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

Crylwin cleared his throat, and I blinked back into the moment. I looked down and saw Ellington staring at my right arm. I pulled up my jacket sleeve in compliance and turned my wrist upward to reveal my identification mark.

It was the same mark on the upper right corner of the page Ellington held, and it was the same mark that was depicted on the rest of the documents folded and sealed in my writ book.

“Everything appears to be in order here,” Ellington said as he took the ink reed and held it to the underlined section of the page. Hastily, he scrawled his signature, returned the reed to the jar of ink, then took the dropper of sealing wax that I had warming above the candle stand and poured a few drops below where he had signed. He reached into the pocket of his lord’s coat and pulled out a marble figurine carved in the likeness of a mounted soldier. He pressed the bottom of the figure into the pooled wax, wiggled it back and forth, then pulled it free, leaving the prancing horse of House Ellington embossed upon the page.

Ellington took a white kerchief from his other pocket and wiped the excess wax from the bottom of his stamp as if to say the wax of a Ruk was not good enough to be tread upon by his little marble horse. Without looking up from the page, he placed the figurine back into his pocket and gestured to Crylwin. “Sir.”

Crylwin chuckled as he reached for the same reed. His signature was practical, made of tight, orderly spaced Cyllian letters. He took the same dropper of wax and poured it below the seal of House Ellington. In place of a stamp, he made a fist and pressed the ring he wore into the wax. He held it there firmly, then lifted his fist from the page. Silently, he placed the ring to his mouth, turned his stare towards Ellington, and sucked free the flecks of wax that remained. The sides of his mouth curled. “As witnessed.”

Ellington didn’t look away from the page, nor did he meet the solemn stare that weighed upon him. His hand moved to the purse at his belt, and with a quick gesture, he tossed it on the table. It didn’t make the sound I expected it to, but I was not going to argue coin at this point. I was here to make my ten; I wouldn’t risk souring my final commission over a light purse. I had my whole life to worry about Rukish sentiment and a want for coin.

Crylwin was rarely so cautious.

“A touch light, don’t you think, Johanus?” Crylwin said with an accusatory tone, just loud enough for those around to hear. “That’s a bit of a surprise considering the circumstances.”

Ellington leaned his head forward conspiratorially and whispered, “Discretion, sir.”

“I don’t know, Johanus,” Crylwin balked. “My friend here procured a service.”

Crylwin knew the details of my commission even if the writ was left intentionally vague. It was not the first time I had played door guard while some Cyllian banged away at a few Rukish whores before their wedding. It was the first time I had been paid to mind the door while my client was the one being…serviced.

I wasn’t sure which was the greater offense, but I knew that purity laws frowned on either scenario. I also knew a frown from the Purity Council was as good as a death sentence down South. Up here, things were a little different. The council still had power, and reputation was vital for Cyllian interests, but this was Rukland, even if the name no longer meant anything.

With the right connections and a handful of coin, such encounters could be arranged. They were private, discreet, and an easy day’s work. It was not my preferred contract, but I was eager to get that final commission. Helping to undermine Cyllian morality by facilitating their hidden depravity was just a bonus. I liked holding onto those secrets; in the right hands, they were as valuable as iron. Typically, I would keep such sordid affairs private, but Crylwin wouldn’t agree to sign as a witness unless I told him in full.

“Alright, Crylwin,” Ellington said grudgingly. He reached for another purse at his belt and pulled free two silver nobles and a copper penny. “The copper is for your competence; the silver is for your silence.” He let the coins fall to the table.

Crylwin remained silent as he took a step towards him. He folded his arms across his chest in a casual way that said a lot without saying anything.

A light purse was a typical Cyllian gesture that said in plain enough words, “Fuck you, Ruk.” I didn’t take any offense to it; it was almost tradition. I wouldn’t tell the man’s secret, not for free, at least, but Crylwin ran a little hot. He didn’t appreciate being insulted, directly or indirectly. I knew there was bad blood between the two houses, something to do with little Ellington’s sister and conspicuous nine-month absence. It was for that reason I thought to avoid the contract altogether, but again, I was eager to make my ten, and the promise of iron has its ways.

I waved my hand to calm them both. I turned to Ellington with a smile. “My thanks to you, my lord. We are concluded here.”

I extended my arm out to him. It was an honest gesture, but in my carelessness, I had overlooked the fact that Ellington had removed his gloves. He looked disdainfully at the mark on my outstretched arm; then, he looked at me with cold hard eyes. He dismissed the gesture with a sneer.

His hatred for my people was palpable, but I took comfort in a few simple truths as I kept my bare hand outstretched. The social laws that governed Cyllian society were as meaningless to us as purity law. This