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

fit properly. They even had to tie a rope around his britches to keep them up.”

Kerry paused, taking a sip of wine. “So he puts them on and runs off to play in the fields.” She leaned close to Lira. “He liked to hide in the corn and scare the crows. He comes back an hour later, while Cole and I are taking tea, just as mad as a hornet. He takes his shirt off and throws it at my feet, turns to Cole, and says to him, ‘I won’t steal another man’s clothes.’ I start laughing; then Cole starts laughing, which only upsets the poor boy even more. So I say to him, ‘What are you talking about? These are extra.’ ”

She took another sip. “That boy looked at me like he had never heard a taller tale in all his life. ‘Extra,’ he says, ‘People don’t have extra clothes just lying around and I ain’t no thief. I won’t steal the shirt off another man’s back. Take ‘em back.’ So I humor the lad, not sure for all the gods what he is talking about. ‘What man?’ I asked. ‘Show me.’ So he leads me off into the cornfield. And do you know what he points to?

I silently mouthed the words as Kerry said them. “A scarecrow! Poor thing got so mad when he saw that same color shirt, he didn’t bother looking close enough to see it was a man made out of straw!”

Everyone laughed, Ama leading the way until tears streamed down her face.

“That true?” Lira asked.

Above the table, I smiled and nodded; below the table, I shook my hand at her. She caught the gesture. The story wasn’t true, just another beautiful lie. But Ama preferred her version. Who was I to correct her? Admittedly, it was a better story than the truth. The real story was just kind of sad, not something you would share at a dinner party. When the conversation turned to the lack of Cyllian fashion represented north of the Burh, shepherded by Decia, I leaned into Lira’s ear, seizing the opportunity to tell her the real story.

“I had just met Ada Cole only a few days before,” I whispered. “I was on my behavior, of course, knowing that he could have plucked any Ruk out of the camps to make his apprentice. But it had been a hard road from Cyllia. So I wasn’t far from the streets. When he takes me to Windshear to meet Kerry and the Monroes, I see some friendly folks that probably wouldn’t notice a few missing items. I was out playing in the fields, that part was true, and I came upon this scarecrow. I look at him and think, what in six hells is a scarecrow doing with a better shirt than me? So I took the shirt and the pants and tried to hide them in Cole’s cart. When Ama goes and loads the damn thing up with pumpkins, she sees the shirt and pants. At first, I thought to deny it was me, worried Ada would toss me out, but she plucked a piece of straw off my collar from when I tried the shirt on, and I knew there was no point in denying it.

“So, that’s why she calls you scarecrow?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that or the fact that I hadn’t had a good meal in weeks and was no thicker than her scarecrow.”

Lira smiled a thin smile, but she didn’t laugh. “So, what did Cole say?”

“Well, Kerry thought it was hilarious that I was so desperate for clothes that I would steal something off a scarecrow’s back. She told me to put them on while she gave Cole a good scolding. She said, ‘If you are responsible for the boy, you had best show some responsibility!’ She was even tougher then than she is now.”

Lira nodded and placed her hands on my knee. “We had very different lives, you and I,” she said remorsefully. “I’m sorry you had to suffer.”

I chuckled softly. “That was a great day. I was fed, clothed, and slept on a real bed for the first time in a long time. I met Crylwin that day too.” I turned to him as he was doing his best to show interest in his lady’s conversation. “Every day since has been that much brighter.”

She smiled then. “And how have things looked since you met me? Brighter still?” She squeezed above my knee. It tickled, causing me to laugh. I took her hand in mine. “Lira, before you, my skies were full of clouds just waiting to rain. I count my stars lucky to have found you. I may be a lord, but you have always made me feel like a prince—even if it’s a prince of paupers.”

She looked at me, unsure of what to say. “Well, if you had just been content at being a craftsman, you might have saved some of that iron and lived a modest life, hardly a pauper in the Empire has ever held so much iron.”

“And who wishes for a modest life?” I asked. “I followed a promise, earned my stars, then won you.”

“Oh stop,” she said, slapping my arm. “I’m no one’s prize.”

“Of course, you’re not,” I said. “But if you were, you would be the greatest prize.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stars don’t make the man, Faerin. Neither does a title.”

“Would you rather me a simple Ruk, toiling my way into an early grave?”

She paused, her face contemplative. “I would rather you happy, whatever life that is. This is not all it’s cracked up to be, this life, I mean. It can be exciting, yes, but it’s not without its dangers.”

I nodded. “What about you? Could you be content in a modest life?”

“With you?” she said with a kiss. “Maybe.”

A cough stole my attention. I turned to the source and realized the whole table was staring, smiling too, but starring nonetheless.

“What do you think, Faerin?” Crylwin asked.

“What’s that?” I said.

“Decia was arguing