees dotting the expanse. It was a larger area than I had been expecting, the city wall too distant to disturb the effect of the park.
On the near edge of the green stood a large wooden pen. Honking and rustling sounded from inside, and I approached slowly, falling behind the Poulterer. But he unlatched the gate and disappeared inside, leaving me little choice but to follow.
The smell hit me first, making me gasp. I drew back instinctively at the onslaught of flapping white and gray feathers. But when none of them flew forward to attack me, I took a fortifying breath—instantly regretting it and resolving to breathe only through my mouth—and stepped forward.
“Oi, you lot!” the Poulterer shouted.
Somehow, miraculously, the noise and fluttering actually abated to a noticeable degree. Unfortunately the smell was not so easily addressed. A fluffy, moving carpet seemed to stretch across the floor of the pen, between the full-sized geese. How many goslings were there?
“This is your new herder,” he said. “Just til Colin gets back from his ma’s. You listen to her, and she’ll keep you safe.” He glanced sideways at me and added in a mutter, “I hope.”
“Can they actually understand you?” I asked, astonished.
He stared at me as if I was daft and shook his head. “Sent me the dregs, have they? Of course they can’t understand me, girl.” He shrugged. “But it never hurts to try. All of these lot were raised here at the palace, and they’ve known me since they flopped out of their shells.”
“Oh, right…” I bit my lip, surveying the birds. I’d spent too much time around Arvin.
“Here.” The Poulterer retrieved a long, straight wooden staff from where it leaned against the inside of the pen, near the gate. “Take this. You use it to herd them, like I was saying. Just sort of sweep them along with it, guiding ’em, sorta. First one side, then the other.”
He eyed me uneasily. “Think you can manage that?”
A large part of me wanted to say no, but I squared my shoulders and nodded confidently. I would not be defeated by a gaggle of geese.
“Very well, off you go, then.” He opened the gate again and stepped through, holding it open behind him and handing me the staff. It was nearly as tall as me and more solid than I had been expecting.
The honking resumed, the geese surging toward the opening while I scrambled to get out of their way. That was it? I wasn’t to receive any further instruction?
“But…what do I actually do with them all day?”
He shook his head. “Let them eat, girl, let them eat. What else? When they’ve eaten the grass right down in one area, move them to another. And don’t let any predators at them. Especially the goslings.” He nodded toward the staff gripped uncertainly in my hand. “Another use for that.”
Thank goodness we were in a walled park. I couldn’t imagine any predators of serious size getting near us. A fortunate situation since there seemed to be about four times as many goslings as adults.
The birds took off, waddling forward in a pack, and I hurried after them, making no attempt to control their direction. They were heading into the green park, and that was enough for me.
One of the goslings started to veer away, but urgent honking recalled it, and it rejoined the group before I remembered the staff I carried. I glanced back to see if my lapse had been witnessed, but thankfully the Poulterer had already disappeared.
Two geese moved further to the left, separating from the group, and this time I was ready. Sweeping the long wooden pole in front of me, I shooed them back toward the others. They changed course, rejoining the group, and I let out a relieved breath.
Several minutes later, I had almost gotten the hang of the staff, swinging it first to one side, then the other in a wide v shape, keeping the gaggle together. But I still wasn’t actually directing them, and I began to wonder if I was supposed to do so. Surely they wouldn’t wander the park endlessly if left to themselves?
A minute later, I had my answer. The birds’ progress slowed and halted as we reached the edge of one of the small clusters of trees. Here the grass was noticeably longer than it had been closer to the pen, and the birds spread out, honking as they each found a place to eat.
Looking around, I found a flat-topped rock and took a seat, surveying the birds. Now that they were more or less stationary, I could count them. I spotted twenty-five adult birds. I knew from the Poulterer that six of them were ganders, but I couldn’t do more than guess at which ones. The number of goslings was harder to pin down since there were more of them, and they kept shifting before I had finished counting. But after a number of failed attempts, I settled on one hundred and two.
No sooner had I determined the total number, than I began obsessively counting them again. What would happen if one of them wandered away, and I didn’t notice?
I attempted the futile exercise over and over, each time losing count part way through. But as the morning wore on, I grew more familiar with their behavior, and my anxiety lessened.
When the goslings began to wander away, one of the adult geese would call them back to the group, just as they had done to the wandering gosling on our walk here. At one point, such a honking and flapping broke out from several of the geese that I launched off my rock and went running. I discovered a fox who, while undaunted by the angry geese, took one look at me and my solid staff and turned tail.
I remained vigilant for another minute, standing guard where the fox had approached, before returning thoughtfully to my rock. It seemed my task would be a little easier than I had feared. As long as I made sure I hadn’t lost any of the adult birds, they would watch over their own babies. Which made perfect sense now I thought about it.
The hours dragged on until the sun reached its zenith, and I at last gave myself permission to open the packet of food I had been handed by someone from the kitchens. I had carried it with me in a small satchel, alongside the water skin I had been given.
Inside, I found bread, cheese, and an apple. It was simple fare but appealing enough after waiting so many hours for it. Any internal fears that I might find myself holding my nose up at it were dispelled as soon as the smell hit me. I already suspected that boredom was likely to be my greatest suffering in this job, with the midday meal a major moment of interest during the day. I had seen several groups of nobles go riding past, but all kept their distance from the gaggle.
As I finished the bread and cheese, another group rode into sight. I glanced at them idly before stiffening and rising to my feet. Sierra trotted past, accompanied by three other riders. A small escort of guards rode behind at a respectful distance.
For an unthinking moment, I thought the group included Oliver’s friend, Gabe. But I immediately realized it must actually be Percy, his younger brother. The two looked remarkably similar.
The guards with them wore local uniforms, not the colors of Gabe and Percy’s kingdom of Talinos, so they weren’t part of Percy’s entourage. Were the other riders with them local royalty, then? Crown Prince Maximilian and Princess Alyssa, perhaps?
They rode on, out of sight, and I resumed my seat on the grass. I was still working on the apple—which turned out to be juicy with the perfect hint of tartness—when a friendly voice hailed me.