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

“The sword, you idiot,” he explained. “I’m interested in the sword.”

I found myself moving my hand to the lord stone as if to protect her from his gaze. “Nahdril is not for sale. She’s priceless, and no amount of iron could change my mind.”

Goren waved his hand. “I don’t want to purchase it. I want to study it, eh, her. Not even the sword per se, but the alloy. I just need a few small samples of the metal.”

I held a concerned look on my face. It was not my best act, but it didn’t need to be. He knew it was a tall ask for anyone to mar their own blade, let alone a blade of Nahdril’s pedigree. What he didn’t realize was I preserved the metal shavings left from etching Nahdril’s name onto the blade.

“What would something like that be worth to you?” I asked after a long moment.

He straightened his back. “You mean outside of the terms we have discussed?”

I took another long drink from my ale.

“I have the only truesilver blade outside of imperial possession,” I clarified as I turned the glass of ale upon the table casually. “But, I may be persuaded to offer a sample for five stars.”

Goren laughed violently, so much so that he shook the table, and his glass spilled cider onto the tabletop. After he quieted, he took a calm hand and wiped the spill onto the floor beside him. His eyes weighed heavily on me. “You’re serious, boy?”

I shrugged my shoulders as I folded my arms across my chest. “Economics, Goren. Ada taught me that. Supply and demand weigh in my favor here, just as it does in your favor. You’re the only one that can supply me the materials I need, and I’m the only one you will ever meet with a truesilver blade.”

Goren folded his arms in response.

“Then there is the added concern that I would be blemishing the blade and damaging Nahdril in the attempt, such a thing is…” I paused to search for the correct phrase. “It is rude.”

He chewed his mouth as if to spit out a taste he disagreed with. “The original eight should be sufficient,” he countered, this time showing the slightest hint of a smile, “and the sample.”

“Goren,” I said, opening my arms wide. “We both know what you hope to achieve with the sample.”

He looked away and clicked his tongue in frustration.

“I need only a small sample, not enough to upset the...oh, what is the damned word…the quin of your blade,” he said in frustration. “I am willing to pay for such an inconvenience, but five is ridiculous; this is banditry!”

“No, this is a negotiation,” I corrected with an upraised finger.

Several minutes passed as we settled on a final arrangement. I would pay four iron stars, pocketing the other four I had remaining, and provide three metal samples from the blade. The final details included a clause that any information learned in the reproduction or temperament of the metal would be shared as well as a special gift from Goren himself, an arrangement of lilies, actual lilies, that I would deliver later to Lira.

I held my hand out to him. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“As do you,” he said respectfully, taking my hand in his own. “I will arrange for delivery tomorrow midday, make sure you are available. I will send word when your orchid arrives. You can provide the sample when you come to pick it up.”

“And the lilies?” I asked.

“I will be open shortly before midday tomorrow,” he said with a slight smile.

With our business concluded, he placed his ledgers back into the fold of his coat and headed for the door. I watched him as he left and saw a flash of silver hit the light as he placed a single noble on the edge of the bar.

Melly arrived with my plate a few moments later. “Oh, he isn’t staying for dinner?” She leaned in and whispered, “I figured you were setting him up with one of the,” she coughed, “lads.”

I looked at her with a perfectly confused look. “Why would you think that?”

“Oh, you know how gossip is around here. One fella says one thing and pretty soon…”

I smiled. “Well, not sure where that one started, but that Goren is as straight as an arrow.”

Chapter Thirty and Four

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

I left Turns a few hours later, full, and more than slightly drunk. I looked at the dark clouds overhead. I nudged Steven. “Hey, pal, let’s go get you some food and a dry place to sleep before it comes down on us.” He nuzzled my hand, and I pulled myself into the saddle.

We made our way down the street, heading for the other stable in town. I had briefly considered stopping by Lira’s on the off chance she was home; thankfully, I wasn’t so drunk as to be that drunk. I could only imagine what calling on her at this hour, in this state, would do to Old Valerius.

I felt the vials of potion in my pocket. My leg didn’t hurt, but a name still lingered in the back of my mind. I downed the vial and hummed a few bars as we plodded along. “No can of tin… no tan of can… bring us a song the…”

“What’s that?” said a voice from behind.

I turned lazily. Three jacks carrying torches and long iron-tipped spears had just entered the street from a side alley. Since when did they carry spears?

“What’s that you’re singing, boy?” the lead jack asked.

I slowed. “Nothing, sirs. Just heading home.”

As he took Steven by the reins, the jack looked up at me, not something they liked to do. “That’s an outlawed tune you were singing, boy.”

I could have blamed Quill’s tonic as my head was already swimming. I could have blamed the alcohol or lack of sleep. In the end, I had only myself to blame. “What the fuck did