A Promise of Iron Brandon McCoy (howl and other poems TXT) 📖

“Faerin of Forhd!” she shouted.

I noticed this time she only half leaned her head back to the auditors behind. I followed her gaze and saw only one seated. I couldn’t tell if he was writing anything down in his ledgers or simply shuffling them back and forth.

Lira leaned forward. “How did you…”

“It’s a long story and only pieces of which I can share with you.” I grinned, which again did not produce the desired result. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my purse. “I would like to purchase the silver blade I inspected earlier.”

She stared at the purse in disbelief then touched the star pendant she wore around her neck. I saw her visibly relax as if the weight of the world had just melted away. I saw it first in her face, her high cheekbones and jaw eased as if she had been holding a smile for longer than desired. I watched as the wave moved to her uncovered shoulders; they didn’t sag or drop as much as they settled into a more natural posture. Finally, I saw it in her eyes. Fear washed away from them, leaving beautiful copper orbs polished by a summer’s rain.

“I will get that right away,” she said. She returned a moment later with the same blade wrapped in black cloth. She made the action look labored this time, clever girl. She set the blade down, flashed it to me briefly from underneath the fabric, then concealed it once more. She bent down and pulled a few documents from a drawer underneath her counter. When she reappeared, she held the purity card as well as a formal writ of sale.

I looked over the documents, mostly for show, but noticed that the writ of sale lacked a name for the blade. A sick feeling crept up from my stomach. I in all my haste, I had overlooked that crucial detail. This blade was unregistered, an artifact rescued from a time long ago, long before the Empire. It had no pedigree; it had no lineage. If I expected to keep the blade by law, it would need one.

Establishing a lineage was not an uncommon task. Blades were salvaged from battlefields or confiscated from debtors all the time. Like most things in the Empire, it just took a little coin. The problem here was this was not so typical a blade. Any auditor paid to write a new lineage or consecrate a fabricated one would ask questions, and there were two questions I couldn’t answer: Where did the blade come from? And what was a priceless artifact doing in the hands of a Ruk?

I leaned in. “Lira, how am I going to establish lineage here?

Her eyes went wide again. “What makes you think I have an answer? It isn’t like I have done this before.”

I took her rebuke with a graceful nod then watched her frightened eyes soften.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, placing her hand on top of mine. “My nerves are just frayed; I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“I understand,” I said.

Her eyebrow raised. “Just make up a name for now. If you get questioned, say you have the papers stored here at the House. Some lords do that for safekeeping, I mean, they will question you further, but at least that will buy you some time.”

I nodded though I knew that solution wouldn’t hold for long. My newly earned purse full of iron was already rapidly diminishing.

“Have you thought of a name?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

She sighed as she slid a piece of blank parchment my way. She handed me the reed. “Just think of something before the auditor comes by and sees a blank card and throws us both in the dungeon.”

She let a small smile escape, and I watched her eyes. She was afraid but excited all the same.

I thought for a moment, then took the piece of paper and began to scroll out a word I knew in Illyrian, something I remembered from my youth. Once finished, I turned it around for her to inspect.

“It’s beautiful,” she said as she traced the script with her finger. “Is that Illyrian? What does it mean?”

I smiled but remained tight-lipped. Her look of indignance filled me with joy.

“Alright then, keep your secrets,” she said. “Now there is just the matter of payment.” She said the latter part loud enough for the lone auditor behind to hear as she placed a shallow bowl on the counter then gestured to my purse. I undid the strings and turned it over into the bowl. Dozens of different colored coins tumbled out.

She froze as she stared at the bowl. I did as well. Not from the pile of iron, gold, and silver, but at the worn ring of copper that sat atop it like a siren perched upon a rock. She looked at it and looked at me.

“Oh, for Sereventus’s sake, Lira, just count it yourself,” came the call from the back. “Can’t you see that I’m busy!”

Lira didn’t seem to hear him; she just kept staring at the copper ring.

“Lira,” I whispered, nodding towards the direction of the voice.

She looked up, breaking her focus. “Okay, Tallis. I will just bring you the writ of sale later.”

“Yes, yes, fine, fine,” Tallis grumbled back, resuming his work.

I followed her gaze back to the ring. Hells, I might as well have put the iron circle in there too and give her all the reason she needed to run.

“I don’t hear any stacking?” Tallis called out.

Lira shook her head as if his voice were the cracking of a whip. She reached for the coins and began stacking them with their like along the grooves cut into her countertop.

“Lira, I wanted to—”

“Oh, you’re a bastard, Faerin.”

Her eyes were angry again. I was ruined. I had cocked it all up. Why couldn’t I have remembered to take the fucking thing out of—

“How did you even get this so fast?” she mumbled.

I ruined it. What was