A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (best free ebook reader TXT) 📗

I say. Now with a couple of stars, I envy you sometimes I do, a strange thing for a Cyllian to admit, but it’s the truth, eh?”

He fiddled in his purse and counted out three gold crowns and two silver nobles, the collective price for all eight bolts and hinges. A coup, had it been anyone else that purchased them. He handed me the receipt and coins. I jingled them in hand, and he watched me intently.

Six hells, was I supposed to tip him again? He did nothing to sell these. The greedy little...

“Thank you very much,” he said as he took the offered noble from my hesitant hand. He tucked it in his pocket with the other noble.

“I will come back to replace the stock, later on, I wasn’t expecting the whole inventory to go.”

“Oh, it’s no bother, you know I can still sell them for you, on my own words, of course, since you don’t have a mock-up, but I can write down any orders so you can fill them directly next time you are through. Not a bother to me at all, part of my job to be true.”

“Well, he’s a helpful little fucker now with a couple of nobles bouncing around in his pocket,” I groused as soon as I was out of earshot.

I was beyond annoyed, but not because of him. Cyllians liked to meddle; it wasn’t just the Cause; they were just a pushy lot. I wanted to think that Lira wasn’t one of them. She spent enough time with the Ruk that she knew our customs. We do not take charity from outsiders, end of discussion. It’s not like she can get any use out of them either. Her fucking garden gate swung on metal hinges for hell’s sake! For her to go behind my pride and buy up the lot was just…rude.

The more I thought about it, the more my pace quickened. She would get a piece of my mind, no matter how much I cared for her. As I rounded the corner, she came into view. I noticed a few things right away. She looked as lovely as ever, just as eye-catching in plain clothes as she was in that dress. She also looked cross, very, very cross.

Chapter Eleven

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

“Faerin of Forhd,” Lira called out as I approached her counter. She didn’t bother with the show of checking my writ. I looked behind her scowling face to see that there were only two auditor’s sitting at the bank of desks behind, not the usual dozen or more.

She began whispering frantically. “Where in the name of Sereventus have you been? I sent a runner at nine this morning.”

“Sorry, Lira, I was…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered back. “You’re here now, and we still have time. Wait, did you just come from the bathhouse? My note said urgent, what did you—”

“Why don’t you just tell me why I’m here?” I interrupted.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why yes sir, I think we do have something in the back that may suit your needs,” she said aloud.

“Wait. What? Lira, I didn’t ask for,” I whispered, but she cut me off with an extended finger to her lips. As she pulled the finger away, a smile emerged—a mischievous smile.

I nodded slowly. She winked in reply.

“I will go check the stocks for you; it will be just a moment.”

She turned abruptly, setting a quick pace to the closed door that led to the armory. As one of the more secure places in the House, the armory held all manner of items, not just weaponry.

I was confused. Her letter said urgent, which explained why she was cross, but why didn’t she just tell me? Why this charade? Things began to take shape when she emerged a moment later with a large item wrapped in heavy black cloth. She placed it on the counter with the length taking up much of the space available. Slowly, deliberately, she unfolded the fabric to reveal a long two-handed sword.

Her smile beamed as she pulled the cloth away. “This just came in this morning, is it to your liking?”

When I first saw the bundle in her arms, I was elated. Had she found me a sword? Something of iron I could afford? Was the urgency due to the decreased supervision? It made sense if she had prepared some errant deal for me. You can’t hope to pull something like that off with a bank full of crows watching. As I looked at the blade, my heart sank. I looked at her, her face beaming with pride. I hoped I hid my disappointment well enough; she was excited in her find. I would need to handle this delicately.

“Why this is a fine item to be sure,” I played to the imagined audience. “Allow me to inspect it further.”

I leaned in and whispered, “Lira, this is wonderful, but—”

“Yes, decorative silver, a fine piece for any mantel. Fine craftsmanship on the blade, but it will due for some polishing,” she interrupted, again calling out loudly for the auditors to hear.

If she knew the blade was silver and nearly worthless for combat, then why was she so excited? Not to mention the thing was in rough shape. The blade was tarnished like it had been left to the elements for years. Even the handle was broken in half and completely missing its pommel.

I sighed.

I couldn’t imagine who would waste so much coin to craft something so useless. Maybe small lords might look to display something like this in their home in place of iron, those that wanted to convey a level of status that their purse simply couldn’t afford. Silver would look great as a display, to be sure, but the metal was too soft and too heavy for any practical purpose. There were some slightly useful alloys for it, mostly with nickel or copper, but they were brittle and most suited for light use like cutlery in