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

a bear of man, comically perched underneath a small purple pavilion. Above his head was a wooden sign with the image of a gem carved into it. The sheer size of the man, even while seated, filled the entirety of the tent. I waved to him as I approached. He nodded, placed the bit of leather he was working down and leaned forward as he stood carefully, keeping the sign from hitting him in the head.

“Great lord says boy coming for stone, this you?” the man asked in a thick Seveli accent. “You lucky boy with lucky sword, yes? Time not have. You bring paper, uh,” he paused and scratched at his thick black beard, “rugare… is mean picture, yes?”

I turned out my pocket and handed the Seveli man the sapphire. “No picture, but I have a few ideas.”

He whistled and muttered a Seveli word I didn’t recognize. “Stone is pretty, yes, yes, it will be my pleasure to...cut this.”

“No, no cutting. Just round the bottom, core the center, and buff the edges to polish,” I said slowly.

He nodded, but his hesitancy gave me concern. For good measure, I repeated myself, then threw in a few Seveli words I knew to help make the point. His big brown eyes went wide at the sound of his native tongue, then narrowed as I butchered the delicate pronunciations. After a few exchanges, he gave another nod; this one looked more confident. He asked a few questions about dimensions; luckily, mathematics was a universal language despite my questionable proficiency in it. I wrote down the figures in a little notepad he pulled from his apron pocket.

When all was said, he looked at the stone in his massive paw and smiled. “You want it look like flame, yes?”

I nodded approvingly.

Tasks completed or otherwise engaged, I had little else to do so I wandered the grounds watching the caravan set up shop. Jaeron met me on the garden path where a handful of workers were hanging lanterns on tall wooden poles.

“Fedorick said, ‘I’ll take Dustin, should be there and back around midday,” he repeated with closed eyes.

I patted him on the head. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

Jaeron nodded.

“Well, I haven’t.”

“I…I can come with you, my lor…Faerin,” he stammered.

I shook my head. “I don’t need you cutting my bacon for me.”

He looked down at his worn shoes.

“Tell you what,” I said, crouching to his level. “I have something important to do, but not sure I have the time today.”

He looked up eagerly.

I clicked my teeth. “Oh, what am I thinking? You won’t be able to do it. It’s too dangerous.”

He puffed his little chest out. “I’m brave. Ama says so all the time.”

“You sure? It might be scary.”

Jaeron rested a hand on his knife and did his best to stand tall.

“Hmm, maybe you can help me. You can’t tell Ama, though,” I said, waving a finger at him. “She would only worry.”

He looked towards the garden gate, then nodded.

“Okay, I need you to go outside the walls and collect some herbs for me. Do you remember what I taught you last time?”

Jaeron closed his eyes. “Goldenrod is tall like wheat with yellow flowers. Mint has leaves shaped like a sp—”

“Okay, good, you remember. I want you to fill your satchel there with anything me or Elder Quill might find useful.”

He nodded.

“Now, don’t come back until its full, alright? You might want to stop by the kitchens to get yourself a snack to take with you.”

“Can I have some of Ama’s pie?” he asked. “I only had a small piece yesterday.”

“Yes, of course.” I chuckled. “And if they give you any trouble, tell them you are on important business for your lord.”

He scampered off, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. I felt slightly guilty sending him off to pick flowers, but I knew I wouldn’t get a moment to myself with him hanging on all day. It wouldn’t be a complete waste of his time. In truth, my stock of medicinals was low, and I needed fresh mint and sage for the poultice on my hand. I could have asked Quill for some, but he would have insisted on inspecting it and cleaning it and giving me a tonic for the pain. I could think of fewer things more beneath a Rukish Elder than doting on me like an old mother hen.

I took breakfast within the alehouse that used to be the old Venticle church. The common table was there, where I had taken nearly every meal when visiting the estate. It was a large wooden table, rectangular in shape, and long enough to cover the entire length of the former church. I had sat at that table many times as a guest, doing so now as a lord gave me pause.

I looked at the others seated there, all those that worked on the estate. I didn’t know them all by name, but I recognized most by face. I felt compelled to stand and introduce myself, but the stares leveled my way said they already knew who I was.

I made a plate out of the assortment that lined the outer wall and took a seat on the long wooden bench that ran the table’s length. I didn’t purposefully sit alone, nor did I purposefully sit with anyone.

I heard whispers all around me. I focused instead on my plate. Clay on wood clanged down in front of me. I looked up to see Penir’s face.

“You’re going to break my plates if you go around smashing them around like that,” I said with a grin.

“Well, let’s fucking see it then,” Penir said impatiently. “I got five days’ worth of work ahead of me and shit all time to do it.”

“Penir, if you want to see my cock, a plate of bacon and eggs won’t cut it,” I said.

“The fucking truesilver, mate. Your little cock isn’t worth the last penny in my pocket.”

“Quill has it still,” I explained. “He’s painting it for Monroe. Trying to match the old